The Dragon Book (52 page)

“Oh, yes,” I replied. “I’ve longed for you every day since you left.”

Her smile vanished. “Do not be rude, May Margret! Why have you come here? Is it not enough that you and your wretched brother have trapped me in this disgusting shape—”

“No more disgusting than the one in which you imprisoned me,” I snapped, interrupting her.

“Ah,” she said softly. “That was different.”

To my amazement, she sounded as if she really believed what she was saying.

“You—you and your beauty—were a threat to my rule.” Before I could protest, she said, “Come, come, May Margret. You cannot deny it. Men are such fools, after all. And I did need to rule, for your father was ineffective.”

“Don’t say that!” I cried, even as I realized in my heart that it was true.

“Tut, May Margret, you know I speak truth. You cannot be so naïve as not to know that we had hungry neighbors crouching at our borders. I had to seize control if I was to save the castle and its lands. With your brother gone, you were the one thing that stood in my way. I
was
sorry to have to sacrifice you, my dear, but, really, it was for the good of the homeland.”

I stared at her, astonished.

She sighed. “You are a true innocent, May Margret. But you are not stupid. Surely you saw the dangers—dangers that continue to this day if my spies tell me right.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your brother wants to marry you off, does he not? To the laird of Dunbar Castle.”

When I did not answer, she said, “Your silence speaks as a voice from the pulpit, my dear. Your brother does indeed have your best interests at heart. But he is sadly deluded. While it is true that Dunbar longs for you, he longs for your lands even more.”

These words twisted at my heart. Was it true? Was the charming Dunbar, who had delighted me so, really after nothing more than our land? Or was my wretched stepmother trying to manipulate me again?

“How can you know these things?” I asked, trying to hide my uneasiness.

“You mean how can I know, trapped down here as I am? That is simple enough. My powers may be greatly reduced, but I still have friends who are loyal to me.”

At these words, the grotesque creatures around her rose as one and bowed, then turned their naked backsides to me and slapped at their bottoms.

“Oh, stop that,” scolded my stepmother.

The imps sat again. Their smirking faces were maddening.

“These dear friends travel the land for me, gathering information, telling me who is doing what and who is doing whom.”

I felt myself blush at the rudeness.

She stared at me for a moment, then said slowly, “We could work together. I know things, many things. You are teachable, even if you are a bit slow. Perhaps we might still save your family’s lands from being swallowed by your suitor.”

I stared at her in astonishment. “You want me to work
with
you? After what you did to me?
After what you did to Wynde?
”

“Do not confuse politics with personal loyalty, May Margret! That is a child’s game, and you cannot afford to be a child any longer. I did what I thought was best. And it was not I who put those scars on your beloved brother’s face.”

These words cut deep, and in my anger I wanted to lash out at her. But that would gain me nothing. Worse, I knew there was some truth in what she had been saying—truths which made me even angrier. Why had Father been such a fool? He was old, and tired from the war, I told myself. And I knew that, too, was true. Even so, why had he not done more to protect me? More to protect our lands and home? I loved him, I truly did. But he had let us—let me—down.

“I have, perhaps, said too much,” murmured the toad queen. “And I notice you still have not answered my question. Why have you sought me out? Why not let me live down here in peace, now that I am no longer a threat?”

I could not think what to say. Certainly the truth—that I wanted something of her essence so I could return to dragon form—would not do. As if sensing what I was thinking, her imps began to chant, “Tell the truth, tell the truth, tell the truth!”

“Ah,” said my stepmother. “I believe there is something you are hiding from me, May Margret. Let me see if I can guess.”

I began to feel helpless, as if she were weaving a spell of words around me. Behind her the imps continued their chant: “Tell the truth! Tell the truth! Tell the truth!”

“Silence!” snapped the toad queen. “How can she tell us
anything
with you going on like that?”

At once, the imps fell silent. Turning her great, bulging eyes on me, my stepmother said softly, “Why not take their advice, May Margret? Go ahead—tell me the truth.”

A compulsion came over me, and the confession of my desire trembled on my lips. Just in time, I realized that magic was at work. Placing my hands upon my waist, I felt the power of the rowan twigs. At once, the urgent need to tell all faded.

“There were rumors,” I said, working carefully not to tell an out right lie, in which I feared my stepmother would somehow catch me. “Rumors … that you still lived. I wanted to see if you were still a danger to us.”

She looked at me for a long time, then said, “I do not think that was enough to cause you to journey to these depths.”

“I am to be wed.”

“I know that.”

“I am not sure I want to be.”

“I know that.”

“There is a spell that can help me, but I need something from you for it to be cast.”

She stared at me again, blinking. “What is it you need?”

“No more than I would get by wiping a cloth along your back,” I said at last.

She burst out laughing. “And what will you give me in return?”

“What do you want?”

“Take me back to the surface.”

“Can’t you do that on your own?

“There is a … prohibition … on my return. It would be broken were you to carry me.”

This was not exactly what I would have hoped for, but it did answer the question of how I was to get what I needed. All I had to do was wrap the toad queen in the large handkerchief I had brought and carry her to the upper levels. As I was starting to contemplate what I would do with her once we arrived at the surface, she said, “You must swear not to fling me back down the stairs once we are at the top or harm me in any way.”

I opened my mouth to answer, but before I could speak a word, she said sharply, “Understand, May Margret, that a dragon is bound by its word. You may have returned to human form, but that binding clings to you still. So do not think to swear falsely to me now.”

I drew in a deep breath, wondering if she were telling the truth or simply trying to insure herself against whatever I might do. I decided to respond with a prohibition of my own. “I will swear to this, if you will swear a counteroath that your imps will remain down here and no longer bring their mischief to the world above.”

She scowled at me, and I rejoiced inside, sensing she must indeed have planned to summon them. The lovely thing about the counteroath was that, were she to break it, I would be freed of my own oath as well.

“I swear they will remain here,” she said at last.

“And I swear not to harm you as long as they do,” I replied.

From my bosom, I drew the cloth I had brought with me and began to wrap the queen in it. Remembering Nell’s warning, I took extreme care not to actually touch her. The imps wailed and moaned as I was doing this, until the queen scolded them to silence. When she was securely wrapped, I picked her up. Her body was soft and yielding, and it was almost like holding a large round of bread dough. Suppressing a shudder, I carried her to the little boat, placed her in the front, then returned to the fire pit to light my torch. The imps made any number of rude sounds and gestures as I did this, but I ignored them.

As I rowed back over the dark water, my stepmother spoke to me of politics, and the dangers she claimed surrounded us on all sides.

Once across the underground lake, I had to tuck her against my chest so I could hold her with one hand while I carried the rushlight in the other. Fearing to lose my light, I climbed the winding stair quickly, despite the growing pain in my legs, and actually made it to the dungeon before my torch went out. Though I was gasping for breath, and had not expected to fear the darkness, a sudden terror gripped me so tightly that I could scarcely breathe.

“What is the matter?” demanded the queen. “Why have we stopped?”

“I have lost my light.”

“Unwrap me, and I will give you light.”

Carefully, I undid the handkerchief, again making sure not to touch her. The queen muttered a few words, and a glowing ball appeared above her head. It was a faint, witchy light, an unhealthy green that turned my stomach. Even so, it was better than the darkness.

When the queen saw where we were, she uttered a low cry. “Move on,” she urged me. “Let us leave this evil place.”

And so, in short time, we arrived back at the kitchen, where I realized that in my haste to get what I wanted I had not thought carefully about what came next.

“Where do you want me to take you?” I asked my stepmother.

“To your room.”

“I do not want you there. The swamp would be a better place, don’t you think?”

“Don’t be a fool, stepdaughter. Put me in the swamp, and I’ll be back in a day’s time, doing who knows what. But if you place me in your room and take proper care of me, not only can you keep watch on me, but I can advise you on what is to come.”

I was not sure I wanted her advice. But I did like the idea that if she were in my room, I would at least be aware of what she was up to.

THE next day, I went again to see Old Nell, taking with me the cloth in which I had so carefully wrapped my toadly stepmother, as well as the three silver cups that went with the first one I had given her. The old woman greeted me warmly and seemed pleased—and a bit surprised—that I had actually done this thing. Eying the silver cups, she accepted the handkerchief, then sent me outside to wait as she brewed the potion she had promised.

Late in the afternoon, she called me back inside. Fixing me with her one good eye, she handed me a small green bottle, and said, “You have but to drink this, and the shape you once wore will be yours again. But remember, child—if you do this, you can never again return to human form.”

I gave Nell the cups, which she stroked greedily with her gnarled fingers. Clutching the green bottle with equal greed, I returned to Arlesboro Castle, feeling deep comfort in the knowledge that I could now regain my dragon shape anytime I wanted. I felt, too, a strong hope that the mere fact that this was now in my power would reduce the desire I felt to do so.

THE weeks that followed were, perhaps, the strangest period of my life—stranger, I think, than even the time I spent as a dragon. For at the toad queen’s insistence, I prepared a place for her in my wardrobe, a snug spot with a saucer of water and a large, smooth rock encircled by some moss that I moistened daily. Here she could remain unseen by Glenna. At night, I would open the door and give her some wine and bits of meat I had brought from the kitchen. As I could not stand to watch her eat, I would busy myself elsewhere. When she was done, she would call to me, and I would return to the wardrobe, where she would question me on the day’s events, then tell me what she thought of them.

How odd it felt to have my stepmother, who should have been my enemy for what she had done to me, begin to advise me on how to handle what was to come. Yet her words seemed in all ways wise, so much so that I began to wonder if she might truly have the best interests of the country at heart. My confusion was enormous. When my stepmother warned me of the plans of my groom-to-be, was she offering me wisdom or trying to lead me into rash and foolish action that might destroy me? When she explained why Wynde had ordered this marriage, was she speaking with true understanding of the human heart or simply pouring black fire into my own heart, which was but half-human at best?

Despite the fact that I hated her, a growing part of me wanted to believe her, for I was desperate to think that I had a wise advisor who could help me understand the events moving around me, most especially my upcoming marriage.