The Salamander Spell (12 page)

Her feet seemed to move of their own volition, carrying her across the open courtyard into the castle, where the sound of crying seemed natural after the heartrending wail. She found Chartreuse huddled on a bench in the Great Hall, sobbing. Prince Limelyn was sitting beside her holding her hand while Torrance sat on the other side with his arm around her shoulder. The other princes stood at the far end of the table, looking uncomfortable.

Prince Limelyn jumped to his feet when he saw Grassina, relinquishing his seat for her. “What happened?” she asked, putting her arms around her sister.

“The banshee . . . ,” Chartreuse cried. “She flew through the castle, screaming and tearing out her hair and frightening everyone and saying that . . . that . . . Oh, Grassina, it’s too awful! Father is going to die today!”

“I don’t believe it, unless . . .” Grassina narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Did the banshee do something to Father?”

Chartreuse shook her head, making her honey gold curls fly. “I don’t think she went near him, but then, she wouldn’t have to. She’s a banshee! They always know when someone is going to die.”

“Have you gone to see Father? I hope he didn’t hear this nonsense. Nobody in this castle is going to die today!”

“I told you . . . banshees know these things.”

“Well, this time she’s wrong,” said Grassina, helping her sister to her feet. “Now stop crying. We’ll go visit Father and you’ll see that he’s all right.”

Nearly a dozen people stopped them in the hall as they headed to the door at the top of the dungeon stairs, and they all wanted to offer their condolences. “We’re so sorry to hear about your father,” some said.

“He was the best king we’ve ever had,” said others.

“Our father is fine,” Grassina said each time while Chartreuse cried harder.

Chartreuse was sobbing loudly again when they closed the dungeon door behind them and started down the stairs, but even she noticed that the shadows seemed to draw closer the louder she cried. It frightened her enough that she straightened her shoulders, gave a few last shuddering sobs, and wiped her eyes with the tips of her fingers.

The sisters had almost reached their father’s room when Olivene popped through the doorway and glared at them. “Where do you think you’re going?” snapped the queen.

“To see Father,” said Grassina. “We wanted to make sure he was all right.”

“Well, he’s not,” Olivene said, so angry that her voice shook. “Fine daughters you are, coming to see him only after he’s dead.”

Grassina shook her head. “No, you’re wrong. Father can’t be dead. I saw him yesterday. He said he had a cold.”

“He’s deader than a doornail and there’s nothing you can do about it, so go away and leave us alone.”

“Father is dead!” wailed Chartreuse. “The banshee was right! I told you, Grassina, but you wouldn’t listen!”

Grassina was too stunned to reply. She felt as if the floor of the dungeon had dropped out from under her and she was falling into an abyss. Her father was gone. The only person who understood her, the only person who she knew really loved her, was gone. “Can we see him?” she whispered, her throat feeling tight and prickly.

“No, you can’t see him. I was saying my good-byes, so go away! I wasn’t finished.”

While the girls watched, stunned, Olivene scuttled back into the room and slammed the door. Tears trickled down Grassina’s cheeks as she took her older sister’s hand in hers. “We’ll come back later, after she’s finished saying good-bye.”

Something made of glass hit the door on the other side, shattering. “You’re a no-good, rotten liar!” screamed the queen.

Chartreuse nodded. “Maybe she’ll go upstairs soon.”

There was a thud, and the door shook. “How dare you leave me?” screamed Olivene. “I was supposed to go first! It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Chartreuse glanced back at the door as her sister led her away. “Mother doesn’t grieve like everyone else,” said Grassina.

“I know,” said Chartreuse. “But then, Mother doesn’t do anything like anyone else.”

Once upstairs, Chartreuse left Grassina, saying that she wanted to be alone. Grassina felt numb and empty as she slipped away to her chamber. The loss of her mother to the family curse had been a blow, but nothing like this. At least then the girls had still had one normal parent who cared about them. Now all they had was their mother, a horrible person who cared only for herself.

Grassina stayed in her room until late afternoon, when she heard a commotion outside. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she took a shuddering breath and went to her window. Chartreuse and Prince Pietro were walking toward a crowd gathered around a man who was waving his arms and gesturing. When he turned his head to look at the castle, Grassina saw that it was her father’s gamekeeper, Milo Blum, a normally quiet and sedate man.

After splashing cold water on her face, Grassina hurried down the stairs. Chartreuse was already there talking to Milo when she arrived. Prince Pietro was lingering only a short distance away, looking irritated.

“I went to see for myself,” said Milo. “The stream is poisoned. A Vila probably did it, just like the one in Upper Montevista three years ago.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do about it?” asked Chartreuse.

Milo Blum shook his head. “I don’t know. We’ve never had a Vila in Greater Greensward before. I don’t even know what to look for or how to track her.”

“What is a Vila?” asked Grassina, stepping through the crowd.

“I’ve heard she looks like an incredibly beautiful young woman dressed in white. She lives in the woods and protects the animals. They say that Vili don’t like hunters and poison the streams they drink from to keep them from coming back. What with the werewolves . . . and now the Vila . . . no one wants to go into the forest anymore. I told Cook that’s why I won’t be bringing her fresh meat for tonight’s supper.”

Chartreuse silenced him with another wave of her hand. “Thank you for telling us. Please keep us informed of anything else you hear. That will be all for now.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Milo said, bowing to her as if she were the queen. It struck Grassina that Chartreuse was more of a queen than their mother, at least the way their mother was now.

“So what should we do?” Grassina asked her sister as they crossed the courtyard together. “Do you think we should assemble the knights and ask for volunteers to find the Vila?”

“No,” said Chartreuse. “The Green Witch has protected this kingdom for hundreds of years, but Mother doesn’t care what happens to Greater Greensward now. I’m sure Father could have handled it, if he were still . . .” When her eyes started to well with tears, Chartreuse took a deep breath and blinked furiously for a moment. After clearing her throat, she added, “I may not be the Green Witch yet, but I will be someday, so I guess this is going to be up to me.”

“What can you do?” asked Grassina. “You’re only fifteen and don’t have a speck of magic.”

Chartreuse lifted her chin. “I’m going to have magic,” she said, sounding defiant. “It just hasn’t shown itself yet. Maybe this is what it will take to get it started. I’ll go down to Mother’s workroom and look through her books. I’m sure she’ll have some kind of spell I can use.”

“Do you really think she’ll let you look at them?”

“I wasn’t going to ask her! I’ll just slip in when she comes up from the dungeon. Leave it to me,” said Chartreuse. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Then I’m going with you,” said Grassina. “Two pairs of eyes are better than one.”

Hiding in the shelter of a nearby alcove, the girls watched the door to the dungeon stairs until their mother came into view. When she disappeared down the corridor, they slipped through the door and headed to her workroom.

“I want to see Father first,” said Grassina, continuing down the hall past their mother’s room.

Chartreuse stopped. “We may not have much time.”

“We have time for this,” Grassina said, placing her hand on their father’s door. Although it felt like roughhewn wood, the door was as unyielding as the stone around it. “It won’t open,” she said, pushing against it with both hands.

“Mother probably put a spell on it,” said Chartreuse. “I hope she hasn’t locked her workroom, too.”

When their mother’s workroom door opened easily, Chartreuse and Grassina slipped inside. A pallid pair of witches’ lights glowed in the corner, bobbing against the ceiling like corks on a fishing line. They gave off a bluish light that made everything stand out in sharp relief, showing every line and freckle on the girls’ faces.

While Chartreuse looked for the books, Grassina circled the room, examining everything that she hadn’t dared approach when her mother was present. Dust-choked spiderwebs hung like lacework from the ceiling, swaying in a faint current of air. The skull of a griffin was mounted on the wall, its eyes still intact. When Grassina walked past it, she could have sworn the skull’s gaze moved with her.

She had just found the basket containing the lightning bugs when something brushed against her ankles. Startled, Grassina looked down. Chartreuse’s kitten was rubbing against her leg, purring so hard that its little body vibrated. “What’s he doing here?” Grassina asked. “Did he follow us down the stairs?”

Chartreuse glanced at the kitten, then turned away. “I gave him to Mother. He wasn’t nearly as sweet when I got to know him. I thought he and Mother would suit each other very well. They’re both mean and self-centered. She’s already named him Herald. Oh, good. Here they are!” said Chartreuse, standing in front of the only table in the room. A small stack of books was lying on it beside a tankard filled with a thick green liquid smelling strongly of week-old fish. “There aren’t very many. I always thought she had more than this. That’s good, I guess. It won’t take long to look through them. Listen, this spell is for . . .” Chartreuse had flipped to the front page and was reading the very first words when the book flew up into the air, closed itself, slapped her hands, and landed on the table. “Did you see that?” she asked with a squeak in her voice.

“Maybe you did something wrong,” said Grassina. “Try another book.”

Chartreuse gingerly opened the next book. “This one seems all right. It says . . .” This time when she began reading, the book flew up, fanned its pages in her face, pinched her nose, and fell back to the table, closed once again.

“I don’t think they want you to read them,” said Grassina.

“I don’t believe this!” said Chartreuse, rubbing her nose. “No stupid book is going to do that to me!” This time the book struggled when she picked it up, but she held on tight with both hands and forced the book open. With an angry shriek, the book shouted, “Robber! Scoundrel! Set me down, you no-good book thief!” and wiggled out of her grasp. Once free, the book began to hit her until she backed away, waving her hands to fend it off.

“What’s going on in here?” demanded a voice by the door. Both girls turned to face their mother, their eyes wide in dismay. Chartreuse flinched when the book gave her another solid whack.

“Were you fiddling around with my books?” demanded Queen Olivene.

“Me? No, of course not!” protested Chartreuse. “I wouldn’t touch anything of yours.”

“Liar!” shouted the book.

“Liar! Liar!” echoed the rest of the books on the table.

“You lied! You know what I do to liars, don’t you?” Olivene asked with a malicious gleam in her eyes.

Chartreuse backed away from the table. “I wouldn’t touch your crummy books! They probably wouldn’t have what I need anyway.”

“Hypocrite!” screamed all the books at once as they rose up and began to flap their pages at her.

Olivene chortled gleefully, rubbing her hands as her older daughter tried to dodge the books. Horrified, Grassina looked around for something she could use to stop their assault. Her eyes settled on the basket of lightning bugs, agitated now by all the noise. Although the sound coming from the basket had been little more than a soft hum when the girls first entered the room, it had risen in volume until it was almost as loud as the books, and sparks were shooting out of the holes in the weave.

“Mother, make them stop!” screamed Chartreuse as the books continued to assail her.

“It’s your own fault,” Olivene shouted over the din. “You’re getting exactly what you deserve!”