Wisdom's Kiss (24 page)

Even as his great train of performers and accountants moved through the streets, the emperor sat in a tête-à-tête with that peculiar little Booted Maestro (sporting yet another monstrous plumed hat), the two of them calculating how best to put to use Tips and Violet. Needless to say, a circus is the ideal venue for your sister. I remain in awe of her brilliance, to deduce in a moment the magical foundation of the Globe d'Or—she has never been so clever, but then she has never in her life been so motivated! To be honest, Princess Wisdom would have made a truly dreadful ruler, particularly chafing under Wilhelmina's ungodly thumb: the good folk of Farina should count their blessings that they are left instead with her double. Let us hope that Violet has a long and delightful career with the wondrous Circus Primus, and at the end of each day finds herself crowned only in the transient glory of laurels.

Wilhelmina (I should not gossip so, but I cannot resist) for the duration of the emperor's visit treated him with the most limited civility, begging off every dinner on account of illness—as Rüdiger whispered to me one night, her clipped feathers must be paining her dreadfully! Paining her and others, I'm afraid, for the woman has sequestered herself with that miserable little dog, which bites every unfortunate soul forced to enter her chambers. Would that Escoffier were yet present to drive the beast to distraction!

Through rank, jargon, and ire, I have managed to convince the sawbones yet employed in awakening your "sister" that however they treat my granddaughter, they cannot actually
touch
her; this has put an end to talk of leeches, scouring, purges, draughts, and whatever other quackery doctors will devise for a fee. In this process I was quite assisted by Roger, who displays an endearing devotion to his stricken bride. I suspect that the duke, perhaps only instinctually, flaunts his marital commitment to irritate his mother, which it most certainly does. He has never spoken in Wilhelmina's defense, and it may be that even he suspects her of poisoning Wisdom—given the conniving he has observed throughout his life, he would have no reason to think otherwise—and seeks to communicate his disapproval by treating his bride with the ardor of Pygmalion. However long Violet continues her circus adventure, rest assured that her Doppelschläferin will be safe.

That said, their marriage is not a little monotonous, as is the court as a whole. I fear I have spent far too much of every day asleep, enjoying my Doppelschläferin exchanges with Escoffier. Life in Chateau de Montagne, even through a cat's eyes, is far more scintillating than in this stodgy palace. Had I known the Doppelschläferin spell could operate at such a distance—across nations and through mountains!—I would have put it to use far earlier, though Escoffier is doubtless quite relieved this revelation came so late.

We are both of us, Escoffier and I, observing with the greatest delight your blossoming camaraderie with sweet Trudy. She is one of the kindest, truest people I have ever known, and I am relieved beyond measure that you now have such a trustworthy advisor at your elbow. You are the first in six generations, I believe, to have been gifted with a counselor to the throne. How silly I was not to have recognized that Trudy's sight might serve a greater purpose than stopping spills and wielding buckets!

Your confidence and composure grow daily, my dear, and I cannot ascribe all or even most of this to your new friend. Painful as it may be, hardship tempers us as heat tempers steel; you have emerged from your personal inferno stronger and wiser than ever. I cannot wait to convey this in person; now that Dizzy is safe and negotiations between Farina and Lax are complete (and Montagne firmly in possession of both Bridgeriver and Alpsburg, which shall ease my journey immeasurably!), I can return home. Until then, please accept Escoffier's affection as surrogate for my own.

Your enchanted grandmother,
Ben

Postscriptum: Teddy darling, if you manage to discover any other spies, please lock them up for my return; I shall turn them into frogs.

8
TH EDITION

Printed in the Capital City of Rigorus
by Hazelnut & Filbert, Publishers to the Crown

ROGER OF FARINA

True to his word, the duke remained faithful to Wisdom, spending part of each day with his insensate bride, who lay preserved in a coffin of glass. While not abandoning outright his rule of Farina, he made no effort to conceal his disinterest in affairs of state, particularly taxation and military conquest, and often spoke of the lessons he had garnered from Wisdom's Kiss. The situation degenerated to such a degree that Wilhelmina secretly offered the throne to her youngest son, Hrothgar, then a soldier on the northern frontier and recently married himself to Colonel Ivan von Umlaut. Hrothgar did not answer Wilhelmina's proposition (he once boasted that the secret to happiness lay in never opening his mother's mail), and Roger remained duke. The dowager duchess died soon thereafter, of sepsis from an untreated dog bite, and was posthumously dubbed Wilhelmina the Ogress by her many victims. Thus unfettered, Roger erected on the palace grounds a memorial to Wisdom that soon became a pilgrimage site for local sweethearts. It is today the most popular shrine to love in all of Lax. He later took to collecting china figurines, and in response porcelain manufacturers developed a line of princesses-in-repose commonly known as Rogerware. Following Roger's death without issue in Year 47 of the reign of Rüdiger IV, the Farina courts rejected the claims of Hrothgar's adopted children as a violation of the ducal line, and so the duchy passed via Wisdom to the Kingdom of Montagne. The princess, after twenty years of unconsciousness, returned to life soon after and retired to Chateau de Montagne with a friend. Roger's figurine collection formed the seminal installation of the Farina Museum of Fine Art.

FELIS EL GATO

Impresario Extraordinaire ♦ Soldier of Fortune
Mercenary of Stage & Empire

LORD OF THE LEGENDARY
FIST OF GOD
Famed Throughout the Courts and Countries of the World
&
The Great Sultanate
*
THE BOOTED MAESTRO
*

W
RITTEN IN
H
IS
O
WN
H
AND
~A
LL
T
RUTHS
V
ERIFIED
~
A
LL
B
OASTS
R
EAL

A Most Marvelous Entertainment. Not to Be Missed!

***

VIOLET, inspired on that fateful Montagne morning to maneuver the Globe d'Or that she might rescue her new companion Tomas, soon became so adept at its operation that she eschewed the brazier altogether and managed the Globe d'Or by some other fashion, the details of which remain vague to me, but then, I am an artist, not a technician. With such skill she grew into one of the most valued members of Circus Primus, and her onstage pairing with Tomas soon blossomed into offstage romance. Together they dazzled audiences in countries fourscore or more. Yet even the glow of circus spotlights dims with time; then came word that Roger, Duke of Farina, had passed, this news inexplicably dealing Violet a devastating blow. She died soon thereafter, and in his grief Tomas quit the circus to withdraw to Montagne, where I am told he reunited with the miraculously revived Princess Wisdom...

I myself, the modest recipient of awards past counting—a knighthood, a barony sans manorial rights, three honorary university degrees, and a carpet of alleged magical properties—after a glorious and acclaimed career retired to an expansive country estate, where I now enjoy myself immeasurably. Recently an itinerant storyteller paid a visit to my abode, and for several days I delighted him with my adventures. Curiously, he begged in particular for stories of a cat belonging to an elderly queen of Montagne. Though I barely remembered the beast, I endeavored as best I could to elaborate on my few recollections of the beast's insignificant contribution—vastly different from my own critical role in that epic!—to the great drama of Wisdom's Kiss. I chuckled anew at his battle of wits with that ferocious little dog of Duchess Wilhelmina, and at the cat's assistance in Tomas's defeat of the fiendish gardener.

At last my visitor confessed the truth: he was no wandering raconteur but rather a professional scholar of
fairy stories,
and having heard many versions of this
cat tale
—and of my own saga I am proud to admit, for it is a saga well worth gleaning—had recently, in different villages in several lands, been presented with an amalgam of the two. I begged that he relate this new account, and though reluctant at last he agreed. It was, I grant, delightful in its own simple way, if lacking the grand drama and scope of my life, though as he pointed out, my countless exploits could scarce fit between the pages of a picture book meant for children! And, while my name in that tale has been altered, I am perspicacious enough to recognize that the pseudonym is both more sensible and more fantastic, as are the details—an honest
miller's son,
his
two greedy brothers, the love of a princess,
the acquisition of a
prosperous country
ruled by an
ogre
who is conquered by
cunnin
g,
and above all a
wise feline advisor.

So it is that while this tome you now read shall be the definitive history of my life, I have a second biography as well, one that shines in the reflected glory of my own penning. In honor of that slight but pleasing fairy tale, I humbly sign these memoirs in that name.

With cheerful thoughts of my readers' wholesale satisfaction at this tale.

Your humble servant,
Puss in Boots

ABDICATION
(ab•duh•KAY•shun) [From Latin
ab
-, "away" +
dicare,
"proclaim"] The formal renouncement of one's royal position; monarchal resignation. Often forced upon an unwilling ruler after a loss or a scandal, abdication has historically been rare—too rare, given the incompetence of so many kings. The word today also describes any failure of duty: "Mrs. Franklin abdicated her maternal obligations by leaving her infants in the care of a golden retriever."

ACUMEN
(ACK•you•men) [From Latin
acuere,
"to sharpen"] Shrewdness; good judgment. Someone savvy with plants has horticultural acumen.
Acuere
is also the root of
acute,
as in "severe, critical, or sharp."

ARBOREAL
(ar•BOR•e•al) [From Latin
arbor,
"tree"]
Arboreal
literally means "tree-ish" and refers mostly to animals, such as arboreal frogs.

DÉCOLLETAGE
(day•CULL•taj) [From French
de
+
collet,
"decollar"] Décolletage describes the low neckline of a woman's dress and, implicitly, the skin that said neckline reveals. A proper-sounding word for a fairly improper subject.

DOPPELSCHLÄFERIN
(dopp•ul•SHLAY•fer•in; rhymes with "topple SLAY fair in")
Doppelgänger,
German for "double goer," describes someone's real or fictitious double: "Jason fancied himself Sherlock Holmes's doppelgänger as he set out to solve the theft." The mock term Doppelschläferin, or "double female sleeper," derives from this literary term.

DOWAGER
(DOW•uh•ger) A
dowry
was the property that a bride brought to her marriage. A
dower,
on the other hand, was the property that a bride and groom agreed she would receive should he die first. The dower could include the dowry (in other words, the bride would get her own family's property back) and other holdings as well, including land or a title. Thus, a woman receiving a dower was a
dowager:
a widow controlling property inherited from her dead spouse. These days, however, the word
dowager
is used to describe any older, dignified woman.

EAVESDROPPER
(EVES•drop•er)
Eavesdrop
is an extinct Middle English term for the land closest to a house, the area onto which water from the eaves would drop. Someone lurking within this eavesdrop might readily overhear conversations, particularly given the quality of home construction in medieval England, and the lurker came to be known as an eavesdropper. It's a pity the original definition of eavesdrop fell out of favor, as there isn't another word for the two or three feet of soil abutting a building's foundation.

EL DORADO
(el•door•AH•doe) "The Golden One" or "Gilded One" in Spanish, El Dorado was a mythical country or city of gold sought by the Spanish conquistadors, who ended up finding the Amazon River instead. It has since come to denote an often illusory place or destination of great wealth.

ENCEINTE
(ehn•SAINT) [From Latin
incingere,
"to gird in"]
Enceinte
means both "a fortified enclosure" (or the wall itself) and "pregnant"; both senses are archaic. English has few tasteful terms for pregnancy, probably because pregnancy was considered too vulgar to discuss in polite company. (The Victorians, for example, referred to a woman's
confinement,
which sounds like she was in prison, though prison at least would have been better than the death that concluded far too many Victorian pregnancies.)
Enceinte
has the added advantage of being so obscure that most listeners probably wouldn't know it and would be too intimidated by its Frenchness to ask.