Princess Ben (17 page)

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Depart we did, in a company of soldiers and horsemen. I had intended Johannes to ride in a sledge, but with the enthusiasm of recovery he declared that he would sooner set himself afire than occupy that insult, and insisted on joining us on horseback. The bright sunshine, I had to admit, did him good, and the men's cheers as he mounted brought a smile to his pale features.

I myself had my own troubles, having never before ridden astride. Fortunately my mount proved in both gait and temperament more rocking chair than warhorse, but remaining upright took much of my concentration, and my imminent escape the remainder. Oh, how I longed to see again my beloved castle, and my Doppelschläferin. I yearned even for grim Sophia, whom in a fever of homesickness I swore I would never again disobey.

Descending the mountain, we passed from snow to flowers and soft grass, bleating lambs and twittering songbirds. Yet beyond these vernal displays, the countryside bore little
resemblance to Montagne. The farms had a hardscrabble quality, and the rugged terrain lent itself less generously to agriculture. Now could I understand why Drachensbett forever sought possession of its more fertile neighbor.

The hardships of his native land certainly had no effect on the prince, for he grew cheerier and more boisterous with every bend in the trail. For a time he sang a bawdy ditty about a shepherd girl (winking at me as he belted out these lines) and the mountain goat who loved her. The soldiers joined each chorus with raucous enthusiasm.

"So, young Ben, he asked, falling in beside me and the captain, "you have no taste for song today?

"No, Your Highness. Or skill.

"Oh, anyone can sing a song as dreadful as this! I realize now I have never plucked your brain for information on your fair country.

"There's nothing to pluck. I shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

"That I cannot believe. Surely men have commented on your resemblance to the princess—though you are far cleverer and more interesting, I can assure you.

Inwardly I gritted my teeth at this insult.

"What of that gorgon, the queen regent? Have you ever felt her claws?

Johannes chuckled. "Tell the story—you must. It grows richer on every recitation.

"Oh, doubtless Ben has heard. Of course you know of King Ferdinand's death last spring. Another perished as well, I believe.

Too pained to speak at this casual mention of my mother, I did not respond.

"Perhaps you know as well that my father, on learning this dreadful news, offered every condolence to Ferdinand's widow. Though our two countries have a complex history, the tragedy affected him deeply, for he has always held the queen in highest regard, and we made haste to arrive in time for the king's interment.

Such euphemism! Does a "complex history include invasion, treachery, assassination?

In his enthusiastic recitation, the prince paid my distress no heed. "Following the ceremony, my father begged leave to speak with the queen, and there, before her court, he offered with the greatest consideration to scour the mountain for the beast that had committed this horrible deed.

I could not contain myself. "Beast? You mean a dragon?"

"But of course." He feigned surprise. "What else explains this killing? Oh, do not look upon me with such outrage! Behold, Johannes, his face quite resembles the queen's."

"Indeed it does, Your Highness." The captain smiled, enjoying this immensely.

"His reaction only adds to my story. Now, Ben, take that emotion you so clearly demonstrate, add to it the tongue of a viper and the wit of a most diabolic muse, and you would have the queen. Never in my life have I experienced such suffering as I did then.

"As did we all," Johannes chuckled.

"Yes, I concede it." Florian now produced an admirable caricature of Sophia's measured tones. " 'A dragon, you say?'—speaking to my father, the king of Drachensbett, as a mistress might address a negligent maid!—'Have you yourself set eyes on this
dragon?
' My father was forced to concede that he had not. 'Has any member of the party assembled before us espied this alleged creature?' We all shook our heads. 'Has any of you come across tracks, eggs, dens, fewmets, caches, or any other indication that this beast not only exists but occupies the mountain of Ancienne?'

By this point the captain was biting his glove to restrain
his laughter, and soldiers crowded about, straining to hear Florian's tale.

"I must confess I am relieved the woman serves as queen rather than general! She completed this interrogation, leaving us shuffling and staring at our feet; I was, at least. Finally she spoke, so softly that I did not at first recognize the depth of her fury. 'You come before our court—you, who have striven time and again to claim our lands and exterminate our people—not a day after the most brutal and cowardly slaying of our beloved ruler, and present as explanation for this singularly heinous crime a creature that not one of you has ever witnessed, that you have no proof of whatsoever beyond picture books and the gossiping chatter of old men. We are in mourning! Adorned in black, we grapple to perceive the future that awaits us, and with all due respect we say to you—to you, whom a child of four would identify as the prime if not only suspects in this most brutal offense—that your presence in our chambers represents a jeering mockery of every value we hold dear, and we beg you to depart ere a second regicide bloody our soil.' Finishing, Florian settled back with a slight bow.

"Well remembered, sir, murmured a soldier as others exchanged grins.

Florian eyed me. "So, what think you now of your ruler?"

"That she well deserves the throne," I answered. Never before had I spoken in Sophia's defense, and yet I spoke these words with all my heart.

Johannes stiffened, but the prince waved him away. "How could he know?

"About dragons? I asked, and was stunned to see a dozen men nod. "You truly believe there are dragons on Ancienne?

"It is their bed, a soldier muttered.

"So you find the queen's speech amusing because you think she is
wrong?
"

"Calm yourself, little Ben," said the prince. "You cannot help that you and your countrymen inhabit a world of illusion—

Finally, irreparably, I snapped. For weeks I had borne the cruelty and indignities of a hundred enemy soldiers. Suffering through cold, deprivation, the throbbing ache of my arm, and the incapacity of my hand, I had held my tongue. Even the prince's teasing jabs, his ribaldries and mocking, could not set me off. But his casual insult of my mother, his insistence against all evidence that the Badger Tragedy had been perpetrated by a creature of fantasy, and finally his unwelcome and wholly disquieting presence in my
dreams, these had at last driven from me all prospect of self-control.

"A world of illusion? I spat out. "And where, I beg, do you reside?

"I know not to what you refer—

"You—has no one ever told the prince of Drachensbett that he lives in a world of
delusion?
"

Several soldiers reached for their swords. "Careful, Ben ... warned Johannes.

"You speak of true love, dear prince—that all men, and women, too, should know their heart's desire. And yet even now, those words fresh on your lips, you set off to claim a princess whom you yourself describe as a sullen and graceless oaf. When you jested of the obligations of the marriage bed, you could not suppress a shiver, so revolting did you find her."

The prince glared at me, taut with anger. "If you value your life, seal your lips at once.

"That
is the delusion of which I speak! You wish the joys of true love upon every milkmaid and stable boy in your land, and yet you consign yourself and another to lives of pure misery that you might possess a well-proportioned ballroom."

"Enough! roared the prince. "I will not tolerate such insubordination, such ... such lies, such terrible lies! Tomorrow I meet my destiny. When I return, I shall see you hung.

At once heavy gloves snatched me from my mount and bound me in chains. Never once for the remainder of our journey did the prince look at me, or indeed at anyone, but only drove his horse forward, lashing at the branches of every tree he encountered.

As for myself, instead of escaping my captors on the River Road, I traveled it gagged and flopping in the bottom of a cart, cursing my stupidity.

So it transpired that I spent the night ere Prince Florian departed to claim my hand locked in the bowels of the Drachensbett fortress, my life as good as finished. The following morn, the prince would ride to Montagne, awaken the Doppelschläferin, and at once take her and the nation for his own. If it emerged that the Doppelschläferin had not a wit in her head—given the original from which she sprang, I had no reason to believe otherwise—it would make little difference to the prince, for he was entering the union with the lowest of expectations. Perhaps with minor effort he could convince her even of the existence of dragons, so credible was the man's act. I, on the other hand, the true princess, faced public execution. Perhaps—and such was my mood that I considered this a cheery thought—I could beg for release atop Ancienne. Then I might rediscover the icy cavern that entombed my father and there join him in
death. Centuries hence, an explorer would discover our petrified corpses. If I had time ere I perished, I would carve my full name, and his, into the stone...

No! Such thoughts, mesmerizing though they might be, served me no purpose. I must escape this dungeon. Despondently I surveyed my cell: several rusted rings embedded in the walls, a scrap of hay for bedding, and a high barred window. In desperation I threw myself against the heavy wooden door, bemoaning my measly gift of fire. Anything would serve me better—a trebuchet or shrieking banshee, a blacksmith forge to melt the lock—

I blinked. I could make fire, and if my other hand, still stiff and aching, cooperated, wind as well. Were these not the two components of a forge?

At once I stripped off my cloak.

It took half the night to draw a gust from my fingertips. My arm soon throbbed so painfully that I feared I had cracked the bones anew. At last I produced a breeze, my panic transforming the wind into a veritable gale, and with it coaxed the fire in my other hand to searing heat. The door at once began to burn, filling my cell with smoke. No matter how I tried, though, I could not produce a flame hot enough to melt iron, however much the wood around it flamed and charred.

Half mad with frustration, coughing and gagging in the stink, I pounded on the door. Its underpinnings burnt away, the lock shifted and fell with a clatter onto the floor.

Well, then. Recipes rank less than results. Donning my cloak, I cracked open the door. Wood smoke poured into the dank passageway, and hastily I shut the door behind me. Creeping around a corner, I caught sight of the exit ... and a bulky guard filling the stairwell as he dozed against his staff. Quick as I could, I formed a rock in my hands—well, more sand than rock, so poor my technique—and tossed it past him. Incompetent at all sports, I sent the lure far wide of its mark, but the commotion nonetheless roused the man, who, guilty and befuddled, wandered off to find its source. Alone, I dashed up the stairs to the main hall.

I struggled to retrace my earlier tumultuous journey through the fortress. How different the space now appeared, resting in that quiet interlude when one day passes seamlessly to the next. Three soldiers, arguing monotonously over the attributes of different varieties of apples, paid no heed whatsoever to the figure creeping through the shadows and slipping ghostlike through the main doors.

Once outside, I was confronted with an even more intimidating challenge. Somehow I must breach those mammoth
walls, locate myself a fleet-footed creature, and race to Montagne, arriving at all costs before the prince. Unfortunately I had no notion how to escape this edifice, or wealth to purchase or skill to steal such a mount. The illustration of the handless sorcerer who had attempted to use his magic for profit sprang to mind. Having only recently regained some small use of my hand, I had no interest whatsoever in losing both limbs forever. But perhaps ... Would it be acceptable to create
false
wealth?

Hurriedly I located a mound of refuse that glittered most encouragingly. With momentous effort, singeing my fingertips countless times, I succeeded in melting those fragments of wine bottles into a half-dozen green ... Well, to be honest, they did not much resemble emeralds. In fact, they most evoked insect larvae. Even I, their creator, was slightly repulsed. Yet they were all I had. Grasping my faux gems with as much resolve as I could muster, I tiptoed through the shadows toward the fortress gates.

As roosters battled cacophonously for domination of the dawn, a night-soil wagon crossed my path, rattling and dripping. I gagged at the smell. As the driver paused for a marching platoon, I realized with a sigh of disgust that the vehicle offered an ideal means of escape. Just as the last soldier
passed the front of the wagon, I slipped between its rear wheels, clinging to its crossbeams and praying with all my strength that I would not be discovered.

Had I attempted this exercise at any other point in my life I should have failed, but weeks of slavery had strengthened me immeasurably. Even so, my injured hand could scarcely bear my weight. Night soil oozed onto my cloak, and I wondered why all my adventures involved foul odor. Why could I not for once frolic in a meadow of flowers, or escape in a hamper of fresh laundry? No, I must endure night soil and prison cells and unwashed soldiers...

So occupied, I barely noticed our passage through the gates, and only when the wagon jerked through a sizable puddle, dousing me with chilly water, did I realize we had reached the main road. At least, I consoled myself, dropping into the mud, the wet would remove some of the stink. I had not changed clothes or bathed since my capture, and my short locks were as matted and greasy as sheep's wool. After scrubbing my hands and face, and rinsing the worst of my cloak's soilings, I set off at once for Montagne.

Though Drachensbett is thrice the size of Montagne, its capital lies only half a day's ride from Chateau de Montagne; this I knew already. I now learned a second, bitter truth: the
River Road as it winds through Drachensbett is completely devoid of horse merchants and emergency mounts, particularly at dawn. The farther I trudged, in fact, the rarer became settlements of any kind. At one point a merchant passed with a string of donkeys. When he saw what I offered for their purchase, however, he informed me with language that stained the air what he thought of my bits of glass, and me as well.