A Winter's Heroic Interlude In Three Parts
Part 2 – Blue
…
The piercing winds howled across the icy fens around Amstelredamme and through the old city. The fires were out, but that just meant that slushy snow was blown up in mounds lining the gutted buildings. Guiche de Gramont wrapped his cloak around him more tightly, and shivered.
"This truly is miserable weather," he said.
"Oui." Tabitha was almost spherical from her layers of clothing. Beside her, her dragon huffed in agreement. "Mole. How long?"
"Verdandi is still searching for a trail - and she's a mole, not a bloodhound. This is hard going for her," Guiche said defensively. He kicked up slush and leaned against a wall, huddling in the wind shadow of the building. "What do you think happened here? No one seems to know for certain."
For her own part, Tabitha - who had been at the Cabal Awards when this had all happened - had a rather better idea than most people. "Two dark gods were fighting for power. Zat eez what I think 'appened 'ere."
"Two? Not one?"
"I 'ave heard ze rumours," she said, not saying where she heard them. "For a dark goddess to be so weak, I would say zat that meant she was either weak and old, or new to ze power."
"Yes. Yes. That would make sense." Guiche frowned. "But then why would there be," he shuddered elegantly, "minions here?"
Tabitha shrugged.
"Hmm. I wonder if it was another plan of the Overlady of the North. She did try to subvert Amstelredamme in the summer, so perhaps she tried again. But then again, the Madame de Montespan was possessed by the powers of evil! I feel there has to be something we're missing. Some greater scheme." Pulling out his notebook, Guiche scribbled something down. "Here's what I think we should do. We need to gather the evidence that there was some greater evil plot behind this, so they can't dismiss us. We'll probably need evidence from three or four different locations to build a solid case, so we can get the support of the Council."
"Will zat work?"
"Of course," Guiche said confidently. "Especially with Kirche on side, there's no way anyone will dare make disingenuous assertions or try to slander us. Because she'll punch them if they do. Or she'll set them on fire. I sort of wish she wouldn't do that, actually. I could talk my way out of things, but she always interrupts at the first chance." Rubbing his hands together, he blew on them. "We have that meeting with Magdalene van Delft in half an hour. No doubt this is our chance to find out what she knows – and see if there's any clues we can unravel! Maybe without Kirche, we can do it without anyone getting punched in the face."
Tabitha didn't care, and rather enjoyed the violence and chaos that Kirche punching someone usually produced. Looking up to the sky, a small fleck of motion caught her attention. She adjusted her glasses, squinting, and slumped fractionally. Tabitha held out her arm as a rest, and a bird landed on it. Only it wasn't a bird, Guiche realised in surprise; it was paper folded into the shape of a bird. Tabitha straightened it out, scanning the message in a glance.
"I must go," she said.
"Sorry, I beg your pardon?"
"Eet eez not possible for me to stay. I 'ave been summoned to court."
"What does the Queen want with you?"
Tabitha adjusted her glasses. "Non. Ze Gallian court." She whistled for her dragon. "You must stay 'ere and…"
"No!" Guiche didn't quite realise where he was going with this until he'd already said it. "I mean, if you don't mind, I'm coming with you."
"I do mind."
"I'm still coming!"
"Non."
"Yes!"
"Non."
"Yes!"
Tabitha slumped down. This was more effort than she evidently wanted to put in. "Fine. But you will wait wiz Slyphid. Zat court eez a nest of vipers."
The dragon whuffled happily, butting her head up against Guiche in a playful manner that still nearly knocked him over on the icy floor. Clinging onto her neck for balance, Guiche tried to pretend he hadn't nearly landed flat on his arse and failed. "Kirche said you'd taken her to your home and Gallia once or twice," he managed.
"Kirche talks. Like you."
Guiche sighed, already regretting the cold flight that he foresaw. But his honour would not let a maiden go out and about unaccompanied. Even if it was Tabitha who was a living murder-machine who had once heard of the concept of a damsel in distress and decided that it sounded easier to be a damsel who put other people in distress. "I wish the others were here," he said, voice hitching. "But Monmon's family wants her back, and Kirche… well, Kirche also has family things."
"I wish Blitzhart von Zerbst was my family," Tabitha whispered faintly. Guiche didn't catch that; partly because she was soft-spoken and the wind was loud, but mostly because she said it in Gallian.
…
Any plans to hide Guiche from the treachery and decadence of the Gallian court were for naught. As soon as the dragon landed both Tabitha and Guiche were seized by powdered popinjays. Guiche did consider resisting, but given that Tabitha hadn't happened to them this was probably some strange Gallian custom. At least it was much warmer in Versailles, safe from the piercing winds blowing off the Great North Sea.
An hour later, Guiche was none-too-gently thrust into a grand masquerade ball. If this was a kidnapping, it was the second most unusual one to date, only edged out by that time the forces of the Abyss had snatched him and forced him to wear white underthings and pose with a sword. The hall was lit by countless floating candles, gleaming upon windstone chandeliers, while the floor had been flooded and pleasure barges floated upon the waters.
He smoothed down his blue velvet waistcoat, and sidled up to Tabitha who looked glum in a black silk dress and a devil-mask. Even if he hadn't known to look for someone as short as her, the fact that she was wearing her glasses over the top of her mask and had smuggled in a book would have been a dead giveaway.
"What's going on?" he hissed.
"Zis is one of my uncle's parties," Tabitha said, her usual monotone tinged with a smidgen of weariness. It was highly unusual for her to emote that much, and Guiche stiffened up.
"One of your uncle's? But…" He swallowed. "Oh. Uh. Your highness."
"Don't call me zat."
"Yes, your highness."
"Are you trying to be funny?"
"... yes," Guiche admitted.
"Stop zat. Eet is not funny when Kirche does eet either."
One of the flunkies wanted Tabitha to follow her. Guiche drifted in her wake as she was led to the throne on the highest barge. A blue-haired pale man with delicate, china-like features and very pale skin sprawled on the seat, his crown tilted at a jaunty angle. He had one leg hooked over the arm of the chair, and he looked over the crowd below with a wry expression.
"Oh, Charlotte!" King Joseph said in Gallian. "You showed up at my party! Dear girl, how wonderful! I'm so glad you could make time for your dear old uncle."
"You said my absence would be considered treason," Tabitha said in the same language.
"So I did! But you're here, so there's really no need for me to have your stomach sliced open, your intestines removed, and used to strangle you! Hurrah, hurrah, what a wonderful day this is! And who is this companion you brought with you? Your mistress? She has such beautiful blonde hair."
Tabitha blinked. "Your majesty, this is Guiche de Gramont, the famed hero. He is a
man," she added, in case her uncle was having a particularly bad day. "Though yes, the hair can be a trifle confusing."
"Why didn't you bring that gorgeous Kirche girl with you?" the king asked, a little sulkily. "She's one hell of a woman. I'd even picked out a dress I was going to give to her as a gift. It was backless. And frontless."
"She is with her family for the new year. I thought it best not to anger Blitzhart von Zerbst by pulling his heir away from his celebration. He might have got violent, tracked us down, and jumped through the window while shooting fire at you."
King Joseph blinked, something that almost approached sanity flickering through his eyes. "Oh, yes, yes… uh, good thinking there, Charlotte."
Guiche understood very little of that, because he lacked magical translation glasses of the kind used by the Abyss and his Gallian was what might charitably be called hero-grade. That is to say, while he was capable of asking where the orcs were and whether there were any giant rats present in a local inn, it was rather lacking in courtly manners. He recognised his name, however, and bowed deeply to the Gallian king. "Your majesty, I am pleased to have been invited to the wonders of Versailles," he said.
"He says…" Tabitha began.
"I can speak Tristainian," King Joseph said sharply, in that language. His accent was much less opaque than Tabitha's, and largely served to give his voice an exotic hint that almost managed to overcome the petulance. "I don't know why everyone insists on treating me like I'm a fool. It's basically treason, don't you know? I am the king! I deserve respect! And demand it!"
"Your majesty," Guiche said, with a florid bow. "I am honoured that you saw fit to invite me to this winter celebration."
"I didn't invite you! You just showed up!" the king said sharply, before smiling. "But I don't care about that! Charlotte is a very boring guest, you know! She's always reading! She doesn't have one comic story about milkmaids to tell! I hope you're more interesting!"
"I am at your majesty's disposal," Guiche said. "I hope I can be of some interest to you."
"Oh, I do too! I'm so dreadfully bored! Charlotte, begone! I think Isabella is looking for you." Tabitha departed without a word, and the king turned his full attention to Guiche, taking him in. His eyes were cold and dead, exposing the lie of his smile; his pupils were pinpricks. Guiche became faintly aware that the king of Gallia was trembling slightly. "I do believe I am a fish, Mademoiselle Guiche," said the king, after a long moment of thought. "I have thought about this long and hard, and the evidence seems incontrovertible."
"I… see."
"Consider this. My blood is red, much like a fish's. I have a spine, a skull, teeth and ribs. I have four fins, though mine are longer than those of most fish. Is it therefore not logical that I am a fish?"
He seemed to want something from Guiche. A bead of sweat formed on the young man's brow. "How good a swimmer are you, your majesty?" he tried. "If you're at home in the water, would that not reinforce your… your point."
"Ah ha! An excellent point! I am a fantastic swimmer! Is not my fish-like nature evident for the world to see? Your wisdom is as evident as my fish-like nature, young lady."
"Very… very evident."
Leaning forwards, King Joseph crossed his hands on his lap. "Now, I do believe I've heard of certain tales of your exploits. Now, when it comes to it… how exactly did you beat Fouquet?"
Guiche blinked. "Are you sure you really want to hear that tale, your majesty?" he asked, mildly surprised. "It's one of the first things I did, and I look back at it with some mild embarrassment."
The king laughed, throwing back his head. "Good, good! No one really wants to hear about that! No, no, I jest! I hear from Charlotte that last summer, though, you stumbled across a tear in the world that led to the Abyss."
"Yes, your majesty, we did."
"Have you any idea what might have caused such a terrible tragedy?" The king pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at his dry eyes. "I can't cry, you know. It's a shame."
"We don't know what caused it. It just seemed to happen, but we have heard tale of other such things all across Halkeginia."
Down on the other boats, the musicians struck up music in a minor key. "My daughter has been studying such things. You should meet her. You could plait each other's hair or something like that! Whatever girls do together! That, and stop the Abyss stealing my kingdom. It'd be very bad of them. In fact, I insist. You there!" He jabbed one finger at a courtier. "Take this lady to meet my daughter, or I'll have your hand sewn to your heads!"
There was something slightly weary about the courtier's posture. "Yes, your majesty," he said. "Zis way."
King Joseph watched them go. "What a nice young man," he said to the thin air, once they were out of earshot. "So willing to humour me. I'd give him a title, if he wasn't Tristainian filth. Now, time to find a duc to bemuse. Perhaps I should pretend that I think he's a moorhen."
He paused, as if listening to someone.
"No, no, keep at what you're doing, my dear. You have important business in Albion. You need to find me my special hat, for one."
…
Guiche stirred. The last thing he remembered, he'd been talking to the Gallian princess - that is, the one who wasn't Tabitha - and then his wine had started tasting of sleepiness.
People really needed to stop doing that.
He opened his eyes.
"Um," he said, after evaluating how very, very pink the scene before him was. It wasn't that everything in front of him had ruffles or frills. It wasn't the large and extensive collection of stuffed fluffy animals who stared down at him with glassy eyes. It wasn't the bed big enough for six that he was lying on, or the fact that everything smelled of flowers. It was all of that, and also the worryingly intense look the scantily clad crown princess of Gallia was giving him.
"'Ello," she said. Guiche wasn't very experienced in what might be considered the 'advanced' elements of flirting. Both his school days and his heroing days never got him that far – and for the past year or so, he'd been pining after Monmon. However, he was fairly sure that the adverb 'coquettishly' might be applicable, if that was even a word. She snapped a fan open in front of her face. This obscured her lower mouth, but not any of her ample female attributes on display which were barely hidden by a few measures of pink and white cloth. "So you are awake. What are you doing een my boudoir?"
"I woke up here after drinking a glass of wine you handed to me," Guiche said, without thinking. Damn. He should have been more careful. He was fairly sure that it was princesses who were meant to be kidnapped, not doing the kidnapping. Then again, now he knew that Tabitha was secretly a princess, and last time someone had tried to kidnap her she'd torn out all of the would-be abductor's blood. Clearly there were traditions here in Gallia he didn't understand.
"But of course," Princess Isabella said. "Zat eez 'ow you meet young men, eez eet not?"
Guiche tilted his head, as he tried and failed to squirm out of the ropes. "Um," he said. "I don't really have a response for that."
"Eet eez," she said firmly. "And you are such an 'andsom 'ero!" She ran one pale hand over his arm. "I like 'ow you are all slender and not built like a wall zat eez made of bricks. Too many men are like zat."
"I do sort of have an arrangement with someone else. Another girl," he said. "She's very nearly my fiancée," he added, bending the truth in the somewhat desperate hope that the girl with the too-intense eyes would back off.
"... but zat means she is not your fiancée."
"I'd like her to be."
Princess Isabella's shoulders slumped down. "And eez she as pretty as me? I bet she eez not even a princess!"
"I'm sorry, it's nothing personal." The princess was indeed, quite attractive, even if she had an over-large forehead and slightly too large eyes to be truly pretty. Also, her gaze looked like it could cut glass. That didn't help matters. But Guiche had spent too much time around Tabitha to feel attracted to a member of the Gallian royal family. The thought of getting intimate with someone who shared blood with a girl who carried so many hidden knives made vulnerable parts of him cringe in fear. "But I've known her for a long time and… well, I first met you today and then you drugged me and tied me down in your bedroom. It does rather weight things in her favour."
Isabella's face fell. "Merde," she muttered. "Zis always 'appens, you know? Ze nice boys I meet, zey already 'ave fiancees or are married, and ze not-so-nice boys, zey are only out to marry me for my crown and position as 'eir."
"Poor you," Guiche said earnestly. "It must be terrible."
"Eet eez! And zen I 'ave to 'ave them imprisoned and I 'ave to tell Charlotte not to smother zem in zeir cells and zen it takes 'er so long to getting around to doing it…"
"Wait, sorry, what?"
"... and just when you think zat you've met someone who might be compatible, eet turns out to be zat 'e eez being paid by your fazzer to torment you because 'e thinks eet is funny."
Guiche considered the conversation he had had with the King of Gallia today. He reached out with one tied-up hand, and managed to pat her on the hand reassuringly. "There, there," he said. "I met your father. I can't imagine how bad it must be to have to interact with him on a daily basis."
"I will just go untie you," Princess Isabella said, shoulders slumped down. She picked up a fluffy pink dressing gown from the floor, and put it on, then got to work on the ropes. "Zis 'as been a farce from start to finish. I 'ad zought zat you were single, and… well, one zing led to another and eet is all very embarrassing."
"No, no, it's all my fault for not making it clear enough," Guiche said, on the grounds that it was always good to be nice and understanding to the person who had you tied up but you'd just about talked into letting you go.
"Such a shame. Most men would not be as understanding as you." She sighed again. "I 'ope that your woman eez very 'appy with you. She eez very lucky."
He sat up, rubbing his wrists. At least she hadn't been cutting off his circulation with the way she'd tied them. The princess clearly had practice at this. "I hope so too. If we can just get around the problem with her family…" He shut his mouth. He hadn't wanted to mention that.
"Non, I understand," Isabella said, sitting down next to him on the bed. "Really, I do. My fazzer eez crazier than a farmer who uses foxes to guard 'ens. I too understand ze problems of family." She gestured to him. "Go on,
s'il vous plaît."
"Well, her family is in debt. She's been trying her hardest to earn enough to pay it off, but they've gone and arranged an awful marriage for her because they need the money."
"'Ow terrible. And you love 'er? And she loves you?"
"I… I love her, yes." Guiche stared into the middle distance, at a glass-eyed bear that gazed vacantly back. "And I think she loves me. Enough that she told me she can't be caught talking to me, because she's scared that she'll do something inappropriate."
Princess Isabella patted him on the shoulder. "Zat eez sad. 'Ave you zought what you will do?"
"I… I don't know. I feel torn."
Reaching down, she squeezed his hand. "If I were you, I would not let 'er go. She sounds like she will be miserable in zis arranged marriage. She does not want eet and you do not want eet. Zere must be some way to stop eet." The princess perked up. "I know! I will lend you Charlotte! She eez a very evil girl who murders people when you tell 'er not to do it, so you will just need to tell 'er not to kill your love's 'usband-to-be and then she will do eet and zen… simple! Ze obstacle to true love 'as been removed!"
"Um." Guiche wetted his lips. "That's not what heroes are meant to do."
"Oh? Zat is a problem." Isabella leaned against his shoulder. "I try to be good, but it is 'ard. Zey say zat zere eez a problem with us, those with royal blood in Gallia. Everyone else seems to find eet so easy to know what to do. I think we 'ave been marrying among ourselves too long, trying to keep ze blood of the 'Oly Void pure. Zat is why I thought that you - a foreign 'ero - might have been a fine consort."
Guiche nodded sympathetically. Time to deploy his hidden technique. "At least you're trying. Here's a bit of advice. If you want to meet men, perhaps don't drug them and drag them to your bedchamber," he suggested. "It's probably better to get to know them in other ways beforehand."
Princess Isabella nodded. "I think I 'ave some parchment around 'ere," she said, getting up to root through her stuffed-toy-covered chest of drawers. "Do you 'ave any more suggestions? I think I should be making notes."
…
Tabitha was waiting for Guiche outside. She had contrived to lose her mask, and was wearing a guard's jacket over the top of her dress. No one dared to ask her how she had got her hands on the warm garment.
"You are not imprisoned," she said, showing very mild surprise and even looking up from her book. "And I 'ave not been ordered not to smother you."
They were going to have to talk about that later, Guiche decided. "Oh yes. Once we'd cleared up the misunderstanding, me and your cousin just talked for a while. She's a nice girl." He considered his statement. "Well, no, she isn't. But she's trying to be a nice girl, while not really having much of a clue what that entails. I think she's just as mucked up as you are."
She stared blankly back at him, not saying a word.
"I can't imagine how bad it must have been for you as children."
Tabitha managed to contrive to become even paler. "'Ow much do you know?" she asked quietly.
"Enough to know that there's very good reasons that you're peculiar. And so good at, uh, happening. Potions, education in isolated schools that are more like jails, iron masks..."
"Not even Kirche knows."
Guiche jammed his hands in his pockets. "Mmm. She might. She's smarter than she acts. But, Founder, you couldn't pay me to be part of your family, even if it'd make me a prince. I gave your cousin some advice about being good and how to meet boys and how kidnapping them and dragging them to your bedroom isn't how it's meant to be done. It came as a genuine surprise to her, can you believe?"
Tabitha blinked. "Wait. Zat eez not how eet is done?"
"... and apparently you also need that talk. Well, you have Kirche. She certainly knows more about that topic. Both about meeting boys and also being a boy." He ran his hands through his blond hair. "It's a little embarrassing to admit that Kirche is better at being a swashbuckling playboy than me, but Blitzhart von Zerbst
is her father."
"Zere eez no man like 'im," Tabitha agreed.
"You certainly have that right." He paused. "Are you feeling alright? After she cried into my shoulder and talked about how bad her school had been and… well, I talked to her and she said I was her best friend and the only person who didn't want something from her." He shook his head. "Your cousin hopefully won't order you to kill as many people in future. Or… not order you or… this whole set up makes my head hurt."
"Tradition."
"Yeah, well, your traditions are awful. I'm sorry, but they are. And I think I can see what they were going for at first. If about half the royal family is good and the other half is evil, if you get them young enough you can channel their impulses usefully. Of course it didn't work. People are more complicated than that. And you can't filter for good and evil aged six. No wonder you're all crazy." He paused. "Uh, sorry."
"My mother eez mad. So eez my uncle. Madness eez in the royal line. Do not be sorry."
They stepped out into the winter chill. "Come on. Let's get out of here."
"Amstelredamme?"
Guiche shook his head. "No. There's no real clues there - nothing that someone else can't find. If it's fine with you, I think we should go with my parents. It's warm there, we're nice and not-at-all-like-your-family, and you might as well get to meet some of my sisters for girl talk from someone who isn't Kirche. And there'll be absolutely no killing, unless you want to go hunting with my mother." He paused, looking back at Tabitha who had stopped where she was. "What is it?"
"What are you planning?" she asked flatly. "Eez it because you know that I am now a princess? Are you trying to marry me?"
Guiche pulled a face. "No! I already had your cousin throwing herself at me today, thank you, and… Tabitha, you scare me. Even if I didn't have my… thing with Monmon, you're not a girl I'd go for. I'm just… I don't think enough people have been nice to you in your life, so I'm trying to be… nice. That's all."
"Oh."
"While we're there, I think it might be a good idea to do some research into that priest who Monmon mentioned in her last letter and see if we can dig up something there. And then maybe we can go off and grab the others, and go kill dragons or something over the New Year."
Something hot blew on the back of his neck. He looked up at Tabitha's dragon.
"Present company not included," he added quickly, clapping his hands together. He paused, tilting his head. "Though I can't help but think there was something we were supposed to do. Something I'm forgetting."
Tabitha was no use and stared blankly back at him.
"Oh well. It probably wasn't that important."
…
"Where in the name of the Founder are they?" snapped Magdalene van Delft, back in Amstrelredamme. She checked the clock hanging on the wall. Her meeting with Guiche de Gramont had been due three hours ago and she was a very busy woman!
Her calendar was packed with meetings from her new ascension to the Council of Regents, she was overseeing the clean-up of the city, and on top of that she was a sleep-deprived new mother. This fact made itself clear again, as her son started to wail and she realised she couldn't just snap things without thinking these days.
"Hush, hush, hush. Mama's here. What's the matter? I know I didn't mean to raise my voice but… are you wet? No. Hungry?" Clasping her son to her chest, Magdalene rocked him back and forth. "Lord and Founder, how… how am I meant to… it's going to be at least a year or two before you're a person rather than a little crying monster and… and…"
"I always found them nicest at that age," said a voice at the door.
Magdalene looked up and paled. "Aunt Karina?" she asked the figure wrapped up in warm furs. A hint of pink hair poked out from under the hood. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, you know how it is," the Duchess de la Vallière said. "I was feeling a little trapped inside the house. Chunks of giant winged squid-dragon may be washing up on the shore over the next few days. Incidentally, squid-dragons were planning to invade Amstelredamme."
"Uh… there's no risk of that?"
"Not anymore." Karina pushed back her hood, revealing her sharp features which much resembled her eldest and her youngest daughters. "I thought I'd stop by and congratulate you on the birth. How are you coping?"
Trying to smile, Magdalene instead merely winced. "He's keeping me up. He wasn't an easy birth, either. Of course, it's never easy giving birth after being stabbed."
"Cattleya was the same," Karina said, understandingly. "It's harder to avoid knives when you're heavily pregnant." She paused, deliberately. "Do you want to talk about the circumstances of the birth?"
"Excuse me?" It was warm in Magdalene's office, but she suddenly felt cold and clammy.
"Eleanore had quite an interesting tale when she arrived at my doorstep with poor Françoise-Athenais' soulless body in tow," Karina said, her attitude that of an older relative congratulating a new mother. "A tale of dark gods and possession and other such things. Not to mention quite a guilty confession about how she was nearly corrupted herself. I thought I'd just stop by and see if you had anything you'd want to add to that."
Magdalene swallowed. She began to spin her tale. And if there was one thing she was very glad of, it was that Aunt Karina was not a de la Vallière of the main branch by blood. It made everything so much easier.
…
)
