The Princess Imposter Page 10

  “Well, they’re just wrong.” It was hard to believe, but there were a few fairies who thought like that, too. “My father tells stories,” she added. “They’re a lot better than my brother’s. Some he’s made up himself, others are ones he’s heard. I like the stories, but he travels to gather them, so he isn’t home much.”

  Fred was wearing his confused look again. “That must be difficult, for a king,” he observed.

  Phleg stood up and shielded her eyes as though she was looking for the beavers. Mush for brains! she chided herself. You’re supposed to be Princess Gabriella. She admitted to Fred, “Still, I understand what it’s like to forget the important bits.”

  It took him a moment to catch up, but then he nodded. “Once upon a time,” he started.

  “Drat!” Phleg said.

  Fred looked crestfallen. “You don’t like stories that begin ‘Once upon a time … ’?” he asked.

  “What?” Phleg said. “No. I mean, yes. I mean, no, that isn’t what I meant because, yes, I like stories that begin ‘Once upon a time … ’ But the beavers are here.”

  “We were waiting for the beavers,” Fred pointed out.

  “So we were.” To the pair of beavers who were swimming downstream, Phleg said, “Thank you for coming. I know this is a busy season for you. I hope you didn’t have far to travel, but my friend has gotten caught by this tree. I figured you’d be much faster about getting him loose than people ever could be.”

  It took several seconds for Fred to be able to close his mouth. Apparently he hadn’t really believed that beavers were coming to help him. Which was both annoying (since it indicated he thought Phleg hadn’t known what she was talking about) and flattering (since he had been sitting here calmly talking with her anyway).

  The beavers—a young male and female, probably in their first summer together—dove underwater and assessed the situation. In no time, they had settled on the best place to start chewing.

  In no time plus just a little, they worked their way through the trunk.

  “Oh,” Fred said, feeling the obstruction give. He leaned backward and wiggled his foot out from under the trunk, and then swung his leg free of the branches that still wanted to snag him.

  “Here,” Phleg said, “don’t put weight on that until we know it isn’t broken.” She stood and took hold of him under his arms, dragging him back even as he was trying to get his feet under him.

  “You’re strong for such a delicate thing,” Fred told her.

  Which was odd, considering what a lumbering big girl Princess Gabriella was.

  Well, Phleg realized, maybe not if you compared her to other people, rather than to fairies.

  She said, “Sometimes people take you by surprise.”

  With Phleg tugging and Fred scooting backward, they soon had him up on the bank, entirely out of the water.

  “Thank you,” Phleg called after the beavers, who were already swimming back upstream.

  Fred added his voice to hers. “I really appreciate it—especially this being your busy season and all!”

  The beavers smacked their tails against the water to let him know he was welcome.

  “Why is this the busy season for beavers?” Fred asked Phleg.

  “All seasons are the busy season for beavers,” she told him. She called one more thing after them: “If you come across a wolf or a deer, or a sheep that has wandered away from its human keepers, or some other big mammal that can help keep us warm, would you send it over?” She thought another moment, then added, “Goats are acceptable, but no porcupines!” Then she turned back to Fred. “Let me see your leg.”

  Clearly the last thing she’d said to the beavers had startled him, so he was entirely taken by surprise when she set her hand on his knee.

  “Oh, I’m not sure—” Fred started.

  “Hush,” Phleg told him, firmly enough that he did.

  There was no blood, so she knew he hadn’t been gashed, but she needed to see if anything was broken. She gently ran her fingers down his shin, and she made him twirl his foot to confirm that it still worked.

  “See, I’m fine,” he told her.

  “You are not. There’s a crack running lengthwise on your shinbone.”

  Fred touched the area she indicated. “I don’t feel it.”

  “You’re not an expert. And you will feel it if you try to walk. So we need to wait here for people-help after all.” That did not please her, but there was nothing she could do about it. She wasn’t going to desert him.

  She knew that once Fred calmed down, he would start to feel the cold from having spent the night in the stream. His leg would start to ache from the battering it had received. Too bad she didn’t have her mother’s talent for making clothes out of what nature provided, so that she could give him something dry to wear. Phleg also wished for the store of powdered herbs and prepared unguents that would be at home. Instead she had to make do with some betony growing on the bank of the stream.

  “Chew the leaves,” she told Fred. “It will help with the pain.”

  “I’m not in pain,” Fred objected. But it seemed all he had needed was the thought put in his head. He began to chew the leaves.

  He didn’t even notice—Phleg suspected there was a lot Fred didn’t notice—when the bear appeared, shambling through the woods.

  What happened next was Phleg’s own fault. “Oh,” Phleg said, “here’s a bear.”

  Fred gulped, swallowing the betony leaf, and began choking.

  Phleg thumped Fred on the back at the same time she motioned for the bear that it was safe to approach.

  Of course animals are not fooled by spells, so it saw her, not Princess Gabriella. Still, normally it would have been nervous to draw near Fred, but once it realized that he presented no danger and, in fact, was in trouble, the bear did come. It even joined Phleg in pounding the prince on the back. This only helped until Fred realized there was too much back-pounding going on to all be from one person. Still coughing, he tried to scramble backward at the same time he threw his arms up to protect Phleg.

  Phleg realized that the bear might be a bit intimidating to someone who didn’t know him. “Don’t worry,” Phleg said. “This bear and I are old friends.”

  “You’re what?” Fred asked, the paleness of his skin and the hugeness of his eyes indicating he wasn’t convinced.

  “I helped him when he was a cub,” Phleg told Fred, at the same time she patted the bear on the snout. “He broke his leg in a fall—an injury very similar to yours—so it’s especially nice that he’s come here to help you.”

  “You what?” Fred asked. “He what? What what?”

  “Oh, hush,” Phleg told him, since that had worked before. “I can’t keep you warm all by myself.”

  “I’m not cold,” Fred said.

  She could have believed that his teeth were chattering more from fear than cold, but the prince’s lips were blue.

  “Well, I am,” Phleg said. “Cold and wet. Besides, didn’t your mother ever give you bear hugs?”

  “No,” Fred said. “I had a nanny.”

  The bear didn’t take offense and sat down next to him anyway. He enveloped both Fred and Phleg in a nice, warm, only slightly smelly bear hug.

  “I’m a bit squished,” Fred said, gasping for breath and eyeing the long, sharp claws at the ends of the bear’s paws.

  “Oh, stop feeling sorry for yourself,” Phleg told him. “You were about to tell me a story. You might want to make sure there’s a part in it about a nice, helpful bear … ”

  Materializing after Mumsy’s transportation spell was as uncomfortable as dissolving had been. Gabriella, who as part of her Servants and Their Work unit of study had helped prepare a meal in the castle’s kitchen, remembered the feeling of scraping her knuckles against a cheese grater. This felt like that. Except all over.

  Once the sparkly, gritty fog disappeared, the scene in front of her wobbled before settling, and at the same time there was a sound like a gong. Gabrie
lla assumed that was because Mumsy’s spells weren’t as sophisticated as Aunt Vimit’s, so a gong was Mumsy’s version of the delicate tinkling of bells. But Parf said, “Just in time. That was the summons for the Council.”

  The fact that he could speak showed that Parf had known to hold his breath. Since he had neglected to warn Gabriella to do so, she was too busy coughing on the coarse sparkles to answer.

  They were in a room as huge as any of the public gathering places in the castle, but circular, as at Mumsy’s. Apparently all fairies favored walls made from glittery, pastel-colored stones, but here the pale colors—pinks, lavenders, mauves, blues, and greens—shifted and blended, constantly moving, like wisps of cloud or eddies of colors in a dye vat. While the basic look of the room was similar to Mumsy’s, only grander, the clothing worn by the dozen or so fairies in this room was nothing like what Gabriella had seen so far—it was gauzy and swirly, and none of it looked vegetative. Both men and women favored crowns of flowers entwined around golden circlets. All in all, they showed that Vimit’s style was not out of the ordinary—Mumsy’s was.

  Only a few of the fairies glanced in the direction of the spot where Gabriella and Parf had suddenly appeared, evidence that such comings and goings were not especially noteworthy. Those who did look seemed more taken aback about the fact that Parf had a human with him, rather than that he had appeared out of a damp dust cloud. Gabriella hoped they didn’t know enough about humans to recognize that she was dressed in a nightgown. But most seemed as unconcerned about the two of them as about the Council-summoning bell, and even those who had spared a moment to glance continued chatting in small groups, or strolling in whichever direction they had been going all along.

  “Wait!” Gabriella caught hold of Parf’s arm as he took a step toward one of the entryways. It was an impulsive and presumptuous action, and she immediately let go. But not before noticing that, though he was wiry, his arm was solid and strong. Not that this had anything to do with anything.

  Though it was the last reaction she would have ever expected, he blushed as his eyes flicked to where her hand had rested. Was he embarrassed that she’d touched him—or annoyed at the impertinence?

  She covered her own uncomfortable feelings by asking, “What can you explain to prepare me?”

  Whatever Parf was feeling didn’t come through in his voice. “You were there when Vomit came,” he said. “You know as much as I do.”

  “I do not,” Gabriella protested. “You know the whole background, the history of what’s going on. You know why you suggested I should come.”

  “I already said: You talk good.” Parf sighed. “You’re like my father, and like Uncle Ardforgel: You use words to twist what is and to make everyone see what isn’t. And to get everyone to do what you want.”

  “I don’t … That’s not … How can you … ?”

  Parf raised an eyebrow, perhaps thinking, Well, maybe you don’t talk THAT good. “Like getting the little-uns to like you, which is no big deal, but getting them to do your kitchen cleanup for you. Like getting Mumsy to like you.”

  Gabriella took a deep breath. There were so many things she could have said, objections she could have made. Mumsy liked her? She had to choose. “You make it sound like words are used to deceive and control. People can use words like that; I imagine fairies can, too. But mostly words help us to communicate.”

  Parf shrugged. “You always say exactly what you mean? What you’re thinking?”

  This would have been easier to answer before she had met him and his family.

  In any case, he didn’t give her time. “Never mind,” he told her. “Come communicate in front of the Council.”

  None of the doorways before them were marked, and they all seemed to lead outdoors, to some tranquil green, leafy place. Gabriella wondered how well Parf knew his way around here—wherever here was. He took hold of her arm just as they passed the closest threshold—and she couldn’t help wondering: Did he do this to disconcert her in retaliation for how she’d disconcerted him? Not that she would allow herself to become flustered …

  “Council,” he said, and this time it was the scene in front of them, not they themselves, that dissolved. When the surroundings returned a heartbeat later, Gabriella and Parf were standing in a different room. And surely, she told herself, it was the there-then-not-there-then-there-again nature of their location that accounted for the tingly sensation in her arm, not the fact that Parf was holding it. Still, that reasoning did nothing to keep her from blushing.

  As with all the fairy rooms she had seen so far, this was yet again circular. But this one had only one door, the one through which they’d just come. Except, when Gabriella looked back, the view was no longer the large gathering room but the same glimpse of woodsiness through which they must have passed, but had not.

  Parf tugged on her arm to get her to look forward. Though by no means cramped, the room was much smaller than the vast one where they had just been. It was occupied by a single round table, at which five fairies sat, two women and three men.

  Someone had probably been talking, Gabriella guessed by the way the air seemed suddenly still. Those four facing the doorway looked at her and Parf with a range of expressions, from mystification to fierceness. The fifth fairy, who had his back to them, glanced in their direction, then turned fully around to smile broadly at them.

  “Parhenoloff!” He jumped to his feet. “This is my son!” he explained to the others in a delighted-sounding voice. “And … ” looking at Gabriella, but still sounding delighted, “… I have no idea!”

  “Gabby,” Parf mumbled. “Her name’s Gabby. She’s our changeling.”

  “We haven’t had a changeling in ages!” Parf’s father said in a tone indicating it was high time they fix that.

  Gabriella remembered Sylvimit accusing the children’s father of getting by on good looks and charm, and she immediately could see how that could be. He was supposed to be in trouble, but no one would ever guess that from the twinkle in his eye and his welcoming manner. He acted as though he had never been happier to meet anyone. “Pull up the chair,” he said in invitation, which got a sour look from most of the Council members.

  “Benlos,” one of the male Council members said disapprovingly, “this is most irregular.”

  There was a single extra chair, tucked out of the way by the wall, but when Parf pulled it out and placed it next to where his father was sitting, another chair appeared where the first had been. Gabriella blinked. She had the impression that the table had shimmered, but didn’t catch what exactly had happened. It was only when Parf pulled that second chair to the table that she could ignore the sudden appearance of yet another chair by the wall, and actually see that the whole table had meanwhile expanded, growing larger to accommodate the new seats.

  One of the female Council members, the one wearing the biggest scowl, spoke up. “We will allow this, Benlos, so long as your … ” She sucked her teeth. “… family … ” That word was spoken with an even more impressive scowl. “… is not a disruption.”

  “Absolutely,” Benlos agreed, with a winning smile. Only it did not win over the Council.

  “No human shenanigans,” warned the male fairy who hadn’t spoken yet. It was not the well-mannered greeting Gabriella might have expected from someone evidently highly placed in the fairy world. “We don’t want these proceedings to drag on longer than necessary, as we have other important business.”

  Judging by his sleepy eyes and his stifled yawn, Gabriella had a good idea what “important business” might be in his immediate future. She mentally dubbed him Close to Napping Fairy Man.

  Still: “No shenanigans,” she agreed, politely but not meekly. She smiled at each of the Council members. They were not won over by her smile, either.

  She sat next to Parf, who sat next to his father. On her left side was the first male fairy, who seemed to be vying with the woman fairy who’d already spoken for the sourest expression in the room. Parf was a cl
ose third.

  The woman fairy, who seemed to be in charge, said, “To resume, after this inopportune interruption: Benlos, you have been caught stealing some of Councillor Ardforgel’s dragons’ teeth, purportedly to fund your expeditions into the human world in order to collect … ” Again she sucked her teeth. “… stories.”

  Gabriella had resolved that her best strategy was to sit quietly until she fully understood the situation. That plan didn’t last long. “Excuse me—his what?”

  There was a loud sigh from the fairy that Gabriella was quickly beginning to think of as Irate Fairy Woman (as distinguished from only Moderately Annoyed Fairy Woman, who hadn’t spoken yet, and Irate Fairy Man and Close to Napping Fairy Man). Irate Fairy Woman repeated, enunciating slowly and carefully, “Dragons’ teeth.”

  “Ardforgel has a dragon?” Gabriella asked. “And Benlos stole its teeth?” That seemed brave, though foolhardy. And unfortunate for the dragon. Also, she couldn’t begin to imagine why Benlos would have done such a thing.

  Irate Fairy Man snorted so energetically he had to turn his face and discreetly dab at his nose.

  Parf groaned in exasperation. “Fairies don’t keep animals,” he reminded Gabriella in a mutter under his breath.

  “Doesn’t this changeling know anything about fairies?” Irate Fairy Woman demanded. Her wings flicked and snapped in irritation.

  “She’s new,” Parf explained.

  “I think she’s doing fabulously.” Benlos craned around his son to give Gabriella a nod of encouragement.

  Moderately Annoyed Fairy Woman said to Gabriella, “Not Ardforgel’s personal dragon. His personal supply of teeth, gathered from dragons.”

  “Wow,” Gabriella said, feeling a grudging respect for Ardforgel.

  Moderately Annoyed Fairy Woman clearly saw what Gabriella was thinking and felt it was her duty to set the record straight for the human visitor. “Fairies gather the baby teeth that dragons shed as they grow.” Seeing Gabriella take a breath to ask, she added, “Those teeth are the source of most fairy magic.”