Voice for Princess (v1.1) Page 7

  The bed chamber had been cleaned and aired out, and the musty bedclothes replaced with fresh linen, sweetly scented with herbs. Spot had wrestled the chest of garments into the room and placed a mirror beside it. At Kedrigern’s urging, Princess tried on her wardrobe, and found each new item more becoming than the one before. As promised, they fit her slender figure to perfection.

  With the garments and jewelry draped over chest, chairs, and bed, the room glowed with warm color. Princess looked around the bed chamber with obvious pleasure, then turned and threw her arms around Kedrigern and kissed him most tenderly.

  “Brereep,” she whispered.

  “Brereep,” he replied, snuffing out the candles.

  The next morning, immediately after breakfast, Kedrigern went to his study. He had a busy day planned, and wanted to make an early start.

  His worktable contained a few extraordinary objects, but most of its surface was covered with books, opened and piled one atop another in precarious towers nine or ten deep. Books stood in stacks about the room, and were crammed in no discernible order on the shelves that ascended from floor to ceiling. Kedrigern’s library needed proper cataloguing, but he had not yet found time to get around to it.

  Fortunately, he had a filing system, or index, or whatever one chose to call it, that was reliable most of the time, though it required patience to operate, since it kept trying to turn the subject to how nice it was to be polished at regular intervals.

  Kedrigern stood before the brass head at the end of the table, raised his hands, and in a solemn voice intoned, “Eleanor of the Brazen Head, I conjure you to speak!”

  The eyes opened, blinked once, then fixed on him. In a warm motherly voice, the head said sweetly, “Oh, mercy me, Keddie, is it time for a dust-off and a nice polishing already? Just fancy that! It seems like only four or five months ago… no, more like seven or eight… Well, I’m all ready.”

  “I have come for knowledge.”

  “Not to polish me?”

  “No polishing today, Eleanor.”

  “You never polish me. You never even dust me off anymore, Keddie. Look at this dust. Now, I ask you…”

  “I’ll send Spot, when it can spare the time.”

  “Spot is too rough. It uses abrasives. You do a nice polish, Keddie. Can’t you spare a few minutes for Eleanor?” the brazen head said in a querulous voice.

  “I’m very busy.”

  “So busy you’ll let me tarnish? Don’t you care? I remember everything for you, and look at me, all discolored and covered with dust. It’s squalid, that’s what it is. This whole house is squalid.”

  “Well, that’s why I’m here, Eleanor,” Kedrigern said. “I’m married now. There’s a lady of the house. Things are going to be different. Neat. No more squalor. Everything polished. We’re doing a thorough cleaning, and moving in all new things, and I need to call up a poltergeist to do the moving.”

  “I don’t much like poltergeists,” said the brazen head, pouting. “All noise and carelessness, that’s what poltergeists are, when they’re not downright nasty and wicked. Throwing things around, and knocking things over, and breaking everything in sight. Why, when I was in Friar Bacon’s house, he conjured up a poltergeist that nearly dented my—”

  “There’s no need to worry, Eleanor,” Kedrigern said in his most soothing manner. “I want you to find me a book that contains spells for summoning up spirits to assist with the transportation of material objects. It’s a small book. I think it has a green cover.”

  The brazen eyes clicked shut, and the head was silent for a time, then Eleanor announced, “Third pile to the left of the stool, second from the bottom.”

  “Very good. I’ll also be wanting Isbashoori’s Guide To Countering Complex Curses, Subtle Spells, And Multiple Maledictions. I’m not sure what this one looks like. Thick, I imagine.”

  After a slight pause, Eleanor said, “It’s on the table. Fourth one down in the stack next to the Sphere of Luminosity.”

  “Thank you, Eleanor.”

  “Now do I get polished? Dusted, at least? For your wife’s sake, if not for mine? Maybe she has some pride.”

  Kedrigern blew away the outermost layer of dust and gave the brazen head a few quick swipes with his sleeve. He straightened it in position, then stepped back, smiling.

  “Is that all?” she asked.

  “I’m very busy. I have to bring a lot of furniture here in a hurry, and I want to be careful about the kind of help I get. I want a nice quiet poltergeist who knows how to handle valuable furniture.”

  “There’s no such thing,” Eleanor snapped.

  Kedrigern sighed and began to leaf through the green book. He came at last to the spell he was seeking—a surprisingly simple one, he thought—and frowned at the sight of the admonitory rubric in bold letters immediately beneath:

  Employ with extreme caution. This spell may be hazardous to property and is liable to cause serious bodily injury.

  Here was a complication. Kedrigern pushed aside some of the clutter on the worktable and sat down to peruse the book more carefully in hope of finding a spell that did not come equipped with its own caveat. He found none. Leafing back, he reread the disconcerting passage, and remained for a time deep in thought.

  All spells were tricky. When one was singled out, and specific warning given in red letters, it was the sort of magic one avoids unless one is very rash. Kedrigern was not rash.

  But Princess was looking forward to the arrival of the furniture. To go after it in the customary way, with wagon, and oxen, and hauling and lifting and packing, and a long bumpy dusty drive home, and then more hauling and lifting, and then unpacking, was too dreadful to contemplate, even with Spot to do the heavy work. Time would be wasted. Things would be scratched, dented, broken. Needless anxiety would be generated. Tempers would be strained. Kedrigern did not like to travel, even on a brief trip, lightly and swiftly. A long expedition, heavily encumbered, was a dreadful prospect. A poltergeist could avoid a lot of unpleasantness.

  On the other hand, one should not use a spell to do what could be done in other ways merely because one is disinclined to exert oneself or put up with a bit of inconvenience. Magic was not something to be squandered or used lightly.

  But on the third hand, Princess was here, now, and growing impatient. She deserved comfort after all those years in a bog, and Kedrigern wanted her to feel happy and at home. The more relaxed she was, the more likely his counterspell would be to work properly and restore her speech. And what good was being a wizard if one could not use a bit of magic now and then to make one’s wife happy? It was either use the poltergeist spell or disappoint Princess.

  Kedrigern swallowed, set his jaw bravely, and began to intone the spell, pronouncing each word distinctly. It was a harder spell than it appeared, full of difficult words, in a language not ordinarily spoken by human beings, and he took a long time to finish. When he came to the end, he was perspiring freely, his throat was sore, and the muscles of his jaw ached from the effort of enunciation. The room was very still.

  “Put me down!” Eleanor howled.

  Kedrigern watched her brazen head rise slowly from the table, tilting slightly. The features scrunched up in obvious distaste, and the loud smacking sound of a sloppy kiss broke the ensuing silence. Eleanor’s head descended and came to rest gently on the table.

  “Disgusting creature! You have no manners at all!” she said furiously.

  A low, rustling chuckle filled the room. A stack of books rose in the air, teetering precariously, suddenly turned top to bottom, and dropped noisily to the floor. A chair began to move in slow circles.

  “Hold, spirit!” Kedrigern commanded.

  The chair stopped for an instant. Then, in a flurry of movement, Eleanor shot into the air while the chair hopped to the table directly under her, and then the brazen head, with astonished expression, settled on the seat while the pages of the topmost book on every pile riffled as in a high wind and all the other books flew fr
om stack to stack, exchanging places. The chuckling grew louder.

  “By Fleen and Higibil, and by the Six Doorts, I order you to cease at once!” Kedrigern commanded.

  Chuckling and riffling stopped immediately. A hollow, mournful voice said, “I was only having a bit of fun, honored sir. No harm done, no hurt feelings, no offense meant and none taken, that’s how I see it. A friendly prank or two is no cause for good gentlemen to get upset and start calling upon powers that mean no good to a decent poltergeist.”

  “That was a little too lively to be classified as a friendly prank,” said Kedrigern.

  “It was vulgar and disgusting, that’s what it was. He hasn’t changed a bit, not Rupert. He’s as bold as ever. Why you want to conjure up the likes of him, I don’t know,” Eleanor started in. “But then, I’m not a wizard. I’m not expected to understand things. All I do is keep track of everything, and not even the flick of a dustcloth to—”

  “Do you know this poltergeist?” Kedrigern broke in.

  Before Eleanor could resume her plaint, the holow voice, sounding somewhat more cheerful, said, “Oh, yes, sir, Ellie and me, we go back ever so far, don’t we, Elie? Ever so far, sir. Been a while since I’ve had the pleasure of her company, though, isn’t that so, old girl? Last time we had a quiet moment to ourselves was at Friar Bacon’s house, sir, and that must be… let me see…”

  “Quiet moment? Quiet moment?!” Eleanor shrilled. “There’s no such thing as a quiet moment when Rupert is around! He hasn’t known a quiet moment in his life!”

  “That was cruel, old girl. My whole life was as quiet as a church at midnight. It’s only since I’ve been a poltergeist that I’ve been able to cut up now and then. Not all my doing, either, sir. As you must know, a certain amount of prankishness goes with the profession. It’s expected. Let a poltergeist once get a name for behaving in a refined and dignified manner, and he’ll soon hear about it from them as can make him listen, if you follow my meaning, sir.”

  “I think I do,” Kedrigern said.

  “Then you’re a man of some understanding, sir, and you must realize the pain it gives me to have aspersions cast on my past life and my present profession all in a single breath by someone for whom I have always entertained the most tender feelings,” the poltergeist went on, his voice now practically honeyed.

  “I’m amazed you don’t choke on your words, Rupert,” Eleanor said. “Do you dare tell this wizard how you treated me in our last ‘quiet moment’? Can you speak your shame?”

  “Ah, now, Ellie, it was not all my fault. I admit my hand was just a trifle unsteady, but that Friar Bacon, he worked us something fierce. Had me to Cathay and back twice that morning, and to Ind later in the day. No wonder I wasn’t at my best.”

  “You dropped me!” Eleanor cried in a chilling metallic keen.

  “Not very far, old girl.”

  “Far enough to dent me! Far enough to leave me dazed and stunned just at the moment of my greatest opportunity! I, who was formed to unfold strange doubts and gnomic sayings, to read a lecture in philosophy, and there I was, groggy as a drunken student, mumbling ‘Time is,’ and ‘Time was,’ and ‘Time is past.’ Friar Bacon was furious. He would have hammered me into a salver.”

  “And who was it saved you, old girl? Who whisked you out of harm’s way before the hammer fell, and substituted a battered old cuspidor to fool poor nearsighted Bacon? It was Rupert done it, old girl, that’s who.”

  “It was the least you could do,” said Eleanor.

  “But I did it. I saved you, old girl.”

  Eleanor ignored the remark and went on, “I could have been somebody. Uttered strange and uncouth aphorisms, and girt fair England with a wall of brass. And that would only have been the beginning. Scholars and seers, pyromancers and wizards, all the wisest men in the world would have come to listen to my speech. But that’s all over now,” she said, sighing. “Look at me, Rupert. I’m nothing but a catalogue, dusty and tarnished, buried in obscurity.”

  “Now, just a minute, Eleanor,” Kedrigern said irritably.

  “Nothing personal, Keddie. Let’s face it, you’re not Roger Bacon, and I’m all washed up, anyway. Just an old brass head with a dent in it,” she replied dully.

  “Well, what about me? Look at me, old girl, moving furniture and running errands halfway across the world on a moment’s notice. I used to be a man of some prominence in my village, I’ll have you know.”

  “What does it matter? I’m a fallen woman. Abuse me, mistreat me, neglect me. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “I tell you what, old girl, you’ll feel different after a good buffing up. If the honored sir here will just give me his permission—”

  “I will do no such thing,” said Kedrigern. “This is not a lovers’ tryst, Rupert. You’re here on business. I have valuable property to be moved, speedily and with great care. Not a dish is to be chipped, not one chair or table nicked, or Fleen and Higibil will hear of it. Curtains, rugs, and draperies are to be folded neatly, and everything delivered according to a plan which I have sketched out. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir. Absolutely, sir. Of course, being a poltergeist, I’m not authorized to guarantee the condition of the goods upon arrival, sir. All I can promise is speed. A nick here, a chip there… that sort of thing is just about unavoidable, sir.”

  “But you will avoid it, won’t you, Rupert?” said Kedrigern sternly.

  “I’ll do all I can, sir, but like I say, I can’t make any promises.”

  In a weary voice, Eleanor said, “Don’t try to reason with him, Rupert. He doesn’t care about the likes of us. Look at the condition he’s let me lapse into. Our problems don’t mater to him. Just do as he says, and hope that he only neglects you, as he does me.” She ended with a deep, prolonged sigh.

  “That’s very unfair of you, Eleanor,” said Kedrigern. “You refuse to let Spot polish you. That hardly gives you the right to complain about neglect.”

  “Spot is too rough. Spot would rub me smooth as a platter in no time.”

  “Now, I’m very good at that sort of thing, sir,” Rupert interjected. “I could have the old girl gleaming like the king’s punch bowl in no time at all. Just you say the word and I’ll be about it. It’ll do wonders for her, sir.”

  Kedrigern folded his arms and looked hard at the brazen head. “Is that what you want, Eleanor?” he asked.

  “He’d have to promise not to drop me.”

  “It’s a promise, old girl. Have no fear, sir, she’ll be as safe as houses,” Rupert hurriedly assured them.

  “I thought you couldn’t make any promises,” Kedrigern said.

  “Ah… well… with a single item, sir… and not moving it over great distances… a different situation entirely, sir.”

  “I see,” said Kedrigern, nodding judiciously. “Then consider this, Rupert. If my goods arrive here no later than this afternoon, undamaged, you have my permission to give Eleanor a careful polishing. Agreed?”

  “You’re a true wizard, sir. Friar Bacon never dealt as fairly with a spirit in his life as you’re dealing with me this minute, sir. If I may have the directions and any special instructions…?”

  Kedrigern held out a map to Wuxul’s castle and an itemized list of furniture and household goods, together with a diagram indicating the desired placement of the articles in his house. Map and list rose, unfolding in their ascent, and hovered just above his head; either Rupert was an exceptionally tall spirit, or he was floating in midair. Then, without a word of farewell, there was a great whoosh of wind, and Kedrigern knew that the poltergeist was gone.

  As the sun touched the far mountaintops, Princess stood before the fireplace, hands on hips, looking pleased.

  Kedrigern’s little cottage had not been transformed into a palace, but at least it no longer resembled the den of careless bachelor ogres. It was a fit and cozy home for a princess. Light winked on polished oak and cherry, silver and crystal. Bright tapestries hung on the walls, rugs lay on the
floor, draperies covered the windows. All was of the finest quality, and all had made the long passage from Wuxul’s castle unharmed. Not a chip, not a nick, not a dent was to be seen.

  Kedrigern poured wine from a many-faceted crystal decanter into two delicate silver chalices and handed one to Princess. “Is everything satisfactory, my dear?” he asked.

  “Brereep,” she said brightly.

  “Delighted to hear it. Let us drink to our comfortable home. And to Wuxul. And to Rupert, who turned out to be a remarkably solicitous poltergeist.”

  “Brereep,” said Princess, raising her vessel.

  They sipped the very good wine, and Kedrigern looked over his transformed room with a calm proprietary air. “It’s all in the way you handle them,” he said sagely.

  “Brereep?”

  “Poltergeists, my dear. Some wizards would sooner traffic with devils than call up a poltergeist. But if you treat them with the right combination of firmness and fairness, they can be very helpful.”

  “Brereep.”

  “Yes. And tomorrow, I think I’ll have Eleanor and Rupert work together on my library. She can locate the books, and he can shelve them. Once my books are in order, I can look up all the ones caled for in the Guide, and get to work on a spell for you. In a few days, you’ll be—what was that?!” Kedrigern cried as the house shook and a loud thump echoed through the newly furnished rooms.

  A louder thump folowed, and then a crash. With an inarticulate growl, the wizard thrust his drinking vessel into Princess’s hand and set off at a run for his study. As he reached the door he heard another crash, followed by a scraping, scratching noise, with hollow laughter and a metallic giggle in the background.

  He flung open the door, and cried out in rage at the sight of the chaos within. Amid a blizzard of flying books and objects of the wizard’s trade, his worktable floated knee-high off the floor, swaying like an unpracticed skater on slick ice. Eleanor’s head, gleaming brightly, hovered over the maelstrom, transfigured with merriment at the sight of a chair and joint-stool dancing like drunken peasants at a wedding.