In addition to the novel this book has a coloring pages in the back for the ultimate cozy experiance. Find it on Amazon
Chapter 6
Larkin was just outside my door the next morning. I decided I was too tired to be annoyed, and then realized he’d probably set a spell to warn him when I was coming so he could pop in first. That sneaky wizard.
“I checked up on the Prince last night,” Larkin said after we’d said our good mornings. “There isn’t any record of him being arrested and no notes on why they may have had a fight, and Humphry kept meticulous notes on everything.”
Realization dawned upon me as I remarked, “Including me?”
“Classified,” was his only response, which meant yes, and also meant I was dying to know what he’d written about me that would be forever in the Reeve offices. Possibly long after I’d died, someone could still stumble upon those notes.
“There’s a fairy path between my house and the palace,” I told him. “Stay close, I wouldn’t want something down there to make a mistake and think you were a helpless, lost, little wizard.”
Noreen smiled, “Thinking him helpless would be the last mistake anyone ever made.”
Fairy paths are shortcuts through the world. In mundane speak, I guess you could call them wormholes, although I’m not sure why they use that word. Worms aren’t exactly known for traversing space and time. Fairy paths are very much like a labyrinth, but it’s easy to get lost in them and a lot of creatures stalk them, hoping that someone will have accidently found their way into one. Only fairies and witches could traverse them safely, along with an occasional guest.
I took Larkin’s hand as warm shivers of electricity ran up my arm. I walked him into the trunk of a tree. I’d never taken him into the fairy pathways before, and I wondered if he’d ever been. He was looking around quite a bit. The colors here were even more extreme and shimmering than they had been in fairyland. The mist that fairies used to create illusions was a substantial thing here, and it was constantly swirling into new and strange abstract shapes. Here, a hundred steps brought us 80 miles to a giant oak in the pixie castle’s grounds.
Even more than our keep, the Pixie’s castle had been built for war, and to intimidate those in the surrounding land. The Pixies had conquered Southern Wiltshire not so long ago in the time of witches and fairies, so the castle rose into the clouds to remind everyone that the Pixies were the greatest power in the region. It loomed over any of the nearby hills, a mountainous testament to the strength of the Pixie’s empire. One couldn’t resist looking up to the very top of the castle, for it was as beautiful as a mountain.
“It’s a little overdramatic, don’t you think?” Larkin asked. “How strong is your connection to the families here?” he asked Noreen.
“I’m a second cousin to the King. I lived here for about 50 years before I took Winifred on as my witch,” Noreen said, looking at the beautifully gardened lands surrounding the castle.
“Any thoughts on who we should talk to, other than Prince Mugdel?”
“The cook has been part of the royal family for a few hundred years. Powerful old witch, but a bit absent-minded at the moment. Far more likely to let something slip that she shouldn’t. And she’s a full Duke, so she knows a lot.”
Noreen motioned for us to follow her. Although I’d been here, I let her have her moment in the spotlight. After all, she was excited for the intrigue. Noreen led us around the back of the castle and in through the servant’s entryway. The guards back there looked far more tense than usual, but they didn’t dare stand in a countess’ way.
Given her generally silly attitude and the fact that she’d chosen me for a witch, I tended to forget that Noreen was relatively high up in Pixie society. We made our way through the maze of corridors past the dozens of Pixies and a few young witches hurrying from one job to another in the halls that were hidden from the grandeur of the main rooms of the palace.
The kitchen and food within were heavily guarded. However, many king’s reigns had been cut short due to an assassin who’d accessed an unwatched pie.
“Lady Noreen and Lady Gaveston are here to speak with the cook,” Noreen told the guards, who then tugged on a string, which sounded a bell deep in the stone passageway.
A moment later, a red-faced woman in a starched white apron and cap answered the door. Her face, apron, and wrist gaiters were splashed with what looked like wine and tomato sauce, and she had flour on her nose.
“What d’ya want?” she scowled, before she’d even had a chance to see who it was. She softened noticeably when she saw Noreen and me.
“I’m here with a delivery for Prince Mugdel and Prince Therot,” I said, “and I got an especially good crop of elderflowers I thought I’d share with you.”
Her face went from slightly softer to a beaming smile as she ushered, “Come in, come in.”
We followed Cook down the stone steps and down the hallway into the staff dining room, filled with an oversized oak table surrounded by two long benches and a chair at either end. I pulled out a bottle of elderflower juice. The cook uncorked it and took a whiff.
“Smells of spring. Thank you for this.”
I nodded, then introduced her to Larkin.
“Got your work cut out for you,” she told Larkin. “What with Reeve Humphry playing host to the crawling things of the earth. There’s been planning going on here, so much planning. They’re ordering grease-laden foods.”
“Grease?” I asked uncertainly.
“War councils, detectives, and others often eat greasy foods while working,” Larkin supplied.
“Exactly,” Cook nodded. “’Course Prince Therot had to go to court after Humphry arrested him and that had everyone bothered a few nights ago.”
“You’re certain he was in court?” Larkin asked.
The Cook shook her head. “Shouldn’t have said anything about that, not my business what he’s doing, other than how he had hunted a boar and wanted it turned into pies while planning how to deal with the case.”
I exchanged a look with Larkin.
“My family’s been taking in some of the more vulnerable Fey,” I said. “Do you think we should be coordinating with the King?”
“I’m not sure how big whatever they are up to is. Obviously, there are a few Spriggans, but there’s a new Knight Errant and the deputies,” the Cook said. “Prince Mugdel will probably be able to tell you much more than me. Don’t bother with Prince Therot, he’s angry right now, and his head is full of fluff. His highness had a group of women back to his rooms, and the bell rang every five minutes. We were kept busy to-ing and fro-ing until dawn when he finally collapsed. He’d still be sleeping now if King Harmond hadn’t gone up there and pulled him from his bed. He called Therot a handful of very colorful names and made him work in the map room for the bulk of the day. Yesterday, that was.”
I looked at Larkin and raised an eyebrow. He shrugged.
“Is Mugdel around, Cook?” I asked.
“Well, yes, he’s in the dining hall. You go on up, young Winifred, and take your young man with you,” she said, shooing at us with her hands.
“Is it okay if I leave my basket here, Cook?” I asked after I’d pulled out Mugdel and Therot’s orders. “It’s very full today.” It was enchanted not to be too heavy to carry, but it still felt bulky and uncomfortable, and would remain that way until I’d offloaded most of its contents.
Cook reached over and tried to lift the basket, her eyes bulging. “I was going to put it in my cupboard,” she said. “But I’m sure it will be safe right here.”
“Thank you.” It would be safe, not in the least, because it had an anti-theft charm on it.
Larkin and I climbed the stairs to the big hall, and sure enough, Mugdel was there in hedgehog form, a sausage in his hand while he flitted from one table to the next, examining the papers he had spread out.
“What on earth?” I exclaimed, looking at the dozens of document covered tables.
Mugdel looked up. “Oh hi, Winifred, Sir Larkin. Father has me working on logistical problems, increasing our own guard patrols, and figuring out how to feed the droves who might need to come here for protection. Big events mean lots of paperwork.”
“Don’t I know it,” Larkin said. “I’ve been going over all of Humphry’s records and notes.”
“Oh?” Mugdel asked, his voice a little too casual to be normal.
I pulled out the boxes of truffles from my kerchief and started placing them on the table.
“Oh, thank you,” Mugdel said, before devouring one of the truffles so quickly, I barely saw him snap it up with his mouth. The next, however, he savored slowly, nibbling the edges of it and licking at the creamy ganache inside.
“I know from Humphry’s notes that your brother, Prince Therot, was arrested and that his case went before a magistrate, but I can’t find an official record of it,” Larkin said, clearly covering for the cook’s indiscretion.
Mugdel looked around and plucked up another chocolate and ate it.
“So, he was arrested,” I stated, taking his evasiveness as confirmation. “Why wouldn’t there be any record?” I asked.
Mugdel closed his eyes and gave a resigned sigh. “I don’t know why my gut instinct was to protect him,” he said after a few moments, followed by a few more seconds of silence. “His records likely disappeared. He ended up before the spineless magistrate. Uh. You know, the one with the two moles on his nose?”
“Magistrate Stanton,” I said.
“Maybe, his moles make him look like a crony old hag,” Mugdel continued, licking at the truffle he was holding, and I knew I’d lost him for a moment.
“I once knew a hag who had so many warts on her nose, they looked like a connect-the-dots smiley face. She called herself the laughing hag, and would giggle under the water when people walked by to scare them and used to drag pigs under to eat. She had a strange affinity for American bacon that I never quite understood. She still baked the best beans, however, so ghosts would come from all over to feast…”
“Magistrate Stanton,” I said, stopping him from spending the rest of the day bouncing from one tangent to another.
“Oh yes, that one,” Mugdel said, still grinning at his memories of the hag who liked American bacon.
“I imagine my brother was able to threaten that magistrate, Stanton, I guess. I went to the hearing, poor mole-nosed magistrate looked like a mouse caught between a viper and a cat with Humphry there, glowering at him. Therot and cronies walked though. I guess since Humphry wouldn’t break the law, the magistrate wasn’t as afraid of him.”
“So that was the end of it?” Larkin asked.
Mugdel shook his head slowly then looked around, stood on his toes and put his hand by his mouth to let us know he wanted to whisper. We both stooped very low, getting on our knees so he could reach us.
“Sir Humphry told Therot that he’d pin something on him eventually. Therot was furious, worried he might lose his position if Sir Humphry spoke against him. He kept talking about how much he had to find a way to ensure his position or shut Humphry up.”
“Where would he be now?” I asked.
“Therot? Probably the Goblin Market. Don’t know what he does there, but heard him and his friends talking about the Red Pegasus, which is a bar of some sort for the types of seedy deals he seems to be getting into now.”
I frowned. I’d heard my grandfather talk with some of his own partners about the Red Pegasus when I’d been much younger and used the spying spells he’d taught me to listen at doors and windows to catch snippets of his conversation. I remembered it because it came up a lot. Even this evidence wasn’t exactly clearing my grandfather. I thought about withholding that information, but decided it would be better to be upfront.
Besides, maybe my grandfather could get us an invite, so I mentioned this to Larkin, who had started tapping his wand on his lip, reminding me so much of when we’d been in school and he’d actually nibbled on the end of it when he became thoughtful.
“Thank you,” Larkin told Mugdel. “You’ve been very helpful.”
Mugdel’s expression was torn between consternation and beaming like a puppy getting a good boy pat. Most Pixies love being helpful, Therot being one of the few exceptions. On the other hand, Mugdel had just given us information that could lead to his brother’s arrest. Obnoxious as Therot was, there were obviously conflicting emotions brewing in Mugdel’s mind.
We left Mugdel to his work.
“Well, that seals it,” I said. “Prince Therot is the top suspect now.”
“I agree, more or less,” Larkin said. “Still, using your position to get charges dropped is a long way from murder.” Larkin’s frown deepened.
“Problem is, I’m not certain that Humphry would have had his guard down with Prince Therot so close to him. Do we even know if Prince Therot was powerful enough to pull off something like that?” Larkin asked.
“The Prince and potentially even his father, for that matter, have access to some very powerful witches and Fey,” I said.
“I have a feeling I’m going to be very unpopular by the time this is done. Thwarting a King is a dangerous occupation. I hope another suspect pops out of thin air, because I am not happy about this. How would you feel about being banished to the outer islands?”
I didn’t know what he was asking. Did he mean if he and I were banished, as in a couple? Or as in I helped him and so I would be banished, too? I didn’t tell him that I was probably protected from banishment due to my job– at least, I presumed I was.
“If the King’s involved, this could mean war,” Noreen said. “The Witches would be furious that their appointed Reeve was murdered, and the fareesee would jump at the chance to try to reconquer some of what they lost from the Pixies, and Duke Wymond would probably seek revenge. Could be why they’re having Mugdel help plan military logistics and eating greasy food.”
“They could also be worried how things will turn out without Humphry keeping everything in line, and the Spriggans returning,” I said.
“It’s okay,” Noreen said with a grin. “They just have to see how good the Errant is, and everything will calm back down again.”
Noreen’s confidence in him didn’t seem to calm Larkin at all. If anything, it made him look a touch more pale.
“Now’s the perfect chance to check out Therot, as planned,” I said.
“He’s not here,” Larkin pointed out.
I winked at him. “Given who my grandfather is, that makes the spying so much easier.”
Noreen’s eyes lit up. “You’re going to break into his room, aren’t you?”
I nodded, my heart racing with excitement. “I was thinking it might be useful to at least pick up a few hairs to keep track of him with, but who knows what else we might find.”
I was definitely feeling an adrenaline high now. Dueling had never been as exciting for me as stealth. The latter also wasn’t taught in school¬– you picked it up from experience.
Initially, stealth meant simply appearing to belong as we walked towards Prince Therot’s chambers. This was an act made easier by the fact that I had truffles that I could claim were for him. When we got close, however, the guards in front of his door were likely to question what we were doing. I stood ‘round the corner from them and held my breath, fading from sight. Meanwhile, Noreen came ‘round the corner with the truffles I was meant to deliver.
I wasn’t invisible after all, just less noticeable, as long as I was holding my breath. If she was talking to them about the truffles, they would be far too distracted to see me. The ability to stay ‘invisible’ as long as I held my breath had encouraged me to practice this in a lake every summer for years. I could almost hold it for eight whole minutes. Eight minutes shy of the world record, but still pretty solid.
Noreen was explaining to the guards that we were supposed to deliver the whisky truffles today, while I examined the spells sealing Therot’s chamber. They were suitably complex. It was, however, Pixie magic and my grandfather, being friends with the Fareesee, had a lot of experience cracking Pixie spells.
As a result, I did as well. Over the years, Noreen had helped me perfect this skill by casting her own protective charms for me to experiment with. I had an iron pin in hand. It would break the enchantments, but only for a few seconds. Bit by bit, I picked away at each enchantment, moving quickly.
Noreen was trying to figure out who to leave the truffles with.
“I don’t think I can ask you to hold them in your hands all day,” she told the guards.
One of the guards suggested the windowsill just outside the door.
“They’ll melt in the sunlight,” Noreen countered.
She had that right. I could already feel myself sweating. Or maybe that was anxious exhilaration? I popped the last enchantment and slid in through the door, just before the first was snapping back into place.
I’d wanted desperately to gasp for breath, but there was someone, a young lady, on the other side of the door, resting on the couch reading a book. She was obviously waiting anxiously for the door to open, because even the movement of it from her peripheral vision caused her to look up.
I stood stark still, could feel my face turning red, possibly even blue, with my lungs begging for air, but I dared not move. What kind of trouble could I get for breaking into a Prince’s room? She stared at the door a moment, brow creased in thought. All the while, I felt myself growing dizzy. This is why near-invisibility wasn’t a perfect answer to everything. I kicked myself for not realizing that Prince Therot would still have someone in his room. I’d even been told he’d had guests all night. How stupid could I be?
Finally, the woman looked back down at her book. Quietly as I could, I rushed to Therot’s water closet and took a quick breath before searching for his comb, a beautiful ivory and gold deer headed thing from which I pulled a few hairs. I took a deep breath and went back to his quarters, cutting through to his desk to search for papers that might give me some clue about him.
There were maps detailing the lands that the King had given him to administer, many of which bordered Lord Wymond’s lands. He had been scribbling notes in the corners of these maps, detailing how he could double his revenue if Wymond started paying taxes.
Normally, noble families had to give 50% of their income from a land and their responsibilities to the King. We paid our taxes to the Pixies and some small amount to the Fareesee, as we had land and employed in both Kingdoms. Clearly, Therot wanted Wymond to do the same. Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen without a fight.
I paused and shuffled through the papers further. If Wymond knew what Therot was thinking, he might have been gathering an army to counter it. Perhaps Therot was thinking of forcing the issue?
I found a series of letters addressed to Wymond, dated from five days prior. None of them were finished, so it was clear that Therot had either lost his nerve before finishing them or had decided to try rewording them again. They mostly discussed past partnerships between the Duke and Pixie nation during the war.
“Crickets,” I silently cursed. I needed air again. I rushed back into the water closet and took another deep breath before heading back to the desk once more. Most of the letters never really got to the meat of what the two of them were discussing. There were lots of platitudes, such as Esteemed Grace, Hero of the Battle of Fox Glen, the later part referring to a battle when Wymond had ambushed an army of Fareesee and their witch allies, forcing the other Kingdoms of Britain to acknowledge the Pixie’s rights to rule these lands or risk another massacre.
“Great Friends, Humphry,” I thought sarcastically to myself. Wymond was only a hero, as well as a Duke, because he’d killed enough people to make everyone afraid of him. I suppose that was how power worked. Still, for someone as obsessed with order as Humphry had been, I would have thought that would have been a big negative.
Finally, I found a more interesting letter. It started with the normal platitudes, but included the following words:
“I have been granted administration of the lands you currently administer on my family’s behalf. It is clear that you have enjoyed privileges on these lands that go well beyond what bannermen should normally have.”
There were a lot of words blotted out in clear frustration after that. Oh yeah, Therot was definitely trying to reclaim the right to a portion of those taxes from Wymond. He obviously wasn’t a great writer, or much of a thinker. He either hadn’t figured out what to say, had gone through a lot of drafts before sending the note, or perhaps he’d tried to talk to Humphry, and get the Reeve to arrest Wymond for not paying taxes.
Humphry would have then pointed out that status quo of peace for a hundred years was more important than one spoiled Prince’s desire to get more drinking money. That could have been what they were arguing about, and could have led to the murder as well.
Could Therot actually declare war on Wymond? I wondered. Not with the official armies, I realized, but as long as he used mercenaries and bandits he hired, he could make such an attack, such as the Spriggans?
I nearly gasped with surprise. There were no threats in any of the letters, or implications of such. I couldn’t even be entirely clear what Therot was asking or saying, given that I didn’t have a complete letter. Still, this was likely enough evidence to sow the seeds of doubt.
I desperately wanted to steal the letter, but glanced back at the woman. She would be blamed if anything was missing, and the Prince might decide to deal with her without telling anyone, like he'd dealt with Humphry. Reluctantly, I left everything on the desk as it had been and searched the room further. Sadly, Therot wasn’t the type to keep a secret diary in his underwear drawers, confessing to murders and other crimes.
After failing to find anything else, I decided that it would be too risky to go through the door with the woman watching it and the guards just on the other side. If the door opened on its own, they would likely start looking for me and see me.
Instead, I climbed into the fireplace. As it was spring, there wasn’t a fire, allowing me to whisk myself up the chimney to the roof. My escape from there was just a spear flight to the ground.
The moment Noreen and I saw each other again, we both burst out laughing. Larkin held the basket I’d left in the kitchen.
“You’re right,” I told Noreen. “I missed these adventures.”
“Did you find anything?” Larkin asked.
I told them about the letters, and Noreen nodded. “It does show that Therot is far more brash than I ever would have imagined. Wymond would never agree to such a thing.”
In addition to the novel this book has a coloring pages in the back for the ultimate cozy experiance. Find the rest of the boo on Amazon
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