Two
Jareth inclined his head. How well Sarah knew that mocking little gesture.
"Lenia," he said, "allow me to introduce my lady queen, Sarah, and our daughter, Elisabeth."
Lenia had eyes like pale blue diamonds, and their vivid gaze flicked over the goblin trio. Most likely she'd been told to expect that Jareth had a wife, but the existence of a child visibly rocked her.
"I'm honored," she said, manners overriding her surprise, "to meet your lovely queen and daughter." She went on, "Your luggage and servants have already arrived, and we've been waiting for you at the south gate. Then we heard you were in the city. My apologies that no escort was sent to you."
"There's nothing to apologize for," Sarah assured her. She tried to see herself and Jareth and Lizzie through this girl's eyes, tried to imagine how their goblin faces must look. Lizzie in particular resembled an ordinary child, except for her upturned brows. She had Sarah's dark hair, strands of which fought to escape her warm hat, and Jareth's cat-shaped eyes, the color a delicate, smoky gray.
Lenia stood just over five feet tall; she carried herself with supreme confidence, her regal posture allowing her to wear her clothes with an added quality of panache. Sarah could not help coveting her gown: deep red over an ivory petticoat, trimmed with dark green and blue. The petticoat and stomacher panel, also in ivory, had been embroidered in red, green, and blue, which drew together the colors of the gown into one harmonious whole. Around her shoulders, Lenia wore a waist-length cape of embroidered dark green velvet, lined with silk and trimmed with fur. Her hair, wavy and a very dark brown, had been dressed up high on her head with exquisite enameled gold combs.
"Allow me to escort you to your quarters," Lenia said, and the three goblins followed her from the guardroom into the palace. Away from the warming fires, the frigid cold of winter re-asserted itself. Sarah could see why Lenia wore that cape, even indoors.
"This is the north wing of the palace, which we call the Summer Hall," Lenia said, gesturing around. Through open doorways, Sarah caught glimpses of rooms with shuttered windows, furniture covered in dust sheets, the fireplaces cold and dark. "We only use these rooms about three months of the year. They're lovely and cool in the summer, but less pleasant now." Her humorous expression, mouth quirking up to one side, suggested a dislike of the cold weather, and Sarah found herself smiling in return. "If the coronation were taking place in the summer, this is where everyone would be staying."
As laconic as ever, Jareth said, "Not even Queen Eucissa could arrange her death conveniently."
For a moment, Sarah feared Lenia would take this as an insult, but the girl burst into merry laugher.
"It's more fitting than you might think," she said. "Queen Eucissa hated summer." They clattered down a flight of broad steps and traversed the length of another hallway, lit only at intervals with torches, so that they passed from pools of light into shadow and back into light again. Growing apologetic, Lenia said, "It's not terribly cheerful, I'm afraid. We don't like to waste firewood and candles in rooms nobody's using."
"An admirable economy," said Jareth, and Sarah gave him a tiny poke with her elbow. Still, she was glad when they left the dim corridor and ascended another flight of steps. These opened out into a gallery, and Sarah's feet slowed of their own volition.
"This must be magnificent when it's in use," she said, her voice hushed.
To their right stretched a vast chamber. Sarah went to the railing and stared down, then up. The gallery ran around the entire chamber at this level, with two majestic staircases descending to the main floor. Light filtered in from small glass windows very high up, beneath the vaulted ceiling. The windows on the lower level, which extended from the floor almost to the gallery, had all been shuttered over, but the proportions of the room could not be diminished by the dim light. Enormous wooden beams, carved and gilded, crossed the ceiling, which had been painted to resemble the sky. The ornamentation continued down into the walls of the room, painted to depict scenes from a garden. A huge fireplace dominated the far end of the hall. The floor looked like it had been made from pure marble. Three immense, multi-armed candelabra hung suspended from a massive central beam, and Sarah could only imagine how this chamber must look on a summer's evening, tall windows open to the warm air, the gilded wood reflecting the light of thousands of candles.
"Isn't this wonderful?" said Lenia, her face aglow. "This is my favorite room in the entire palace. When the windows are open, you can walk right out into the garden. Up here in the gallery is where the queen's musicians play. You can't see the windows now because they're covered for the winter, but they're colored glass. If you start at one corner of the room and work your way around, the pictures in the glass tell the story of summer, from when flowers bloom and crops are planted in spring, right through harvest time in the fall."
"I'd love to see that," said Sarah.
She must have sounded more wistful than she realized, because Lenia said, "Let me ask about it… we might be able to arrange a tour and uncover the windows long enough for you to look at the glass."
Sarah began to protest this offer, then remembered she was a guest, and royalty, entitled to certain perquisites. "At your convenience," she said.
The cold of the vast chamber discouraged lingering, so Lenia led them the rest of the way across the gallery, through another doorway, down another flight of steps, and through another gloomy, dimly-lit corridor. At the end of this hallway, a set of carved double doors was guarded by sentries, who nodded Lenia and the three guests through.
Sarah drank in the light and warmth. She could hear, at a distance, the sounds of voices and the faint notes of music playing. Here, the rooms they passed by were open, in use, warmed by fires and braziers, lit by lanterns and candles.
Lenia said, "Each royal family has its own quarters for the coronation. Yours are in the southwest part of the palace. My apologies that it's so far from where you came in."
"Not at all," Sarah assured her.
Still, she marveled at how well Lenia knew her way around the palace. The girl took them through an endless series of corridors, up and down more staircases, through more galleries, more doorways, until Sarah was thoroughly disoriented. She thought, You could fit the entire Goblin City, castle and all, into a corner of this place. A couple of times, Lenia took shortcuts through rooms, sumptuously furnished and decorated. Some of these appeared to be parlors or drawing rooms, while others looked like dining rooms. In some rooms, windows were uncovered to allow daylight, while in others, they were shuttered to keep out the cold. Almost every room featured a large fireplace, and though kindling was laid out in most of them, the fires were not always lit. The housekeeping was immaculate; Sarah did not detect even a speck of dust.
Twice Lenia led them across bridges that connected different buildings of the palace. These bridges were covered, but arches on the sides formed open arcades from which activity below could be observed. The bridges connected the buildings at the upper levels, a vertigo-inducing height. The high walls created deep wells of shadow in which sunlight appeared never to penetrate. In these courtyards, servants scurried across from building to building, some of them pulling wagons or pushing carts. From the bridges, the varied architecture of the palace's many buildings could more clearly be seen, and Sarah's eyes, trained by years of college art and architecture courses, identified the older sections and the newer additions. Winter wind funneled between the walls with amplified force, and Sarah shrank inside her cloak. In better weather, she would have welcomed the opportunity to make a closer study of the palace structure.
When Sarah felt that her legs surely would fall off—and Lizzie had begun to grow fussy in her arms—Lenia assured her, "We're almost there. This is the main hallway of the southwest wing. If you're ever misdirected, ask to be taken back here." The colossal scale of the palace continued in this wide corridor: the walls were lined with artwork, paneling, and tapestries; works of ceramics and glass and sculpture were placed at intervals on superb pieces of furniture. Doorways and entrances to staircases punctuated the endless expanse, leading off to God-knew where. They reached an arched doorway to their left, the wood gilded, guarded by two sentries. Carved into the wood over the door was a falcon with outstretched wings.
"This is the entrance to your quarters," said Lenia. "The Falcon Suite."
She led them through the archway and up a flight of stairs that curved around to the right. Tall windows set into the walls of the turret had been made of stained glass, and at this time of day, sunlight streamed in, casting a kaleidoscope of color over the white marble steps, like a handful of scattered jewels. Lenia fairly danced up the stairs to the next level, where two more sentries guarded another archway. A flag had been mounted into a wall sconce designed for that purpose, and Sarah was pleased to see Jareth's standard there: a representation of his amulet in black, on a pale gray background.
They went through the doorway and down a corridor lit by candles in delicate wall-mounted glass lanterns. Lenia paused before a doorway on her left, which opened into a large and very fine room, dominated by a long table with chairs. "This is your private dining room," she said. "When you're not dining at formal banquets, this is where you'll eat."
A bit further down the hall on the right, she opened a set of ornately carved double doors and stepped back, indicating with a smooth gesture that Jareth and Sarah should enter the room ahead of her.
Sarah knew better than to make any obvious exclamation of joy, though the young girl in her skipped with enchantment. The room struck her as the very quintessence of grace and symmetry, as perfectly proportioned as her heart could have wished. On the wall opposite, a large marble fireplace was flanked by floor-to-ceiling windows, four on each side, allowing daylight to stream in. Sarah went straight to the nearest window, seeing that it gave out onto a private balcony, with steps leading down to a walled and secluded garden. The glass in the windows was clear, but framed around the edges with tiny squares of color. Set into pockets inside the deep window frames were wooden shutters that could be drawn at night. Swept off to either side of the room, drawn back by tasseled gold cords, were panels of heavy draperies.
The room was dominated by a four-poster bed in which Henry VIII at his most corpulent could have reclined in comfort with all six of his wives. The coverlets and pillows and bed hangings were richly embroidered and tasseled: red, purple, blue, green, bronze, gold. The bed was set so high that carved wooden footsteps had been provided on either side to get into and out of it, and Sarah saw that hangings could be drawn about the bed for added warmth and complete privacy.
The mantelpiece over the fireplace was of marble: charcoal gray, veined with pink and green and flecked with gold. The floors were of a paler gray marble, also pink-veined, and covered with thick, plush carpets. Large, comfortable chairs and foot rests had been placed around the room, along with small tables holding extraordinary artwork. A door at one end of the room led into a bathroom in pink marble, heated by its own small fireplace. At the other end of the room another doorway opened into a room where Sarah glimpsed tall wardrobes.
She turned in circles, nodding. "It will do."
Lenia beamed. "Your servants are already here, and will be quartered downstairs from you." She led Jareth and Sarah through the doorway at the far end of the room, into an anteroom, smaller but no less luxurious, also warmed by a fireplace, the walls lined with tall wooden wardrobes.
"You can go straight from here into the hall through this door, if you want," Lenia said, pointing to an exit. "Your maids have unpacked everything." Sarah could see this for herself, as most of the wardrobe doors stood open. She was pleased that Elfswhit and Wulfrun had done their work with such neat efficiency; tidiness did not come naturally to goblins. "As you can see, there are still empty wardrobes, for when the rest of your things arrive."
This statement took Sarah aback. More? She'd spent six straight weeks sewing, and she was expected to bring more?
As if sensing her guest's hesitation, Lenia added, "Unless you were planning to have new things made here."
"Of course," Sarah improvised. Flashing a warm smile, she asked, "Can you help arrange it?"
Lenia said, "Absolutely… if you wish, we can have one of Princess Petronia's seamstresses sent here now, to take your order. They work quickly, and your things will be ready in a matter of days."
"Thank you," said Sarah, aware that behind her, Jareth was close to rolling his eyes.
Lenia pulled a golden-tasseled rope that hung down on one wall. When a serving boy appeared, she gave the lad a quick, whispered instruction.
From the wardrobe, Lenia led her guests through another door and down two flights of steps. There were rooms on either side of the landing, and here, Sarah found Elfswhit and Wulfrun settled in one, with the elderly Cyneric on the other. Sarah could tell Lenia found it odd that a queen would inspect her maids' quarters, but Sarah wanted her girls to be comfortable. Jareth looked in on Cyneric, who seemed to regard his clean, orderly room as a personal insult. Another two flights of steps led down to the lowest level, where the remaining goblins had congregated, tearing around their large common room, chasing each other, shrieking and hurtling insults. The cacophony came to an abrupt halt when the goblins spotted their sovereign, colliding with each other in their rush to make Jareth an exaggerated bow.
"I hope this is as you would wish it?" asked Lenia, nonplussed by the sight of the goblins en masse.
Sarah responded, "We'll try to keep them from setting the place on fire."
(ii)
Lizzie was ready for her afternoon nap, so Sarah had Elfswhit and Wulfrun take the baby into their room for an hour. Jareth absented himself on the pretext of wanting to explore the garden, so Sarah had time alone with Lenia as they waited for the seamstress to arrive.
"Anything at all you need or want while you're here, let me know," the girl said, as they sat in comfortable chairs, Sarah grateful to be out of her cloak and off her feet.
"Jareth and Lizzie and I can't eat anything animal-based," Sarah told her. "No meat, no eggs, no milk or cheese."
"What do you eat, then?"
"Fruit, grains, plants, nuts. Anything that doesn't come from an animal."
"I'll let the kitchens know," Lenia nodded. She was too well-mannered to ask why. Sarah couldn't have told her without getting into a lot of complicated biology. Humans could eat anything; goblins could—and did—eat anything. But for no reason Sarah could fathom, the mix of human and goblin blood resulted in a bizarre intolerance of anything that was not plant-based. "What about honey?"
"Honey is fine," Sarah assured her.
"What about the baby? Is she nursing?"
"No, she's weaned. She eats everything we eat, only soft and mashed up."
Lenia said, "There'll be a number of formal events leading up to the coronation, as well as special performances by dancers and musicians and theater troupes." Growing animated, she said, "There are some really wonderful things planned. And of course, we can arrange for you to have a tour of the palace—the Queen's art collection is marvelous. If you'd like to tour the countryside around the palace, that can be arranged, too."
"Brr," Sarah laughed.
Lenia smiled, "Yes, you might want to wait for a warmer day. If we're fortunate, we might have a day that's warm enough to ride to the coast. The sea is so beautiful, even at this time of year."
"I'd love that," Sarah responded.
"Tonight, you and the king will be presented to the Princess Petronia, and then you'll have dinner with me and my family."
"The guard said you're now Petronia's niece; is that right?" asked Sarah.
"Yes, my Uncle Tylas married the princess three months ago, although he's been her consort for much longer. He's my mother's brother. My whole family is in service to the princess—my uncle, my mother and grandmother, me. Only my sister's not here in the city—she lives out in the country."
"Will she come for the coronation?" asked Sarah.
"No, she's expecting her first baby any day now."
"Exciting," said Sarah, smiling. She filed away another piece of information: Princess Petronia had married her consort around the same time as the old queen's death. Coincidence?
"Yes, it's Mother's first grandchild. Of course, we're all hoping for a girl, but Alaemon says she'll be just as happy with a boy."
"What about the rulers of the other kingdoms, are they here?" asked Sarah.
"Some of them," said Lenia. She glanced out the window, observing the sun's position. "The rest should be here by sundown, before the Pax Deorum goes into effect. There'll be a big welcoming feast two nights from now, when all the royal guests will make their formal entrance. You'll meet everyone then."
Sarah nodded. Feeling encouraged by Lenia's easy friendliness, she said, "As a newcomer to your kingdom, and a guest, I'd hate to commit any slight or inadvertently insult someone. Can I rely on you to let me know of any customs or traditions I should be mindful of?"
"Yes, of course—that's one of the things I'm here for."
"I know this will sound dreadfully silly, but is there a protocol for bowing and curtseying when we meet Princess Petronia? How is that done, when two monarchs meet each other?"
Lenia said, "The first time you meet Petronia, or any other monarch, you bow or curtsey to each other. And at the welcoming feast. That's it. Any time after that, you don't need to."
"Do I need to kiss her hand?"
"Oh, no!" Lenia sounded mildly shocked. "Nothing like that. Only a commoner, meeting Petronia for the first time, would kiss her hand."
That sounded easier than Sarah had expected, and she stopped worrying she might make an idiot out of herself. She said, "Could I impose on you to look at the things I've brought? I'd rather not Jareth or I wear anything inappropriate." Well, Jareth wouldn't care, but Sarah would be mortified.
"It would be my pleasure." Lenia hopped up from her chair, and Sarah followed her into the anteroom. The young woman made a quick inspection of Sarah's dresses and Jareth's coats. Pointing to the gown Sarah had planned for the coronation, Lenia said, "You should have the seamstresses take up those sleeves. Princess Petronia hates long, trailing sleeves. It wouldn't be inappropriate, but I can tell you it would annoy her. As trivial as it seems, she'll think less of you if she dislikes your clothes."
"All right," Sarah nodded. "That's the dress I was thinking of for the coronation."
Lenia could not conceal her shock. "I would advise otherwise," she hedged.
Sarah cringed inside, wondering why the dress she'd fussed over for a week was inadequate. Then she barked a short, rueful laugh. "You're a model of tact."
"I'd suggest having something made here for the coronation, so that you'll be in the current styles preferred in Aves." Lenia ventured a finger to touch the burgundy damask of Sarah's gown. "This is lovely, though. Once the sleeves are shortened, you could wear this for the welcoming feast."
Sarah told her, "The embroidery on your dress is wonderful. Would it be possible…?"
"Oh, yes! These embroidered fabrics are very popular now."
A polite rapping on the door to the suite interrupted their conversation, and Lenia hastened to admit a pair of royal seamstresses, mature women in gowns of white linen, their hair tucked beneath matching caps. The two women curtsied to Sarah, and once the goblin queen was seated comfortably, they set on a table before her a large, thick folio. Lenia had also sent for wine, and Sarah sipped an excellent vintage while she perused the designs on the pages.
"These are winter styles," Lenia told her. "After the spring equinox, everyone will change their wardrobes."
"Hmm." Sarah's eyes roved over the pictures, which depicted one sumptuous gown after another, the sketches demonstrating how the look of each dress could be altered with different sleeves, collars, petticoats, trimmings. In addition to gowns, there were designs for short capes, like the one Lenia wore, and full-length cloaks. Each picture was identified by a number, and one of the seamstresses scribbled down the number of each garment Sarah chose.
During this process, she became aware of activity in the anteroom, and after she had made her selections, Sarah discovered the cause. More maids and seamstresses had arrived, going directly into the anteroom with trunk upon trunk of fabric in tow. They'd set up their wares, not only fabrics, but ribbons and lace for trimming, and more trunks of plush furs. There was barely enough room to move.
Awed, Sarah could only stand staring at the extravagant display of luxury. These were winter fabrics: velvets, damasks, satins, taffetas, including some extraordinary shot silks. The colors were deep, warm, and rich. There were lighter silks that could be used as linings and contrast fabrics. And there was bolt after bolt of embroidered fabric in a dizzying variety of colors and designs. Another trunk held bolts of lace. And when a maid opened a trunk that held cloth of gold and cloth of silver, Sarah nearly swooned.
Shaking off the reverie, she ducked behind a folding screen and slipped out of her gown so that the seamstresses could take her measurements, being sure to tuck her amulet down inside her corset. Afterwards, a maid helped Sarah back into her dress. The women made a great fuss over Sarah, cooing with praise over her coloring and figure, which the chief seamstress pronounced, "Magnificent."
For the next two hours, Sarah indulged in an orgy of sensuous delight, marveling over textures and colors, examining trim like a spoiled child in the world's largest candy shop. Nothing was too extravagant, no excess forbidden or even discouraged, and Sarah let her imagination run rampant. With the guidance of Lenia and the seamstresses, she selected fabrics and trim for each of the garments she'd chosen. No variation was impossible: when Sarah could not decide between two fabrics for the petticoat of one particular gown, the seamstress pointed out that Sarah could always use one color for the petticoat, the second color to line the skirt that would go over it. "And we can have the overskirt drawn back with ribbons, so that both colors show."
Sarah was so lost in pleasure and excitement that she scarcely noticed the efficiency of the royal seamstresses. Each fabric, each trim, each notion had its own identifying number, which could be cross-indexed with the designs Sarah had chosen. A couple of girls who looked like apprentices sat with paper and quill pens, making notes of every decision.
After the design and materials for each gown had been settled, Sarah then turned her attention to cloaks and capes. Lenia encouraged her to have a riding outfit made; Sarah would be a model of style even on horseback. And naturally, Jareth had to have splendid new clothes as well, lest Sarah outshine him. She chose patterns for jackets, coats, waistcoats, shirts, each outfit matched to one of her own gowns, so that they would always be coordinated.
One of the women took the measure of Sarah's feet, so that shoes could be made to match her gowns. In addition to slippers for dancing, she'd have several pairs of fur-lined shoes "for everyday." For the riding outfit, she would have new boots. Another seamstress ran a tape around Sarah's head, for hats. Lenia discreetly whispered that the work of the royal corsetière was unparalleled; would Sarah enjoy some new under-garments? Sarah, who had been rather admiring the line and fit of Lenia's bodice, agreed, and some additional measurements were taken. After murmured conversation with the seamstress, Sarah put in an order for several new corsets and four dozen pairs of silk stockings.
At last the session began to wind down. Maids packed the fabrics and notions into trunks and began to trundle their burdens out into the corridor. Sarah lolled in a big chair with her feet up, utterly sated, the way she felt after a good meal or a particularly steamy bout of lovemaking.
"The simpler things will be ready in a day or so," Lenia told her, sinking into a second chair. "The more complicated outfits will take longer. Everything will be brought up here for the final fittings."
"So soon?" asked Sarah.
"Princess Petronia has a whole stable of seamstresses and milliners," Lenia said. "They'll start this afternoon and work around the sundial until everything's done."
"Hmm." Sarah stretched, laughing at the wanton extravagance of it all. She felt as relaxed as if she'd had a good massage, as happy as if every feminine craving of her heart had been fulfilled. How different from when she'd made her own things. There, she'd felt the satisfaction of her skills and creativity, of a job well-done, but now she experienced the peculiar enchantment of being pampered and cosseted.
When the last trunk had been wheeled away and the chief seamstress had departed with a sheaf of papers under her arm, Jareth returned from the garden. He didn't look as if he'd been out in the cold, and Sarah guessed he'd been downstairs with the goblins.
"Hello, love," she smiled at him.
"Everything to your satisfaction?" he inquired.
"God, yes," she sighed. "There's something to be said for the life of the idle rich."
Lenia made a curtsey and excused herself, saying she'd see to their dinner arrangements and fetch them shortly after sundown.
"Is there any gold left in my treasury, or have you utterly ruined me?" asked Jareth.
Sarah gave him a lazy wink but said nothing. Jareth had been alive for so long that he'd amassed a treasure Sarah could not have gone through if she'd ordered up a new frock for every hour of every day for the next century. Goblins hoarded their gold like dragons.
"I hope you don't mind," she said. Sarah felt a tiny qualm that she hadn't even thought to inquire about the cost of so many new clothes. "The reckoning might be a little steep."
Jareth threw back his head and laughed. "I can assure you Petronia won't give them to you out of the goodness of her heart."
"If it's any consolation, they're making things for you, too."
"But of course. I wouldn't want to be outshone by the brilliance of my lady queen."
Sarah rose from her chair and dropped down into Jareth's lap. "You can pick out my jewelry," she said, gently nuzzling his face.
"As a consolation prize?"
"As a tribute to my astounding beauty."
"You trust my judgment? I don't need to consult the royal jeweler about the perfect gems to decorate my queen's neck and earlobes and…?" Whatever Jareth had planned to say next got lost in the kiss Sarah planted on him.
"That bed looks amazingly comfortable," she said when they parted. "Want to try it out before dinner?"
The murmur of voices interrupted them, and Elfswhit strolled into the room, Lizzie in her arms. The baby was fussing up a loud complaint. "The princess is hungry, my lady."
Sarah disentangled herself from Jareth's arms and pulled the gold cord for maid service. "Let's see what we can get for food," she said, treating Jareth to a smile that told him, Later.
(iii)
The Pax Deorum took effect at sundown. Dressing for dinner, Sarah felt it, a momentary weird dulling of her senses.
"Here we go," she said to no-one in particular.
From the bedroom, Jareth called out to her, "I hope you're enjoying Phoebetria—we're officially here to stay until the next new moon."
"I think we'll live," Sarah responded. She stood in her silk shift while Wulfrun laced her into her corset. Back at home, Sarah had only one corset, which she wore under her evening dresses. For daily wear, the leather bodice gave her all the support she needed. Constructing the corset had taken some trial and error, and Sarah had been pleased with the result; when she'd run away to marry Jareth, having to make her own underwear was something she hadn't counted on. Her wardrobe for the coronation had necessitated the construction of more corsets; these were perfectly serviceable, and Sarah wondered if she'd been self-indulgent in ordering yet more.
Once laced up, she donned her gown, a replica of an early 1830s evening dress that Sarah had designed based on memories of pictures in a book of historical costumes. The snugly-fitting bodice had a portrait neckline, and the long sleeves were puffed at the top, tight from elbow to wrist. The dress was dark green, the full skirt drawn back to reveal a black petticoat, and Sarah had trimmed the whole confection with black ribbons and lace. Her hair was already curled and swept up with pins. For warmth, she would have a black fur stole to drape about her bare shoulders.
She swirled out into the bedroom, where Jareth lounged in a chair, already dressed, also in deep green and black. Lizzie was in his lap, wearing a pretty frock of green velvet, and she bubbled with excitement, clapping her fat little hands at the sight of her mother, so dressed up.
"Do I pass inspection?" asked Sarah, turning in a circle.
"Ravishing," Jareth pronounced, taking his feet with an easy, fluid motion. On the table beside him rested a small box, which he handed to Sarah. She raised the lid and found a collection of jewelry in flashing black stones, accented by tiny diamonds.
"Ooh, onyx?" she asked.
"Jet," he responded.
"We're slumming," she joked, turning so that Jareth could fasten the necklace. Sarah rustled over to the nearest mirror, where she inserted the metal hoops of the earrings through the holes in her earlobes. There was a small ring, which Sarah slid onto her right hand, and a pair of bracelets. Admiring herself in the mirror, she had to admit the overall effect, with her pale skin and dark hair, was striking.
A knock on the door announced the arrival of Lenia. Sarah answered the door herself.
"I've come to escort Your Majesties to dinner," the girl announced, dropping a curtsey.
"I believe we're ready," Sarah told her. Try as she might, she couldn't get used to people curtseying to her. Her—Sarah Williams from Rosebriar Creek, New York, living in a palace and having people bow or curtsey when she walked past.
An incessant draft blew along the corridors, interspersed by gusts of warmth whenever they crossed doorways to rooms where fires were blazing. Blessedly they did not have far to walk this time. The royal quarters were in the south wing of the palace, the entrance to which was indicated by an enormous golden eagle, carved in wood over a set of double doors so large a tank could have been driven through them. Four sentries guarded the doors, two within and two without, and they nodded the party through into an antechamber.
Sarah's gaze traveled in a quick circuit of the room, which looked large enough to contain her and Jareth's entire suite. A substantial fire roared in the fireplace, the flames consuming logs like tree trunks, generating enough heat to warm the echoing space. Scores of candles in golden candelabras provided light. The mantelpiece and floor both were constructed of gold-veined black marble, the walls of gray-veined white marble, everything tooled in gold and reflected in huge mirrors on every wall. The carpets underfoot were works of art, the designs and colors superb, the texture unbearably sensuous. The only thing missing from this room was people: it was spacious, furnished and decorated to a magnificent degree, but apart from Jareth and Sarah, empty of occupants.
Lenia went to a set of inner doors and, after a murmured consultation with the sentries, gestured for Jareth and Sarah to follow her.
The room inside was smaller, but no less marvelous, and Sarah liked it better for its warmth and intimacy. The décor was the same—marble, gold, mirrors, glorious carpets, chairs and sofas upholstered in damask and velvet—but this room appeared to be lived in. A small cluster of well-dressed young women hovered in one corner—ladies in waiting? Sarah wondered.
The centerpiece of the room was a large chair set up on a dais and shaded by a cloth of robin's egg blue damask, embroidered and fringed in gold. In the chair sat a woman whom Sarah, in her previous life, would have taken to be about forty. The woman had brilliant vermillion hair—Sarah remembered well the red hair of King Theridion—and dark blue eyes, her figure lush with feminine curves. A splendid gown of gold-embroidered robin's egg blue echoed the canopy overhead and made the most of the woman's buxom shape. Sarah wasn't sure if she would call this woman beautiful, exactly—her features were too ordinary, her mouth too comical—but she certainly was not someone who could be easily forgotten.
Lenia gestured for the guests to come closer. At the foot of the dais, the goblin monarchs paused to bow and curtsey. The princess stood and descended from her chair. Sitting, she had looked short; standing, she was Sarah's height. She dropped a curtsey of elegant nonchalance.
"Jareth," she said, planting her hands on her hips, "you sly rascal, getting married without telling anyone!"
"Oh, I'm a terrible spoilsport, Petronia. You should know that."
Petronia burst into rollicking laughter. Her blue gaze raked up and down, first Jareth, then Sarah. "It's been a while, hasn't it? You were still a child when we last met."
"I believe there's a saying about fine wines," he returned.
"Hmm," said Petronia. "If that's a hint, we did receive the gifts you sent, and we thank you." A week before their departure, many casks of almond oil and brandy had been sent to Aves as coronation gifts for Petronia. The brandy was made from the Underground's famous peaches, though not the hallucinogenic variety—only Jareth drank the spirits distilled from that particular fruit.
"May I introduce my lady queen, Sarah? And this is our daughter, Elisabeth."
"A baby, too!" Petronia's sapphire gaze softened as she examined the infant. "You're full of surprises, Jareth." Lizzie stared back at the princess with her fearless gray eyes.
"I trust Lenia has been taking care of you?" Petronia inquired.
"The best possible care," said Jareth. "I'm several thousand ducats' the poorer because of Lenia's good offices."
Petronia beamed. "Yes, I've heard your lady queen is being turned out in style." To Sarah, she said, "I commend your good taste."
"And I thank you for the services of your seamstresses. Your majesty is generous."
"Oh, fft." Petronia made a dismissive little gesture with one hand, as if accustomed to putting the services of her staff at her guests' disposal. She said, "You'll be dining with my husband's family tonight. Lenia, darling?"
The audience was evidently at an end. Well, that was fast, Sarah thought. Lenia led them back into the exterior room and from there through a doorway Sarah had not noticed earlier, concealed behind one of the large mirrors, indistinguishable from the rest of the wall.
Inside, a formal dining table had been set with a half-dozen ornate, high-backed chairs; judging by the size of the room, the table could be expanded to accommodate two or three times as many people. The table in its shortened state had been set up at one end of the room, lengthwise to a fire that crackled in another stunning fireplace. At the head of the table sat a woman in a severe gown of dark purple, her shoulders swathed in furs, a fur-trimmed hat tipped at a rakish angle on her piled-up black hair. Her eyes, the same blazing blue as Lenia's, had been lined in rims of paint, and her mouth was a hard crimson slash. Scary Poppins, Sarah thought, lacking only a carpetbag and umbrella.
To Scary's right sat a woman about Petronia's age, almost identical in appearance to the older one: dark upswept hair, vivid eyes, a small face and crafty expression. She wore a gown of creamy white damask, snug-fitting over her thin frame, all hard angles. The resemblance among the three women was uncanny. They were like living Xeroxes of each other: mother, daughter, granddaughter. Sarah could see plainly what Lenia would look like as a middle aged woman, as an older woman, only Lenia had a softer demeanor, a less domineering expression.
The two women stood, beaming, and kissed Lenia's cheeks. They curtsied to Jareth and Sarah.
Lenia said, "Grandmother, Mother, please allow me to introduce Jareth, King of the Underground, Sarah, his lady queen, and the Princess Elisabeth, their daughter."
The two women murmured polite greetings.
"Your Majesties, this is the Lady Gannet, my grandmother, and Jacama, my mother."
"We're so pleased to meet you," Sarah told them.
Servants melted out of the woodwork and helped the guests into the large, heavy seats. Wine was poured, and with smooth efficiency, the first course brought forth. Sarah glanced at the sixth chair, at the end of the table opposite Lady Gannet, wondering who was supposed to be sitting there.
(iv)
Lenia had been efficient in her instructions to the kitchen staff, and over the course of the next hour, a multitude of dishes was set before the diners. The serving dishes were of gold and silver, with enameled tops. The dishes and plates for the first courses were small, delicate things made of colored glass that had been etched with images of eagles, worked into intricate designs. As the courses progressed, the plates grew larger and more elaborate, made of pewter, then silver, the final courses served on gold.
The servants were so skillful and unobtrusive that no-one could have discerned, without careful attention, that entirely separate foods were being served to Jareth and Sarah. While Lenia, Jacama, and Lady Gannet ate dishes that included meat, cheese, and cream, Jareth and Sarah were served dishes that consisted only of fruit, vegetables, and grains. But everything was served so smoothly, the food so superbly prepared, that this distinction was trifling at best. Sarah did not taste one thing that displeased her; she reveled in each dish, her sensitive tongue identifying herbs and spices. Even Jareth looked grudgingly impressed.
Sarah had worried about conversation, but that flowed easily, due in no small part to Lenia. Adroit as a mountaineer, the young woman stepped away from topics that might cause discomfort or alarm to the guests, and so Jareth and Sarah were spared an interrogation about their eating habits, about Sarah's origins, about the circumstances surrounding their marriage. The lack of questions did not, however, imply a lack of curiosity, which Sarah could at times feel quivering in the air, a tangible thing. In particular, she could feel the attention on Lizzie, who sat in Sarah's lap, eating bits of soft food and taking in everything with her intelligent baby-gaze.
No-one mentioned or even alluded to Aranea, the dead kingdom.
Instead, conversation centered around the upcoming coronation and the plethora of activities that had been planned in the days leading up to the big event. Sarah stayed alert, filing away every nuance of information. She gleaned that after Queen Eucissa's death, Princess Petronia had disbanded her mother's council and had begun putting together her own panel of advisors, Lady Gannet among them.
The new queen would have official musicians, artisans, and dancers, the latter of which would be decided based on a competition to be held in a week. This was a topic of great interest in the city, because one of the pairs in contention for the coveted honor of Royal Court Dancers was Petronia's niece and her husband.
"They won't win," Jacama predicted, candlelight flashing on her many rings as she lifted her wine goblet to drink. "People would think it's unfair."
"Besides, Ralli and Picus are too good," said Lenia. She told Jareth and Sarah, "Wait 'till you see them dance—they're amazing."
Sarah learned that in the days following the coronation there would be an ice carnival, staged on a large frozen pond outside the palace. The public areas of the palace featured a conservatory, where musical performances would be held. This caught Jareth's interest, his expression of polite boredom growing animated for a moment.
"The Royal Gallery is marvelous," Lenia said. "The artists of Aves are famous through the Seven Kingdoms."
"I'd love that," Sarah responded, thinking of her school and college art classes. She hadn't possessed enough talent to become an artist herself, so she'd settled for a major in art history.
Jacama said, "And the Royal Library—you shouldn't miss that."
"Ooh, yes," agreed Lenia. "There are books and maps, the whole history of Aves."
"How fascinating," said Sarah. She thought of Jareth's library, dusty and cluttered and disorganized, her leisurely progress through its mysterious contents.
"You can borrow any books you want," Jacama said. "Anything except from the Antiquities Collection, which are too fragile to be handled. Aves has some remarkable poets and storytellers."
Throughout dinner, Lady Gannet said almost nothing. She sat at the head of the table, eating and drinking, her only conversation a few murmured words to the servants. But her shrewd old eyes took in everything, every detail of speech, vocal inflection, facial expression. Sarah made certain to employ the same polite mask as Jareth, but she still feared Lady Gannet could read right through her. Sarah's amulet was tucked into her gown, but she swore she could feel Lady Gannet's eyes on the chain, following it down to her bodice, speculating on what manner of ornament Sarah had concealed.
The main course on its gold plates had been cleared away, and a dessert course of candied fruits, honey-roasted nuts, and sweet wine served, when the door opened and in whirled a tall man in an ornate, bejeweled tunic, a short cloak swinging on a gold chain about his slim shoulders. His flawless and incredibly pale complexion made Sarah think of the palace's marble walls and floors, a pallor emphasized by his ink-black curls. His sensuous, cat-like mouth was curled into a smile, and gray eyes scanned the room, flicking from side to side beneath long black lashes.
"Tylas," cooed Lady Gannet.
"Mother," he said, moving swiftly to kiss her on both cheeks. He leaned over to kiss Jacama, then circled around to kiss Lenia.
Lenia said, "Uncle, may I introduce Jareth, King of the Underground, and Sarah, his lady queen? Your Majesties, this is my Uncle Tylas."
"I'm honored." Tylas put a hand to his heart and made a slightly-too-exaggerated bow to the visiting monarchs. He then took the seat at the end of the table opposite his mother. A comely young boy hastened to pour wine for the newcomer. "Princess Petronia insisted I join you for the sweet course."
So this was Petronia's new husband, the man who soon would become King Consort of Aves. Sarah didn't stare, but she observed Tylas from the corner of her left eye. The most obvious and most inescapable thing about Tylas was his physical beauty: he stood around six feet tall, lean and elegant, and he moved with the assured grace of a dancer. His low voice also pleased the ear with its extraordinary tone, like a cello, a Stradivarius. And he was young, clearly younger than his wife—among humans, Sarah would have guessed him to be a decade younger than Petronia, though God only knew their actual respective ages.
Tylas dressed to suit his new station: black velvet of exceptional quality, the garments cut closely to his trim figure, the dark color further emphasizing the romantic contrasts of his hair and skin. The jeweled collars of his tunic and cape glimmered in the candlelight. Like all members of the Clade Tinamotus, he had about him a sense of poise and ambition—a family on the rise, Sarah thought. Tylas waved away the sweets that were offered to him, and Sarah observed that he made a good show of sipping the wine without actually drinking it.
Not in the least intimidated by keeping company with goblins, Tylas struck up a conversation with Jareth as though they'd been old chums from boarding school days.
"It's almost a shame about the Pax Deorum," he said. "We've heard the legends of your magical abilities. We might have had a demonstration."
"Indeed," Jareth responded gravely. "By the time the Pax Deorum is lifted, the only magic you'll see Sarah and I perform is when we transport ourselves home."
This produced a tinkle of polite social laughter. Lenia said in a low, confiding voice, as though someone might be evesdropping, "Speaking of magic, Mother will almost certainly be named Princess Petronia's new Royal Weather-Worker."
"Shh," Jacama teased. "Let's not get too far ahead of ourselves." Her pale blue gaze settled on Sarah, and she leaned forward, white damask pulling taut across her slim shoulders and outlining her clavicles beneath the fabric. "And you, Lady Sarah? Have you any magic?"
Sarah's mouth curved into its best mysterious smile. "I can't rival Jareth, obviously," she said, grateful for the Pax Deorum, which would keep her from having to make an ass of herself in front of these people. She bounced her daughter in her lap. "It's too bad you won't get to see Lizzie levitating. It's the most adorable thing you've ever seen."
This produced more laughter, at least somewhat more genuine. Sarah took advantage of the break in conversation.
"I must admit, I've never heard of weather-working. Is that a type of magic particular to Aves?"
"It's also practiced in Sabal," said Jacama. "Though perhaps not to the level of skill you see here. It takes years, decades to perfect good weather-working magic, especially the kind of talent it takes to control the elements. I'm still a decade or more away from that, and I've been practicing since I was younger than Lenia."
Lenia's head bobbed up and down in agreement.
"That must be useful," Sarah remarked. She still couldn't get used to the lifespans of people in the Seven Kingdoms, though she supposed she would, in time. It disconcerted her to listen to such casual conversations about centuries of life; where she came from, living to be one hundred years old represented a remarkable achievement.
"Oh, yes," Lenia said. "A really skilled weather-worker can make it rain, can hold back a storm, can summon a wind that will send a ship right over the water. It's a talent that runs in families, and it's rare. In our clade, for example, Mother and I are the only two who possess the ability."
Sarah raised her eyebrows, nodding.
With a warm chuckle, Jacama said, "Right now, I can predict weather, but as for controlling it… well, let's just say I could raise a little shower that would water one corner of the queen's garden, but not the entire thing."
Everyone laughed again, and Tylas said, "You're too modest, Sister."
Sarah asked Lenia, "What about you?"
Lenia made a comical face. "If I tried to raise a rainfall to water someone's garden, the only thing that'd get soaked would be me. I recently summoned enough of a breeze to make a few leaves rustle on the ground, and it was so exhausting I had to sleep for an hour afterwards."
Tylas put in, "When the queen sails to Telluraves in the summer, her weather-worker goes with her, to assure their safe passage across the ocean."
From her readings in Jareth's library, Sarah knew Telluraves was a smaller continent to the southwest, connected to the main body of Aves by a narrow land bridge. Even in summer, the seas between the two continents were reputed to be perilous.
"That's a weighty responsibility," Sarah responded.
"One which I'm sure my sister can bear with ease," said Tylas, his tone just shy of smug. Sarah had a suspicion that Jacama had downplayed her magical abilities, and not out of modesty, either. The entire family, even Lenia, had that sense about them, like well-fed cats purring in a patch of warm sunlight.
The meal began to wind down, the servants removing plates with dexterous flicks of hand and wrist. Sarah admired how they worked: swiftly, quietly, the air barely seeming to move around them. They entered and left the room via doors concealed in the wall paneling; Sarah guessed these must lead to service passageways, but the doors opened and closed with such speed that she could not get so much as a glimpse as to what lay beyond them.
Endlessly courteous and tactful, Lenia said, "Your Majesties must be tired."
And indeed they were, Lizzie rubbing fists into her eyes and yawning into her mother's shoulder. Sarah laughed. "It seems we are."
They bade goodnight to Lady Gannet and her children, who looked like they'd be sitting at the table gossiping over wine for a while.
"It was so lovely to meet you," Sarah told them, even as she thought I can see I'll be watching my tongue and my back.
The trio nodded deferentially, Lady Gannet saying, "It was our pleasure."
Out in the large drawing room, the fire had burned lower, and only about a third of the candles remained lit. The rest had been snuffed out. The entire room had a drowsy feeling to it, the sense that the royal occupants of these rooms were getting ready to retire for the night.
"Thank you for the lovely dinner," Sarah told Lenia.
"As Grandmother said, it's our pleasure—and honor."
As they were turning to leave, a commotion from within the queen's quarters startled them. Sarah's keen ears picked up the sound of a woman's scolding voice. Lenia's expression grew pained, and she increased her pace, as if anxious to remove her guests from the premises as discreetly as possible, but she was too late. The door to Petronia's presence chamber burst open, and a young girl came tearing out, half-dressed, hair damp, and chortling with unhinged laughter.
"Lady Cassina!" called a woman's voice. "Lady Cassina, where are you—?"
A middle-aged woman appeared on the threshold, jolting with dismay at the sight of Petronia's guests. The girl had gone skipping across the carpets, and when she spotted Jareth and Sarah, their upturned brows, their goblin faces, she let out an earsplitting shriek.
"Goblins!" she screamed. "Call the watch! Goblins in the castle!"
"For pity's sake!" the older woman—some kind of nursemaid or nanny?—dashed across the room, putting an arm around the girl. "Come back inside; it's your bedtime!"
"Goblins!" The girl's eyes were wild, filling with frightened childish tears. "Make them go away!"
"Those are royal guests; you shouldn't speak to them so!"
Sarah couldn't help staring at the girl. She appeared to be a teenager, perhaps not much younger than Lenia, but her brown eyes and expression held the vacancy of a simpleton. She was tall and curvaceous, her skin creamy-white, soft cheeks flushed pink, her hair a tangled mass of brunette curls. She wore a silk shift and looked like she'd just come from a bath. She would have been lovely had her beauty been animated by intelligence, but she gave off the air of an overgrown toddler.
As Jareth and Sarah watched, the nurse gently steered the girl back inside, shutting the door behind them.
"Please forgive her," Lenia said, her voice quiet. "She gets excitable sometimes, especially when her usual routines are disrupted, and well, you can guess what the past few weeks have been like."
"It's all right," Sarah managed. She wanted to ask who the girl was, but didn't know if politesse permitted the question.
Lenia sighed, aware there would be no keeping secrets.
"That's the Lady Cassina," she said. "Soon to be the Princess Cassina. She's Petronia's daughter."
To be continued…
15
