CHAPTER EIGHT

Eran, it seemed, was a promising young shephard who was apprenticed to one of the oldest and wisest in this part of the sea. He was a complete Merlan, born and raised, and it seemed that everyone was fond of him.

"He's a talented young man," Ryne said. Pearl added something about his being known by almost everyone on the island and considered a friend by many.

"You know," said Ryne thoughtfully, twirling pasta on his fork, "I wonder…"

After he left the sentence dangling for a time, Pearl nudged him and raised her eyebrows.

"Well," he said. "I wonder if he might be your language tutor. For the sea, I mean, and Merlan, if he's willing."

"I wouldn't mind," I said. All right, he was a bit out there, but he was friendly, and I couldn't quite get the voice he had called up out of my head. To my own surprise and slight annoyance, I was becoming increasingly interested in the whole affair.

"I'll ask him tomorrow," Ryne said.

Tomorrow came too quickly, for I was dreading my other lessons. The first day of school was always a bit unnerving, but the first day of private tutelage was altogether too much to handle with any degree of composure. I was outfitted in the morning in an entirely unsuitable --- to my mind --- gown, full and puffy and long-sleeved, and ushered to Nereida's greenhouse, where I was left alone at the door.

Nereida was inside, carrying a small wooden bucket that had been carved from a single piece of wood. She raised a hand in greeting.

"Come in," she said. "You can help me feed the koi."

"The what?"

"Koi. It's a type of fish. Native to Japan, but we've bred them here for hundreds of years. Mostly for magical properties."

Once at the large pond, surrounded by a short wall of moss-covered stone, she started scattering handfuls of something into the water. "Much of their bodies are covered with taste buds," she said. "Here." She held out the bucket, and I mimicked her. "We have to be careful not to feed them too much," she continued, in an educational tone. "They produce ammonia as a part of their waste products, and if too much ends up in their water, they get sick and die. With the right amount, the ammonia can be converted to nitrites, which are converted to nitrates, which is in essence fertilizer. That causes algal blooms --- see how the water is starting to turn green over there? Plants eat up most of it, but I change the water fairly frequently to keep them healthy. Pearl is especially attached to them. Not surprising, considering her heritage."

The last bit of the pellets gone, she dusted off her hands. "Normally I'll have them eat out of my palm, but we have too much to do today to spend time on it. This way."

I followed silently as she walked along some path --- I couldn't have said which, for they all looked the same to me --- and came out at the table that had been set aside for my use. She gestured at me to have a seat, and then produced from somewhere a tray filled with small plants.

"First off," she said, taking a seat opposite me, "do you know what herbology is?"

I recognized the term from Harry Potter. The startling idea crossed my mind that if this was all real, those books may have been based in fact as well. The thought was distinctly eerie.

"Plants?" I ventured after a moment. "Magical plants?"

"Close. Herbal medicine, and with it a great deal of horticulture. Can you name any of these plants?"

"No," I said. "Hold on… Is that one mint?"

"Yes," she said. She broke a leaf off and crushed it between her fingers. A faint scent filled the air. "Spearmint - mentha spicata. And this one ---"

A loud screech cut her off. I jumped perceptibly; she just looked annoyed.

"That's Nessie," she said. "I'd ignore her, but that won't help things. She wants to meet you."

"Who's Nessie?" I asked, recalling the name from the day previous.

"Scaled monkey." She stood, while I tried to decide whether that meant "monkey with scales" or whether it referred to some kind of fish or bird. A moment later, all curiosity was satisfied, as an impish-looking creature returned from somewhere clinging around Nereida's neck.

"Meet Nessie," she said, with more than a hint of dryness. The creature was indeed a scaly monkey, small and limber, both mammal and reptile. It reflected the light with a dark green sheen, and had little horns poking out on either side of its head, which I assumed covered ears. The face was of bluish-black skin, the tail was curled around Nereida's arm and looked for all the world like a snake. I had never seen such an ugly creature. It tilted its head at me and made a chirping sound, and its black eyes examined me with unabashed curiosity. It was so ugly it was cute.

"She's more or less a capuchin," Nereida said, pulling Nessie off her back and around to the front. "Very smart, and probably a bigger pain than she's worth." These words badly concealed a strong affection; she couldn't hide her slight smile. "I'm trying to teach her to communicate, through sign language and verbal cues."

We spent some time getting acquainted. Nessie was the oddest baby I had ever met, but there was really no better way to describe her. Her limited attempts at communication, boundless energy, curious gaze, and insistence on getting her own way were textbook one-year-old, and I found I was rather fond of her.

My other lessons were less interesting, though not wholly boring. I found my tutors to be, without exception, eccentric. The writing teacher, the one with the raven, swooped down on me and started talking in a clipped, hoarse about the importance of the word. "The word" seemed to be a very, very big deal, although I found it very hard to see the words she put before me, as she had a penchant for only lighting with candles. Black ones.

The math teacher I liked, which was a relief because I deeply loathed his subject. He was jolly, talked in a slow voice that started to bounce around when he got excited about something, and liked to make puns. The willowy art teacher talked in a breathy voice, and referred to line and passion as though they were all you needed to know to create truly great art; however, I found her quite knowledgeable on the subject and practical when we got right down to the first sketches she wanted me to do to gauge my ability. I ended up with a whole pile of terms to memorize and the assignment of forty line drawings of different styles before I came back the next day. The music teacher was perfectly sensible and didn't seem inclined to do much until I had memorized the notes on the piano --- which wasn't hard, for there are only seven of them and they go in order --- and the nervous History teacher was much less nervous when it was only the two of us. He had genuine interest in his subject, and from the hints he --- very cleverly --- dropped, I began to think that this might actually be a very interesting subject to take, even if I wasn't jazzed about the princess idea.

A few days passed. I soon found myself swamped in schoolwork, and between that, the constant etiquette I was trying to figure out, and the random duties I was expected to perform --- showing up, looking pretty, and giving "a few words" to select nobility of the population during my formal introduction to the court; advising the king and queen in cases of local disagreements about property lines or debts owed, during which I primarily kept my mouth shut and tried to disappear; and formally greeting visitors from provinces and other countries I'd never heard of to the Palace Merlana --- I barely had time to breathe, let alone reflect on my situation. I suppose it was good for me not to dwell on things, but I resented the intrusion and scheduling my life now consisted of. Privacy was almost a thing of the past. In the morning, there was always a maid with the fire and breakfast. Before she was gone two minutes a lady-in-waiting arrived to dress and primp me. Most mornings the lady was Grethel, for which I was glad, for though I would have often preferred solitude, I found in her a good-natured and sympathetic friend. Days and evenings were full of people, and I got no time alone until I was in bed, at which point I fell instantly into dreamless sleep.

With all of this, it was some time before I properly met Mabel. I didn't meet her through wholly honest means, I must confess. I was supposed to be in my art class, but my teacher said she had a massive headache and was canceling lessons, if that suited Her Highness. That suited Her Highness extremely well, and though Her Highness had been told to work on vanishing point exercises during the normal class time, Her Highness was hungry and deeply wanted a change of routine.

I found the passage Lisette had showed me. The hallway it led to was narrow and dim, with faded orange wallpaper and candles flickering along the walls. There was evidence of recent life, for I saw a sort of makeshift bulletin board, pinned with flyers announcing a Servants Gala (apparently some sort of dance), various items for sale, and a large note that said, "Lilly, will you come with me? Boris," and an arrow pointing to the Gala paper. There were many doors along the corridor, and several sets of narrow stairs that seemed to mimic the floor plan outside, at least as far as I could remember. The kitchen, Lisette had said, was the very last door on the bottom floor.

I had a moment of hesitation before I pushed the door open. When I did, I was met with a great deal of chatter and footsteps, the smell of bread baking, and the dusty look of a room full of flour. Clearly, it was baking day. Maids stood at long tables, covered in white powder and kneading great chunks of dough. Brick ovens on the far wall showed flames inside, and occasionally someone would open one to take out golden loaves of bread.

I stood for a moment with the door open before anyone noticed me. When they did, there was a quick bustle, and in few moments Mabelle appeared, wearing an enormous apron.

"Well, lass," she said briskly. "Took you long enough to come see me. Thought you weren't going to show. Never mind, what's brought you down here? I've got bread dough to knead for boredom, chocolate cake for depression, a handy spot in the pantry if you're aiming to hide, and plenty of conversation if you're ailing in that respect. What'll it be?"

"Bread dough," I said. "I need to do something other than remember the proper fingering for the G Major scale."

She looked pleased enough with this answer. "Well, then, come along. Marcie, fetch her an apron, will you?"

A girl nodded, disappeared, and returned mere seconds later with the required article. I put it on, and Mabelle tossed a hunk of dough my direction and took up station opposite me at one of the tables. No one paid me much mind, and conversation resumed around us.

"So I was saying," said a girl with red hair and freckles, "that if Rochelle wants to send a delegation up here, that's her business."

A/N: Allyp ---- Yeah, that might've worked... It would have given the corset issue considerably less weight, though, lol. Much thanks for the error-point-out-isms --- I think they're all fixed now. And no, you are not one to talk. "I Am Jill," nudge nudge hint hint... ;)

Proud Titania --- I'm glad you like Eran; I do, too. I think he'll be fun to get to know.

Silver Sparklze --- Again (see above) I'm glad you like Eran. And I'm glad you like Marina's rebellions. There'll be more of them, I'm sure, lol.

Scoutcraft Piratess --- Ah, you're perceptive! It is very childlike, as, I think, is he.

slipshod --- Lol, I hadn't thought of it that way --- I like it.

teenchic 2004 --- Thanks. :) I'm glad Marina's coming across as a strong character. The character in the original story beginning I based this on was very flat, and I was afraid that would follow through in this revamping. Luckily, she's more willing to talk to me this time around. (Lol... only another writer would get that sentence...)