smiling, showing more teeth than a weekday-afternoon game-show host. "Welcome to Castle Belesse."
Inexplicably, she found herself pondering the question: Would
you buy a
vowel
from this man?
She took a step away. "No," she said.
The teeth disappeared. "No? Welcome to Castle Belesse—no?"
"Er, yes."
"Yes?" Decidedly cool now.
"Thank you," Oliver supplied.
The wizard's eyes shifted from her to him, back to her. He gave a tight smile, like Deanna's Aunt Verna, who suffered from chronic indigestion. "Hmm," he said. "Well. I'm Sir Henri's brother, Algernon."
"Deanna." She held out her hand.
Perhaps she was supposed to have recognized his name. In any case, she obviously wasn't supposed to offer a handshake. He stared at her outstretched hand, and after a moment she used it to indicate Oliver. "And this is Oliver, my page."
The wizard gave Oliver's sword the same long, meaningful gaze he had given her hand. "Not from anywhere near here," he observed.
"From Greeley."
"Ah! Greeley. Which is..."
She had been willing to tell Sir Henri, but she was darned if she was going to tell this character Algernon. "Across the sea."
He flashed that toothy game-show smile again. "Which sea?"
"Several of them actually. Is Lady Marguerite in? Sir Henri sent us." Which was true only in the strictest sense, but this wizard was making her desperately nervous.
He folded his arms across his chest "Ah, the Lady Marguerite. I'm her brother, too."
But then another voice cut in: "I can take you to see her—miss, sir." The speaker was a tall, skinny girl with a struggling goose tucked under her arm. "The lady's in her room, of course, this time of day. But she'll be glad for the company."
The wizard glared at the servant girl, but then he bowed to Deanna. "My pleasure," he murmured. "We must talk again at greater length, my Lady Deanna."
"If we must, we must," Deanna said, hoping
she'd be long gone before that. She rushed to catch up with the goosegirl.
Oliver moved in beside her, which she knew by seeing him, never by hearing: his steps were quick and quiet, and his breathing never became labored as the goosegirl led them up several flights of steep stairs.
"Keep an eye out for that one," Deanna whispered.
Oliver shot her a quizzical look, mouthing the words: Eye out?
"He's the one." Oliver's persistent blank look was becoming infuriating. "The one who's going to find the watch and change history, like the fair folk warned."
"Algernon?" Oliver whispered. "How can you tell?"
"Well, just look at him."
He glanced back the way they had come. "But Deanna, he's not here."
"I mean, you can tell—I can tell—by the way he looks. He looks like a troublemaker. Trust me, Oliver. I know what I'm talking about"
"I trust you," Oliver said, with enough sincerity to make the hairs on her arms stand on end. Surely he didn't consider
her
the leader?
"That wizard." She raised her voice for the servant girl to hear, "Algernon. Is he a good wizard or a wicked one?"
"Oh, I couldn't ever say anything bad about Lord Algernon."
Couldn't?
Deanna wondered, but before she could ask, the girl finally stopped in front of a heavy wooden door and rapped her knuckles against it.
"Visitors, Lady Marguerite."
Deanna heard no answer, but the girl pushed the door open, then curtsied at Deanna and Oliver. "Good day, miss." She covered a giggle with her hand. "Sir." And she scurried away down the hall, leaving them to enter the room or go back the way they had come.
The room was dimly lit. Heavy tapestries hung on the walls, floor to ceiling, blocking out all hint of sunlight if there were, in fact, windows behind them. There were a few candles placed on the various chests and tables in the room, giving the place the look and scent of a church between services. Except, of course, for the big bed in the center of the room. And the lady in it, surrounded by so many pillows it was hard to tell where they ended and she began.
Deanna curtsied. "Lady Marguerite,"
Inexplicably, she found herself pondering the question: Would
you buy a
vowel
from this man?
She took a step away. "No," she said.
The teeth disappeared. "No? Welcome to Castle Belesse—no?"
"Er, yes."
"Yes?" Decidedly cool now.
"Thank you," Oliver supplied.
The wizard's eyes shifted from her to him, back to her. He gave a tight smile, like Deanna's Aunt Verna, who suffered from chronic indigestion. "Hmm," he said. "Well. I'm Sir Henri's brother, Algernon."
"Deanna." She held out her hand.
Perhaps she was supposed to have recognized his name. In any case, she obviously wasn't supposed to offer a handshake. He stared at her outstretched hand, and after a moment she used it to indicate Oliver. "And this is Oliver, my page."
The wizard gave Oliver's sword the same long, meaningful gaze he had given her hand. "Not from anywhere near here," he observed.
"From Greeley."
"Ah! Greeley. Which is..."
She had been willing to tell Sir Henri, but she was darned if she was going to tell this character Algernon. "Across the sea."
He flashed that toothy game-show smile again. "Which sea?"
"Several of them actually. Is Lady Marguerite in? Sir Henri sent us." Which was true only in the strictest sense, but this wizard was making her desperately nervous.
He folded his arms across his chest "Ah, the Lady Marguerite. I'm her brother, too."
But then another voice cut in: "I can take you to see her—miss, sir." The speaker was a tall, skinny girl with a struggling goose tucked under her arm. "The lady's in her room, of course, this time of day. But she'll be glad for the company."
The wizard glared at the servant girl, but then he bowed to Deanna. "My pleasure," he murmured. "We must talk again at greater length, my Lady Deanna."
"If we must, we must," Deanna said, hoping
she'd be long gone before that. She rushed to catch up with the goosegirl.
Oliver moved in beside her, which she knew by seeing him, never by hearing: his steps were quick and quiet, and his breathing never became labored as the goosegirl led them up several flights of steep stairs.
"Keep an eye out for that one," Deanna whispered.
Oliver shot her a quizzical look, mouthing the words: Eye out?
"He's the one." Oliver's persistent blank look was becoming infuriating. "The one who's going to find the watch and change history, like the fair folk warned."
"Algernon?" Oliver whispered. "How can you tell?"
"Well, just look at him."
He glanced back the way they had come. "But Deanna, he's not here."
"I mean, you can tell—I can tell—by the way he looks. He looks like a troublemaker. Trust me, Oliver. I know what I'm talking about"
"I trust you," Oliver said, with enough sincerity to make the hairs on her arms stand on end. Surely he didn't consider
her
the leader?
"That wizard." She raised her voice for the servant girl to hear, "Algernon. Is he a good wizard or a wicked one?"
"Oh, I couldn't ever say anything bad about Lord Algernon."
Couldn't?
Deanna wondered, but before she could ask, the girl finally stopped in front of a heavy wooden door and rapped her knuckles against it.
"Visitors, Lady Marguerite."
Deanna heard no answer, but the girl pushed the door open, then curtsied at Deanna and Oliver. "Good day, miss." She covered a giggle with her hand. "Sir." And she scurried away down the hall, leaving them to enter the room or go back the way they had come.
The room was dimly lit. Heavy tapestries hung on the walls, floor to ceiling, blocking out all hint of sunlight if there were, in fact, windows behind them. There were a few candles placed on the various chests and tables in the room, giving the place the look and scent of a church between services. Except, of course, for the big bed in the center of the room. And the lady in it, surrounded by so many pillows it was hard to tell where they ended and she began.
Deanna curtsied. "Lady Marguerite,"
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