Dhrun frowned. "Your present company is not necessarily a scandal."
"No matter! They want me to beguile Prince Bittern, or perhaps Prince Garcelin, who sits yonder gnawing a pig's foot."
"The remedy is simple," said Shimrod. "Let us sit at a table and gnaw pigs' feet of our own. They will hesitate to alter such definite arrangements."
"It is worth a trial," said Madouc. "However, I will gnaw no pig's foot. I much prefer a roast pheasant well-basted with butter."
"So do I," said Dhrun. "A few leeks to the side and some bread will suit me nicely."
"Well then: let us dine," said Shimrod.
The three seated themselves at a table in the shade of the oak, and were served from great silver salvers by the stewards.
Lady Desdea meanwhile had gone to take instruction from Queen Sollace. The two engaged in a hurried conference, after which Lady Desdea marched purposefully across the lawn to the table where Madouc sat with Dhrun and Shimrod. She stopped beside Madouc and spoke in a voice carefully controlled: "Your Highness, I must inform you that Prince Bittern has urgently begged that you do him the honour of dining in his company. The queen desires that you accede to his request, and at once."
"You must be mistaken," said Madouc. "Prince Bittern is absolutely fascinated by that tall lady with the long nose."
"That is the distinguished Duchess Clavessa Montfoy. However, please take note: Prince Cassander has persuaded her to take a turn on the river before proceeding with the banquet. Prince Bittern now sits alone."
Madouc turned to look; indeed, Prince Cassander and the Duchess Clavessa were strolling off toward the dock, where three punts floated in the shade of a weeping willow. The Duchess Clavessa, although perplexed by Prince Cassander's proposal, continued to exercise her usual effervescence, and chattered away at a great rate. Prince Cassander was less effusive; he conducted himself with urbane politeness but no great zest. As for Prince Bittern, he sat looking after the Duchess Clavessa, slack-jawed and glum.
Lady Desdea told Madouc: "As you see, Prince Bittern is anxiously awaiting your presence."
"Not so! You misread his posture. He is anxious to join Cassander and Duchess Clavessa on the river."
Lady Desdea's eyes glittered. "You must obey the queen! She feels that your place is properly with Prince Bittern."
Dhrun spoke in cold tones: "You would seem to imply that the princess now sits in unsuitable or demeaning company. If this discourtesy is carried any farther, I will instantly protest to King Casmir, and ask him to deal with what would seem a gross breach of etiquette."
Lady Desdea blinked and drew back. She performed a stiff bow. "Naturally I intended no discourtesy. I am only an instrument of the queen's wishes."
"The queen, then, must be at some misapprehension. The princess does not wish to deprive us of her company, and she seems quite at her ease; why create a fiasco?"
Lady Desdea could proceed no farther. She curtseyed and departed.
With a drooping mouth Madouc watched her go. "She will take vengeance-needlework and more needlework for hours on end."
Madouc turned a thoughtful glance upon Shimrod. "Can you teach me to transform Lady Desdea into an owl, if only for a day or so?"
"Transformations are complicated," said Shimrod. "Each step is critical; if a single syllable went awry, Lady Desdea might become a harpy or an orc, with the whole countryside at peril. You must delay transformations until you are more experienced."
"I am apt at magic, according to my mother. She taught me the ‘Tinkle-toe Imp-spring', that I might fend off bandits or louts."
"I don't know that particular effect," said Shimrod. "At least, not by that name."
"It is simple enough." Madouc looked here and there, around the lawn and down the slope toward the river. Near the dock she took note of Prince Cassander, who was politely seating Duchess Clavessa in a punt, while at the same time making a gallant remark. Madouc arranged thumb and finger, muttered: "Fwip!" and jerked her chin. Prince Cassander gave a startled outcry and jumped into the river.
"That was the low strength or low virtue method," said Madouc. "The other two virtues are more notable. I saw Zocco the wefkin jump a good six feet into the air."
"That is a fine technique," said Shimrod. "It is neat, quick and of nice effect. Evidently you have not used the ‘Tinkle-toe' in any of its virtues upon Lady Desdea?"
"No. It seems a bit extreme, and I would not want her to jump past her ordinary ability."
"Let me think," said Shimrod. "There is a lesser effect known as the ‘Sissle-way', which also comes in three gradations: the ‘Subsurrus', the ‘Sissle-way Ordinary', and the ‘Chatter-fang'."
"I would like to learn this effect."
"The sleight is definite but subtle. You must whisper the activator-schkt-then point your little finger, thus and so, and then you must hiss softly-like this."
Madouc jerked and twitched, her teeth rattling and vibrating. "Ow-wow!" said Madouc.
"That," said Shimrod, "is the first virtue, or the ‘Subsurrus'. As you have noticed, the effect is transient. For greater urgency, one uses the ‘Ordinary', with a double hiss: ‘Sss-sss'. The third level is, of course, the ‘Chatter-fang', where the activator is used twice."
Dhrun asked: "And what of three hisses and three activators?"
"Nothing. The effect is vitiated. Speak the activator, if you like, but do not hiss, since you might startle some unsuspecting person."
"Schkt, " said Madouc. "Is that correct?"
"It is close. Try again, like this: Schkt."
"Schkt."
"Precisely right, but you must practice until it becomes second nature."
"Schkt. Schkt. Schkt."
"Well done! Do not hiss, please."
They paused to watch Prince Cassander slouching despondently across the lawn toward Sarris. Meanwhile Duchess Clavessa had rejoined Prince Bittern, and had resumed her conversation where it had been left off.
"All worked out well," said Shimrod. "And here is the steward with a platter of roast pheasants. This is culinary magic with which I cannot compete. Steward, be so good as to serve us all, and do not stint."
IV
The celebration had run its course, and Sarris was once more tranquil. In the estimation of King Casmir, the event had gone moderately well. He had entertained his guests with suitable amplitude which, while falling short of the lavish extravagance favored by King Audry, still would go far to dispel his reputation for parsimony.
Jocundity and good fellowship had ruled the occasion. Save for Cassander's fall into the river, there had been neither bitter words nor quarrels between old enemies, nor incidents which might have provoked new resentments. Meanwhile, because of Casmir's insistence upon informality, the questions of precedence, which often gave rise to embarrassing disputes, were avoided.
A few disappointments marred the general satisfaction. Queen Sollace had urged that Father Umphred be allowed to utter a benediction before the banquet. King Casmir, who detested the priest, would hear none of it, and the queen indulged herself in a fit of pink-nosed sulks. Further, Princess Madouc had not perceptibly helped her prospects: perhaps to the contrary. It had long been planned that Madouc should show herself to be a mild and winsome young maiden who must inevitably develop into a lovely damsel renowned for her charm, decorum and sympathy. Madouc, while reasonably polite or, at worst, apathetic with the older guests, produced a different version of herself for the young grandees who came to study her attributes, and showed herself to be irresponsible, perverse, elusive, sarcastic, wrongheaded, supercilious, sulky and so tart in her comments as to verge upon the insulting. Morleduc's disposition, already questionable, had not been improved by Madouc's innocent question as to whether sores covered his entire body. When the vain and arrogant Sir Blaise* of Benwick in Armorica disposed himself before her, looked her up and down with cool detachment and remarked, "I must say, Princess Madouc, you do not at all resemble the naughty little harridan that your reputation suggests," Madouc replied in her silkiest voice: "That is good to hear. Nor do you seem a perfumed popinjay, as I have heard you described, since your scent is not one of perfume." Sir Blaise bowed curtly and departed. And so it went with all the others, excepting only Prince Dhrun, which brought King Casmir no pleasure. A connection in this quarter would advance his policies not at all- unless, of course, Madouc could be persuaded to transmit to him the state secrets of Troicinet. King Casmir gave the idea only cursory consideration.