With a bucket of water, Camille stepped forward and into Dre’ela’s miasma, much like the reek of her Troll sire: that of a rotting animal burst open after lying dead afield for a full sevenday in the glare of the hot summer sun, though in Dre’ela’s case, there was a heavy overlay of musk.
Camille could feel wee Scruff’s body trembling where he hid in her high pocket, yet in spite of knowing how frightened he was, she was careful to keep a vacant-eyed, slack-jawed, dull-witted look on her face. Even so, she, too, was afraid: afraid that Dre’ela would realize this slave was someone new, and then she would be exposed. Yet the chamumi’s yellow gaze passed over Camille with no interest whatsoever. After all, she was merely a slave.
And as Lanval took up a great bowl of porridge, and Cecile bore several cooked rats, Dre’ela turned on her heel and led them all outward and across the chamber and up the long staircase.
And as they came to a hallway above, Camille softly canted a singsong chant:
“True gold is quite fine,
So softly gleams mine,
Some think it surely best.
Troll gold is better,
Bright it does glitter,
Outshining all the rest.”
As they neared a Goblin-warded door, again Camille softly chanted her singsong cant, and Dre’ela whirled about and snarled, “What is that you are caterwauling, you piece of Human filth?”
Only then did Camille remember Chemine’s warning: “Let not this girl sing to Goblins and Trolls.”
Keeping the dull-witted look on her face, Camille then simply spoke the cant:
“True gold is quite fine,
So softly gleams mine,
Some think it surely best.
Troll gold is better,
Bright it does glitter,
Outshining all the rest.”
A calculating look came into Dre’ela’s yellow eyes, and she gazed at Camille’s hands and wrists and neck, and upon seeing no gold there, the chamumi said, “Have you gold? True gold? I’ll give you bright Troll gold for such.”
“Oh, oh, would you, ma’amselle?” said Camille, digging in her pocket for the spool, a gaping smile on her face. “I–I love bright shiny Troll gold.” Yet then she paused. “Bu-but, I–I’d also like to see your groom. Not as the Bear. No, not as the Bear. Not the Bear.” Camille frowned, as if trying to dredge up a concept beyond what her slack-jawed look implied. And then she vacantly smiled and said, “Not Bear, but when he is Human. I–I hear from the others who once worked where he lived that he is pretty, too.” Again Camille furrowed her brow, as if slow thoughts moved through her mind. Then she grinned again and said, “Maybe even as pretty as Troll gold, but not as shiny. Not as shiny.”
“See my groom? I should think not, for only I can-”
In that moment Camille took the golden spool out from her pocket and held it up for the chamumi to see. Dre’ela’s eyes widened, and she reached out and snatched the spool from Camille. “A wedding present,” said Dre’ela.
“C-can I–I see the groom tonight?” asked Camille, smiling a gape-jawed smile.
“Certainly not,” snapped Dre’ela. “None are to see him until after the ceremony, when I become the Princess of Summerwood.”
“I–I will bring you another golden wedding present tomorrow if you let me see him tonight.”
Dre’ela’s eyes flew wide. “You have more true gold?”
“I–I know where to find some.”
Dre’ela’s eyes narrowed and she looked at Lanval. “Does this dull-wit have more gold?”
Lanval, holding the great bowl of porridge, shrugged and said, “Chamumi Dre’ela, I know not. Yet what harm would come of letting my daughter Naif see the prince?”
Dre’ela glanced at the golden spool and then at Camille and said, “Very well, Naif, you may come to see my groom tonight, but you must bring more gold on the morrow.”
Lanval cleared his throat and, when Dre’ela looked at him, he said, “What of the curfew, Chamumi Dre’ela? If my simple daughter is to be out after dark, she will need a permit.”
Dre’ela turned to Camille. “I will send an escort to your hovel this night. Set a lit candle in your window.”
As Camille bobbed her head in understanding, she hid both glee and disappointment behind her half-wit countenance: glee for she would see Alain at last; disappointment for she would not be free to come and go on her own.
Dre’ela turned and signed to the guard. The door was opened, and, following the chamumi, Camille and Lanval and Cecile entered one chamber of a suite, where they set down the water and porridge and cooked rats and then took up the previous day’s bucket and pot and left. Camille had been hoping to see the Bear, yet, as Lanval had said, he was not in the rooms they entered. Mayhap he will detect my scent, if Dre’ela’s stench doesn’t cover all.
That night, when Redcaps pounded on the door, Lanval looked at Camille and held up a cautionary hand; he glanced at the bricks behind which were hidden his cache of tea and the shuttle and carding comb, and now even sleeping Scruff, then he answered the summons. Goblins bulled inward, shoving the steward aside. And they began pulling the bedding apart and overturning tables and chairs and opening drawers and such. They searched through Camille’s rucksack, tossing clothing and vellum and pen and ink aside and all else they found of no worth to them, though, after sniffing to see what it was, they kept the flasks of oil; they found the pocket sewn within, yet nought of value was there, for Camille had left all coinage hidden nigh the sandy cove where the Nordavind had landed. Thoroughly they searched all-room, bed, furniture, drawers-even stirring through the ashes within the fireplace. Lastly they pawed Camille and Lanval, searching for whatever might be hidden upon them, yet they found nought. At last they snarled at Camille and escorted her out, leaving Lanval to clean up the mess left behind.
As the steward closed the door, he smiled to himself and glanced at the untouched bricks, for well had he anticipated what Dre’ela’s Redcaps would do. Then he stepped across the room to retrieve Scruff from the hollow behind the bricks, fully expecting to be scolded by the little bird.
As the chamumi poured a score of Troll-gold nuggets into Camille’s waiting hands, Dre’ela said, “Remember, stupid girl, you must bring me a gift of true gold on the morrow, and I will give you even more of this much brighter gold.”
Camille grinned foolishly and crowed:
“True gold is quite fine,
So softly gleams mine,
Some think it surely best.
Troll gold is better,
Bright it does glitter,
Outshining all the rest.”
Camille laughed and shoved the nuggets into her pocket and then gaped up at Dre’ela and said, “I–I would like to see the groom now.”
Dre’ela signed to the Redcap guards, and the door was opened.
With her heart hammering in her breast, Camille followed the chamumi into the entry chamber, where Dre’ela paused before a mirror to admire her new bangle of true gold, the spool now on its own hemp cord about her neck. Finally, she turned and led Camille past the day’s porridge pot and water bucket and into a room beyond, and there in a great, canopied bed lay Prince Alain asleep.
Camille nearly burst into tears, but whether they were to have been tears of joy at seeing his beautiful face or of distress that he was unaware, she did not know. Yet she could not let Dre’ela suspect that aught was afoot other than a simpleton desiring to see the groom. And so she held her emotions to herself, and reached into her pocket and drew out a nugget and managed to gape a grin and say, “Oh, he is quite pretty, almost as pretty as shiny gold. Can I–I stay awhile and try to see which is prettier?”
No answer came and Camille turned and saw that Dre’ela was back before the mirror and turning the bobbin this way and that, watching the candlelight gleam on the spool.