After several more breaths, the snake buzzed ungraciously, “You aren’t in danger anymore, King’s Wife. You can walk now.” It drooped about her neck as she splashed around, feeling for her footing. “I have guarded one hundred and sixty-eight King’s Wives,” it buzzed like an enraged bee. “I have saved ten of them from drowning. I saved one Wife from a bucket. I saved another from the Flood. But I never saved a single one from walking into the middle of a lake before. You are the very first. When you operate the water mirror and use stars to guide you, please be sure you are seeing them as they look from dry land and not as they look under ten feet of water.”
Kate, wet and chilled, scrambled up the crumbly shoreline, her dress front and shoes covered with sandy silt. She shivered in the cold wind blowing over the lake, but she had never been so happy before. The entire vast sky was above her. Moonlight flooded her, inside and out. She thought she could probably fly.
“You are in danger, King’s Wife!” buzzed the infuriated snake. “In danger of catching pneumonia.” But Kate ignored her unusual companion as she squelched toward the village.
She slept the remainder of that night in an old woman’s cottage. Those wise eyes took one look at her lavish jewelry, her elvish beauty, and her painted golden snake, and they drew their own conclusions. Kate decided unhappily that there would be a folktale about her soon.
In the morning, the woman left the cottage to hail the post coach for her. When she was gone, Kate called out, “Snake?” in a low voice. There was a rattling zing as the golden object uncoiled once more.
“Not a snake! Not a snake!” it buzzed in some disgust. “I was a sword before I was anything, and now I’m a magical charm.”
“But you look like a snake,” protested Kate. “We humans judge on appearance.”
“Forty-eight of the King’s Wives have been humans,” it replied. “Nothing they do would surprise me.”
“Well, what should I call you, then?” asked Kate sensibly. “Do you have a name?”
“I am the King’s Wife Charm,” it hissed royally. “That is my name and my function.”
“That’s a little hard to say, all at once,” said Kate. “I’ll just call you Charm.” She looked at the snake a little doubtfully as she said this. It was a great many things, but it was not charming. “I’m traveling in the human world today. I don’t want them to stare at you and ask questions. Can’t you be a little less conspicuous?”
The snake weaved back and forth before her face. She hated this; it made her dizzy. “One hundred and twenty-seven King’s Wives have been embarrassed to be seen with a snake around their necks,” it buzzed, but it whisked out of sight down her sleeve.
Kate hurried to the coach as it stopped by the cottage. “No bags, miss?” asked the freckled coachman, helping her in. Kate sat down on the hard leather seat and looked around. A large, fleshy woman and a rather beefy man sat across from her in the coach. The man was reading a paper and barely glanced over, but the woman was eyeing her with interest. Under her gaze, Kate colored up. What a sight she must be! The yellow silk gown, lovely yesterday, was crumpled and stained with mud. Accustomed to the underground, she hadn’t realized that it was early winter and had brought no wrap, so the old woman had persuaded her to accept a patched black coat. To top it off, the amount of jewelry she wore was by English standards truly shocking. Kate sighed. She shouldn’t have scolded the snake. It couldn’t have made her look more bizarre than she did already.
“You poor, poor girl!” exclaimed the woman in a loud, penetrating voice. “What on earth happened to you?”
Kate blushed more deeply as she considered her answer. Having lived so long with the goblins, she hated to lie. “I had an accident while traveling,” she said at last. “I almost drowned. I don’t have any other clothes to change into.”
“Oh, my poor dear,” boomed the woman. Kate suspected that the horses could hear her. “You’ll catch your death of pneumonia! How far are you traveling, you poor thing?”
“I’m going to Liverpool,” replied Kate, glad of a simple answer.
“That’s wonderful!” declared the woman. “We are, too! What’s your name?”
“My—my name?” stammered Kate. “I’m Kate, I mean Catherine Wins—or Miss Wins—well, Mrs. Marak, I suppose. But please,” she added, mortified, “you may call me Kate.”
“My dear, you’re not well!” exclaimed the woman. “The shock! We must put you up at an inn the next time we change horses.”
“No,” said Kate hurriedly. “My husband is ill, and I have to get to Liverpool right away.”
“Hurrying to his bedside, no doubt,” stated the woman. “Married so young! Whatever were you thinking! Do tell me all about him.”
Kate stared at her in horror. Tell her all about a goblin? “I—well—um,” she stammered hopelessly. The woman watched her, fascinated.
“Tell me how you met,” she insisted stridently. Kate took a breath and thought this over.
“My sister and I were lost in a storm,” she said, “and he led us back to our house.”
“How romantic!” cried the woman. “And you lost your heart to him right away!”
“Not right away,” averred Kate, remembering his sarcastic comments as she slogged home in the dark beside his horse.
“Oh, come! He swept you off your feet, I suppose!” exclaimed the woman.
“Well, he tried,” admitted Kate with a helpless giggle.
“Young and handsome, no doubt!” Kate thought about this.
“He’s not young,” she said, “but he doesn’t look that old.” Handsome? Marak? Best not to say anything.
“And where do you live?” demanded the woman. Kate’s head was beginning to throb.
“Where do we live?” she gasped. Under Hill, under lake, locked behind magical doors. “Not—not far from where the horses stopped.” Too late, Kate realized that the woman couldn’t possibly believe her. If she lived so close, she could have gone home to change clothes.
“You poor, poor thing,” the woman commented emphatically.
Wonderful, thought Kate. Now she thinks I’m crazy.
When she staggered out of the carriage that evening, Kate felt sure she knew every moment of the woman’s life from birth. She had an intimate acquaintance with the furnishings in her home, the local shopkeepers’ best bargains, and the grandchildren’s childhood diseases. Kate’s head pounded, and she longed to be home among the goblins. They would never have dared to pummel the King’s Wife with so much boring talk.
“Charm!” she called, standing in a corner of the inn yard. The snake uncoiled from her arm with a little zing.
“Thirty-six of the King’s Wives have been fat,” it commented quietly. “Twenty-four have been loud. Eight have been fat and loud,” it added in a soft whisper.
“I couldn’t be more sorry,” said Kate with a shudder. “Charm, should I stay here tonight and travel tomorrow? It will take three days to reach Liverpool if I stop at night.”
“You should not be outside the kingdom,” whispered the snake. After her awful day, Kate heartily agreed. “Travel at night. Then you will be home sooner.”
“That’s a good idea,” murmured Kate. “Charm, has this ever happened before?”
“Yes,” hissed the snake softly. “Two other King’s Wives have been outside without the King’s permission. One no longer had a King. He was dead, and she was awaiting the birth of the Heir. The other was in danger when the Kingdom Spells gave way and her King was far from home. And one King’s Wife traveled by closed wagon with a loud, fat woman during the migration. But it is true,” it whispered, “that you are the first King’s Wife to travel by closed wagon with a loud, fat woman and without the King’s permission.”
“No, that’s not what I meant,” said Kate impatiently. “I mean, has the King ever been held prisoner under an enchantment before?”