The snake had no shoulders, but it managed to convey a shrug. “Why would I remember that?” it buzzed. “Do I guard Kings? I do not worry about the minor details of Kings’ lives. I only remember what is important.”
Supplied with an explanation and several gold pieces, the innkeeper found Kate a coachman who would drive her straight through to Liverpool, hiring horses for her along the way. As the innkeeper’s wife packed her a supper to eat in the carriage, the coachman introduced himself. Bingham was tall and handsome, with brown hair and large brown eyes.
“No bags?” he asked in astonishment, and she repeated her explanation about the near drowning. “Then I’ll ask the innkeeper to give you a blanket or two. You’ll be cold in the carriage, miss. And since we’re driving straight through, you’ll need a pillow. Don’t worry, miss, I’ll take care of everything.”
“How thoughtful!” exclaimed Kate, looking admiringly into those dark eyes. There was nothing like the human race after all. “But what about you? You’ll be so tired. They tell me the trip will take until late tomorrow night.”
“Oh, never mind me, miss,” said Bingham. “I do this all the time. Besides,” he added, gazing at her warmly, “I think it will be a rewarding experience.”
Bingham was as good as his word. Armed with more gold pieces, he made sure she lacked for nothing on the way. The views became steadily uglier as they approached their destination, and the winter twilight fell long before they reached Liverpool. Kate had not enjoyed the port city when she had seen it with her father. This time she found herself even more disheartened at the close streets, the choking smoke hanging in the air, and the pressing crowds of ragged people. Hordes of beggar children chased the carriage until Bingham used his long whip to drive them away. Kate’s father had explained to her about the poor people who poured into the city, hoping to find work on the docks or in the huge textile mills. Nine-year-olds might work twelve hours a day at the weaving machines, losing fingers or even their lives to the machinery when their fatigue made them careless.
Tired and depressed, Kate began to long for the end of the journey. Soon they would be at the inn. The carriage stopped, and Kate peered out the little window in the door. They were in a dark, narrow alley lined by ugly brick buildings with unusually large doors. They looked like the warehouses that she and her father had driven through near the harbor docks. Trash glistened in the puddles on the rough cobbled street. Bingham, his handsome face tired and grave, opened the door and helped her out.
“Where’s the inn? I don’t see a single soul,” Kate remarked. Bingham didn’t respond. As she turned around, she saw him step toward her, a long knife shining in his hand. The horrified Kate felt a rustling zing, and Bingham stopped, shuddered, and fell over backward. He lay motionless, his big brown eyes still watching her as the knife slid from his grasp. The golden snake wove above his body, metallic fangs glistening.
“I have just bitten a man,” announced Charm with arrogant contentment. “There he lies, awaiting the King’s Judgment.” Kate stared at the treacherous young man in astonishment. She had never thought villains could be quite so handsome and considerate. But she remembered the look in his eyes when he saw the gold pieces and her many costly rings and bracelets. She didn’t need to ask why he had done it.
Kate was struck by a sudden thought. “Charm,” she said, “the King told me once that if you had to bite me, you would go find him to report that I had been foolish.”
“That is quite right,” whispered the snake. “I do not leave the King’s Wife unless I must, but if she is where she will not quickly be found, my bite endangers her. Then I myself seek the King for her. I have had to leave eighty-seven King’s Wives alone. It is never good. They are not safe without me.”
“Then does your magic tell you where the King is?” asked Kate.
“Yes, if he is close enough.”
“Charm, we are in the city of the sorcerer,” said Kate, “and the King will be with him. Is he close enough for you to find?”
The golden snake twirled slowly up one of Kate’s arms and down the other. Then it wound itself around and around her neck, climbing into her hair. Finally it dropped back to her shoulder, hissing like a boiling teakettle.
“Yes,” it announced grandly. “I have found the King. He is very near.”
Kate left the paralyzed coachman lying in the alley by his carriage, his dark eyes following her as she walked away from him. Her magical bracelet lit up puddles and weeds as she picked her way along the filthy streets lined with vacant warehouses. Kate had never seen such a disreputable place. All her instincts told her to run away as fast as she could. But the King’s Wife Charm rode her shoulders like a stylish piece of jewelry, and her husband lay somewhere ahead, held prisoner by powerful magic. Kate sighed. Her childhood friends probably never had days like this.
Charm hissed and tugged her into the shadows. A few seconds later, a thickset figure plodded silently past them, not even looking their way. “That was Thaydar!” said Kate. She hurried up behind the burly goblin, but he didn’t turn around. When she tried to tug on his coat, her hand passed right through him without encountering anything solid at all, but in another second, the dematerialized goblin reached a door in a crumbling brick building and jerked it open decisively. He might be air, but his grip was as strong as ever.
Kate caught the closing door as Thaydar went through it and stepped into a narrow, leaky hallway lined with brick walls. The ground was covered with wet paper and decaying trash. Beetles skittered softly along the walls and among the moldy papers, fat, sleek, and smoothly black. Her attention caught by the large bugs, Kate tugged her gown off the floor. Then she realized that she was alone. Thaydar had come through this door just seconds ago, but now he was nowhere to be seen.
Kate stepped gingerly down the nasty space, trying to avoid the puddles and insects. A large gray rat hurried along the wall beside her, intent on business of his own. Charm watched him closely, but he made no threatening moves. As Kate neared the end of the hallway, she saw a door to her left. She was reaching for its handle, feeling very concerned about what might be beyond it, when a small child burst out crying practically in her ear. Kate jumped and whirled around. Charm whisked out of sight, hugging her arm tightly, but its coils didn’t collapse into a resting state. Kate approved of its judgment. This was no place to rest.
The child continued to wail pathetically. Kate looked up and down the hallway and held her bracelet toward the stained and spider-hung wooden rafters, but she saw no sign of it. In another minute, the door swung open beside her. Kate turned, almost falling as she slipped on a fat bug. A man stood in the doorway.
“Welcome, my dear!” he said in a gravelly voice. “Always a pleasure to have pretty callers. You’re looking for the baby, aren’t you? Why don’t you hold your magical jewelry a little higher and look at the wall there?”
Feeling that her lighted bracelet was rather unfortunately conspicuous, Kate nevertheless did as he suggested. At first she recoiled, seeing what appeared to be a large spider on the wall. Another moment’s examination and Kate felt distinctly sick. A shriveled, skeletal little hand was nailed into the brick beside her. Kate dropped her arm and turned back to the man, completely disgusted.
“Isn’t it clever?” he rasped. “Isn’t it an interesting bit of magic? It cries whenever a woman walks by because it’s still looking for its mother. Rather impractical, I’m afraid, since it won’t cry when a man comes in, but must we always be practical? Some things we do just for their own sake.” The man beckoned Kate into the room, and she walked in, but in another second she gave a loud cry and jumped back into the hall, the baby’s voice wailing once again beside her. “Oh, don’t be alarmed,” called out the man in his hoarse voice. “Come right in, and I’ll tell you all about it.”