The old woman, like Crombie and Chester, looked rebellious, but decided on the expedient course. "What spell?"
"Millie's spell," the Queen said, indicating the ghost. The spell doctor studied Millie, then cackled. "It is done," she said, smiling broadly so that all four of her teeth showed.
"I wonder what is so funny?" Roland murmured. "Do you know what Millie's talent is?"
"Ghosts don't have talents," Bink said.
"Her spell in life. It must be something special."
"Must be. I guess we'll find out, if she can fulfill the third requirement"
3IRD, the slate continued. IMMERSE YOUR SKELETON IN HEALING ELIXIR.
"We have plenty of that," the Queen said. "Lackey-"
The soldier was already on his way. In a moment he returned with a bucket of elixir.
"Now-where is your skeleton?" the Queen demanded.
But at this point Millie balked. She seemed to be trying to speak, but was unable.
"A silence spell!" the Queen exclaimed. "You aren't permitted to tell where it is! That's why it has remained hidden all these centuries!"
Millie nodded sadly.
"This is better yet!" the Queen said. "We shall have a treasure hunt! In which closet is Millie's skeleton? A special prize to whoever finds it first!" She pondered fleetingly. "I'm out of regular prizes I know! The first date with Millie the mortal!"
"But what if a woman finds it?" someone asked.
"I'll have my husband the King change her into a man for the occasion," the Queen said.
There was an uneasy laugh. Was she joking-or serious? As far as Bink knew, the King could transform anything living into any other thing living-of the same sex. But he never used his talent capriciously. So it must be humor.
"But what about the food?" Chester demanded.
"That's it!" she decided, "The women have already proved their superiority, so they'll be barred from the treasure hunt. They'll start in on the refreshments while the men go look for-" But she saw Chester swelling up, and realized she was going too far. "Oh, all right, the men can eat too, even those with appetites like horses. But don't touch the Anniversary cake. The King will serve that-when the treasure hunt is over." She looked momentarily pensive, which was unusual for her; was she sure the King would perform?
The cake was magnificent: tier on tier of scintillating icing embroidered with a huge number 1, crowned with a magically lifelike bust of King Trent. The Queen always promoted the King's glory, because her own glory was a reflection of it. Some poor chef had spent a lot of effort organizing the magic for this ornate pastry!
"Picklepuss, stand guard over that cake, and pickle anybody who durst touch it," the Queen said, fastening the end of the puss's leash to the leg of the cake's table. "Now, men-on with the treasure hunt!"
Roland shook his head. "Skeletons in closets are best left undisturbed," he remarked. "I believe I will go congratulate your mother." He glanced at Bink. "You will have to represent our family in the treasure hunt. You don't have to search too hard." He made a little gesture of parting and moved off through the glowing currents of the sea.
Bink stood in place a moment, reflecting. It was evident his father knew there was something wrong, but was not commenting directly.
And what was wrong? Bink knew he had a good life, now, with a fine if variable wife and the favor of the King. Why did he dream of adventures in far places, of using the sword whose art he had been studying, of danger and even death, though he knew his talent would protect him from all genuine threats? What was the matter with him? It somehow seemed he had been happier when his future was in doubt-and that was ridiculous.
Why wasn't Chameleon here? She was near term, but she could have attended the Ball if she had wanted to. There was a magic midwife on the palace staff.
He decided. On with the treasure hunt! Maybe he could prove himself by locating that skeleton in the closet!
Chapter 2
Treasure Hunt
Now he had a challenge, however superficial. He had to start with his brain. Millie was not necessarily in a closet per se. Her bones had to be somewhere in the palace demesnes, because her ghost was here-but that could be anywhere within the castle, the moat or even the garden. Away from the regularly traveled sections. Unless the bones were buried under a floor or between walls. That seemed unlikely; the structure of the palace was quite solid, buttressed by durability spells; it would be a major undertaking to breach any floor or wall. Presuming that Millie had died suddenly, under suspicious circumstances (otherwise she would not have become a ghost), the murderer would have had to hide her body quickly, surreptitiously. No rebuilding of walls to conceal it! Old King Roogna would not have tolerated such a thing.
Where could a body have been hidden in minutes-so well as to withstand the scrutiny of centuries? The King's renovations had covered every part of Castle Roogna, converting it to the royal palace of the present kingdom; the restorative artisans could not have missed anything like this. So the feat seemed mechanically impossible. There could be no skeletons in these closets.
Bink saw that other men were already busy rummaging in all the closets. No use to compete directly with them, even if the skeleton were there.
Mechanically impossible-ah, there was the due! Not magically impossible! The bones must have been transformed to something else, something innocuous, misleading. The question was, what? There were a thousand artifacts in the palace, and any one could be it. Yet transformation was major magic, and what Magician would be fooling around with a mere chambermaid? So her bones might after all remain in their natural state, or perhaps dissolved in solvent or ground up into powder. Regardless, there should be some clue to their identity, if only it could be correctly fathomed. Yes, a most intriguing puzzle!
Bink walked up to the refreshment table. There were tarts and donuts and cookies and cakes and pies and assorted beverages. Chester was stuffing himself. Bink circled the table, searching for something interesting. As he neared the Anniversary cake, the picklepuss hissed at him warningly. It was cat-bodied, with a snout that was green and prickly like a pickle, and its eyes were moist with brine. For a moment he was tempted to advance on it, to try his magic against its magic. He could not be harmed by magic, yet surely the feline would try to pickle him. What would happen?
No-he was not a juvenile daredevil compelled to prove himself by foolish exploits. Why force his talent to labor unnecessarily?
He spotted a smiling-face cookie and picked it up. As he brought it to his mouth, the smile became an O of horror. Bink hesitated, knowing this was merely another of the Queen's illusions, but loath to bite anyway. The cookie screwed its face in anticipation of the awful end; then when the bite did not come, slowly reopened one icing-dab eye.
"Here, puss-you take it," Bink said, extending the cookie to the leashed creature. There was a faint zoop! and the cookie was pickled, one of its eyes opened, the other closed. Now it reeked of brine. He set it down on the floor, and the picklepuss slunk forward and took the pickle-cookie in its mouth. Bink no longer felt hungry.