IT WAS PAST midnight by the time Muna returned to the Academy from the Sorceress Royal’s ball. As she undressed for bed, she felt as though she had aged a hundred years—as in the stories of the Unseen Realm, in which unwary villagers wandered into the jungle and emerged to find the world changed. Had the same day passed for Sakti, in the Palace of the Unseen?
Muna knew she should renew her attempts to persuade the polong to help her, not least as she would be subjected to lessons the next day. Henrietta had been anxious to assure the scholars that the Duke’s appearance would not disrupt the routine of the Academy (rather to the girls’ disappointment). But Muna had been out of sorts ever since she had arrived in England—sluggish and bemused, overtaken by fatigue early in the day. It was as though her body did not understand that she had left Janda Baik; it seemed still to be regulated by the sun of a different land. Extricating herself from her stays exhausted her last reserves.
She crawled into bed, promising herself she would rise early the next morning. She hoped she would feel equal to quarrelling with a wayward spirit then. She must take courage from the Sorceress Royal’s example. If Mrs. Wythe could face down a murderous ambassador from the Fairy Court, surely Muna could impose her will on a minor ghoul conjured forth from a few drops of blood.
When she fell asleep she dreamt of home—the heat of the day, the distant murmur of the sea and the coconut palms swaying in the breeze.
It was still dark when she opened her eyes. Her faculties were clouded with sleep, but she knew that something had woken her. She sat up and saw a gleam at the window.
Her first foggy thought was of Sakti. Perhaps it was a message— or even Sakti herself! Muna fell out of bed, stumbling towards the window, but she checked at the sight that met her eyes.
“Mrs. Wythe!” a glad voice cried, then: “Oh, I say! I beg you will forgive me. I must have got turned round on myself—mistaken you for another.”
A golden head hovered outside the window. It was shaped like the head of a horse, save that it was larger, covered in scales, and bore not only antlers but long graceful whiskers floating on the breeze. Pale eyes peered at Muna, blinking.
“Oh,” said Muna faintly.
“But I know you,” exclaimed the dragon. “You’re the girl that was in the window!”
Muna had recognised the creature too. It was the naga from which she had fled the day before. She froze.
The naga did not seem to notice her horror but said affably:
“This is a piece of good luck! I have been wishing I could beg your pardon. What you must have thought of me, lunging at you without so much as a how d’ye do! I ought to have introduced myself. Muggins!”
The naga paused, giving her an expectant look out of its great long-lashed blue eyes.
None of this was what one would expect from a monster intent upon one’s destruction, even though the friendly words issued from a mouth so dreadfully full of teeth. Muna squeaked, with automatic courtesy:
“I—I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Muggins!”
“Oh no, my name ain’t Muggins,” said the naga. “That is only cant, you know. I am making a mull of this! Poggs would give me no end of a dressing if he heard it. I am Robert of Threlfall, at your service, miss.”
Muna stared. “Robert of Threlfall,” she stammered. “But then—you must be Mrs. Wythe’s friend!”
“You are acquainted with the Sorceress Royal?” said the naga eagerly.
Muna introduced herself. “Mrs. Wythe has been so good as to receive me as a scholar at her Academy,” she explained. “The other scholars told me of you.”
“Then I am here!” said Robert of Threlfall, relieved. “My family have bound my magic—don’t want me getting rid of the guard and spiriting Poggs away. I had just enough magic left to make a door to the mortal realm, but when that did not answer . . .”
A thought struck Muna. “Was it a green door?”
“That was the one!” said the naga. “I was hoping to find Mrs. Wythe—thought you was her when I saw you at the window earlier. I only knew my mistake when you fled. Mrs. Wythe ain’t much given to fleeing.”
“No,” said Muna. “I can imagine she is not!” She felt called upon in ordinary courtesy to explain her own flight. “You see, you are the first naga—the first dragon—I have ever spoken to.”
“Honoured!” said the naga politely. “Well, the door used up the last of my magic, so I could not make another. But I’m a great hand at dreamwalking though you mightn’t think it, and I thought I might manage to enter Mrs. Wythe’s dreams even without magic. It has been dashed hard to navigate, however. I suppose that is why I have entered your dreams instead of hers. I do beg your pardon!”
“My dreams?” said Muna, puzzled. “But I am awake.”
The naga blinked. “No, you aren’t. What’s that on the bed, if you ain’t asleep?”
Muna turned and saw, with an unpleasant thrill, her own self stretched out upon the bed. She was sleeping in a most unbecoming position, a frown distorting her face.
It was disagreeable to see her body from the outside, as though she were at her own funeral, but it was worse to look down and see that what felt like solid flesh was in fact transparent. The moonlight shone right through her legs.
“Hadn’t you better sit down, miss?” said Robert of Threlfall solicitously.
“No,” said Muna, gulping, “I am quite well, thank you! It is only that I had not expected—that is to say, I thought I was awake.”
“Natural, I’m sure,” said the naga. “I beg your pardon for intruding upon your dream. I shan’t trouble you any longer. If you are at the Academy, Mrs. Wythe can’t be far off. I should think I ought to be able to find my way into her head.”
“But if you go to the Sorceress Royal, won’t you risk being detected?” said Muna. Brief as her acquaintance with the naga had been, it had sufficed to persuade her of what Mrs. Wythe had vowed—that there was not the least harm in the naga. She did not like to think of the poor blundering creature flying into a trap. “The Duke of the Navel of the Seas is staying with her.”
“Is he? That is very bad, I’m sure!” said the naga. He paused. “Who is the Duke of the Navel of the Seas, if you don’t mind telling me?”
“He is an emissary of the Palace of the Unseen—the Fairy Court, I mean,” said Muna. “And he has come to England to take vengeance for your offence.”
“My offence!” exclaimed the naga, looking anxious. “So the Queen knows the Virtu is lost, does she? There will be the devil to pay and no pitch hot! But what is this fellow doing at Zacharias’s house?”
Muna explained what had happened at the ball. “I do not know how far the Duke’s powers extend, but mightn’t he notice if you go to Mrs. Wythe now?”
“Very likely he will,” agreed the naga. “But what shall I do? I must speak with Mrs. Wythe, for they have got our friend under lock and key. And if she will not help us, I fear he won’t be long for this world—or any other!”
Muna reflected for only a moment, for the solution was obvious.
“Why do not you entrust your message to me?” she suggested. “I shall see to it that Mrs. Wythe receives it.” It was true she had not seen great success in her attempts to gain the Sorceress Royal’s attention so far, but Mrs. Wythe would certainly wish to hear news of the alleged thief of the Virtu. And if Muna took the opportunity to interest Mrs. Wythe in her troubles then, who would blame her?
Robert of Threlfall looked thoughtful.
“That might do,” he said. “Well, it will have to! I can’t risk being captured now, with Poggs in their clutches. They mean to offer him up to the Fairy Queen, you see!”
“Poggs is the friend you mentioned?”
“Yes. Though you had best say Damerell when you speak to Mrs. Wythe,” said Robert of Threlfall. “Paget Damerell is his proper name. Poggs is only what I call him. When we was first acquainted I had less of the English than I do now.” He sighed. “It was many years ago. I had come to your realm looking for my aunt, but I ran into trouble and would have been done for if Damerell had not saved my life. I vowed to serve him to discharge my debt—the Code of Threlfall permitted nothing less—and that is how I came to live in England. It took me an age to learn to say Damerell’s name as it ought to be said, however. And he has never been able to pronounce my real name.”
Muna was intrigued. “What is your real name, sir?”
The naga said impressively, “If you can believe it, I was christened—Robert Henry Algernon!”
This seemed no worse to Muna than most English names, but then the naga let out a guttural roar, concluding in a spectacular gout of blue flame. She leapt back from the window, stifling a shriek.
“It is that last vowel that gives people difficulty,” explained the naga. “Even dragons mistake it half the time, and make it an orange flame. To own the truth, I never liked my name above half—far too showy! I beg you will call me Rollo. Everyone does.”
Muna said she would be pleased to call him Rollo, but she saw she must direct affairs if they were to get on.
“Why have they offered Mr. Poggs—Mr. Damerell to the Fairy Court?” she said. “And who are they?”
“Who else but my relations? No one else would be so wicked,” said Rollo. “My aunt Georgiana fears that the Queen will revenge herself upon us for the theft of the Virtu, so she means to offer Poggs to Her Majesty, in exchange for a pardon for Threlfall. In the meantime Poggs has been confined to a cage in Aunt Georgiana’s cave. My grandmother used to keep her princesses in it before she ate them.”
Muna knew that there were several species of naga to be found in the many worlds. Some were noble, godlike beings who resided in bodies of water, granted wishes and blessed suitably respectful mortals with rain for their crops. Others were dangerous beasts, given to picking off maidens, hoarding gold and setting fire to villages that had displeased them. Evidently the Threlfalls belonged to the latter variety.
“Mr. Damerell must be very uncomfortable,” Muna said cautiously.
“He don’t like it in the least,” agreed Rollo. “My grandmother always thought fermentation improved a princess’s flavour. Aunt Georgiana has never been able to get the smell out of the cage.”
While Muna absorbed this, he went on, “I begged to be surrendered instead, since it is me they have accused of stealing the Virtu, but Aunt Georgiana would not listen to me. She has far too much clan loyalty to allow a Threlfall to be sacrificed, even if she thinks I deserve it.
“I wish I had never brought Poggs out of England,” Rollo said sorrowfully. “But when my aunt summoned me she insisted he should come along and be introduced to the family. It has always vexed her that he would not agree to a wedding.”
“A wedding?” said Muna, thinking she had misheard. “Does your aunt wish to marry Mr. Damerell?”
It was extraordinary what powers of expression the naga’s reptilian face possessed. Rollo looked appalled. “Aunt Georgiana marry Poggs? Good heavens, no! She would like me and Poggs to be married. It is the usual thing for bondmates, and I don’t think Poggs would object, though it ain’t the custom in England for males to marry. But Poggs still has relations living that hope he may be prevailed upon to marry a mortal female—his cousin Elizabeth promised to leave him her fortune if he would do it. He doesn’t mean to oblige her, but he is loath to set a seal upon her disappointment by having a draconic wedding.”
“Oh, indeed,” said Muna. She was certainly learning a great deal about the world that had not been apparent in Janda Baik. “But, sir, you were telling me of how Mr. Damerell came to be imprisoned. Why does the Fairy Queen believe you stole her amulet?”
“Well, I tried to steal it, didn’t I?” said Rollo judiciously. “Natural misunderstanding on Her Majesty’s part. I don’t say she has responded in anything like a sensible fashion, mind you. Absurd to raise such a storm over a gewgaw!”
“So you did steal the talisman?” Muna felt foolish. How naive she was to have trusted the naga so quickly, based on nothing more than an engaging manner!
“I must say that was very wrong of you,” she said severely. “If you had heard Mrs. Wythe scolding the Duke on your behalf . . . ! She told him upon her honour that you would never have done such a thing.”
“Nor would I,” said Rollo, with feeling. “After all, to steal from your own uncle! Not the thing at all.”
“Then why did you do it?” demanded Muna.
“It was this hell-fired banquet of the Queen’s,” explained Rollo. “That was where the trouble started. The Virtu was to be the centrepiece, so my uncle Harold was summoned to Court. The fact that the Queen appointed Threlfall as guardians of the Virtu is accounted a great honour within the clan; they hand it around the relations, and it happened to be Uncle Harold’s turn. He has a large cave in the south of Threlfall, guarded by rakshasa, and he kept the Virtu in a chest made out of his own mother’s rib cage.
“Well, my aunt Georgiana could not bear the thought of Uncle Harold’s having the glory of being invited to Court and perhaps having a taste of the Virtu himself.” (Rollo’s family were certainly the hungry sort of naga, thought Muna.) “She told him she would be mistress of ceremonies at the Queen’s banquet, not an idle scobberlotcher that had never taken any thought for the clan. But when she demanded he give her the Virtu, Uncle Harold refused. He said he did not give a fig for the Queen’s ceremonials, but he would be damned if he would miss a chance to do Aunt Georgiana an ill turn!”
“It is always sad when one’s relations fall out,” said Muna sympathetically.
“One grows accustomed to it in my family,” said Rollo. “That is why I left for England.” He shook his head. “There is no getting away from one’s relations for good, however. Aunt Georgiana sent for me and desired me to pinch the Virtu, so as to show Uncle Harold he could not set her at defiance.”
Muna said, nonplussed, “But why? Could not your aunt have done it herself? Not that I mean to question your suitability for the task . . .”
“No doubt about my suitability,” said Rollo. “I was wholly unsuitable. Bungled the affair. Told her I would! But my aunt would not dream of dirtying her own talons with such a task. Anyone else would bite her in the neck as soon as her back was turned, but my aunt knew I would not play her false. More fool me!”
“But then it is not so bad,” said Muna encouragingly. “You could go to the Duke now and explain that it was all a mistake. There has been no theft, for after all the Queen entrusted the Virtu to your family and there was never any intention that the article should leave its charge. You could return it and that would be an end to the matter.”
“Return the Virtu!” said Rollo bitterly. “I jolly well wish I could return the Virtu. I haven’t the faintest idea where the dashed thing is.”
“But you said you stole it,” cried Muna.
“I tried to steal it,” Rollo corrected her. “And it is unjust of Aunt Georgiana to say I could not have tried very hard, for she did not see Uncle Harold’s rakshasa! I was obliged to eat the poor chaps, for they wouldn’t yield. Unpleasant—very!” A shiver went along the naga’s wings. “After all that, to open the chest and find that the Virtu was not there! I can tell you it gave me a shock.”
“Oh,” said Muna blankly.
“I must have looked tolerably silly when Uncle Harold’s servants found me,” said Rollo. “But no one would credit that the Virtu was missing when I got there. The family is persuaded I have sold it to discharge my debts of honour. Only Aunt Georgiana believes me, but that is no help, for she is just as vexed with me as all the others.”
“Why don’t you explain that it was she who put you up to it?”
Rollo drew back his head, giving her a look of reproof. “That would be shocking bad form, to peach upon one own’s aunt! I should never be able to hold my head up again.”
Muna could hardly reproach anyone else for loyalty to an exasperating relation. “What am I to ask Mrs. Wythe to do, then?”
“It is Poggs I fear for,” said Rollo. “I can’t break him out without my magic. But if Mrs. Wythe can only contrive to get him out of Threlfall, I can look to myself. My aunt has gone to the Fairy Court, so Mrs. Wythe need only contend with my brother Bartholomew. He has been set to guard Poggs, but she would make short work of him. Mortals possess a natural advantage in Fairy, though they mayn’t know it.”
“But even if Mrs. Wythe succeeded in rescuing Mr. Damerell, where could she take him that would be beyond the reach of the Fairy Court?” said Muna. “Surely the Queen’s wrath would follow him wherever he went.”
“That don’t worry me. It ain’t Damerell the Queen is vexed with, but Threlfall,” said Rollo. “If he is lost, Her Majesty’s wrath will fall where it belongs—on our heads. But the Queen won’t wish to risk a war with Threlfall, not when she has lost the Virtu.”
“Why not? She must have other amulets.”
“None like the Virtu,” said Rollo. He lowered his voice. “No one likes to talk of it, for it was a great scandal at the time, but the Virtu holds the magic of a powerful fairy—an enemy of the Queen. She defeated them and locked their heart in a talisman. Anyone who holds the Virtu could challenge the Queen. She cannot afford a quarrel with Threlfall now.
“Even if she does declare war on Threlfall,” he added, “I don’t intend that Poggs will be sacrificed on our account. I told him when we were bonded that he should not suffer from the bond, and I mean to keep my word!”
Muna was disquieted to see a large crystal tear roll down from one blue eye.
“Come, there is no need to cry,” she said briskly. She felt sorry for the naga, but Mak Genggang was always brisk when anyone gave way to tears, mingling scoldings with reassurances. It seemed to Muna that this was the right approach to adopt with Rollo. “I will tell Mrs. Wythe all you have told me and she will see to it that Mr. Damerell comes to no harm.” She paused, thinking. “She will need directions to Threlfall, I expect.”
“Directions alone won’t suffice,” said Rollo. “Aunt Georgiana has concealed her cave with magic arts, so it cannot be seen by anyone outside the family.”
He hesitated. “Will you take a gift from me? You will need to open the window. I give you my word I shan’t do you any harm.”
Muna had already decided what she would do with the message Rollo had entrusted to her, if she could. She tamped down on her trepidation—After all, she told herself, if he wished to do you any injury, he could have done it before!—and opened the window.
The naga said, “Hold out your hand.”
A golden scale dropped on Muna’s palm.
“Give that to Mrs. Wythe,” said Rollo. “If she swallows it, she will be able to see through the wards around Aunt Georgiana’s cave, for it has some of my magic in it. My relations haven’t bound Mrs. Wythe, so she ought to be able to use my magic, even if I can’t. She can return the scale to me when she comes.”
Muna stared down at the scale. “But you said this was a dream.”
“Put it on your tongue, and when you wake it will still be there,” said Rollo. “It is a part of my dream I have given you, you see. There ain’t such a difference between dreaming and waking for me.”
It was dark and quiet, with not a sound from the street, but suddenly the naga raised his head, as though he heard something. An alert look came over his face.
“I had better wake if I am not to be discovered,” he said. “My body is sleeping in Aunt Georgiana’s cave, but anyone who happens to look in is bound to notice my soul is out wandering. You will ask Mrs. Wythe to come as soon as she can? I don’t know when my aunt will return from the Court.” He began to fade, the great golden body dissolving into the air, starting from the tail.
“I will,” promised Muna. “I don’t doubt she will send help as soon as she can. The Duke’s report has made her extremely concerned on your behalf.”
“Oh, I am of no consequence. They won’t eat me,” said Rollo. “Only get Poggs away and I can slip off later, once the dust has settled.” Only his head remained, but even that disappeared by degrees, so that his final defiant words issued from a disembodied jaw. “Then see if I ever return to Threlfall again—aunts or no aunts!”