Chapter 12
Somehow, Janna carried the tea tray to the table without spilling anything. As soon as possible, she left the room. In the kitchen, she was no longer under the Fern Queen’s direct scrutiny, which was a relief. However, the minutes were dragging by, and she had to get through a whole afternoon of them.
What’s she doing to my father? Do Alissa and Petten know what’s going on? What can we do? Questions whirled around and around in her mind until she felt dizzy.
Meanwhile, she washed, dried, and put away the luncheon dishes. Then, the evening meal, which was to be a grand one, had to be started. Janna did what she was told without speaking. Cook was withdrawn too but that was the fernwoman’s normal state. All in all, it was a very quiet afternoon in the kitchen. Janna felt like screaming.
What she wanted more than anything was for night to come so she could go upstairs for a long talk with Petten and Alissa. Together, they’d make a plan. They had to make a plan.
The afternoon slowly crawled to a close. Supper preparations were stepped up. Janna’s mouth thinned into ominous lines as she set the dining room table. The Fern Queen was picky about how her table was set. Every one of the silver knives, forks, and spoons had to be put exactly in place. The olive-green napkins had to be folded into the wavy shape that was preferred that week.
One of the crystal glasses narrowly escaped a flight out the window when it tilted slightly on the embroidered olive-green tablecloth, but it wasn’t until Janna reached the bonbon dishes that she lost control. The Fern Queen insisted on having the tiny bowls filled every night with green candies, one of Cook’s specialties. The bonbon dishes were festive, and Janna usually enjoyed filling them, snacking freely as she did so, but this afternoon she found a dried candy smear on the side of a dish.
Janna exploded into the kitchen, guilty dish in hand. “Who is responsible for this?” she shouted.
Cook took the little bowl and filled it with hot water. “Three minutes,” she said and continued to baste the chicken.
“Humph!” Janna unconsciously adopted one of Cook’s more favored words, though she put a lot more heat into it than the fernwoman ever did.
Cook didn’t respond, and Janna let the door bang as she stomped outside for wood. A week’s supply was always piled by the kitchen door. Keeping the stove’s fire going at a constant temperature was one of her many duties.
She fumed quietly throughout the process of bringing in two armloads of wood and dumping them into the woodbin next to the stove. That had to have taken three minutes, so she marched over to the bonbon dish and examined it. Ah ha, there was a trace of smear left. She dumped the water out preparing to complain again, but the small residue of smear disappeared with the water and no amount of intense scrutiny could find it.
Janna glared at Cook.
“I know I didn’t leave this dish smeared!”
When Cook ignored her, Janna said loudly, “It is very annoying.” When that didn’t elicit a response, she said, “Humph,” again, but she had lost some of her heat.
A few minutes later, she lost the rest of it, when a fernmen poked his head into the kitchen from the hallway.
“You’re wanted in the throne room,” he growled at Janna, then scowled at Cook and withdrew.
Cook ignored him. There was no love lost between Cook and the other fernpeople. The older fernwoman slept in a small chamber off the kitchen and never left those two rooms, except to tend her coffee plants. Nobody, but nobody, was allowed to step foot in her kitchen. Janna had been accepted into that private domain only because the Fern Queen wanted to punish Cook.
Maybe I am a punishment, Janna thought for the first time as she walked out of the room. A smear? I lost it over a smear?
Janna was used to being summoned to the throne room. Sometimes, the queen wanted the floor swept or furniture polished; sometimes she wanted something brought from her bedroom or taken to her bedroom; sometimes she wanted compliments on a new dress or hairstyle. Janna had learned to be prepared for anything.
As she entered the elegant room, she couldn’t resist glancing about. No one was in the room except for the Fern Queen.
The queen was watching her.
“He is not here,” she said with one of her loveliest smiles. “He is supervising the placement of those pretty little plants he brought me.”
Janna nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak. What was going to happen?
The Fern Queen’s smile faded slightly when the girl remained silent.
“I have decided to give you a pleasant surprise, Janna dear. I want you to sit at the table with us tonight and enjoy the nice meal you and Cook have prepared. I am sure everyone will enjoy your company.” She smiled sweetly as she emphasized the word “everyone.”
A scene from the week before darted into Janna’s mind.
One of the castle cats had been playing with two small grasshoppers. When one of the grasshoppers jumped, the cat had pounced on it but not killed it, not yet. No, the cat had let the grasshopper go and waited for it to jump again. Then she’d pounced, tail twitching in enjoyment—merely to release it once more. Skillfully, the cat had kept control of the two grasshoppers, though both were trying desperately to escape.
Janna had chased the cat away.
“Thank you,” she said through dry lips.
She must play the game. There was always a chance the grasshoppers would get away. They must try; always try until the last minute. The Maker was on their side. If only he would chase the nasty Fern Queen away.
“Go to your room and freshen up,” the queen commanded, eyeing her coolly. “Find one of my maidens and tell her I said to give you a different dress. That one is disgusting.”
A delicate eyebrow arched.
“I am surprised at you, dear, for not noticing the condition of your clothing. Now that I have pointed it out to you, do try to dress better—and you might, ah, wash more thoroughly too.”
Janna glared at the smiling woman in front of her. There were several responses she wanted to make, an impassioned “humph” being the mildest of them.
Once or twice a week over the summer months, she had bullied her way into the washroom on the fourth floor so that the three prisoners could bathe in warm water left over from the day’s wash. It hadn’t been easy making the effort on top of their long workdays, but they’d done it. On the whole, they’d stayed tolerably clean. The queen had shown no interest whatsoever in providing them with cleaner clothes or a better means to bathe themselves.
Janna controlled her anger. It helped that she had spent the last few weeks in daily contact with Cook, because she now had someone to copy. Putting on the expression a potted plant would wear, she nodded and left the room.
Usually leaving the Fern Queen’s presence resulted in a huge sigh of relief, but this time, Janna ran up the stairs, trying to make her nerves relax their death grip on her muscles. The supper invitation meant she wouldn’t get a chance to talk with Petten before the meal. He didn’t get through with his work until after the Fern Queen’s supper had begun. Alissa sometimes had to work late too, but even if the golden princess was in the room when Janna got there, they would only have a few minutes.
CHOOSE A DRESS QUICKLY!
Janna reached the third floor and raced down the hall. Discarded clothes were in almost every upstairs closet. The Fern Queen would only wear an outfit a few weeks before considering it old and throwing it out of her room. Her maidens competed jealously over the prettiest ones. Fortunately, the queen preferred a loose, flowing style, which would make it easy for Janna to find something that fit, though the last few weeks of small daily meals had brought about more weight loss than she’d ever dreamed would happen. However, now wasn’t the time to be choosy about clothes.
The fernwoman on the third floor disagreed.
Janna had to try on a filmy gown first, then a heavier one. Both were formal evening gowns, and she was able to talk the fernwoman out of them, but the necessary arguments took several minutes. She was practically hopping in place before she convinced the fernwoman that a full-skirted dress with wide pockets was the best choice. The material was apple-green in color, which definitely brought out the green in Janna’s eyes, making her feel very fernpeoplish.
WHO CARES!
At last, she was free until the supper bell summoned her. Wondering who would ring the bell since it was normally her job, she raced up the remaining flight of stairs, hoping against hope that Alissa would be in the room.
Alissa was there, sitting on the bed.She started to exclaim over the new dress but stopped when she saw Janna’s face. Janna didn’t give her a chance to ask anything.
“My dad’s here in disguise. She knows who he is.”
“The peddler,” said her friend with quick understanding, a pucker of worry forming on her forehead.
“I’m to eat with them. Tell Petten and make a plan. She’ll kill him. She wants Mount Pasture.”
Janna didn’t know how stressed she was until she tried to explain everything to Alissa. The words rushed out fast and jerky, though she didn’t cry. She was too tense to cry.
Alissa came to stand in front of her and put both hands on Janna’s shoulders.
“Petten and I will talk to the Maker,” she said, giving each word weight. “Do not forget that we belong to him. He will take care of us.”
Janna’s hands trembled. “He doesn’t always. She’s killed—”
Shaking her head firmly, Alissa interrupted her. Alissa never interrupted anyone. The princess from Green Waters had impeccable manners. Despite the tension that gripped her, Janna was shocked.
“Even then,” Alissa said. “He was killed for us in the old world but lived again. We are his people. When we die, we go to live with him. He loves us.”
The words poured calm into Janna’s spirit. Her body went limp and the held-back tears ran down her cheeks.
“Thanks,” she whispered and the girls hugged.
****
The meal that night was undoubtedly delicious, but Janna found it hard to eat. Always in the past she’d found it hard not to eat, and the thought did cross her mind that this was a unique experience. However, she was hardly in a position to enjoy it. Her throat constricted until she could barely swallow.
Her father had stiffened when his daughter sat at the dinner table with them. He was not stupid. Janna knew he’d figure out what it meant. Nevertheless, he carried on his end of the conversation; indeed, he made himself so interesting that she began to hope the queen would enjoy him too much to harm him.
The Fern Queen was in a high good humor. The uncomfortable situation obviously gave her great satisfaction, and besides, she loved to talk. On and on, she and Luff talked, through soup and salad, meat and bread, vegetables and fruit, cake and tea. Janna didn’t say anything. Her emotions had coiled tighter than she could bear. She was able to take one slow bite after another, but that was it.
Finally, after dessert was over and tea had been served, the queen finished her play. She took a sip of the fragrant beverage and laughed.
“How could such an intelligent man be so foolish?” she asked in her most silky voice. “Did you think I would not notice the family resemblance between you and Janna, or that I would not be well informed about the royal family of marvelous Mount Pasture? Indeed, you have been most foolish. Fatherly love is to blame no doubt.”
The last sentence was said with a dryness that could have parched a mountain stream in flood.
Luff made no effort to pretend any longer. He folded his napkin, put it by his plate, and said simply, “No doubt.”
As he spoke, he gave Janna a look of such love that she smiled back at him. Warmly and openly, she smiled and found new strength in the exchange.
“The question is what to do with the two of you,” continued the queen impatiently. “Such devotion should not go unrewarded.”
She considered, sipping her tea, and then nodded. “Yes, I think there is room in my household for two such devoted fools.”
Janna stared at her in confusion. Would she make King Luff a servant too? That was risky, and Janna knew the woman well enough by now to know that she didn’t take risks. She wanted Mount Pasture, didn’t she? Understanding suddenly broke through, and Janna cried out in horror. Her father, who had been unable to figure out what the syrupy words really meant, turned with a puckered forehead to his daughter.
For the first time that evening, the Fern Queen also turned to her.
“Yes, my dear. You and your papa will make a charming pair of fernpeople. I will mix the potion tonight. I feel up for a little kitchen work.”
“We would rather die than become one of your ugly, hideous fernpeople,” Janna said hoarsely.
The queen actually squirmed in her chair.
“They are rather ugly, but I am working on the potion. I always change it the slightest bit. Perhaps this batch will be the best ever.”
“No!” Luff said in a firm tone of voice. “Janna and I won’t take your potion. We belong to the Maker and will not deny him. He has the care of us.”
“And what do you think he can do about it?” snapped the Fern Queen. “You see, I have the care of you now. There is nothing that can stop me. If I want you to take my potion, then take it you will. There are ways.”
She rang a bell that sat beside her place at the table.
“Take these two to their rooms and lock them in,” she said when the fernmen at the door responded.
“You,” she added, waving a hand toward the fernwoman who had served in Janna’s place, “tell Cook to leave the kitchen at once. I have brewing to do.”
She took another sip of her tea, then gracefully stood and moved toward the kitchen, singing a few lines of an old Montaland song.
Fine chopping and sifting,
Stirring and baking,
It’s off to the kitchen,
We’ve cakes to be making.
Fresh flour and sugar
And spices we’re taking
Quick, off to the kitchen,
We’ve cakes to be making.
Janna had no time to do anything but exchange an anxious glance with her father before one of the fernmen pushed her out of the dining room and up the stairs. Her father and the other fernman followed, but she knew they would turn down the second-floor hallway. She glanced around when she started to climb the third flight of stairs, wanting to see her father one more time, but the broad fernman’s shoulders blocked her view.
He pushed her again, so she had to keep going, though it was hard to climb and blink back tears. She stumbled more than once. As soon as she entered their room, Petten and Alissa rushed to her side, beaming with relief. Janna had quit crying by then, but that didn’t mean she could smile.
It was up to her to tell Alissa and Petten of the Fern Queen’s plans. The threat to Janna and her father was almost certainly a threat to her friends also. They would all be forced to take the potion that would change them into dull-eyed, heavy-veined fernpeople—and she didn’t know how long it took to mix the potion.
“I have to tell you something,” she said and explained everything, though her voice wobbled and she couldn’t help watching their faces for the fear that was to be expected.
To her surprise, Petten’s face hardened with determination, while Alissa’s shone with gladness.
“That’s it. We leave tonight,” the prince announced, smacking one fist into the other hand.
Alissa echoed, “Yes, we leave. It is over.”
Janna regretted being the one to say it, but it had to be asked. “How?”
Petten checked the door. After he’d shoved Janna into the room, the fernman had locked it. They had heard him turn the key and hang the heavy chain in its place.
Janna ran feverishly to the window slit, but it was too narrow. Besides, even if they could have squeezed through, they would have found themselves on a smooth wall with nothing to hang onto and a long drop to the ground.
“We must ask for help,” Alissa whispered as their helplessness was once again realized.
They joined hands and lifted beseeching faces. Janna opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, they heard footsteps in the hallway.
“They’re coming,” Petten said and put an arm around each girl.
In the ensuing silence, Janna noticed that Alissa was trembling. She knew that the golden princess wasn’t used to difficult situations. The threat of being turned into a fernperson must have been too much for her. It was at that point that Janna noticed her own body shaking. And why wouldn’t her mouth close?
“It could be someone bringing our supper.”
Janna never knew whether it was Petten or Alissa who spoke. Such details weren’t nearly as important as the sound of the chain rattling as it was taken down. There was a clicking sound as the key went into the lock, then the lock turned and the massive door opened.
The figure of a fernperson was standing in the dark hallway, but it wasn’t bringing supper, nor was it motioning angrily at them to come out. Instead, it was putting a finger on its lips and beckoning.
The fernperson was Cook.