Between the lines is written in fire

«If there were no witnesses to the fire, how do we know there was a fire?» Rosamunda misunderstood.

«The poisonous fumes remain only where the area is scorched by dragon fire,» the same old minister patiently explained to her. «The witnesses who inhaled the smoke died of poisoning. And their corpses look strange. The dead bodies are covered in a gray rash, like magical writing.»

«I don’t believe in magic,» Rosamunda hastened to object, remembering that the queen of Fallot had been repeatedly mobbed for being a sorceress.

«But the dragon believes.»

«Show me one living dragon!» Rosamunda had hoped that such a demand would make everyone laugh and lighten the mood. But the old minister’s statement seemed weighty to those around her. A tense silence hung over the council chamber.

«You are young, your majesty…»

Here we go again! Rosamunda felt like slamming her fist on the table so that everyone in the room would go deaf. It’s a pity she’s not a man, a knight in a gauntlet. He’d clean up the mess with a single shout. She could only snap her fingers against the tabletop with all the anger she had built up, and suddenly the tabletop cracked from her light knock. And the table was solid marble! Was she imagining it? But everyone around her saw it too. Suddenly the ministers fell silent. Judging by the expression on their faces, it was not for the first time that they had to observe such miracles on the part of their queen. She did not remember having done such a thing before.

Rosamunda stared at the deep cracks that littered the table. It was going to crumble. The ministers who had been arguing recently were already looking for a place to escape, and the queen was pondering nervously. Where did her graceful hand suddenly have so much strength, and why were the advisors not surprised at what she had done?

«I’m sorry,» one of them mumbled guiltily, then another, and now it was a chorus of apologetic voices.

Are they afraid of her?! It was a surprise to Rosamunda. What could she do to frighten them so? She is not a knight, not a warrior, not a sorceress. But it was hard to be sure of the latter, seeing the work of her hands. Couldn’t a sorceress shatter a large block of marble with a single touch?

It was a pity about the magnificent table. It was an ancient relic of the entire Dolian family that had ruled in Dauran for centuries. A border of ornate symbols stretched along the edges. They meant something, according to the legends. But she couldn’t remember what. Someone, a royal jester it seemed, claimed that the table had been brought back from a military campaign by her ancestor on the shoulders of a captured giant, that it had supposedly been taken from the cave of some ancient serpent goddess, and that the symbols had been engraved on it by industrious Zwergs. Rosamunda did not believe in all these fables. Legends always arise out of bluster and lies to glorify some kings and conquerors. Besides, jesters are not to be trusted. And her jester played often with fire and autumn leaves. He behaved very foolishly and suspiciously. Yes, and about her the troubadours wrote long ballads that were mostly fiction. If she was beautiful, it didn’t mean she had the magic to command the elements. Troubadours make things up to be thanked.

They didn’t make up the table breaking. Well, he’s not such a loss. Rosamunda stood up, pulling back the brocade hem with the ermine trim, and suddenly found that the floor beneath her train was cracked too. They curled under her feet like snakes. Not as deep as in the table, but they could make the whole castle collapse. That’s why the counselors were so scared.

«I don’t feel well today,» Rosamunda felt the ermine’s fur came to life on her collar. The counselors obviously felt the same way, so they backed away.

«Anyone would feel bad when a tenth of his state burned down,» the youngest of the counselors supported the queen. He had just arrived here in place of his father, who had died hunting some strange creature. «You are understandable, my queen. But it’s no trouble. Nine-tenths survived.»

«What is about the poisonous smoke? What if it seeps into the areas untouched by the fires and we all suffocate from it?» An old minister said. «We could all die that way.»

«First of all, I suggest that we eliminate the cause of all this, and then we can think about how to pay for the damage,» Rosamunda said. She was surprised at how attentively she was being listened to. She had often been interrupted before. She even began to pant with the realization of her own weight. Her words were suddenly more important to the council than all other people’s assumptions! And all because the floor beneath her feet is cracking like an earthquake, and the columns are tilting dangerously.

«Let’s say the dragon did attack us. Then think of a way to drive it away. Consult the alchemists, the astrologers. Why do we keep them in the castle? They must know how to deal with this. And if they don’t, legends say that in the old days, knights defeated dragons. And there are plenty of knights here.»

«But your majesty,» the oldest and wisest minister took the liberty of speaking up. «A dragon is not a crow. A scarecrow is not enough to drive it away. I remember we were all very encouraged by your suggestion last year to put up an enchanted net against locusts that were destroying crops in the fields. It doesn’t matter how many maidens died weaving the net. The important thing is that we got rid of the locusts. You probably know some way to kill the dragon, too. It could sleep with your marvelous songs or poems.»

Rosamunda frowned. She didn’t remember anything about any kind of locust net, much less an enchanted one. But she would not make a complete fool of herself and ask the ministers about last year’s events.

«I must think before I give you all an answer,» she said. «In the meantime, gather the militia. If there is a strong enemy, it is worth marshaling troops against him.»

Dangerous advice

Rosamunda lifted the hem of her ermine-trimmed dress and walked past the thoughtful councilors.

There were indeed cracks in the columns around the council chamber. And there was a funny-looking animal, like a miniature dragon, crawling on top of one of the columns. It must have been brought back by her warlord from his distant campaigns.

It was bright green, like a sparkling emerald. Its claws deftly clung to the cracks in the column, sliding down. Its amber eyes glittered slyly. There were three of them at once, not two. The thorns on the head were growing, forming something like a crown.

What a marvel! You wouldn’t even see such a thing in the royal menagerie. It wasn’t a lizard or a dragon, but something in between.

«Whose are you? And where did you come from?»

Rosamunda reached out her hand to the marvelous animal. She wanted to touch its patterned wings, but she couldn’t. The dragon crawled away into a deep crevice in the column, as if after a great earthquake. Just watch, the whole castle will fall apart! There are probably really strong earthquakes in the country.

«What if you’re the cause?» The annoying voice of reason whispered.

Nonsense! She can’t be the cause of natural disasters. She’s not a witch! It is likely that somewhere in the kingdom a huge volcano has awakened and is bubbling with lava, which from afar can be mistaken for an angry dragon. Even if the whole kingdom is gone, the queen, who has never witched in her life, has nothing to do with it. So why is her conscience whispering to her that she caused all the disasters? How can that be?

The condemning looks of the ministers say the same thing. Can Rosamunda really hear their thoughts as others hear words? Or does she think she can? There’s a reason she has a bad memory. There must be something wrong with her head. She could have been badly traumatized if she had accompanied armies to war in the past. The problem was that Rosamunda really couldn’t remember much about herself. It is except for the recent past. The most vivid of memories were the most fantastic – letters written by fire. Could they be nothing but dreams? But the ashes on the carpet in her chambers were definitely real. True, it could have come there by some more ordinary method. It could be a fireplace that hadn’t been cleaned in a long time. Or a maid could have scattered the debris she’d cleaned out of the fireplace mantel and then not cleaned it up.

Rosamunda looked back at the council chamber. None of the ministers dared follow her. It was as if they had all conspired. So be it! She was more interested in spending her leisure hours in the company of the unusual dragon-like beast that had slipped through the gap.

«I wonder whose it is?» She thought aloud. «Could it be the pet of Warlord Aran?»

The empty hall would not answer her, of course. But there was a voice nearby.

«It could be yours, if you wished it sincerely. But you are shy and modest, fearing that you cannot afford such a wonderful toy. And yet you are the richest queen in the world. Why be shy?»

The voice came from below, as if from a deep pit. But there’s no such thing as a pit in a great hall. Was there a gap in the floor? Rosamunda looked at her feet and gasped in surprise. A creature that looked like a small troll or dwarf, but dressed like a court dandy, was standing in front of her. It barely reached her knee. Skinny clawed hands, like a harpy’s, were the largest organ of its body. They greedily reached for Rosamunda’s hem, groped the ermine and inhaled the exquisite perfume with pleasure.

«Who are you?» The queen was stunned.

«What would you call me?»

Any windy court lady would have laughed at such a question. He’s not a newborn baby to be named after all. But Rosamunda thought hard.

«Dandy,» she finally thought of it, stopping her gaze on the smart green-red velvet he was wearing. It was the most dignified thing she could think of in connection with him. Not to call him a scarecrow in a caftan.

«It is not bad,» the monster praised. «It sounds like a court position.»

Rosamunda still could not believe that the fairy animal was speaking to her in human language.

«Do you want a position at court?» She stammered. Wasn’t he planning to become the overseer of the menagerie?

«I could be your best advisor,» he said, his horned head held high.

«What do you mean?» The queen backed away, but claws clung to her ermine hem.

«Just think, all your ministers are as stupid as corks. What was the last good advice they gave you? Nothing! I could give you a lot of good advice.»

«But if I try to get you on the King’s Council, it’ll be difficult, given your unusual appearance.»

«We’d be in the public eye,» Dandy squinted at Rosamunda. He had to hold his head up high to see her face. «What beautiful earrings you have! With rubies! I would have them for myself as a token of your favor and in payment for my services.»

Rosamunda frowned.

«Well, it is all right,» conceded Dandy. «I was joking.»

«I don’t think my counselors will accept you into their circle.»