Princess Andromeda stood on the very edge of a ledge three-
quarters of the way up the cliff above the Royal Palace of
her mother, Queen Cassiopeia of Acadia, holding out her
arms to the wind. The same wind flattened her tunic
against her body, and sent strands of her hair flying
about her face as they escaped from the knot at the back
of her neck. She raised her face to the sun, closing her
eyes.
I wish I had wings โ I used to dream about flying when I
was little. It would be so glorious to simply step off
this rock and fly, to escape the dreariness of being a
Princess, with the din of "musts" and "must-nots," day in
and day out, from governesses, tutors, her mother's ladies
and, of course, her mother.
Especially the "must-nots."
There was an almighty number of "must-nts." You mustn't
laugh too loudly. You mustn't speak your opinion unless
it's asked for. You mustn't talk to anyone below the rank
of noble, unless it's to give an order. You mustn't be
seen reading in public. You mustn't frown in public. You
mustn't smile at anyone below the rank of a noble, and you
mustn't smile at any young men, ever. You mustn't let
anyone call you "Andie," nor refer to yourself by that
name. You mustn't be seen moving at anything other than a
graceful walk...the list was endless. It seemed that all
she ever heard was what she shouldn't be doing. No one
ever told her what she could do โ aside from look
decorative, wearing the serenely stupid gaze of a statue.
No one ever came to her and said, "Princess, there is a
task you and you alone can perform." One "must" along
those lines would have been countered with a hundred
distasteful "must-nots" โ but one never came.
Surely that had never been her mother's lot. Cassiopeia
had begun her life as Crown Princess and then Queen with
responsibilities. In no small part because her husband, at
least according to gossip, had been so good at avoiding
them. That was why the old King, Andie's grandfather, had
handpicked her out of the daughters of his nobles. He had
wanted a girl with ambition, since his own son clearly had
none, and a girl who would see that things got done.
Who ever would be foolish enough to envy the lot of a
Princess with all of that hanging over their head? Nothing
but restrictions without responsibilities. I'm less free
than a slave, and not allowed to do anything that has any
meaning to it.
She took a deep breath of the sea-scented air, and sighed
it out again. At least her mother was not going to be
plaguing her with one of her unannounced inspections this
afternoon, inspections that inevitably ended in well-
mannered murmurings of disappointment and the appointment
of a new governess. Queen Cassiopeia was holding a very,
very private audience with the Captains of the Acadian
Merchant Fleet, followed by another with the foreign
merchants who plied Acadian waters, and the meetings were
expected to last all day and well into the night. Trade
was the lifeblood of Acadia. Without trade, this Kingdom
would probably die. Anything that threatened trade and the
taxes it brought in, threatened Acadia as surely as an
army. Despite her mother's being asked, begged, by her
daughter to be allowed to attend, Andie had been told
to "run along." Under any other circumstances, she would
have been happy about the freedom from her governess's
supervision and the opportunity to get out in fresh air
and to make a raid on the library. But being treated like
a child put a bitter taste on the treat.
She pushed at the stiff wires crossing the bridge of her
nose, part of a contrivance called "oculars," making sure
they were firmly on her face, then curled the wires of the
side-pieces securely around the backs of her ears. They
were a bit of a nuisance, but she loved them, because
without them, she'd be half blind. The Royal Guard's own
Magician had made them for her when he'd realized,
watching her try to hold a book right up against her tiny
nose as a child, that she was terribly nearsighted. He'd
been pleased enough to do so, though the Queen had been
less than happy the first time she saw her daughter
scampering about with the wire-and-glass-lenses
contraption perched on her face. "It's unnatural!" she had
complained. "It looks like a cheap mask! What need has a
Princess to see clearly, anyway?"
She had finally given in only when it was made
demonstrably clear that Andie's never-ending series of
bruising falls came to an abrupt end once she could see
where she was going.
Not that her mother cared if I fell, except that all the
bruises were an embarrassment to her. Andie sighed again.
I can never please her, no matter what I do, so I wish
she'd just get used to that and make use of what I
actually can do.
Queen Cassiopeia wanted a pink-and-white, sugarplum
Princess, a lovely daughter who as a child would have been
all frills and giggles, big blue eyes and golden curls,
and as an adult (or nearly, anyway) would be the younger
image of herself, immaculately groomed, impeccably gowned,
graceful, lovely โ not to mention quiet, pliant,
uncomplaining and unthinking. A marriage pawn, who
wouldn't argue about anything, or ask awkward questions,
or want to do anything except to look as beautiful as
possible. There had been nibbles of marriages over the
years, but nothing ever came of them. Cassiopeia had
enough ambition for two; she didn't see the need of it in
her daughter.
Andie gave herself a mental slap. Maybe not unthinking.
But โ certainly more obedient than Andie was. And
assuredly much prettier, much neater and much more
concerned with her personal appearance than Andie could
ever bring herself to be. So far as her mother was
concerned, looks were one more weapon in the arsenal of a
determined woman.
Cassiopeia never spent less than two hours in the hands of
her maidservants before first appearing outside of her
rooms. Andie could barely tolerate having the maid comb
her hair and put it up, and she insisted on bathing
herself, without all the oils and perfumes her mother
seemed to think were necessary. Cassiopeia went through as
many as six gowns before choosing one for the day, and it
was always something so elaborate it took at least two
maids to help her into it. Andie threw on whichever of her
tunics the maid gave her, and if forced into a gown, made
it the simplest draped column of fabric with cords
confining it at her waist. Cassiopeia wore enough jewelry
to finance an expedition to Qin for the most ordinary of
days. Andie never wore any ornaments but a hair-clasp.
Cassiopeia had a lush figure that caused poets and
minstrels from Kingdoms hundreds of leagues away to come
write songs about her, and a face that had inspired fifty
sculptors. Andie's figure was straight up and down and no
gown could disguise that fact, and as for her face โ well,
as her mother often sighed, who would look past the lenses
that took up half of it?
So how could the Queen ever be anything but disappointed
in her daughter?
Andie had long since resigned herself to this, burying the
hurt a little deeper each time Cassiopeia made some
unconsidered remark. At least there was one area she could
achieve success in โ anything intellectual. And the Queen
did seem to take some small pleasure in that, though she
might bemoan the fact that Andie's nose was almost always
in a book. The trouble was, she didn't seem to think that
all of this study had any useful applications.
Even though I've quoted her facts and figures about Acadia
until I've run out of breath. Every time she was going to
have an important audience or meeting and I was able to
find out about it, I did all the research on the subject
anyone could ask for. Today at breakfast, Andie had
detailed the revenues on import-taxes, given her
historical background on inter-merchant disputes...but she
might just as well have been telling her Godmother tales.
The Queen just said, "How interesting, dear," as if she
wasn't even listening.
She probably wasn't listening, actually. She probably
thinks I'm just reciting my lessons for her. Once
Cassiopeia had realized that her daughter was not going to
develop into a miniature copy of herself, she'd left
Andie's up-bringing to nurses and governesses, who mostly
passed in and out of Andie's life without making much
impact, for none of them had lasted very long. Not because
Andie was a difficult child, but because even when they
were competent, and a shocking number were not, the
competent ones sooner or later ran afoul of the Queen and
were replaced. The incompetent, of course, were soon found
out and sacked.
Not that it had ever mattered. The ones she'd had as a
child, when it might have made her unhappy to lose a nurse
she had become fond of, had, one and all, been rather
horrible. Horrible in different ways, but still horrible.
Some had been strict to the point of cruelty, some had
been careless to the point of danger, some had been
neglectful, or had scolded and criticized until Andie was
in tears.
If it hadn't been for her loyal Guardsmen and Guards-
women, she would have spent a lonely and very miserable
childhood. But they had been everything that the nurses
should have been and never were. The same set of Six had
been standing watch over her safety since she was an
infant, and when nursemaids were asleep, or drunk, or in
the bed of their noble lovers, or lording it over the
lesser servants, or off flirting with stable boys, the
Guards were the ones who saw that she drank her milk,
wiped her tears when she fell, and told her stories at
bedtime.
Just as well that I wasn't the sort of child to get into
serious trouble. They never had to get me out of anything
difficult.
Not that she was spoiled. The nursemaids had strict orders
from the Queen on that particular subject, and no few of
them had taken great glee in loading Andie down with
punitive punishments at every opportunity until she was as
much of a model of correct and polite behavior as anyone
would have asked. And her Six had too many children of
their own to put up with nonsense from her.
From that faithful set of six Guards, she learned to know
every member of the Guard assigned to the Palace as soon
as her curiosity led her out of the nursery, Guard in tow.
If she hadn't, she'd never have gotten her oculars.
Now she was something of a mascot for the entire Palace
Regiment, and she did her best to help them whenever and
wherever she could. Not that any of them had ever
permitted the slightest slip so that the Queen learned of
the peculiar attachment.
If Cassiopeia ever found out, she'd banish the lot of them
to some awful assignments at prisons or remote Guard-
posts, and put Andie in the care of even more horrible
governesses.
One day soon, though, her faithful Six would be retired;
Demetre and Leodipes were getting very gray, and the rest
weren't much younger. It was only the fact that duty in
the Inner Palace was largely a sinecure that kept them
active. She dreaded thinking of that day, hoping their
replacements would be guards she liked.
Andie looked down at the Palace and the city below it;
from here, just below the lookout point for the Sea-Watch,
it looked exactly like the model in the Great Library. The
city of Ethanos was deceptively peaceful from here, its
people reduced to little colored dots moving along the
white streets, the striped awnings and banners too distant
to show their stains and tatters, and none of its
glorious, brawling untidiness evident from this height.
Which was, she reflected, probably the way her mother
preferred it. Cassiopeia didn't like untidiness โ not in
her Palace, nor her city, nor her Kingdom, nor her
daughter.
Unfortunately for the Queen's peace of mind, the only
place she could keep untidiness from intruding was within
the walls of the Palace โ and then only within the places
where she herself spent any amount of time.
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