it."
"What nice gifts did they give me?" I asked, though Mama had already told me.
"Oh, they gave you a good nature, for one thing. And charm."
I hadn't known about those, particularly the good-nature one. Sometimes I didn't feel at all good-natured.
"By the way, Beauty," he said. "I wanted to be the one to tell you that Giles has gone away on a journey for me."
"Giles," I said stupidly. "Giles?" wanting to cry.
"He'll be away for a year or so," he said, watching me intently. I didn't say anything. After a moment he asked, "Is there something you need to tell me?"
I just stared at him, hating him. Then not hating him, just blank inside. There was a hole there that nothing would fill, ever. Father Raymond had done it for me, because he thought it was best, but I wished he hadn't.
I shook my head at him, "No, Father." I had nothing to tell him, nothing at all. There was a lump in my throat, and I could hardly get the words out. There was nothing I wanted to tell him ever again.
"Well then," he said, trying to be comforting. "Well then."
By the time Giles comes back, I will either be dead, or married, or asleep for a hundred years, or gone off looking for my mama, and who knows if I will ever return.
11
[When Elladine of Ylles had written her letter to her daughter, my hand had helped move the quill. Not that Elladine is incapable of either writing a letter or loving a daughter, but when she writes she is prolix and when she loves she is sentimental rather than sensible. She gave no thought to what would be involved in loving a half mortal child. Elladine is like others in Faery who have taken the easy way. Like Joyeause, she dabbles. Power is painful, in the getting and the keeping, and Elladine has never thought it worth the pain. So, she flutters and travels and glamorizes and enchants and now and again falls in love, sometimes with mortals. Knowing this, I inserted some words in her letter and removed many others and put the box in her hand already equipped.
Israfel and I were counting on the love of a child for its mother. We had no mothers; we have born no children; so we take the matter largely on faith, but we counted on it nonetheless. Beauty would long to see her mother, off she would go to the place we'd prepared for her, a place remote from the real worlds, a place where the Dark Lord would not think of going for any reason, in short: Chinanga.
Chinanga is one off the imaginary worlds, well of the mainline of invention. It had taken me a long time to find it, and I'd been looking for it. No one who was not looking for it would be likely to stumble over it. Elladine would get there only shortly before Beauty herself arrived (Israfel and I had arranged that, as well); once there they could get to know each other, safe in a place time could not touch. So we planned.
Further, we planned- deviously, dangerously - for Beauty to leave Westfaire without anyone knowing she was gone. She would make use of the things in the box, and when the time was right, she would be ready!
Unfortunately, we had overlooked who she is and what she is carrying and what Westfaire is, as well. We overlooked the forces that bound them together!
Beauty did not make ready to go of in search of her mother! Instead, she found reasons for delay!]
ANOTHER TIME. ANOTHER DAY. I DON'T KNOW WHEN, YET.
In the days that followed Giles's departure, while I was still supposedly nailed into the tower, I moved freely about the stables, fretting about the three significant events soon to occur: my approaching birthday (which I was determined to survive without being victim of the curse), Papa's postponed marriage to Sibylla (to take place when he got matters straightened out with the church), and my departure in search of my mama, happenings that would occur, I presumed, more or less in that order even though I knew I should forget about the birthday and the wedding and just go, now, while I had the chance. Good sense said go, voices in my
"What nice gifts did they give me?" I asked, though Mama had already told me.
"Oh, they gave you a good nature, for one thing. And charm."
I hadn't known about those, particularly the good-nature one. Sometimes I didn't feel at all good-natured.
"By the way, Beauty," he said. "I wanted to be the one to tell you that Giles has gone away on a journey for me."
"Giles," I said stupidly. "Giles?" wanting to cry.
"He'll be away for a year or so," he said, watching me intently. I didn't say anything. After a moment he asked, "Is there something you need to tell me?"
I just stared at him, hating him. Then not hating him, just blank inside. There was a hole there that nothing would fill, ever. Father Raymond had done it for me, because he thought it was best, but I wished he hadn't.
I shook my head at him, "No, Father." I had nothing to tell him, nothing at all. There was a lump in my throat, and I could hardly get the words out. There was nothing I wanted to tell him ever again.
"Well then," he said, trying to be comforting. "Well then."
By the time Giles comes back, I will either be dead, or married, or asleep for a hundred years, or gone off looking for my mama, and who knows if I will ever return.
11
[When Elladine of Ylles had written her letter to her daughter, my hand had helped move the quill. Not that Elladine is incapable of either writing a letter or loving a daughter, but when she writes she is prolix and when she loves she is sentimental rather than sensible. She gave no thought to what would be involved in loving a half mortal child. Elladine is like others in Faery who have taken the easy way. Like Joyeause, she dabbles. Power is painful, in the getting and the keeping, and Elladine has never thought it worth the pain. So, she flutters and travels and glamorizes and enchants and now and again falls in love, sometimes with mortals. Knowing this, I inserted some words in her letter and removed many others and put the box in her hand already equipped.
Israfel and I were counting on the love of a child for its mother. We had no mothers; we have born no children; so we take the matter largely on faith, but we counted on it nonetheless. Beauty would long to see her mother, off she would go to the place we'd prepared for her, a place remote from the real worlds, a place where the Dark Lord would not think of going for any reason, in short: Chinanga.
Chinanga is one off the imaginary worlds, well of the mainline of invention. It had taken me a long time to find it, and I'd been looking for it. No one who was not looking for it would be likely to stumble over it. Elladine would get there only shortly before Beauty herself arrived (Israfel and I had arranged that, as well); once there they could get to know each other, safe in a place time could not touch. So we planned.
Further, we planned- deviously, dangerously - for Beauty to leave Westfaire without anyone knowing she was gone. She would make use of the things in the box, and when the time was right, she would be ready!
Unfortunately, we had overlooked who she is and what she is carrying and what Westfaire is, as well. We overlooked the forces that bound them together!
Beauty did not make ready to go of in search of her mother! Instead, she found reasons for delay!]
ANOTHER TIME. ANOTHER DAY. I DON'T KNOW WHEN, YET.
In the days that followed Giles's departure, while I was still supposedly nailed into the tower, I moved freely about the stables, fretting about the three significant events soon to occur: my approaching birthday (which I was determined to survive without being victim of the curse), Papa's postponed marriage to Sibylla (to take place when he got matters straightened out with the church), and my departure in search of my mama, happenings that would occur, I presumed, more or less in that order even though I knew I should forget about the birthday and the wedding and just go, now, while I had the chance. Good sense said go, voices in my
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