I do now?" he asked.
They glanced at each other. "You're the Little King," said the soldier. "You can do what you like."
"King." Orem didn't know what to make of it. "I saw Palicrovol once."
"Did you," said the woman. She did not sound interested. "He covers his eyes with golden hemispheres, so the Queen can't use his eyes to see."
The woman chuckled. "Then he does it in vain, doesn't he? For the Queen sees everything."
Except where I go and take away her sight, Orem thought but did not say.
"She sees everything, like an orchestra of visions in the back of her mind. She watches always." The woman laughed. "She sees us now. And she is laughing, I'm sure."
It made Orem afraid, then. How much did she see? She had given him no sign she knew of his tampering with her powers. Yet if she knew nothing of his gift, why had she chosen him? Not love, that much was plain now, and he knew enough to be ashamed in front of these companions of the Queen, ashamed of being so weak and helpless and pathetic. His very shame overcame fear. If she was going to discover his power or somehow limit it, let her do it now. He let his net slip from him, just enough to fill the room, to clear the room of that sickening sweet overlay of Beauty's Searching Eye. When Beauty could not see, he spoke: "What is the boar allowed to do once the sow is serviced?"
Their eyes widened, and for a moment they said nothing, waiting, he supposed, for Queen Beauty to strike him down. Either she had heard and did not care or, as Orem hoped, she had not heard. Had not heard, and so he might have some small pathetic power here, enough that he need not be ashamed.
"Apparently," said the woman, "whatever you want."
The grave rumble of the old man's voice added: "You command everyone. You're the husband
of the Queen. Little King is who you are, and they must obey."
It was a heady thought, and Orem distrusted it. "Tell me your names, then."
"I beg your pardon," said the ugly woman. "We spoke in error. You command everyone but
Urubugala and us."
"And why not you?"
"Because we do not laugh at you."
The implication was obvious. "Then all others will laugh."
They glanced at each other again, and the woman whispered, "It is Beauty's will. And what can
stop Beauty from being obeyed?"
It was not an empty question, not entirely. She was asking him if indeed he knew something that they did not know. But he dared not answer, dared not explain to them just what he was, even if he had known for sure himself. What can stop Beauty from being obeyed? Beauty sees all - except that which she sees not that she sees not. Does she not see me? And does she not see that she sees me
not? Riddles, riddles. I cannot answer them because I do not know.
"The less you command," said the soldier, "the less they will laugh."
"Don't tell him that, Craven," said the ugly woman. "Little King, command all you like. Your life
will be easier if they all laugh. Keep them laughing. The Queen, too, will laugh."
"If the Queen laughs, then will I command her, too?"
Again the moment of startlement at his impudence; again nothing happened. And this time the
ugly woman smiled and the old soldier wheezed. "Who can say?" whispered the soldier.
"Craven. Is that your name?"
The soldier immediately soured. "It is the name the Queen gave to me."
"And you," Orem said to the old woman. "What may I call you?"
"I am called Weasel, surnamed Sootmouth. It is the name the Queen gave me." "I had a name before she named me," said Orem. "Did you?"
"But you must. My name is really - "
But she put a rough and scaly hand to his mouth. "You can't say it. And if you could, it would cost you dearly. Don't try to remember."
And then he made plain to them that he was not the slim-hipped boy he seemed to be. He reached out with his subtle inward tongue and tasted them gently, where their sparks so brightly glowed. In the momentary tasting he could feel how they were bound so cold and grey, their lights smothered under a thousand spells. He did not undo all the spells, only the small spell of forgetfulness there, a common, an easy thing to do; hadn't he done it for Gallowglass?
No sooner done than regretted, however. For they