Page 30 of Charmless
As I rounded each curve, I was reminded of a bedtime story that my stepmother had once told me and my sisters. All about a princess who had climbed to the top of a mysterious tower she had been forbidden to enter. Em had been a very good storyteller, and my little sisters were round-eyed, hanging on her every word. Even I was on the edge of the bed, shivering with anticipation of something truly terrible waiting in that tower, a dragon perhaps or an ogre with a mouthful of hideous teeth.
“And when the princess arrived at the top, she found,” Em paused for dramatic effect. “A spinning wheel!”
“Oh!” Amy and Netta sighed, but I scowled with disappointment.
“A spinning wheel? What’s so scary about that Em?”
“It was an enchanted spinning wheel. Now the king, her father had told the princess she must never go near such a thing. But overcome with curiosity, the princess touched the spindle. She pricked her finger on the needle and immediately collapsed into a death-like sleep.”
My little sisters gasped, but I shook my head in disgust.
“Stupid princess! What kind of idiot girl goes around touching something she shouldn’t?”
Em heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Hush, Ella, dear. Please just let me finish the story.”
I could not help smiling at the memory of my cynical eight-year-old self. What a trial I must have been to my poor Em. I had not thought of that story in years. The recollection had been triggered by me wending my way up a tower, not knowing exactly what to expect at the top. Only knowing this was an action my father had forbidden.
Well, no. Papa had never actuallyforbiddenme to visit the Aura Chamber, I soothed my conscience. He had only ever implied that it was not necessary for me to follow the law and— All right, I was hedging. My father had made it quite clear he did not ever want me to have my aura registered, but this would hardly be the first time I had ignored Papa’s wishes.
I paused at a bend in the stairs to catch my breath from the long climb. One thing I did know. If I got to the top and found that this mysterious Aura Chamber was no more exciting than that stupid spinning wheel, I was going to be bitterly disappointed.
Gripping the handrail, I started up the last few steps, only to freeze, listening. A low rumbling issued from the regions ahead of me. The kind of warning sound that might emanate from a large, dangerous dog, or an aura cat. That last possibility made the most sense. It would explain the absence of any guards below if the chamber itself was being patrolled by one of those eerie, hairless beasts. When the rumble came again, I almost turned to flee.
But having come this far, I hated to turn back now. Besides, if there was an aura cat nearby, there surely would have to be a handler as well. Perhaps it might even be Sgt. Ned Wharton, that nice young palace guard who had captured Netta’s heart.
The rumbling sound stopped as abruptly as it had begun. I trudged up the last few steps at a more cautious pace until I arrived at the top. Bracing myself, I prepared to run if I was menaced by a ferocious aura cat slipping its leash. I peeked into an antechamber, furnished with a small writing desk and a plush throne-like red velvet chair.
There was no sign of a large ugly beast about to pounce, but something just as alarming. I stifled a gasp as I saw The Great Mercato slumped in the chair, his head flopped to one side, his eyes closed and his mouth hanging open. He was so still I couldnot even see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. For one awful moment, I thought he was dead.
Then he emitted that loud rumble I had heard earlier. The mighty wizard was snoring and what a formidable snore it was. Enough to rattle the windowpanes if there had been any. But the chamber was only lit by narrow arrow slits open to the sky.
I stepped inside the room as quietly as I could, but Mercato appeared so sound asleep, I don’t think I could have awakened him, even if I had been tromping around wearing heavy hobnail boots. Most people in our kingdom were awed and terrified by this man, but no one could have found the wizard formidable at this moment.
His sorcerer’s hat had fallen off, tumbled onto the stone floor next to his golden staff. Despite his glittering robes, Mercato looked like someone’s ancient grandfather, his hearty snores stirring the whiskers of his long, gray beard. I watched him sleep, uncertain as to what I should do next.
I had never given much thought to the person who oversaw the Aura Chamber. But considering that Mercato was the one who had devised the Mirror of Collection, it was logical to assume that he must be the one who did the aura collecting.
Should I attempt to wake him and announce that I had come to have my aura registered? That idea had little appeal for me. I doubted Mercato would thank me for startling him out of a sound sleep. He might be furious that I had stumbled upon him in such a vulnerable state.
Just behind the wizard’s chair, I spied a gilt-trimmed door. This had to lead to the Aura Chamber itself. What would it hurt if I just had a quick look inside before taking the final step of having my aura collected?
Holding my skirt close, I slipped quietly past the sleeping wizard. As I reached for the door handle, I feared I might find the chamber locked. But the knob turned easily in my hand. AsI inched the door open, the hinges squeaked in protest. I cast an anxious glance back at Mercato. He shifted position, but his eyes remained closed as he muttered in his sleep. “No, no sweetheart. I promise you my beard won’t tickle.”
I grimaced, unwilling to speculate what the old wizard might be dreaming about. I eased the door open just enough so I could slip inside. I did not bother closing it behind me for fear of making more noise.
The Aura Chamber was smaller than the room where Mercato slept. But it was better lit owing to the dome of glass that formed the ceiling. I could clearly discern the only objects in the room, an oddly shaped object covered with a white cloth and the Mirror of Collection.
Or perhaps it would have been more accurate to saymirrors.The aura gathering device consisted of three full length mirrors, those to the right and left conjoined to the central one at a slight angle. Horatio said that the Mirror of Collection had been damaged, but I saw no sign of it, not a single crack anywhere. Just three silvery surfaces, perfect mirrors in all respect, save one.
I couldn’t see my image in any of them. Creeping closer, I stood at the apex of the mirrors. I should have been facing three Ella Uptons, all of them frowning back at me in puzzlement. Instead, there was nothing, not the glimmer of a reflection of any kind. I might as well have been invisible.
I backed away, not knowing what to make of it. Perhaps the Mirror of Collectionwasstill damaged and Mercato had been unable to use his magic to fix it. Exhausted from his struggles, he had sat down to rest and fallen into a deep slumber.
That seemed the most logical explanation, but I felt unnerved by this weird phenomenon. Retreating further, I bumped into the only other thing in the room, the veil-covered object.
The white cloth shifted enough for me to perceive what it concealed. I blinked in astonishment. Could this get any stranger? I whipped back the cover to expose an ice cream churn.
Or at least something that resembled the device I used on those rare occasions I was able to treat my family to a lovely sorbet. This churn was a great deal larger, the barrel rising as high as my waist. An absurd thought flitted through my brain: Mercato must have an enormous, sweet tooth. Except that I was reasonably sure this apparatus had nothing to do with churning ice cream.
