Page 80 of Charmless
“Give me back the parchment.”
“It’s of no use to you. Unless you can read the fairy language, you have no idea what it says.”
“I can guess. It explains how to use the orb, doesn’t it?”
Withypole compressed his lips, then muttered. “Nothing about the orb should ever have been written down. That stupid Hiram Hawkridge. I was the designated keeper of the orb and all its secrets. But Hawkridge got me drunk one night and took theorb away from me. Arrogant man thought I was unworthy to be trusted.”
Withypole sniffed. “He was right, but he was no better than me. He allowed the orb to fall into the king’s hands. It has been locked away in the royal treasury ever since.”
“The orb is not there any longer.”
“And just how would you be knowing that, missy?”
I hesitated before confessing, “Because on the night of the ball, I managed to steal it.”
“What!” Withypole squawked.
Swiftly I explained about the plot that Mal and I had hatched, enabling me to get into the royal vault and steal the orb.
“But Mal deceived me,” I said, my heart still aching with bitterness. “He led me to believe the orb was some harmless magical object that had belonged to his grandfather. I had no idea what the orb really was or what it did.”
“Stupid, gullible girl!” Withypole groaned. “If you had to attend that wretched ball, why couldn’t you have just danced and flirted like any another maiden?”
I gave an apologetic shrug. “I am not a dancing and flirting kind of girl.”
“So where is the orb now?” Withypole demanded.
I sighed and told him the rest of it, about Mercato discovering the orb was missing, the deadline he had given Horatio for the orb’s return, how Mal was trying to flee the kingdom with the orb in his possession with Horatio hard on his heels.
Withypole grew more and more agitated with each word I spoke. Wrapping his arms about himself, he rocked back and forth, moaning. “No, no, no! Stupid Hawkridges. The boy is as misguided as his grandfather. I had heard rumors that young Malcolm had revived the League and was searching for the lostheir. So long as he didn’t have the orb, I believed there was nothing to worry about.
“But Hawkridge could ruin everything because the time is not yet right. It’s not right!”
“That’s the same thing you said that night in Papa’s library.The time is not right.But what exactly does that mean?”
Withypole didn’t answer. Slumping forward, he rested his arms upon the table and buried his face.
I prodded his shoulder. “Withypole! What does it mean?”
He was silent for so long, I feared he had passed out. I poked him again until he finally mumbled, “It explains how to use the orb when the time is right for Queen Anthea’s true heir will be revealed. Only then will Arcady be restored to peace and happiness.”
“So the legends about the missing heir are really true?”
Withypole raised his head enough to regard me blearily. “Of course, it is all true.”
I leaned back in my chair, feeling dazed and guilty for the way I had so fiercely dismissed Mal’s claims.
“But that is not what all the history books say,” I protested weakly. “They claim that Queen Anthea died, leaving no descendants.”
“The history books are wrong. All falsehoods concocted by the Helavalerians to bury the truth.”
“Then unbury it for me.”
When Withypole reached for the bottle again, I seized his tiny cup to stop him refilling it. “Please. Mal could well blunder his way into starting a war or if Horatio recovers the orb, he will give it back to Mercato. If you care anything about the fate of Queen Anthea’s heir, you’ve got to tell me what you know.”
Withypole stared at me for what seemed like forever. I could almost see the battle being waged behind his large, luminousgreen eyes. At long last he sighed, “Very well. But if there is to be a confession of sins and crimes, I need my fortification.”
“Whose sins and crimes?”
