Princess cat. Natalie Yacobson
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was it the royal wigmaker used to say? Royal property must not be touched without asking. But the white fluffy Aluar’s cat named Scoundrel is also, after all, royal property. They even put a cot for him in the king’s study.
Brendan himself had sneaked in today just to get the locket with the portrait of his parents on it. He should have taken the money with him, but that would have been stealing. He could earn his own keep. If minstrels were in demand even at the royal court, music was not so difficult to make a living from. Brendan learned a variety of songs, changed his clothes to the simplest, and prepared for the challenges ahead. Better to wander the dusty country roads than to marry a capricious widow from a neighboring kingdom with which the uncle-king had decided to form an alliance. The influential relatives can get into their heads all sorts of things. So it’s better to do without them. One is more comfortable.
What is it about marriage? Brendan had no intention of getting married anytime soon. There were too many beautiful girls around. To choose a particular one as a lifelong burden would be to be completely out of love.
In Aluar, they could drive you mad, too. There was a mysterious old lady in his uncle’s court named Effigenia, who dressed exclusively in black and was reputed to be a master of spells. She boasted that she had worked magic on several impertinent young men so that they jumped off the tower and crashed to their deaths out of unrequited love.
This is another excuse to flee his uncle’s kingdom. Otherwise he too will be bewitched to some toothless gray-haired widow.
Brendan was delighted to find that no one would recognize him in the noisy corridors of the castle. All he had to do was dress poorly, and you were no longer the king’s nephew. He had also learned the secret passages behind the sliding panels of the walls, and could get in everywhere without opening a door. Here he was, all alone in the locked royal chambers, and outside he could hear outside conversations.
«More and more danger was coming from the east, and even Lady Ephigenia could do nothing more.»
«How can you send a witch doctor against danger when there are troops?»
«And how can you send troops not against men, but against the black mist.»
«They say it will be resolved soon, and if not, we will have to fight all the same.»
«Is it weapons or magic?»
«All means are good in a fight.»
«Or maybe we should just turn a blind eye to what’s going on until we are directly approached with an ultimatum?»
It sounds like the voices of counselors! Brendan was immediately disappointed in them. The wisest men in the kingdom were so drunk they were talking nonsense. Soon they would begin to shy away from their own shadows, suspecting that something magical had settled within them. What had Uncle King done to them that made them drink themselves to death? Usually they walked around the castle puffed up like peacocks, making puffed-up speeches. That was when Brendan saw them. Now all he could hear were frightened voices. It was a good thing he himself did not drink, even after fierce quarrels with the king over his future and even in moments when his uncle, enraged by his behavior, threatened to execute him.
«If it hadn’t been for the good memory of your humble mother, your head would be on a pole by now,» his uncle liked to say.
Brendan had long ago stopped believing him, so often he had heard such empty threats. In fact, his uncle took pity on him and would not have him executed even in the case of high treason. For it is always possible both to protect the guilty and to execute the innocent. There was much injustice in the kingdom, and the black magic of Ephigenia sometimes seemed to slip through the keyholes, inspiring a melancholy that made one want to howl.
Suddenly it seemed to Brendon that his shadow had become some kind of mythical horned creature, dancing on the floor no matter what its master did.
That’s enough! It is enough illusions, optical deceptions, compulsions and reproaches of his uncle. Better to be free than noble and rich. Brendan had made his choice. The main thing was that no one would stop him from getting away. A chase would be a nuisance, too, so Brendon cleverly disguised himself, even smeared his skin with grated chocolate powder to simulate a tan. Now he looks like a hobo.
«Sleep well in captivity, Bastard. I don’t let the guardian get to me again!» Brendan slung his bag over his shoulder, grabbed his lute, and was off.
Fairies and fortune tellers
He was free! At last! The guards at the drawbridge didn’t even recognize him. Brendan felt like a hero until he spotted a group of pretty gypsy girls in the market square. Before, pretty fortune-tellers in colorful dresses would have mobbed him and started promising all sorts of prophecies. Well, he used to be a duke. They naturally didn’t pay any attention to the beggar minstrel.
But the three graceful winged ladies swooped down on him. Brendan was taken aback. They were fairies! Real fairies with colorful wings behind them! He had only heard of fairies, but had never seen them up close, except for one of his uncle’s favorites, who was occasionally received at court, but she always delicately hid her wings, folding them behind her back in the form of a cloak. But these three beauties proudly unfurled their wings and waved them as if they were huge fans. Two of the fairies were brunettes and one was a blonde with violets growing in her curls. What wonders! And such creatures walk through the marketplace! And how many wonders were in the woods outside the city? He shouldn’t have stayed at home so long. He should have gone on his journey much earlier. Too bad he hadn’t been wearing well-worn boots when he’d barely set foot outside the castle. He would have been surprised if someone hadn’t noticed he was wearing new boots. He was playing the beggar, after all. Brendan glanced warily at the drawbridge.
«Oh, you’re cute,» the fairies were already combing through his hair. «You are as pretty as a summer’s day. We are lonesome.»
«Play for us!» The blond suggested she see the lute dangling from a leather strap over his shoulder.
«Shall we coin first?» Brendan was reminded that he had a part to play, not to gawk at any curiosity that came his way. «I don’t play for free. I only play for money, or for the broth.»
That’s it! He spoke with an expression like an actor on the stage of a traveling theater. Travelling actors were often invited to perform at royal feasts, so he had someone to learn from.
«Wouldn’t you like it in exchange for the fulfillment of a wish?» The blond fairy smiled slyly.
Brendan hesitated. She looked very sly, Brendan thought.
«Play, or we’ll curse you!» One of the brunettes snapped. She was beautiful, and obviously not used to being rejected by boys.
The fairies whirled over Brendan’s head in a hurricane of color, even ripping off his beret and throwing it into a puddle. Not fairies, but hooligans. And why had he left the castle? Or were they henchmen of his guardian who wouldn’t let him out into the open world? They must be in cahoots with the old king.
«Leave me alone!» Brendan was already wishing he’d played them right away. It was better not to bargain with witches. Luckily, a group of gypsies was passing by.
«That’s who I came with,» Brendan lied to get away from the fairies. «They can curse you just as badly as you can curse me if you don’t let up.»
Strangely enough the fairies believed him and left him alone. Scary ones! And behaved like bullies! But communication with the gypsies was much easier and more pleasant. They didn’t even look at his lute.
«Would you like a prediction, my dear?»
One of the fortune-tellers at once asked for a coin. At least they were fairer than fairies. He had a coin in his pocket. It was all he had left of his royal allowance. From now on, he would have to make his own living.
The young gypsy with the piercing black eyes studied