In the Land of Winter by Richard Grant

Author:Richard Grant [Grant, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780380974658
Amazon: 0380791404
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 1997-11-21T05:00:00+00:00

“Whoever laid upon yon Maid this foul

Enchantment, let her know that I am on her trail!

And she shall pay a heavy price—for from

This day I shall not rest until I turn

The Spell upon its Maker. Mark my vow!

That she shall know the taste of her own Craft

Ere all is done. But now must I to breakfast.”

The boy-prince arrayed himself and his costume and weaponry and made as though to exit. His retinue likewise. Only next a whirry sound (as of harsh wind) shook the painted forest, and the pool of yellow moonlight curdled to blood red. A thunder-board rumbled. The actors (except Kaspian) shuddered in fear and sought refuge.

In the midst of all this, from somewhere way down in the orchestra, a camera flashed.

Two beats—then onto the scene stepped the Bad Fairy. Brenda appeared almost supernaturally animated as she wagged saucily downstage, like Liz making her entrance in Virginia Woolf. Her eyes overarched themselves.

“I do mark your vow, dear Prince,” the Bad Fairy said, in a loud generic Old World accent. “For through my Dark Arts, I can take many forms, and I have been spying upon you some while already, hidden among the boughs.”

Kaspian made a cute wiggly shudder, affecting discomfiture. The Bad Fairy had him on the run.

“You are foolish indeed,” she said, “if you dare to contest me in matters of Craft. And yet—” (vamping) “—there are yet other, softer Arts, in which you may prove a ready pupil. Come you with me, and I shall lead you to my secret Bower amid the timbered Waste.”

Holy cow, thought Pippa. Kaspian better watch out, back in the Green Room.

Down in the Dark Forest, the Prince rallied.

“Nay, upon my soul!” he said, his sword erect. “I shall not make this profane liaison with you.”

He accented the first syllable of profane, which caused the iamb to come out right but led Pippa to wonder if Kaspian had ever heard the word spoken .in its usual context before.

The Bad Fairy wasn’t accustomed to taking lip, especially from Princes who haven’t started shaving. She bristled in an oddly literal way—rose canes wagging dangerously from her shoulders. Pippa thought the effect was kind of funny but unnerving too. Brenda did bring to her role a verisimilistic lack of compunction.

Pippa sighed. She guessed she had seen enough.

In nearly total darkness she slid along the wall, feeling for the doorway. Her fingers touched the handle. But just as she was pushing through, another hand fell on hers and she took a quick breath and drew back. Before her, a tall shadow, formless as Peter Pan’s cutout silhouette, gasped loudly enough to hear—

“Mary Margaret!”

—in a carrying contra-tenor.

Pippa was less rattled, evidently, than whoever this was. She slipped out the door, holding it open behind her.

Into the mezzanine stepped a striking and lanky-limbed individual so deliciously trashy-looking that Pippa’s first impression was: preoperative plumbing-change candidate.

But it was more complicated than that. The … man, she guessed … peered down a long aquiline nose at her. His skin was latte-colored and his hair black and curly.

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