Page 6 of Embrace the Serpent
Lady Incarnadine waved a dismissive hand.Begone.
Two of the Nannies picked Mirandel up. “Wait! I can sing,” she shouted as she was carried away, and she belted a line in a voice that squawked like a crow, until one of the Nannies clapped a hand over her mouth. Even then she was undeterred, just muffled.
After that, Lady Incarnadine left, and the Nannies forgot about me.
It was a half year later that we spoke. In that time, I’d learned a lesson or two about being invisible, and had begun to coax the secrets out of the walls. The thorns gave up hidden cellars, boarded-up rooms full of junk, and—best of all—passageways that led out of the palace altogether.
I came out of one passageway into what usually was an empty room. Mirandel was practicing what I assumed was a new dance. Her feet were bandaged, but blood had soaked through. She was better, but still nothing like those who showed inborn talent.
I didn’t understand. “Why do you try so hard?”
She screamed and then quickly scowled. “Where did you come from?”
I shrugged.
She squinted at me. “I know you—you’re the ghost. I’ve seen you disappearing. But I’ve also seen you show up for mealtimes. And I know ghosts don’t eat.” She leapt forward and pinched my cheek, hard. “Aw, you’re just a girl.”
I slapped her hand away. “Don’t touch me.”
She crossed her arms. “They called your name. You could’ve been up in the Rose Palace. Don’t you want to eat sweets and have nice dresses and get married?”
“I’m seven,” I said. “I don’t want to get married.”
“You’ve gotta think ahead. That’s what my da tells me.”
“Your da... He’s alive?”
“Sure. My ma and da sent me here to bring honor to my family.” She blinked hard, then turned her back to me. “Go away. I’ve got to practice.”
“You don’t want Lady Incarnadine to choose you,” I said after a moment of watching her stomp around. “She’s a djinn.”
Mirandel gave me a worldly, pitying look. “You’re such a baby. All the djinn are gone. The Emperor and Lady Incarnadine beat them all so bad they had to hide in the Serpent Kingdom. Look, I had nightmares when I was a baby too, but my ma said they’re never coming back.”
My mother’s last words were on my tongue, but I had the feeling Mirandel might hit me if I spoke them.
I was at the door when Mirandel said, “You can be my friend if you want.”
We were friends for three months. And then she betrayed me for a ticket into the Rose Palace.
And I ran away, to Gem Lane.
My shoulders relaxed as the buttery walls of the workshop greeted me. I slipped my mother’s ring into my pocket and tackled the tiny buttons that went from my throat to my knees.
Sounds of cooking came from the kitchen. Grimney was stooped over the stove, gingerly holding a wooden spoon between two stone fingers.
“Hullo, Grims.” I dug a handful of stones from my pockets.
He rambled over and poked through them for the choicest pebble, which he ate.
From the direction of his carved mouth came a sound like a boulder rolling down a gravel path. “Grrzzdhj?”
“Yes, I’m starved.” I said.
As Grimney put together a plate for me, I swept the floor and dusted the counters. The debris amounted to a small pile of gravel, each no larger than a pea. This was good. Like most golems, Grimney had a habit of coming apart, occasionally leaving behind rocks as big as apples.
Golems had been in fashion several years ago—the Emperor had tasked every jewelsmith with reviving the ancient art to fill his armies. But since most golems only comprehended a single command at a time, and often had trouble understanding concepts like which humans were good and which were the enemy, the general consensus was that asking them to fight was unwise. They had a brief life as chauffeurs and doormen, but the other problem with golems was that from the day they were made, they began eroding, as if they were trying to return to the earth. Most only lasted a year.
I was ten when we got Grimney. He was my height then and was at the time the most complex bit of jewelsmithing I’d ever tackled. There were seventeen jewels that together made him what he was, but his essence, his mind, was tied to a large shard of electrum. Each jewel was connected to the other with lines of gold. But gold is soft, and easily bent out of shape by the stones of Grimney’s body grinding against each other. So I kept him in working order, and inexchange, Grimney cooked. And if there was the occasional bit of gravel in my dinner, I didn’t mind.
