The front doors were once again propped open to the daylight with two new guards flanking the entry. Just outside, there was a bright white carriage adorned in what looked like vines of real ivy, goldenrod, and dog rose growing around its frame.
Garin was nowhere in sight; Lilac could see as much as she gripped the railing overlooking the foyer in rising panic. In the middle of the room, was Herlinde. Her backside, anyway. The front half of which was stuck inside a spacious trunk nearly double the size of the round table it sat next to.
Descending the stairs with Marguerite, Lilac saw four sizable wooden chests piled at the foot of the other staircase.
“Where is it, you swine?” Herlinde’s voice was muffled. “We’re on a tight schedule.”
“I warned you about using me as storage,” rasped a disembodied voice, sounding as if it were on the verge of heaving. It was decidedly male, human, andnotechoing in Lilac’s skull as thelingua arcana would have. “Especially after all that work you put me through last night.”
Lilac gasped when they reached the bottom. The witch’s aproned rump stuck out the trunk, her front resting upon a long, wide, carpet that lolled out of the chest, creating what looked like a tapered hall runner—all the way out the door. One guard pinched the bridge of his nose and looked likehe was on the verge of passing out, while the other had clamped a hand over his mouth.
There was the sound of glass shattering, making her jump.
“Oh my,” Marguerite squealed in horror, her cider spilled among the shards on the floor.
A tongue. It was a giant tongue.
Herlinde heaved herself out, brushing her curls aside. They appeared to be damp. “Oh, hello again, Your Majesty. Told you I’d be back.” She did a partial curtsey with her arms still deep in the trunk, her elbows resting on the lip. “Queen Mother, don’t think I didn’t see you scurry upstairs at the sight of us.”
“I am—” Marguerite tripped over herself as she backed away into the western corridor. “Much,muchtoo drunk for this.”
Lilac had scuttled back against the door. She desperately looked to the guard beside her—the one who’d broken into a cold sweat. Then, she cocked her head at Marguerite. “Would you please?”
“Gladly.” Without another glance, the guard shuffled toward her mother, holding his arm out.
“Wait! Don’t you wish to see what I brought you?” Herlinde called, motioning at the boxes in the corner. “There are several wigs and gowns there. Some for Mademoiselle Phoebe as well.”
“How thoughtful.” Marguerite laughed disbelievingly and gave a little shake of her head. She made to turn, but stopped, fiddling with the trappings on her dress. “What of the others?”
“The others, Madame?”
“Yanna and Isabel, Lilac’s handmaidens. They’re entertaining our guests in the courtyard as we speak and have proved useful. Certainly more so than thatPhoebe.” She spat the name as if it left a bad taste in her mouth. “My daughter shouldn’t have to continue lending her hand-me-downs to them if it isn’t necessary, that’s all.”
“Mother,” Lilac snapped, unable to take her eyes off the enormous, dripping appendage.
“Not to fret.” Herlinde fought a smile, exchanging a quick glance with Lilac. “There’s enough there to go around for now. Share them with whom you’d like—it’s the rest of my current inventory. They aren’t all enchanted garments, but I did have Freidrich fix each of them with abasic sizing spell since we learned I wouldn’t have the time to fit all of you today.”
By now, Marguerite was retreating halfway into the hall, dragging the guard with her.
Before Lilac could apologize, the trunk rattled, its mouth opening wide above Herlinde’s head. “You could’ve brought any other trunk.”
“We didn’t have the room,” argued Herlinde, leaning into its opening once more. “My customer specifically requested a full wardrobe ofonlyenchanted garments.”
“Please forgive my mother’s atrocious manners.” Lilac glanced outside. Although no one manned the gate across the yard, several guards could be seen marching in pairs now. Her heart fluttered, relief flooding her. They were probably under Garin’s orders. “Also, I never placed an order for enchanted garments.”
“Oh, I wasn’t referring to you. And it’s quite all right, Your Majesty,” said Herlinde, fishing around. “I’ve been working with Marguerite for a while on those shipments. I suppose I should’ve disclosed in the beginning of our acquaintanceship that I was a witch. I didn’t think it mattered when I agreed to import her wigs from Paris. She was my most esteemed customer, until now.”
“Heuuugh—too far,” the trunk retched. Despite it speaking, what truly did Lilac in was the little angry jig it did on its four-pawed feet painted in tarnished gold. “Watch the uvula!And they’remycustomers, too.”
“And just what will you do with coins? Bank notes?” With an exasperated groan, Herlinde crawled out, plucking a cloth towel off the back of her apron and wiping some of the clear slime—saliva—that covered her head and forearms. She smoothed her hair and eagerly grinned at Lilac. “Just received a note this morning. We’ve got a wealthy buyer to meet in a few days. That is, we’ll be meeting the impressive export ship this buyer has arranged to bring my goodstoher. They say they’re able to pay in the tender of my choosing, that they’ll have bronze coins and paper money. Silver dollars from Spain. Anything I want.”
Lilac’s eyes narrowed. There it was, the tug at her subconscious again—so subtle, she wouldn’t have noticed if she weren’t already on edge, hoping for any sign or hint that Garin was near. “Who is your buyer? Are they Daemons? Faeries?”
“We don’t know. They didn’t bother with a signature or other details. Understandable, for the size of their order.” Herlinde was about to dive back in, but the trunk rattled again.
“Let me,” it said, a tinge of annoyance in its peculiar voice.
Lilac’s further questioning was lost as she watched the tongue jerk. It began to slowly roll itself in from the tip. “Who is that?” Her hands went to her mouth when the trunk swallowed its tongue whole, like a carpet in storage. “Whatis that?”
