Wet Magic E. Nesbit (interesting books to read for teens txt) 📖

your false, degrading tails cannot cling to me.”

“Oh, put them all in the lockup,” said the King, “as sullen a lot of prisoners as ever I saw⁠—what?”

The lockup was a great building, broader at the top than at the bottom, which seemed to be balanced on the sea floor, but really it was propped up at both ends with great chunks of rock. The prisoners were taken there in the net, and being dragged along in nets is so confusing, that it was not till the Jailer had left them that they discovered that the prison was really a ship⁠—an enormous ship⁠—which lay there, perfect in every detail as on the day when it first left dock. The water did not seem to have spoiled it at all. They were imprisoned in the saloon, and, worn out with the varied emotions of the day, they lay down on the comfortable red velvet cushions and went to sleep. Even Mavis felt that Kathleen had found a friend in the Queen, and was in no danger.

The Princess was the last to close her eyes. She looked long at the sleeping children.

“Oh, why don’t they think of it?” she said, “and why mustn’t I tell them?”

There was no answer to either question, and presently she too slept.

I must own that I share the Princess’s wonder that the children did not spend the night in saying “Sabrina fair” over and over again. Because of course each invocation would have been answered by an inhabitant of Merland, and thus a small army could easily have been collected, the Jailer overpowered and a rush made for freedom.

I wish I had time to tell you all that happened to Kathleen, because the daily life of a pampered lap-child to a reigning Queen is one that you would find most interesting to read about. As interesting as your Rover or Binkie would find it to read⁠—if he could read⁠—about the life of one of Queen Alexandra’s Japanese Spaniels. But time is getting on, and I must make a long story short. And anyhow you can never tell all about everything, can you?

The next day the Jailers brought food to the prison, as well as a second draught of oblivion, which, of course, had no effect, and they spent the day wondering how they could escape. In the evening the Jailer’s son brought more food and more oblivion-cup, and he lingered while they ate. He did not look at all unkind, and Francis ventured to speak to him.

“I say,” he said.

“What do you say?” the Under-lad asked.

“Are you forbidden to talk to us?”

“No.”

“Then do tell us what they will do with us.”

“I do not know. But we shall have to know before long. The prisons are filling up quickly⁠—they will soon be quite full. Then we shall have to let some of you out on what is called ticket-of-leave⁠—that means with your artificial tails on, which prevent you getting away, even if the oblivion-cup doesn’t take effect.”

“I say,” it was Bernard’s turn to ask.

“What do you say?”

“Why don’t the King and Queen go and fight, like the Mer Royal Family do?”

“Against the law,” said the Under-lad. “We took a King prisoner once, and our people were afraid our King and Queen might be taken, so they made that rule.”

“What did you do with him⁠—the prisoner King?” the Princess asked.

“Put him in an Iswater,” said the lad, “a piece of water entirely surrounded by land.”

“I should like to see him,” said the Princess.

“Nothing easier,” said the Under-lad, “as soon as you get your tickets-of-leaves. It’s a good long passage to the lake⁠—nearly all water, of course, but lots of our young people go there three times a week. Of course, he can’t be a King anymore now⁠—but they made him Professor of Conchology.”

“And has he forgotten he was a King?” asked the Princess.

“Of course: but he was so learned the oblivion-cup wasn’t deep enough to make him forget everything: that’s why he’s a Professor.”

“What was he King of?” the Princess asked anxiously.

“He was King of the Barbarians,” said the Jailer’s son⁠—and the Princess sighed.

“I thought it might have been my father,” she said, “he was lost at sea, you know.”

The Under-lad nodded sympathetically and went away.

“He doesn’t seem such a bad sort,” said Mavis.

“No,” said the Princess, “I can’t understand it. I thought all the Under Folk were terrible fierce creatures, cruel and implacable.”

“And they don’t seem so very different from us⁠—except to look at,” said Bernard.

“I wonder,” said Mavis, “what the war began about?”

“Oh⁠—we’ve always been enemies,” said the Princess, carelessly.

“Yes⁠—but how did you begin being enemies?”

“Oh, that,” said the Princess, “is lost in the mists of antiquity, before the dawn of history and all that.”

“Oh,” said Mavis.

But when Ulfin came with the next meal⁠—did I tell you that the Jailer’s son’s name was Ulfin?⁠—Mavis asked him the same question.

“I don’t know⁠—little land-lady,” said Ulfin, “but I will find out⁠—my uncle is the Keeper of the National Archives, graven on tables of stone, so many that no one can count them, but there are smaller tables telling what is on the big ones⁠—” he hesitated. “If I could get leave to show you the Hall of the Archives, would you promise not to try to escape?”

They had now been shut up for two days and would have promised anything in reason.

“You see, the prisons are quite full now,” he said, “and I don’t see why you shouldn’t be the first to get your leaves-tickets. I’ll ask my father.”

“I say!” said Mavis.

“What do you say?” said Ulfin.

“Do you know anything about my sister?”

“The Queen’s new lap-child? Oh⁠—she’s a great pet⁠—her gold collar with her name on it came home today. My cousin’s brother-in-law made it.”

“The name⁠—Kathleen?” said Mavis.

“The name on the collar is Fido,” said Ulfin.

The next day Ulfin brought their tickets-of-leaves, made of the leaves of the tree of Liberty which grows at the bottom of the well where Truth lies.

“Don’t lose them,” he said, “and come with me.”