one arm
around her and held the other out toward his angry son.
"No vengeful magic!" he
ordered sharply, intercepting the bolt, and
whatever Catspaw had intended for Til didn't happen. He had to fall back
instead on that childhood favorite, the verbal insult.
"You don't
have a Father!" He scowled, walking up to his father, whose
lap was now full.
"You don't have a Papa,"
retorted the little girl, leering at him from her prized vantage point.
"Silence," commanded the
goblin King, catching his son's paw to prevent further outbursts. "Til,
you just struck Catspaw. You know that's wrong, and it's also very dangerous.
What do you have to say about it?"
Til's mobile young face crumpled at
once, and her black eyes filled with tears. "But he's so mean, Papa,"
she quavered. "I hate Catspaw! He's always doing things like that to
me."
"So he
is," commented Marak, patting her short black hair, which
Catspaw had only recently singed off again. "Since you hate Catspaw, you'll be glad to know that I have some
new playmates for you. Tomorrow you
can come with your mother and me to the pages' floor to see your room, and you and another little girl will
stay in that room and be pages together."
"I don't want to stay with
another little girl," she whimpered. "I hate little girls!"
"Til," said the goblin
dryly, "you're a little girl yourself." Til stopped crying to think
about this.
"Father?"
asked Catspaw anxiously. "Can I be a pages-together, too?"
Marak pulled on the little lion's paw and drew his son close.
"No, you won't be a page, but
you'll have a tutor soon," he promised, putting an arm around him.
"You have to start learning how to be a King."
Til saw an
immediate advantage to her new social position. "You don't
get to be a page," she gloated to the little prince. "I get to be a
page.
Catspaw rallied
at once. "You don't get to be a King," he retorted.
"I
don't want to," sniffed Til. "They don't let Kings have any
fun."
"Oh, I don't
know about that," chuckled Marak, pushing her off
his lap and standing up. "Come along now, Til. You can meet that little
girl you hate."
∗ ∗ ∗
Til
inspired the pages with awe, and she pointed out at every oppor tunity
to Catspaw that she had now outgrown his company. Catspaw
was jealous over Til's new career and too young to understand why his aunt
Emily had left. Everything was changing around the goblin prince, but he was still
doing the same things.
One day, he stayed with Agatha while
his mother taught class. Marak's former nurse had finally given up keeping
order on the pages' floor. She was too old to chase after a crowd of children.
Catspaw was unhappy and out of sorts, and Agatha was no help. Usually the dwarf
woman was lively and full of fun, but today he could hardly get her to move.
She watched him throwing his ball and retrieving it with a stern look on her
face.
"Stop making so much noise,
Marak," she commanded. Agatha was the
only person in the kingdom who called the prince by his for., mal name.
"You tell your father that you're old enough to have a tutor now.
This interested Catspaw, He rolled
the ball to her feet and followed it.
"Father says soon," he told
her seriously. "I'll learn magic and history and writing and cooking and
all sorts of king stuff."
Agatha leaned her head back on her
chair. "Kings don't learn how to cook," she said wearily.
"Why
not?" asked Catspaw, bouncing the ball around her chair. He
was making her head hurt.
"Marak, tell your father you
need a tutor," she repeated firmly. "Your nurse is tired."
"Nana's not tired," he
said, thinking of his woolly nurse. Nana knew he missed Til. She had had a
pillow fight with him just that morning.
"Your nurse
is tired," said Agatha, closing her eyes. "Come here,
young Marak. It's time for your nap."
Catspaw stopped and goggled at her.
He was too old for naps. No worse injustice
can be perpetrated on a child than to force a nap on him after he has
grown out of them.
"Agatha!"
he shrilled
around her and held the other out toward his angry son.
"No vengeful magic!" he
ordered sharply, intercepting the bolt, and
whatever Catspaw had intended for Til didn't happen. He had to fall back
instead on that childhood favorite, the verbal insult.
"You don't
have a Father!" He scowled, walking up to his father, whose
lap was now full.
"You don't have a Papa,"
retorted the little girl, leering at him from her prized vantage point.
"Silence," commanded the
goblin King, catching his son's paw to prevent further outbursts. "Til,
you just struck Catspaw. You know that's wrong, and it's also very dangerous.
What do you have to say about it?"
Til's mobile young face crumpled at
once, and her black eyes filled with tears. "But he's so mean, Papa,"
she quavered. "I hate Catspaw! He's always doing things like that to
me."
"So he
is," commented Marak, patting her short black hair, which
Catspaw had only recently singed off again. "Since you hate Catspaw, you'll be glad to know that I have some
new playmates for you. Tomorrow you
can come with your mother and me to the pages' floor to see your room, and you and another little girl will
stay in that room and be pages together."
"I don't want to stay with
another little girl," she whimpered. "I hate little girls!"
"Til," said the goblin
dryly, "you're a little girl yourself." Til stopped crying to think
about this.
"Father?"
asked Catspaw anxiously. "Can I be a pages-together, too?"
Marak pulled on the little lion's paw and drew his son close.
"No, you won't be a page, but
you'll have a tutor soon," he promised, putting an arm around him.
"You have to start learning how to be a King."
Til saw an
immediate advantage to her new social position. "You don't
get to be a page," she gloated to the little prince. "I get to be a
page.
Catspaw rallied
at once. "You don't get to be a King," he retorted.
"I
don't want to," sniffed Til. "They don't let Kings have any
fun."
"Oh, I don't
know about that," chuckled Marak, pushing her off
his lap and standing up. "Come along now, Til. You can meet that little
girl you hate."
∗ ∗ ∗
Til
inspired the pages with awe, and she pointed out at every oppor tunity
to Catspaw that she had now outgrown his company. Catspaw
was jealous over Til's new career and too young to understand why his aunt
Emily had left. Everything was changing around the goblin prince, but he was still
doing the same things.
One day, he stayed with Agatha while
his mother taught class. Marak's former nurse had finally given up keeping
order on the pages' floor. She was too old to chase after a crowd of children.
Catspaw was unhappy and out of sorts, and Agatha was no help. Usually the dwarf
woman was lively and full of fun, but today he could hardly get her to move.
She watched him throwing his ball and retrieving it with a stern look on her
face.
"Stop making so much noise,
Marak," she commanded. Agatha was the
only person in the kingdom who called the prince by his for., mal name.
"You tell your father that you're old enough to have a tutor now.
This interested Catspaw, He rolled
the ball to her feet and followed it.
"Father says soon," he told
her seriously. "I'll learn magic and history and writing and cooking and
all sorts of king stuff."
Agatha leaned her head back on her
chair. "Kings don't learn how to cook," she said wearily.
"Why
not?" asked Catspaw, bouncing the ball around her chair. He
was making her head hurt.
"Marak, tell your father you
need a tutor," she repeated firmly. "Your nurse is tired."
"Nana's not tired," he
said, thinking of his woolly nurse. Nana knew he missed Til. She had had a
pillow fight with him just that morning.
"Your nurse
is tired," said Agatha, closing her eyes. "Come here,
young Marak. It's time for your nap."
Catspaw stopped and goggled at her.
He was too old for naps. No worse injustice
can be perpetrated on a child than to force a nap on him after he has
grown out of them.
"Agatha!"
he shrilled
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