Read Online The Cup and the Crown by Diane Stanley - Free Book Online Page B

.”
    “Well, how clever of you!”
    She flushed then, hearing her own words and hearing his reply. No doubt he’d meant to be kind, but to say to a man who could read anything , a man who knew all the letters and could write them down as well—to say I know M and W as though that were some great accomplishment . . .
    “I had a necklace,” she explained. “The king of Westria has it now. My grandfather made it as a love-gift for my grandmother, so he worked both of their initials into the design: M for Martha and W for William . That’s the only reason I know. Otherwise, I’m as ignorant as a toad.”
    “No you’re not. You just haven’t had an education. But you’re as sharp and clever as any young lady of my acquaintance. Now look again—don’t move it; I have it perfectly placed—and tell me what you see.”
    “The letter W .”
    “Exactly. And combined with the others that follow, it spells out the name William.”
    “Like my grandfather?”
    “That is your grandfather, lady.”
    “Oh.” And then, after studying it a while, “But there’s nothing under it, no little lines running down . . .”
    “Not yet,” Pieter said, turning the scroll around so the top part, with the three kings, was on their side of the table now and the word that said William was in front of him. From out of his pocket he pulled a new device—two metallic rings, each holding a circle of glass just as strips of lead hold the panes of a window. The rings of metal and glass were connected by a squiggly bit of wire in the middle.
    “Eyeglasses,” Pieter said, slipping the squiggly bit onto his nose. “They magnify as the glass dome does, so I can see to work small.” Then he sharpened his pen with a knife, wiped it clean with a cloth, and dipped it into the ink.
    “You must tell me the names. William begat—?”
    “What is ‘begat’?”
    “William’s issue. His children.”
    “Oh. There was just my mother.”
    “And her name?”
    “Greta.”
    He nodded and carefully began to write the name on the scroll. When he was done, he drew a remarkably straight line running down from it and looked up again at Molly.
    “How would you like to be listed, lady?” His eyes, as seen through the circles of glass, were distorted.
    “You look like a demon in those eyeglasses.”
    “I assure you I am nothing of the kind. Now how shall I list you? As Marguerite? Or your full title? It’ll be tight, but I think I can manage.”
    Molly pinched her lips and thought. “Not the title, no.” She chewed on a fingernail, thinking some more. “Just Molly,” she decided. “That’s who I really am.”
    “All right.” She watched, scarcely breathing, as he slowly, carefully, made the tiny strokes on the paper that spelled out her name, and enrolled her for all time as one of the people of Harrowsgode.
    “Oh, Master Pieter—is that really my name? Tobias, you must come and see!”
    “It’s wonderful,” he said, leaning over to look. “Exactly the way a princess’s name ought to be written.”
    “I’m not a princess,” she said, though her face fairly glowed with pleasure.
    Just then the assistant returned, closing the door very gently again—no doubt he’d been scolded for slamming it—and handed Pieter a single scroll.
    “Only one reply?” he asked. Then, checking to see who’d sent it, “Nothing from the Council?”
    “No, Master. They were very busy. They just took the letter and sent me on my way.”
    “I understand.” He opened the scroll and scanned it quickly, nodding with satisfaction. “What about Richard Strange?” he asked. “Did you not go to Neargate?”
    “I did. He’s agreed to host the gentleman.”
    “All right, then,” Pieter said to Molly and Tobias. “It grows late, and all is now arranged. Shall we away?”
    “Where?”
    “To your lodgings. We have no inns in Harrowsgode, as we have no travelers; but you’ll be quite comfortable, I promise. Marguerite—excuse me,