She decided to move into the library, once she saw the parsimonious bedroom allotted to her. The cushion on the deep window seat would make a much more comfortable bed than the thin pallet on a narrow frame waiting for her.
It wasn't as if the judge would be inconvenienced. From the thickness of the dust, he hadn't consulted his library in years. To carry out his duties properly, he would need to continually consult the volumes of law. Yet he obviously didn't. Her father prized men who kept learning, who weren't ashamed to admit they didn't know something, then sought to learn twice as much as they needed to carry out their duties. Despite his softer qualities, her father was a wise man and a good ruler, and Merrigan trusted most of his assessments of people's worth. The King of Avylyn would loathe Judge Brimble just as much as she did. Yes, such a dunderhead deserved the punishment she would levy on him and his co-conspirator.
The two stable boys came to fetch her shortly after the cleaning effort started. Merrigan left the two serving girls battling the thick layers of dust with damp rags. She followed the boys outside, to the back courtyard, where the judge's coach waited. He was pacing in front of its door, eyes bright and step amazingly light for such a big man. When he saw her, his arms spread wide and Merrigan cringed at the horrified thought that he might try to embrace her.
Of course, he didn't know a beautiful young queen hid behind the decrepit husk of Clara's curse. His emotions ruled him, not lust.
"Mistress Mara." He bowed to her, and straightening, pulled a leather pouch from his pocket. "I entrust you to obtain everything necessary for creating my new wardrobe. The lads have been instructed to take you as far as Carnpotz, if need be. Here is my letter of introduction with my seal, so no one will dare say no to you. In fact, dear lady ..." His eager-little-boy expression dimmed as he looked her over. He sighed. "I think perhaps your first stop should be to procure better clothing for yourself. It is a tragedy that the failings of others put you in such dire circumstances. How shall I put this delicately for a lady of your great talent?"
"I do not look the part. Some people might think I lied about having handled Queen Merrigan's clothes personally?" She kept her voice dry and light. She had found that softening her tone effectively made people with booming voices stop booming.
"Indeed. You do understand."
Merrigan understood very clearly that if the judge weren't in such a dreadful hurry to have his new clothes, he might have showed some common sense and investigated whether an old, white-haired woman named Mara had indeed been a seamstress for the courts of Avylyn and Carlion. That kind of investigation could take moons, and require crossing the ocean. She had been counting on the judge's impatience and vanity to keep him from investigating. Only a fool took a total stranger's word as fact. This was another proof of her theory: people assumed the elderly, frail, daft, and very young were trustworthy and truthful.
"I do understand, Your Honor." She took the pouch of coins. It was satisfyingly heavy and didn't jangle as she slipped it into the bag still slung across her chest. "I do thank you for trying to be delicate about a woman's vanity." She fluttered her eyelashes for good effect, and nearly burst out laughing when the judge shifted backward half a step.
Did the self-obsessed fool think she flirted with him?
"I shall repair my outward appearance so that I will not embarrass you, if anyone should remember who bought the material for your splendid new wardrobe. I shall make sure every penny is devoted to my task. The outcome shall be most satisfactory for all involved."
There—let anyone take apart her words and prove she promised to spend all the money on him, rather than putting as much as she could into her own pocket. This further ensured that he paid for his part in cheating a decent-if-gullible young man out of his inheritance. That would satisfy the Fae who had presumed to lecture her. Just because he had magic in his blood, that didn't give him the right to criticize. If Merrigan hadn't learned the painful lesson of dealing very carefully with majjian folk, she might have told him a thing or two about the twisted, unreasonable expectations of the magical races in general.
Merrigan's estimation of the judge's foolishness increased when she found a basket packed with food for the journey, tucked into the carriage. The man was falling over himself to please her, without any proof of her skill.
She had plenty of time on the carriage ride to plan her actions for the next few days. Servants knew everything within a household. They became invisible to their employers and they saw and heard things that many people kept hidden from their own spouses and children. Their invisible, all-seeing position made servants rather valuable—once trained properly.
As the first step in gaining the confidence of the entire household, Merrigan rapped on the roof of the carriage, asking the boys driving it to stop. Much as she would have preferred to keep the provisions to herself, she shared the meat rolls, honey cakes, and the thick stone bottle of cold milk with the boys. It was amusing to see how their eyes lit up, and to observe the visible shift in their attitudes toward her. Such simple, malleable people, these peasants. She had to assume the judge was so cavalier about the treatment of his servants, any
