Queen Maidhe's Gift

The Age of Progress dawned with smoke and fire. Things were changing in the cities and fields of the world; men and women toiled in hell-hot workshops filled with molten metal and flying cotton. Arabella Luton watched the changes with untrained eyes, but at the age of eight, she already understood that there was more than one world. There was the world of liquid metal where grey-faced men and women in drab clothes were free to do what they wanted, but lacked the money to do it... and the world she lived in, where money was no problem but freedom was in short supply. She lived like a doll, dressed and coiffed and plucked by her mother until she chafed, patted and petted by her father when it was suitable and ignored when it was not.

A trip to the Royal Exhibition was of the utmost importance her nanny, Sue, said, but Arabella couldn't see why, other than it being a chance to leave the confines of Kensington and see real people. Real people with real lives who had never had to stand on a stool with books on their heads while reciting poetry in French, German, and then Latin. Of course, the adults would be talking about machines and numbers and dreadful science,

"It's going to be perfectly horrid," she said, placing her chubby chin in her hands,

"Many of my children would love to go, Lady Arabella," Sue said and tutted, as she twisted a few errant curls around her finger, "and it's a day without lessons, so you have that to be grateful for."

"I suppose," she said and rolled her brown eyes, "but I wanted to read my book. Did you know there was a lost city? Its under the water now and they had all kinds of things that we have no idea how to make?"

"I did not," Sue said in the voice adults used when they wanted small children to stop talking. Arabella kicked her feet,

"It was called Atlantis, and the Governess-"

"Miss Downes-"

"The Governess says that Plato talked about it, so it must be real. Why would anyone bother with boring trains when we could explore the sea?"

"I couldn't rightly say," Sue said, words muffled by the pins in her mouth, "why won't little girls sit still to have their hair pinned when they know squirming only makes the task slower?"

"Sorry," Arabella sighed, but she meant it because Sue wasn't like the other grown-ups; when Sue was in charge she got cream and scones and jam, and she was allowed to read as much as she wanted once her lessons were done. Sue only patted her shoulders and stepped back to let her stand,

"I heard there will be a large pool with fish in it, there," she said as she put Arabella's hair brush away, "an aquarium, I believe the grocer's boy said. Though I'm not sure either of us is saying it right. You will like that."

"That would be splendid," Arabella said and bounced on the balls of her feet, "why can't you come?"

"Your mother wants me here overseeing the cleaning,"

"I'll ask mama, please Sue!"

"No," Sue said firmly, "you will be nine in a week, Arabella, you must start to do what is asked of you with no complaint... as I do. It is something we all learn." Her tired green eyes softened after a moment and she leaned down, enclosing Arabella in the scent of sharp soap and starch. "But when you return you can tell me all about it."

"I will," Arabella promised and turned her head, curls bouncing as her mothers' melodious voice called her to come downstairs. She hugged Sue tight and ran, took the stairs two at a time until her mother scolded her for not being ladylike.

Though equally as wide as the streets of Kensington, the roads to the Royal Exhibition were crowded and noisy. Her mother tutted and adjusted the fine that she had chosen, its ridiculous feather swamping the inside of the carriage so that even her father pinched the bridge of his nose,

"Violet, could the hat not stay in its box until we arrive?" He asked, thin face pale and clammy. He was in pain today, Arabella realized, and would rather have stayed home.

"I should have thought of that," her mother said, "but Nelly had already pinned it on. Sorry, darling, we'll be there soon, and I'll remove it for the trip home." Arabella rolled her eyes under her own hat and turned to peer out of the windows once more. The grand gates to the exhibition loomed into view and when they passed under them, she smiled; the noise of the city died down but there was still a bustle in the streets. Her mother ushered them directly into the exhibition center and straight to a room with a guady sign,

"Modern medicine?" She asked her father and he nodded,

"Very good, that's a big word for a young lady," he said, "do you know what it means?"

"Doctors," she said, "making sick people better."

"Precisely," he smiled at her, then, and she felt warm to the pinched toes of her awful new boots, "you look very well today, I think we should thank Sue for taking such good care of you. What would you like to bring her?"

"...something pretty," Arabella said, "a brush for her hair, or some etchings? She loves birds!"

"She does," he said, "well, while we walk, you go look for something you think she would like and tell them to send Lord Luton the bill, yes?" She nodded ernestly and took his hand, but her mother lingered in the medicine area badgering doctors and scientists as if she were smarter than them. By the time the sun had climbed high enough to peek through the beautiful glass roof, Arabella was sweating and sore,

"Mama, can we go look at the fish?" She asked, wincing when her mother turned to her with a look of shock and anger,

"Do not interrupt adults, Arabella," she snapped and her voice was so sharp that Arabella fely tears welling up in her eyes. She was deafened by the thunder of blood in her ears and her burning face,

"You told me I should always ask for what I want and now you're being horrid," she shouted, making a few people turn with shocked expressions, "and daddy is sick, but you're always making us go places we don't wish to go, and now you won't let me do the one thing you promised I could in the carriage."

"Arabella!" Her father chided, but her whole body shook with anger,

"He would get better if you would let him rest!" She shouted and her mother drained of colour,

"You stupid, spoiled child," she said it so calmly, and that was what frightened Arabella most of all, "we are here for your father. He's not sick, he's dying. We are here to find medicine, and all you care about are fish."

"Violet!" Her father shouted, but it was too late. The world had become a sort of strange blur. She ran, ran as fast as her little legs would carry her, through the crowds until, with wonder, she found herself in front of a huge, transparent wall. Behind it, fish of every colour swam in peaceful circles. But there were no people, she realized, it was empty and cool and quiet. So she sat by the tank and wept. It couldn't be true; her father was the strongest man in the world. The best. Soft bubbling laugh seemed to come from behind her, but when she turned there was no one there. Only the fish in the tank. Only the water, "hello?" Arabella peered into the tank and then jumped back with a cold sweat over her body; one of the fish was not a fish at all. A tiny woman with gold hair and dark skin floated in front of her eyes, beckoned and then swam away. She turned only to beckon once more, urging Arabella to follow up to the top of the tank. When she reached the thin edge, the woman was there once again, but not small; she was big and strong. She had muscles and thick hair, twisted like ropes,

"You are sad, little girl," she whispered, "why?"

"My father is dying," Arabella replied and wiped her face, "or my mother says he is."

"You think she is lying?" The woman asked and tilted her beautiful face, her violet eyes sparkling in the dim light. Arabella thought about it and then shook her head; her mother was not a liar. "I am sorry for your pain... but..." those eyes slid away,

"But what?"

"Why do you not heal him?" The woman asked,

"I can't - I'm not a doctor," Arabella said, and then added indignantly, "I'm only eight. Nine in a week." The woman laughed, and it was like music. Arabella felt her eyes droop, but jerked back.

"Well, little not doctor who is nine in a week," she whispered, "what if I told you I know someone who could heal your father?" That voice was so beautiful that she had forgotten what she was sad about. That outstretched hand was so soothing. Calming, even.

"I would... want them to heal him," she said, holding her hands clasped in her lap to prevent herself from reaching out. The woman reached out of the water and turned her palm upwards,

"Then come with me," she said.

Quite how Arabella Luton ended up in the aquarium, she could not have said, but the fish were monstrous in size as they passed. The water was like cold silk against her skin, and when she breathed out, bubbles passed her face. They passed through the strange, artificial wreck of a ship that had no interior and went down, down into the depths of the tank until a castle loomed into view. It's delicate doors glowed with light; Arabella shivered with delight as they passed through and found she no longer needed to swim when they had.

"What is your name, please?" She asked the woman with sudden clarity, "mama says I'm not to speak to strangers. I'm Arabella." She made her best curtsey, which even she admitted was clumsy, and the woman laughed,

"My name is Io, Arabella," she said, and her voice was like honey. Down here, however, it seemed to have no power,

"Like the Goddess?"

"Yes, exactly like that," Io said and held out a hand, "you know a lot for a little girl. Who is not a doctor. When you meet the Queen you must curtsey again and do as she asks. She doesn't see many children, but she loves them." Arabella nodded and followed Io into a grand room. It was decorated in gold and blue, bright, glowing fish swam in formations high above, casting light, and food was piled high on every table. At the head of the room was a woman more beautiful than any of the glories laid out before her.

"Is that the Queen?" Arabella asked,

"Yes, Maidhe, is her name, but you must call her Your Majesty-"

"I know how to meet a queen," Arabella said and tossed her hair, realizing that it was, miraculously, dry. Io raised her brows and then motioned for her to walk forward. Her curtsey was better, she kept her head tall, and her eyes turned down. Her mother would have been proud, but Queen Maidhe only smiled and inclined her head. She was red haired with tan skin, or perhaps blonde haired with brown eyes. Arabella frowned. Maybe, she decided, she had dark, smooth skin and white hair. The Queen was radiant, but Arabella could not remember what her face looked like when she blinked,

"Hello, Arabella," Maidhe said,

"Your Majesty."

"Such manners," Maidhe said, "such beautiful manners, and such a pretty girl. Your mother must be proud." Arabella blinked. Her... mother? Yes, her mother,

"Yes, Your Majesty, and my... my father," Arabella said, "he is sick. Io said you can help him?" The Queens eyebrows twitched and she said nothing before she nodded,

"Will you?" Arabella asked and then remembered her manners, "please, your Majesty, will you help me heal your father?"

"But of course," she said, "but I am tired. And lonely. You see, I have no friends. Will you stay with me for a while?"

"My father..." Arabella fought to remember his face,

"Only a few moments," Maidhe said with a sweet smiled and extended her slim, graceful hands. Arabella saw with a thrill that her nails were studded with sparkling stones and baby pearls, "you won't be missed for a few moments, surely?" Arabella nodded, mute, and the Queen parted her lips to show even, white teeth, sharp and smoothe. Perfectly rounded like pearls. "Good. Sit with me."

The Queen offered her everything a little girl could want; honeyed nuts, sweet chocolates, tiny French fancies, and sweet orange juice. She plied her with toys and trinkets, a beautiful yellow silk dress, and slippers embroidered with flowers. As each sweet passed her lips, Arabella felt her body become more sluggish and sickly. Her lips were gummed with sugar, her teeth had gathered a fuzz, and her stomach was heaving,

"How long have I been here, Your Majesty?" She asked, and when she looked down, Arabella realized her dress was much too short. Too tight. She squirmed and stretched,

"Oh dear, that doesn't fit, does it?" Maidhe asked, "here." And with wave of her hand she summoned two beautiful women carrying a rose pink dress emmbroidered with colourful birds, "put this on." Arabella touched the birds with a shaking hand,

"Thank you," she said, and her mouth was as dry as sand. Her eyes itched and burned. She wanted to go to bed. She wanted her mother, "how long have I been here, Your Majesty?" She repeated herself and Maidhe froze. When she turned to look at Arabella, her face smeared. As if cloth had been drawn across spilled paint. There was something less beautiful by far underneath.

"A few moments," she said, "and don't you look radiant in that dress... have a pineapple tart." Arabella looked at the gorgeous pastry with no pleasure at all,

"May I have some water, please, and perhaps... some vegetables?" She asked, fingers digging at the embroidered birds as a maid pinned a brooch to her chest. Bejewelled and finely made to represent a kingfisher, it was utterly divine. Maidhe, however, had started to look less fine. Her face was sharp and angled, her eye wide and unblinking,

"Vegetables?" She asked with a laugh, "water? Why would any child want such things. They won't make you happy, I know what you want Arabella. Sweet, fine, fancy things, and to be allowed to stay up when the grown ups send you to bed. You never have to sleep here. Never have to be sent away for lessons." She blinked once, slowly, bared her teeth in an approximation of a smile. "Don't you want to be happy?"

"I have enjoyed your company, Your Majesty," Arabella said and stood, giving an awkward curtsey as her dress rustled around her legs. They felt weak, wobbly, as if she had sat by the fire for too long with a book in hand. She touched the brooch. "And I gave you my time gladly, but I... I need to sleep. And I would like to see my parents. Will you heal my father as Lady Io said?"

"Why would I do that?" Maidhe asked, and her nails no longer seemed shapely and sparkling. They were dull and ragged, they dug at the arms of her throne, leaving deep scars. The room had stilled and become cold,

"Because... I did what you asked of me," Arabella said, and the Queen frowned,

"And I gave you more gifts than you could ever have wanted," Maidhe waved her hand to the presents, already forgotten. Arabella stared for a few moments and then shook her head,

"I did not ask for those things, Your Majesty," she said, "and you gave me your word." Maidhe pursed her lips, her knuckles went white on the arms of her throne. When her eyes opened they were venemous green,

"Take it," she hissed, and when he extended her hand to Arabella, there was a strange, brown mass in it, "a beozar. Have him eat it. Do not return." Maidhe's hair hung lank around her gaunt face. "Ever."

Arabella turned to look for Io, but she was nowhere to be seen. The great hall was empty, devoid of all life and light. Only the cold blue glow of the fish, no long, ghostly eels, made it possible to see the doors. Arabella resisted the urge to run, at first, but as she turned away, an unearthly screech spurred her into action. As she burst into the water, her foot caught in the tiny doors of the model castle. She twisted until it came free, leaving on delicate slipper behind. The water was cloudy, greenish-grey, and entirely empty. She could not breath; Arabella thrashed at the water, her heavy dress dragging her down as she fought to the surface, slipping below again and again until her hand found the edge of the tank and she dragged herself out onto the walkway. She walked through the familiar city to her door clutching the beozar as if it were a treasure, and when she knocked on her own front door her mother opened it with wild hair and sad eyes.

"Arabella?" She wailed and threw her arms around her, "oh lord where have you been?"

"I... don't know," she gasped, shaking, soaking wet, "mama... for father." She held out the beozar and found only sand in the palm of her hand. It trickled through her fingers and blew away in the wind.