Split Heirs Read Free

all the way to the Street of the Mushroom Vendors before they caught it and brought it back to the bonfire.”
    Old Ludmilla grew more and more nostalgic and misty-eyed over the past. “Do you remember, precious lambikins, how beautifully Master Urien’s head prophesied just before King Gudge drop-kicked it into the flames? ‘Thine own downfall, O thou crawling blight of Gorgorian honeysuckle which doth strangle the fair and noble oak of the Hydrangean kingdom, shall spring from thine own — ’ ” She stopped and wept afresh. “That was when your hubbikins punted the poor thing into the fire. I think it was very rude of the king not to allow Master Urien’s head to finish what it had to say.”
    â€œThen it shouldn’t have called Gudge a honeysuckle,” Queen Artemisia concluded. “All I remember of the whole disgusting business is that the smoke from the burning wizard-parts made me throw up. That was when I first suspected I might be pregnant.” She closed her eyes and sank deeper into the pillows. “Well, what’s done is done. At least I was able to keep Gudge from finding out I was that pregnant by making up the whole ancient Hydrangean custom of secluding the royal mother-to-be. Not that he cared.” She made that same unladylike noise again. “For Gudge, women are either beddable or invisible.”
    â€œMy lady,” Ludmilla said softly, “shall I go ahead with the plan?”
    â€œYes, yes, do.” Queen Artemisia’s voice sounded weaker and weaker. “Only you’ll have to travel with two babies instead of just one. Are you up to it? You’re not as young as you used to be.”
    â€œAnd who is, I’d like to know?” Old Ludmilla’s face was already a web of crepey wrinkles, but she carved out two more frown-lines right between the eyes as she glowered at the queen. It was wasted on Artemisia, whose eyes remained shut. “Don’t you worry about me, I’m sure. I know my duty, even if some people don’t know the first thing about courtesy to their good and loyal servants. I’ll take the babies straightaway to your royal brother, Prince Mimulus and…”
    â€œWeasel,” came the faint comment.
    â€œEh?” Ludmilla cupped her good ear.
    Queen Artemisia sighed faintly. “You’ll never find him if you blunder around in the eastern mountains asking for Prince Mimulus. Gudge’s soldiers did that for ages and came up empty-handed. The whole point of going undercover to lead the secret Old Hydrangean resistance movement is to keep everything about it a secret. You don’t want Prince Mimulus of Hydrangea…”
    â€œDon’t I, then?” Ludmilla blinked in puzzlement.
    â€œYou want the Black Weasel, brave and dashing heroic leader of the Bold Bush-dwellers.”
    â€œRight, then, my poppet.” Ludmilla nodded. “I go to the eastern mountains with the babies, then, and I ask around for the Black Weasel.”
    â€œThe Black Weasel, brave and dashing heroic leader of the Bold Bush-dwellers ,” Artemisia corrected her. “It’s no use asking for him any other way, he’s given strict instructions to his followers that they are not to say one word about him to anyone who doesn’t use his full title. Do you remember the first message I sent him when I suspected I was carrying twins?”
    â€œYes indeed, my cherub.” Ludmilla smiled at the memory — not so much because it was a particularly pleasant one, but merely because it was there at all; many of her memories weren’t, these days. “We had young Pringus Cattlecart run up to the mountains with it. Such a pretty laddie, Pringus!”
    â€œLooks aren’t everything,” Artemisia muttered. “He forgot to ask for the Black Weasel properly, and he was still wandering from one mountain village to another when Gudge’s patrol caught him. Lucky for me,