It was Volume B.
It was, specifically, butterflies.
Of course the spy had noticed the elaborate shelves that housed the king's butterfly collection and where the mounted winged creatures were on display, with special lighting. They were arranged two ways: one by color, so that the lengthy shelf began with pale yellow and made its way through each gradation and hue—oranges, reds, blues, greens—so that the wall seemed a rainbow. But the opposite wall held the same collection, duplicates, arranged by scientific names: In the section marked nympkingidae, the spy saw the amazing
The Birthday Ball
multicolored Prepona praeneste praenestina; nearby, under ORNITHOPTERA, was the semitranslucent Papuana; and in the PAPILIONIDAE section he marveled at the huge deep orange Papiio antimachus.
Yet on each wall, the spy noticed, there was an empty spot. A label was attached—he could read Charaxes acraeoides. But there was no such mounted butterfly.
Stealthily, in his little notebook, he wrote the name of the missing butterfly.
"I notice that one of your specimens is out for cleaning, sir," he commented.
The king looked up from Volume B of the encyclopedia. He saw that the spy was referring to the empty places on the shelves. His face fell.
"Missing. Rare," the king explained. "Hard to acquire. Working on it."
And so the spy went back to Duke Desmond's principality with the knowledge of how money could, indeed, buy happiness, at least when happiness took the form of a rare butterfly. His fellow spy was glum, having acquired nothing but an order for three hundred bottles of shampoo and three hundred bottles of curling lotion. "Funnels," he muttered. "I'll have to do it with funnels."
"Do what?" They were riding their horses side by side behind the cart that carried their samples.
"Fill six hundred bottles with soapy water."
"You could just forget it. Often people order things that never arrive."
The hair product spy considered that. Then he sighed. "Have you ever visited the dungeon?"
"Oh. Yes. I see what you mean."
"Filled with people who did not fulfill promises."
"Yes."
"Dark and cold and lonely."
"Yes."
"I'll use funnels. And you?"
"I got lucky. I'll tell the duke he has to send someone to find and buy that butterfly"—he took out his notepad and read the name of the missing specimen—"whatever the cost."
Back in his bedchamber, Duke Desmond was examining his clothing and deciding what to wear to the Birthday Ball. Green was good on him, he thought. Seductive. Maybe Spandex, which would outline his rounded stomach in an attractive way. Tights, probably. And pointed shoes. Yes, definitely: pointed shoes.
8. The Schoolhouse
Her second day of school was less strange than the first, because the princess was part of the class now—she was the pupil Pat—and the other students accepted her as one of them.
They were all ages. She was probably the oldest, though two of the boys were as tall and had deepening voices. Most of the girls were middle-size, the age at which girls played with dolls and jump ropes (she had watched them at recess, and had held the frayed rope at one end when they asked her to help turn it), and one girl, Liz, the tiniest in the school, was no more than five, with large blue eyes, an infectious giggle, and a runny nose.
Liz's desk was next to Pat's. The little girl held her tongue between her lips in concentration, and she was practicing making letters on her paper. Her bare feet dangled, her legs too short to reach the floor, and she frequently pulled her skirt up to scratch a mosquito bite on her leg.
"You should put some lotion on that bite," Pat whispered to her.
The child wrinkled her nose and thought about it. "Dunno what lotion is," she said. "Never heared of such a thing."
In the castle an entire room was devoted to remedies, everything from headache potions to snakebite salves. A gray-haired apothecary was always there to dispense what one might need, and he could also apply leeches and pull teeth if necessary.
But of course, the princess realized, a poor peasant had no room of remedies, no apothecary, no lotions.
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"Oh, dear," she replied to the little girl. "I happen to have some, though I am a very humble and needy peasant myself. Tell your ma I'll bring something for you tomorrow, and you won't have to scratch so frequently."
Liz looked up from her misshapen As and Bs. "Got no ma," she said matter-of-factly.
"Oh, my! Pity! Well, your pa, then. Tell him."
"Got no pa neither."
"But—"
"I be a norphan," Liz explained.
An orphan! The princess knew of such people—she had heard stories about them. They frequently appeared in fairy tales. But here was one in person!
"But where do you live? Who takes care of you?" The princess couldn't imagine being so small and having no one.
"Oh," the little girl explained matter-of-factly, "I stay wif whoever wants me, 'cause they fink mebbe I can help out. Then, when they don't want me no more, I go live wif sumbody else."
"You must be very forsaken and pathetic," the princess said sympathetically. "I'm actually quite interested in orphans, and—"
She felt a sharp tap upon her shoulder and realized that a shadow had fallen across her desk. The schoolmaster was standing beside her and had used his pointing stick to tap her into attention.
"Sorry, sir," she said quickly, and looked down at the geography book she was supposed to be studying. An outline map showed all the domains, and beyond them the seas, which were dotted with small, intricately rendered drawings of serpents and whales rising from the foam.
***
The other children laughed at her lunch. On her first day, the day before, she had brought none, and they had nicely shared torn-off bits of their own thick bread. One, the pudgy boy named Fred, had given her his apple. She had never eaten a whole one before, because at the castle apples were always served peeled and sliced and arranged on a porcelain plate.
"How primitive this is!" the princess said in delight as she bit through the skin, following the example of the others. "How peasant-y!"
"What?" Fred asked.
"I just meant blimey, what a good-tasting apple!" the princess explained, and dabbed some juice from her chin.