Wet Magic - E. Nesbit (read novels website TXT) 📗

soldiers, a little late in the day, owing to the careful management of Ulfin’s friend, reached the front door, there was nothing to be seen but four bits of seaweed floating down the street, which, of course, was the sort of thing that nobody could possibly notice unless they knew.

The bits of seaweed went drifting to the Barracks, and no one noticed that they floated on to the stables and that invisible hands loosed the halters of five Sea Horses. The soldier who ought to have been looking after the horses was deeply engaged in a game of Animal Grab with a comrade. The cards were of narwhal ivory, very fine, indeed, and jeweled on every pip. The invisible hands saddled the Sea Horses and invisible forms sprang to the saddles, and urged the horses forward.

The unfortunate Animal Grabber was roused from his game by the sight of five retreating steeds⁠—saddled and bridled indeed, but, as far as he could see, riderless, and long before other horses could be got out and saddled the fugitives were out of sight and pursuit was vain. Just as before they went across country to the rock cut and then swam up, holding by the linking seaweed.

Because it was Tuesday and nearly two o’clock, the Professor of Conchology was making ready to receive pupils, which he did in an arbor of coral of various shades of pink, surrounded by specimen shells of all the simpler species. He was alone in the garden, and as they neared him, the Princess, the three children and Ulfin touched the necessary buttons and became once more visible and tangible.

“Ha,” said the Professor, but without surprise. “Magic. A very neat trick, my dears, and excellently done.”

“You need not remove your jacket,” he added to Ulfin, who was pulling off his pearly coat. “The mental exercises in which we propose to engage do not require gymnasium costume.”

But Ulfin went on taking off his coat, and when it was off he handed it to the Princess, who at once felt in its inner pocket, pulled out a little golden case and held it toward the Professor. It has been well said that no charm on earth⁠—I mean underwater⁠—is strong enough to make one forget one’s antidote. The moment the Professor’s eye fell on the little golden case, he held out his hand for it, and the Princess gave it to him. He opened it, and without hesitation as without haste, swallowed the charm.

Next moment the Princess was clasped in his arms, and the moment after that, still clasped there, was beginning a hurried explanation; but he stopped her.

“I know, my child, I know,” he said. “You have brought me the charm which gives back to me my memory and makes a King of Merland out of a Professor of Conchology. But why, oh why, did you not bring me my coat⁠—my pearly coat?” said the King, “it was in the case with the others.”

No one had thought of it, and everyone felt and looked exceedingly silly, and no one spoke till Ulfin said, holding out the coat which the Princess had given back to him⁠—

“You will have this coat, Majesty. I have no right to the magic garments of your country.”

“But,” said Francis, “you need the coat more than anybody. The King shall have mine⁠—I shan’t want it if you’ll let me go and ask for an interview with the King of the Under Folk.”

“No, have mine,” said Mavis⁠—and “have mine,” said Bernard, and the Princess said, “Of course my Father will have mine.” So they all protested at once. But the King raised his hand, and there was silence, and they saw that he no longer looked only a noble and learned gentleman, but that he looked every inch a King.

“Silence,” he said, “if anyone speaks with the King and Queen of this land it is fitting that it should be I. See, we will go out by the back door, so as to avoid the other pupils who will soon be arriving in their thousands, for my Conchology Course is very popular. And as we go, tell me who is this man of the Under Folk who seems to be one of you”⁠—(“I am the Princess’ servant,” Ulfin put in)⁠—“and why you desire to speak with the King of this land.”

So they made great haste to go out by the back way so as not to meet the Conchology students, and cautiously crept up to their horses⁠—and, of course, the biggest and best horse was given to the King to ride. But when he saw how awkwardly their false tails adapted themselves to the saddle he said, “My daughter, you can remove these fetters.”

“How?” said she. “My shell knife won’t cut them.”

“Bite through the strings of them with your little sharp teeth,” said the King, “nothing but Princess teeth is sharp enough to cut through them. No, my son⁠—it is not degrading. A true Princess cannot be degraded by anything that is for the good of her subjects and her friends.”

So the Mer Princess willingly bit through the strings of the false tails⁠—and everybody put on his or her proper tail again, with great comfort and enjoyment⁠—and they all swam toward the town.

And as they went they heard a great noise of shouting, and saw parties of Under Folk flying as if in fear.

“I must make haste,” said the King, “and see to it that our Peace Conference be not too late”⁠—so they hurried on.

And the noise grew louder and louder, and the crowds of flying Under Folk thicker and fleeter, and by and by Ulfin made them stand back under the arch of the Astrologers’ Tower to see what it was from which they fled. And there, along the streets of the great city of the Under Folk, came the flash of swords and the swirl of banners and the army of the Mer Folk came along between the great buildings of their foes, and on their helmets