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five

Pottage

H eather shook. They couldn’t understand her. She wasn’t a lady of the court. Without family, there was no one to petition on her behalf. Would the king even attempt to reverse the vile shrooms?

Vehemently, she vowed to never eat another mushroom again! No longer able to compose herself, she dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around her middle. Teeth chattering.

“Pardon me. My lady. Excuse me. Milord,” Jessa pushed her way through the throng surrounding Heather’s table and bent over so that she was eye height with Heather. Softly, she whispered, “Heather, what was the last thing you tested?”

Heather’s new miniature ears appreciated her friend’s kind, gentle tone. Jessa turned her ear to Heather.

“Can you understand me?” Heather screeched so loud; her voice cracked. She didn’t know if it would be enough, but apparently it was. Jerking away, Jessa grimaced.

“Clear as a bell, my little friend,” replied Jessa.

“It was positively that darned mushroom pottage! Or whatever other ingredients were in it!” Heather tried at a lower volume, not precisely a shout, but not in a close quarter voice. She was struggling to stay calm, her tone reflecting it. Jessa nodded down at her in understanding.

“What doth she say?” demanded the king. “Harrumph,” he rapped his cane on the floor, “All I hear is squeaking! Do you understand her?”

Jessa and Uster answered at once.

“No Sire,” said Ulcer.

“Yes, Sire,” said Jessa.

“The taste tester confirmed her stature was caused by the mushroom pottage,” explained Jessa.

Heather refrained from rolling her eyes at the king and his manservant. If they would only hunch down the slightest bit, they would understand her as well as Jessa. But apparently stooping to her level was below them. It made her want to stomp her foot.

“Perhaps His Majesty would be so kind as to allow Heather to be seen by the royal physician?” Jessa politely suggested.

“That’s precisely what I was just suggesting to His Majesty,” sniffed Ulcer.

Heather and Jessa’s eyes locked over his outrageous fib.

Heather’s size didn’t alter their close friendship.

They could still read each other like a tome.

She was grateful for Jessa’s suggestion.

She felt more secure knowing that someone was representing her wellbeing.

With a clatter, the young princess and prince rushed forward, bumping Heather’s table.

The surface wobbled and Heather grasped at thin air, trying to hold onto the wood grain for dear life.

Jessa was her savior yet again, reaching one hand out to stabilize the table and Heather felt another at her back, keeping her upright.

“Mayhap, the room could be cleared to ensure Heather’s safety? Our voices appear to offend her ears,” said Jessa.

The young princess crowded the table, her tall shadow enveloping Heather like a threat.

Realizing the child could squash her like a bug, Heather continued to tremble.

The dark-haired twins smelled like sweet cakes.

Their hands, most likely still sticky from dessert.

Heather turned and clasped onto Jessa’s fingers.

“She’s the size of my dolls! May I care for her, father?

” cried the princess. Heather trembling knew no bounds.

What was to become of her? And she had previously thought the role of taste tester was miserable?

Would she be a living doll? She clung to her dear friend and pleaded with her eyes for Jessa not to leave her. But they were at the king’s mercy.

The king leaned on his cane and at last permitted, “Uster, call for the physician. Nanny, remove the children to the nursery.” He tapped his cane twice on the floor and declared, “Everyone else is dismissed.”

Uster ushered everyone out, bellowing, “You heard His Majesty, clear the room!” Heather held onto Jessa’s hand, and with the other, she shielded her ears from the raucous.

The hustle and bustle of the court vacating the great hall rattled her table, and the surface shifted below her as if unstable sands, but at long last the chamber was empty until Jessa, Uster, the king and queen remained.

Heather clung to Jessa’s hand. She would not let them separate her from her only protector!

“Your Majesties,” bowed the royal physician. “What seems to be the ailment? Are you unwell?” The crotchety old practitioner peered at them through his smudged spectacles, unaware of his thumb sized patient waiting on the tabletop before them.

Uster sniffed. “Of course, His and Her Majesty are well!” Huffing he declared, “You’re to examine the royal tester. She’s on the table,” gestured Ulcer.

The physician blinked and bent over to get a better look at the surface. His eyes widened when he spotted Heather. He adjusted his glasses and approached.

“What have we here?” he murmured as he stooped forward.

“The royal tester… appears to have shrunk,” he reflected.

The physician hastily removed his eye wear, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and proceeded to clean the lens, then popped them back on his face in disbelief.

All the while, blinking repeatedly like an owl.

“Obviously the taster has shrunk!” huffed Ulcer. “What’s the cause?”

“Isn’t that obvious? Somethin’ the wee one ate.” The obtuse physician replied, rifling through his medical sack. Uster groaned and pinched his nose in exasperation.

To Heather, the physician asked, “Let me see your tongue.” He examined Heather with a round, magnified glass. “Show me your palms. Mm-hmm, I see” his enormous eye blinked owlishly at her in the looking glass. If she wasn’t ill, she would have laughed at the comical sight.

“We’ll have to perform some exams. Did I hear this young Miss say she ate some mushrooms?”

Jessa and Heather both nodded in the affirmative.

“I would ordinarily recommend bloodletting. However, a leech may be bigger than she. It would be her death.” Heather’s eyes widened in horror.

She pitched over, her gut cramping with the thought.

She gripped the handle of her garden sickle hanging from her utility belt.

Would she be able to fight the horrid creature off?

She clung tighter to Jessa’s hand, shaking like a leaf.

“I’ll experiment with various mushrooms. The process will take me quite some time to discover and recreate the poison responsible.”

What was to become of her? How would she survive in this world until the physician figured things out?

Would he find a solution? The thought brought on a fresh wave of terror.

Lower lip trembling, she pulled it between her teeth, refusing to break down in front of Ulcer.

Tears threatened, but she held them at bay.

“Your Majesty, may I make a suggestion?” inquired Jessa.

The king nodded his acquiescence.

“The princess said Heather was the size of her dolls… might Her Royal Highness own a dollhouse suitable for Heather for the time being?”

“Yes, she does. That’s a grand idea. What do you think, my king?” asked the queen.

“Uster, direct a page to convey my daughter’s dollhouse to the library.”

“As you say, Your Majesty, it will be done forthwith,” said Uster before bowing and scurrying out of the great hall.

Heather latched onto Jessa’s fingers and wrenched her eyes shut. Dropping her forehead against Jessa’s forefinger, severely unhappy with the king’s plan. Jessa looked down at her with a frown.

Heather tugged on Jessa’s finger and motioned for her to lower herself.

Heather spoke softly into her ear.

Rising back to full height, Jessa asked, “Your Majesties, Heather would humbly request your permission to be housed with me.”

The king was quick to answer. “I don’t think that would be the safest situation for her at the moment. Only the royal family shall have access. It will be under lock and key.”

Jessa hid in her irritation with the skill of a courtier, curtsying. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

“May I carry her to the library for you?” pressed Jessa. Heather waited on bated breath for His Majesty’s reply. He simply nodded his approval and turned to lead the way. The air from Heather’s lungs exited her mouth in a long hiss and her legs dissolved into mush, overcome with relief.

At least, she would not be in Ulcer’s hands.