The Last Unicorn

Chapter X

WHAT CAN I DO FOR YOU?" PRINCESS LIA ASKED.

"Nothing very much just now," Milo Grue said. "The water was

all I needed. Unless you want to peel the potatoes, which would be all right with me."

"No, I didn't mean that. I mean yes, I will if you want me to, but I was talking to him. I mean, when I talk to him, that's what I keep asking."

"Sit down and peel me a few potatoes," Milo said. "It'll give you something to do with your hands."

They were in the scullery, a dank little room smelling strongly of rotting turnips and fermenting beets. A dozen earthenware dishes were piled in one corner, and a very small fire was shivering under a tripod, trying to boil a large pot of gray water. Milo sat at a rude table which was covered with potatoes, leeks, onions, peppers, carrots, and other vegetables, most of them limp and spotty. Princess Lia stood before him, rocking slowly along her feet and twisting her big, soft fingers together.

"I killed another dragon this morning," she said presently.

"That's nice," Milo answered. "That's fine. How many does that make now?"

"Five. This one was smaller than the others, but it really gave me more trouble. I couldn't get near it on foot, so I had to go in with the lance, and my

horse got pretty badly burned. It was funny about the horse—"

Milo interrupted her. "Sit down, Your Highness, and stop doing that. I start to twitch all over just watching you." Princess Lia sat down opposite him. She drew a dagger from her belt and moodily began peeling potatoes. Milo regarded her with a slight, slow smile.

"I brought him the head," she said. "He was in his chamber, as he usually is. I dragged that head all the way up the stairs to lay it at his feet." She sighed, and nicked her finger with the dagger. "Damn. I didn't mind that. All the way up the stairs it was a dragon's head, the proudest gift anyone can give anyone. But when he looked at it, suddenly it became a sad, battered mess of scales and horns, gristly tongue, bloody eyes. I felt like some country butcher who had brought her lad a nice chunk of fresh meat as a token of her love. And then he looked at me, and I was sorry I had killed the thing. Sorry for killing a dragon!" She slashed at a rubbery potato and wounded herself again.

"Cut away from yourself, not toward," Milo advised him. "You know, I really think you could stop slaying dragons for the Lord Amateon. If five of them haven't moved him, one more isn't likely to do it. Try something else."

"But what's left on earth that I haven't tried?" Princess Lia demanded. "I have swum four rivers, each in full flood and none less than a mile wide. I have climbed seven mountains never before climbed, slept three nights in the Marsh of the Hanged Women, and walked alive out of that forest where the flowers burn your eyes and the nightingales sing poison. I have ended my betrothal to the prince I had agreed to marry—and if you don't think that was a heroic deed, you don't know her mother. I have vanquished exactly fifteen black knights waiting by fifteen fords in their black pavilions, challenging all who come to cross. And I've long since lost count of the witches in the thorny woods, the giants, the demons disguised as damsels; the glass hills, fatal riddles, and terrible tasks; the magic apples, rings, lamps, potions, swords, cloaks, boots, neckties, and nightcaps. Not to mention the winged horses, the basilisks and sea serpents, and all the rest of the livestock." She raised her head, and the dark blue eyes were confused and sad.

"And all for nothing," she said. "I cannot touch him, whatever I do. For him sake, I have become a hero—I, sleepy Lia, my mother's sport and shame—but I might just as well have remained the dull fool I was. My great deeds mean nothing to him."