Page 88 of The Dungeon Book

“So we are commanded.”

“As you wish.” She indicated a nearby stool. “Sit, please.”

“No.”

“Please,” said Aldebara in the Dungeon Tongue.

Bait sat.

There are no mirrors in the Dungeon, and even if there had been this was not like looking in a mirror. A mirror shows what is; this was what-might-have-been, for both of you. Bait told me she was chiefly struck by your calm, how assured you were in your place. You were frail, and sickly, so weak you clung to the arm of your chair for support, but your posture was impeccable, your voice more commanding than any arcane exhortation. She said you were like glass, polished and translucent and gleaming and so very fragile.

What did you see in Bait, I wonder? A monstrous ragamuffin, trousers caked in grave dirt, fingernails black with the scrapings of the Dungeon? Something feral and wild – did you envy her vitality? Did you fear her, knowing she was the true image and you the illusion?

Or am I letting my own failings slip into the narrative? One who piles lies on lies and trades in clever sophistries forgets that truths may be found in unlikely places.

For a long moment, Bait told me, you stared at each other.

Then you spoke in the Dungeon Tongue.

“You are the true princess,” you said. You took Bait by surprise, which was quite a trick.

The guards glanced at each other; from their perspective, the princess and her changeling twin had suddenly started speaking in growls and yelps and snarls.

“I’m not a princess,” replied Bait.

“You are the daughter of King Arus and Queen Aldebeth. Royal blood flows in your veins. I am not certain what flows in mine, but whatever it is, it is drying out.”

“You know what you are, then?”

“A cuckoo.”

Bait’s frown was much more pronounced. “What’s that?”

“I know that I am a changeling. The Chancellor tells me that you are the changeling, I the original. He says that you fed from me when I was an infant, and that only by extracting those stolen vital fluids from you can I be restored to health.”

“That’s not true.”

“I know that. It is not the first lie that he has told, not the thousandth. I have had the measure of him for a long time. But it is said that the best lies have a grain of truth. I know I am dying – if I was ever really alive.”

“Why would you say that? I know dead people who were alive.”

“I hardly know anyone at all. I am permitted few visitors – and none who are not in the service of the Chancellor.”

“He’s master here then, too?”

“My father—” Aldebara caught herself. “Your father.”

“Yours more than mine.”

“Ours, then. Our father is still the king, but the Chancellor rules in his name.”

“Nala said he’s ill.”

“His infirmity is natural, unlike mine. When I first discovered what I was, I feared that I was responsible for his sickness. It is said that changelings feed on blood and the breath of infants. But it’s only age that claims him. Age, and the Chancellor’s diligent medical care.” Aldebara nearly swooned then, and Bait caught her. A guard darted forward; Aldebara dismissed him with a glare.

“Is he dying?”

“Yes.”