Fairy Thief (40 page)

The servant and Saffron swept into the ballroom to look for Orji.

More than half the ballroom had emptied out!

“
Where did everybody go?” Saffron cried.

“
Oh, here and there,” chirped the servant. “Ah — there he is now.” The servant pointed to a shadowed corner where Orji had a slender woman with jet-black hair in a fit of giggles.

Saffron sneered. How could that woman be laughing so hard? When had Orji ever said anything so funny? Snide maybe — but funny?
I know that moron, and he ain’t that funny.

“
Good sir! Good Sir! Would you be so kind as to escort us? We have a surprise for the prince in the works and we need everyone’s help…could you…
now
?” The servant’s grin held strong. She clutched Orji’s elbow and held fast to Saffron, then escorted them out of the ballroom.

The servant hummed in a high-pitched, tuneless way. It took one glance for her to decipher the situation between the young girl and the pompous stud — so, it took little effort for her to set about distracting them. “My, my, sir, that black hair – your friend seemed like a lovely woman — is she your wife?” The servant raised a jaunty eyebrow and feigned great curiosity. The seemingly innocent question set the redheaded girl off – just as she had hoped.

“
Wife, my ass! Try ho, prostitute, lady of the evening, harlot….” Saffron strained for more terms, which allowed Orji an opening.

“
Saffron, what’s your problem? You don’t even
know
that woman — how could you say such hateful things?”

“
You
don’t even know that woman, Orji! How could you corner her like that – you looked like you were getting ready to jump her! My God! Couldn’t you find a room? We’re in a damn castle – there are a million rooms!”

“
Hey, this isn’t
my
castle, remember? It belongs to your betrothed,” Orji jabbed a finger at the cuff around Saffron’s wrist, “maybe you could ask him for a room. Get one for yourselves, while you’re at it.” Tiny droplets of spittle came flying from his mouth while he yelled, not unlike a dragon foaming at the fangs.

The servant was more than pleased. It was exactly the reaction she’d been hoping for. Now, they were too busy fighting to question their destination. They wound down shiny, stone hallways, past hulking, gilded frames, and over the fur hides of murdered beasts. They descended hundreds of circular steps – with Orji and Saffron hissing and spitting all the way.

Although they were behaving exactly as the servant had hoped, their high-pitched bickering began to get on her nerves, and she wondered, perhaps, if
they
got a room, their negative energy wouldn’t be feeding foreign wars.

They turned into a low-ceilinged room brightly lit by torches that lined a great, stonewall. Before Saffron and Orji, there was an elaborate mural of green mountains brilliantly lit by an orange and yellow sun. It was the like the tapestries Saffron saw above stairs, except this painting was on wood, or something like it, and stood from floor to ceiling. There was a cottage in the scene. The cottage doorway was an actual hole, so that someone could walk through the mural and end up on the other side of the painting.

“
Here we are!” The out-of-breath servant sing-songed, then motioned for Saffron and Orji to walk through the door-hole in the mural.

Orji stalked through without a thought, and Saffron was biting right at his heels, squawking and screaming like a parrot.

“
Now, we’ll be right back — don’t worry.” With those last words, the servant reached into the small room that Orji and Saffron had entered, and pulled a jail cell door closed with a resounding clank.

“
Oh, great.” Orji muttered and stalked to the door. Now that they were inside, they saw what the mural effectively concealed. A jail cell. Not one, but several jail cells that spanned the back dungeon wall — all hidden behind the cute mural. Orji roared and shot his fist between the bars. As soon as his knuckles met wood the entire enormous façade slowly toppled over and crashed to the floor with a woody slap and a whoosh of dust.

Saffron nodded absently and stared down at the back of the mural — it looked just like plywood. She brought the corners of her mouth down so low that her bottom lip pushed out in a pout. “Oooh, very effective.”

“
Well, these bars
won’t
be very effective. C’mon, Saffron, liquidate so we can get out of here. I can’t believe you agreed to marry that punk – you like it when he locks you up? I’ll lock you up….” He flicked a cold, metal bar, then turned to Saffron and waited for her to clear her soul of substance.

“
I
did not
agree to marry him!”

“
Then what the hell are you wearing that for?”

“
He just put it on me!”

“
You just let him!”

“
No, I didn’t!”

“
If it’s on you — you let him!”

“
Aaaaaghhh!”

“
Yeah, like I said — you let him.” Orji’s nostrils were flared like a raging bull’s. “It was
your
choice. You let him.” He poked her in her plastic-like center.

“
Don’t poke me,” Saffron hissed.

Orji poked her again. “Don’t let me.” He poked her again.

Saffron didn’t move.

Orji poked her again.

Angry tears formed in Saffron’s eyes.

Orji poked her again.

Suddenly, Saffron let out a long, rattling, murderous scream.

Orji sniffed. “So, you can turn into a banshee — but can you turn into a real, live ghost? C’mon. Hurry up.”

Saffron turned away from him, swiped her eyes, and closed them to focus. She’d vanish all right — she had to get out, away from the castle, and away from Orji. She grunted and strained and concentrated, all with her eyes squeezed shut. After a while, she let out an exasperated breath. “I can’t do it.”

Orji huffed. “Saffron, now is the time — just do it so we can escape here before they come back.” His last words were mumbled, “We need to get the hell out of this realm anyway — we’ve been here
way
too
long.”

Saffron closed her eyes and tried again. This time, she felt her shimmer. After several minutes, all of her solidity was gone and only the two-dimensional Saffron was left behind — her lightened soul.

Orji grunted and changed himself in a second – in a split second.

It happened right before Saffron’s eyes, like someone turning out the lights. “Show-off.”

“
Jealous.” Orji retorted, then held his hand out for hers. She couldn’t exactly hold his hand, so she moved her hand into his essence until she felt the jolt of electricity, then she knew she had made contact with his soul — she knew they met where his hand should be. They stepped forward together, towards the steel bars. They had pushed halfway through the bars when, suddenly Saffron discovered she could move no further.

Obviously, Orji was having trouble, too — he was straining and pushing, yet could move no further. “What the hell is this?” he bellowed.

Saffron instantly lost her concentration and became solid.

Orji became solid, too.

They pulled, they pushed, they grunted. They reached for each other awkwardly, but couldn’t connect to try and pry each other out. They tried some more. Then, completely frustrated and drained, they finally hung limply – half in and half out of the bars.

Somebody was coming. Down the damp, stone stairs, Orji and Saffron heard the almost imperceptible sound of a clothed footfall. Whoever was approaching began to whistle a cheery tune, and when his supremely tall and gaunt frame rounded the corner, he gave them a wink. He still had on his soiled whites — he appeared to be the castle chef.

Saffron returned a limp wave and frowned. Wasn’t the cook even wondering why she and Orji were suspended in the
middle
of the cell bars? What was the chef doing in the dungeon? He acted as if nothing was amiss as he traipsed across the plywood and approached the door of the adjoining cell. He whipped out a key ring and commenced opening the cell. He didn’t even seem to notice that he was walking on the big, overturned plank of wood!

What is he doing? He has no prisoner with him — what is he doing?
Saffron craned her neck to ogle him a little better.

The chef engaged the lock — clink — swung the cell door open, then promptly entered the cell and proceeded to shut the gate and set the lock firmly.

Orji and Saffron stared at him, mouths agape. They blinked only once, in unison. The chef walked to the back of the cell, settled himself on a long, narrow bench, and produced a book from one pocket and an apple from the other. He found his place in the book, bit the apple, and wiped the juice that dribbled down his chin with his soiled sleeve. His eyes began to rove the page.

Orji and Saffron said nothing. They didn’t resume their conversation and they didn’t question the obviously-detained chef. They just hung there dumbly.

A short while later, a raucous bunch descended the stairs — their shrill voices bounced off the cold stone, their trilling caused Saffron to grind her teeth. Four women — four chambermaids to be exact, all howling and cackling like a murder of crows.

Only four,
Saffron mused — she could have sworn there was going to be at least a hundred by the amount of noise they made.

They four stopped short when Saffron and Orji came into view. They burst into booming laughter. Out of the corner of her eye Saffron saw Orji flinch.

Just as soon as the women looked at the two oddballs hanging half out of the cell, they looked away, their beady eyes settling on the cook. They gave the chef low wolf whistles and fanned themselves dramatically. “C’mon, bad girls,” he growled, “get ye ample behinds behind these bars where the likes of you belong.” He hurried to unlock the cell, admiring their voluptuous bodies as they filed in, each giving him their own version of a seductive look.

Yuck,
Saffron sniffed,
they ain’t picky around here — are they?

The group in the next cell made so much noise that Saffron and Orji felt comfortable enough to resume their quiet conversation. “What the hell is going on?” Saffron hissed.

“
Baby, I have no idea.” Orji wished he could run his hand through his hair, rub at his face in frustration, chew the calluses on his thumb — anything! But no, they weren’t moving.

“
Hey, at least we have no blood in our bodies. At this angle I’d be getting pins and needles right now.” Saffron indicated her right arm with her chin. The arm was bent at the elbow, with her fingers reaching heavenward. Then she groaned as she felt the familiar weakness engulf her arm and assault her with thousands of tiny, electric pricks. She groaned. She couldn’t summon the scent of the prince earlier, but she had to sit here and feel this phantom pain. It was all so aggravating!

Orji raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Yer feelin’ that – aren’t ya? There’s nothing wrong with feeling, Saffron.”

“
That’s where you’re wrong — this particular feeling sucks.”

Over the next half hour, more people — evidently the castle staff — came down the stairs, clacked across the fallen plywood, and let themselves into the jail cells.

The matron that had tricked them here in the first place suddenly stood before them. She was ‘tsk-tsk-tsking.’ “Aaahhh, so, you’re enchanted then. Never would have guessed that — it’s so…unlikely.”

Saffron and Orji had a feeling the woman just gave them a smiling insult, but they weren’t exactly sure. She acted so friendly.

“
And nobody could release these poor souls?”

The dungeon was quite noisy now, what with the one hundred and fifty plus people who filled it. Only a few stopped their conversation to look at the matron. They ignored her all the same and turned away.

The matron sighed. “When I take your hands, move back into the cell and you will be released. No more of your wiliness — your type of magic won’t work here — we’re enchanted against enchantment.” She gave a solid nod, and laughed at her wit — the sound cut short by a phlegmy, asthmatic cough.

“
Wait!” Saffron shouted.

The woman, who was reaching for them, jerked her hands back. She gave Saffron a tired look.

“
What if we go forward — will we be free?”