The Bag of Bones (18 page)

King Frank snorted loudly. “Rubbish, Mildred. Nothing poor about Bella. Never wanted to be queen, right from the time she was a baby. Don’t you remember? She was always running away from royal parties, always preferred to be in the stables or on the farm. I’d stake my crown she was laughing fit to bust when she left young Vincent on the palace steps, tucked up in a basket with her diamond-buckled shoe. Wish I’d seen Bluebell’s face when she found she had a grandson and not a granddaughter. Whoops! Are you all right, Gracie, my dear? You jumped.”

“Oh — I’m so sorry,” Gracie said. “It was just . . . I just thought of something. It doesn’t matter.”

“I feel sorry for Vincent.” Arioso shook his head. “Poor fellow! Prince of Wadingburn but can’t ever be king.”

“Hang on a minute! I’m a prince, but I’ll never be a king,” Marcus interrupted. “But I don’t mind. Much rather
not
be king, actually.”

“But the new Queen of Wadingburn might be quite delightful, and you could fall in love with her, and the two of you could rule together,” his mother suggested.

Marcus made a face. “Not likely. No wonder Queen Bluebell’s finding it difficult to choose. There isn’t a princess in all the Five Kingdoms that isn’t as dull as dishwater.”

“Nina-Rose is wonderful,” Arry said dreamily.

“Princess Marigold is a sweet little thing,” Queen Mildred pointed out, “and so is Princess Evelina . . . or do I mean Charlotte? Or is it Mirabella who has those charming golden curls?” As she began to list the possibilities for future brides, King Frank’s eyes closed. Marcus began an argument with Arry over the speed at which they were traveling, and Gracie looked out the window. There was an extremely thoughtful expression on her face.

Brother Bodalisk was not happy. He had risked everything in his dash from the hayloft to the shed, but when he arrived and blurted out the dreadful news Evangeline refused to believe him. “Truda promised she’d let us go,” she said. “She absolutely
promised,
just as long as we do exactly what she says. We’re to creep into the Royal State Room, where the party’s going to begin, and wait until the speeches are over. Then, just as Queen Bluebell is about to declare her successor and everyone’s looking at her, we’re each to go to a door or a window and — abracadabra! We’ll be back to our normal sizes.” Evangeline sighed wistfully. “She’s even said we won’t be whiskery anymore. Won’t that be wonderful?”

“Matter of taste,” Bodalisk said shortly. “But doll, it’s Deep Magic. You can’t trust her —”

“But I have to,” Evangeline interrupted him. “Don’t you see? There’s no other way.”

“You could stay as you are, babe. The moment I saw you, my heart went pit-a-pat!”

Evangeline shook her head. “I’m sorry, Boddie. Once Queen Bluebell and all her guests see the hundreds and hundreds and
hundreds
of rats, she’s sure to make Truda queen — and then Truda’ll let us go, and everything will be just fine.”

Bodalisk sighed heavily. “Whatever.” He took himself off to a corner and slumped against the wooden wall.
Cute babe, Evangeline, but she doesn’t care.
A sudden thought popped into his head, and he sat up.
Told that kid in the kitchen I’d let her know what was going on. Might as well do that as hang around here. Kitchen’ll be crazy, but do I mind? No. Broken-hearted, that’s me.

And Bodalisk set off down the rat hole that led from the shed to the kitchen.

Marlon was also watching and waiting for an opportunity to speak to Loobly. On arrival at the palace, he had been almost deafened by the noise of the preparations for the party. Servants were running in all directions; one orchestra was tuning up in the grand ballroom and another on the terrace; and small and flustered pageboys were everywhere, misunderstanding instructions and passing on incorrect messages. Marlon took a deep breath and headed for the kitchen. There he found such chaos that he flew straight out again, followed by loud screams from the cook — but not before he had seen Loobly struggling with a large sack of potatoes.

Flying higher, he investigated other windows. Queen Bluebell the Twenty-eighth was already in the Royal State Room. She was marching up and down, studying a long list of names, looking worried. Prince Vincent was lurking by a side entrance, looking anxious. Various officials, including the Prime Minister, were in their rooms admiring themselves in their mirrors.

Marlon flew higher still. From this height he could see numbers of coaches and carriages all heading toward the palace, although only one or two had gotten as far as the huge stone pillars at the entrance.

“Goin’ to be some party,” he thought. “That dame may be evil, but she’s clever with it. Kings and queens all over the place. If she’s declared queen, she’ll have Deep Magic in the Five Kingdoms in no time at all.” He slipped into a rolling dive and headed back toward the kitchen. It was still frantically busy, although now the back door was wide open, presumably to cool down the perspiring cook and her assistants.

Marlon grinned and headed for the dairy. With a twist and a spin, he settled himself under the slated roof near a small open window that looked directly onto the kitchen door and prepared to wait.

Gracie was shaken out of her thoughts by the coach going over a series of bumps as they approached Wadingburn. King Frank continued snoring, and Queen Mildred stirred but sank back into a doze. For a moment Gracie wondered why she had a cold, sick feeling at the pit of her stomach — and then she remembered. She was on her way to meet Deep Magic in a dress seven times too large for her, armed with not much more than a wild idea and the crones’ belief in the power of Truehearts.

Think positive, Gracie,
she thought.
You’ve got Marcus with you, and Marlon’s already at the palace. Oh, and there’s Alf as well.
The thought of Alf made her smile, and Marcus winked at her.

“Well done!” he mouthed. “You look . . . OK.”

“I can’t get out of the coach until your parents have gone,” Gracie whispered back. “If I get up, this dress is likely to fall off.”

Arioso, ever the Perfect Prince, looked at her in horror, but Marcus leaned forward.

“Listen, bro. There’s things going on at the palace, and if you don’t want Wadingburn to be overrun with Deep Magic, you’ll help us.”

“Deep Magic?” Arry paled. “We should tell Father at once —”

“No!”
Marcus hissed so loudly that King Frank grunted and opened one bleary eye.

Gracie put her finger to her lips, and a moment later the snores continued.

“He’d never believe you,” Marcus went on. “You’ll just have to trust us. Gracie — Gracie’s kind of special. We’re on a mission to save the kingdom!”

Arry still looked doubtful.

“It’s true, Prince Arioso,” Gracie said earnestly. “And . . . and if you could arrange it so your parents get out of the coach before me, I’ll . . . I’ll be your friend for life.”

Arry melted. “I’ll do my best,” he promised.

“Thank you so much.” Gracie smiled her widest smile, and Marcus found himself feeling inexplicably annoyed with his twin. Before he could say anything, however, the coach gave a sudden lurch and stopped.

“The Royal Palace of Wadingburn!” announced the coachman, and King Frank and Queen Mildred awoke with a start.

“Goodness!” Queen Mildred fluttered her fan. “Here we are already! How delightful! Now, children, you get out first. I have to take my time. . . .”

Before Gracie could panic, Arry leaned toward his mother. “Please excuse us,” he said, “but Marcus, Gracie, and I have arranged to drive around to the side door to meet Prince Vincent. Would you like me to help you before we go?”

His mother tapped his cheek with her fan. “I’ll manage, dear. We’ll see you later!” She took King Frank’s arm and heaved herself onto the palace steps, where a row of footmen were waiting. “Drive on, coachman!”

Inside the coach, Marcus frowned. “You shouldn’t have come with us, Arry,” he said as they moved off again. “You’ll only get in the way.”

“But it’s true!” Arry looked affronted. “I arranged to meet Vincent when I saw him yesterday. He’s scared his grandmother’s going to ask him to make a speech, so he’s keeping out of sight, and he wants me to keep him company.”

“Oh.” Marcus shrugged. “Sorry.”

“No offense taken,” said his brother grandly, and the coach stopped for the second time.

Before either Arry or Marcus could move, the door was wrenched open, and Prince Vincent was looking in on them. “Arry, is that you?” he asked, and his voice was shaking. “I’ve just had the most awful shock! I was waiting for you, and I was walking up and down, and I happened to look down through the grating into the cellar, and it’s just
swarming
with rats! Millions and millions and
millions
of them! And they weren’t just running around — they were in
lines
! And their eyes were all kind of stary and mad —”

“Let me look!” Marcus was already beside Vincent. “Where’s this window?”

“Oh . . . it’s you, Marcus.” Vincent sounded less than enthusiastic. “Erm . . . over there.” And he pointed to an iron grating at the bottom of the wall.

“I’m coming too,” Gracie said, and with some difficulty she extricated herself from the coach. Vincent’s mouth opened wide as she climbed down the steps, and he looked at Arry for an explanation.

“This is Gracie Gillypot, Vincent,” Arry explained. “We gave her a lift.”

Marcus was bent double trying to see into the cellar, but before Gracie could join him, he stood up again. “Sorry, Vince,” he said. “Must have been a trick of the light or something. There’s nothing there — nothing at all.”

“What?” Prince Vincent flew to check, then came away shaking his head. “But I
saw
them. I did! I’m sure I did. . . .”

“It’s very dark in the cellar,” Gracie said kindly. “I often imagine I see things when it’s dark.”

“I suppose you could be right,” Vincent agreed, grateful for the excuse. “Erm . . . forgive me, but isn’t that dress just a little too big for you?”

“It’s
much
too big,” Gracie agreed. “But — but there wasn’t much choice.” She put her hand on Marcus’s arm. “Shouldn’t we be going to find the kitchen?”

“The kitchen?” Prince Vincent looked at her in astonishment.

A flash of inspiration hit Marcus, and he nodded. “Don’t you remember, Vince? You were telling us all about the amazing cakes for the party. Gracie — Gracie wants to see them!”

“Oh!” Vincent beamed at Gracie. “Of course! There’s the most divine sponge with rose-petal cream, and of course the birthday cake is just amazing!” He rubbed his hands together. “And guess what? It’s hollow! Can you keep a secret?”

Gracie nodded.

Vincent’s smile grew even wider. “I’m going to hide inside, and when Grandmother cuts it open, I’m going to pop up and sing a birthday song!”

“Wow.” Gracie could think of nothing else to say. But Arry shook his head. “Won’t do, Vincent. Most undignified. Besides, you’re the host! Can’t leave your guests while you hide in a cake.”

Vincent looked sulky. “But I don’t want to have to make a speech.”

Prince Arioso of Gorebreath drew himself up to his full height and looked disapprovingly at the little prince. “Vincent,” he said, “a prince has responsibilities. And a prince has duties. Do you want your grandmother to take you seriously or not?”