The Runaway Princess (13 page)

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Authors: Kate Coombs

BOOK: The Runaway Princess
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“Don't judge by appearances,” Meg said. “Besides, you've got an apple core floating around your fancy house.”
“The Golden Apple of Welcoming Delight is reserved for paying guests,” sniped the door. It did not open.
“We need a counterspell,” Nort tried.
“No,” the door said. “Bad for business.”
“Why?” Meg asked.
“Because,” the door lectured, “the first customer wishes his curse to stick. He does not desire his victims' friends and relations to come around buying a counterspell. If he'd thought that was going to happen, he would
have gone to a different wizard. Now, good day to you!” When they didn't move, the door sneered, “By which I mean, go away!”
“What if,” Meg said calmly, “the spell missed its intended target and hit an innocent bystander?”
The door looked surprised.
“And what if,” Meg went on, “the innocent bystander's friend had a pocket full of dragon gold?”
There was a moment's pause. The door swung open.
THE WIZARD WAS VERY SHORT. HE WORE A mask covered with evil-looking runes and gashes like scars. The wizard's great black cloak hid the rest of him, slopping over onto his chair, which was carved with still more baneful runes. This room was ribbed like the insides of a great iron beast. The deep fireplace gaped hungrily. The table and chairs in the corner reminded Meg of thorns. Beside the princess, Nort shivered.
“You're the wizard?” Meg asked.
“I am,” said a gruff voice.
Meg came closer. “What's your name?”
“Wizards never tell their names. You may call me Lex.”
“That's not a wizardly name,” Nort said.
“Ah, but it's not my name,” Lex said triumphantly. “Now. To business. Let's see this gold of yours. Dragon gold? Truly?”
Meg lifted a handful of treasure from her pocket and displayed it.
“A dragon's treasure has magical properties,” the wizard said longingly. “It steeps in dragon magic as the centuries pass.”
Meg put the jewels and coins back in her pocket. “The counterspell,” she prompted.
“Which spell was it?” Lex asked. “The Terrifying Scourge of Baldness? The Evil Cloud of Itch? Or the Midnight Bark of the Dreaded Neighbor's Dog?”
Meg and Nort looked at each other. “Who names your spells?” Meg asked.
The wizard coughed. “You simple folk cannot comprehend the greatness of wizardly ways and wizardly speech.” His voice cracked partway through this pronouncement.
Nort stared. “You're not very old, are you?”
“Lo, I am ancient in years and in wisdom,” the wizard proclaimed oracularly. His voice cracked again.
“Are not,” Meg said.
The wizard Lex was silent for a moment. Then he drew back his dark hood, uncovering an amazing shock of red hair. He pulled off the mask, revealing a bony boy's face patterned with freckles like a more cheerful sort of rune. His dramatically bushy eyebrows were his only impressive feature. “What gave me away?”
Meg shrugged. “Little things.”
The wizard frowned. “I've been practicing and practicing my aura of lordly darkness.”
“Maybe in a few years,” Meg suggested. “But it must not matter. Everyone knows you're the best.”
“That's true. My mother says I'm the most talented wizard in three kingdoms. There's an old wizard on the Isle of Skape who's better, but he's had years to refine his techniques. Which spell are you here about?”
“A glowing ball that turned my friend into a little silver box.”
“Triangular?” Lex asked.
“That's the one.”
Lex brightened. “Capture Your Enemy for the Indefinite Future. Doubles as a conversation piece.”
“What does?”
“The box, of course. It's very pretty.”
Meg managed not to roll her eyes. The wizard seemed to have trouble sticking to the point.
Lex hopped to another thought. “Was my client upset?”
“Amused,” Meg said. “He threw it and missed.”
“Amused. Are you sure?”
Meg nodded.
“After all, the spell did what it was supposed to,” the young wizard reflected. “Anyone can see I'm not responsible for customer error. Even a certain sinister dark-haired client would have to admit it.”
“Bain,” Nort whispered to Meg unnecessarily.
Just then the scarf, which had draped itself around Meg's neck outside the wizard's door, uncoiled and sailed down to the floor. It began crawling about like a
midnight-colored serpent. Lex watched, fascinated. “Where did you get that?”
“The witch,” Meg told him. “Her grandmother made it.”
Lex crouched to get a better look. The scarf slithered away under the thorny table. “What does it do?”
“Whatever it feels like,” Nort grumbled.
Meg grinned. “That's true.”
Lex stood up again. “I don't suppose you'd like to sell it?”
“It's not mine. It's only borrowed.” Besides, Meg thought, the scarf was proving to be far more useful than she had anticipated. Even if it was a bit fickle.
“Pity. My great-aunt made a griffin out of smoke once,” Lex remarked.
Nort cleared his throat.
“The counterspell?” Meg said gently.
Lex looked puzzled, but only for a moment. “Yes, yes. You two wait here. Don't touch anything.”
“Can't we watch?” Meg said, disappointed.
“Magic is a solitary art,” Lex informed her. “Also prone to unfortunate splatters.”
He stood, tripping a little over his robes. As if to make up for that, the wizard disappeared in a flash of scarlet light.
“Show-off,” said Nort.
 
Feg paced around the prince's chamber while Bain sat lazily in a carved chair, toying with a tiny silver box on a
chain. “Vantor turned purple when I mentioned the bandits might be involved,” Bain said.
Feg stopped pacing, surprised. “You saw the tower—didn't see it, I mean,” he said. “The witch took the princess.”
“Perhaps.”
“Vantor's men were muttering about bandits. They'd been out searching for them all day.”
“Did they find any?”
Feg laughed.
“He's hoping we'll all go after the witch so he can hunt bandits in peace,” Bain observed. “Thinks it's a secret.”
“Every man-at-arms for fifty miles around is talking about how the bandits left him tied up on the mountain.”
“There's even a lute ballad,” Bain said complacently.
“Oh, Vantor went up the dragon's hill, but he only came halfway down,”
the prince sang.
“He has a lot more men now.”
“Where did he get them?”
“They say his brother sent most of them. He hired a few more in the worst section of Crown.”
“Won't do him any good if he can't find the bandits,” Bain remarked. The prince sat up, leaning his chin on his hands. “Me, I want to find that girl.”
“What girl?”
“The one at the witch's hut. She knows where the
dragon is. She knows where the witch is. And I've got something she wants.” Bain closed his hand around the little box.
“Who is she?”
“I intend to find out.” Prince Bain stood up.
“Aren't you going to rescue the princess?”
Bain considered the matter. “Suppose the witch didn't make that spell. Then it would have to be a wizard.”
“They'd do it, if the price was right,” Feg said.
“One of the other princes might have paid for a spell and kidnapped the princess. To make sure no one else got her out first.”
“He could claim to have rescued her later,” Feg agreed.
“Vantor doesn't have that much imagination.” Bain looked in the wavy glass, smoothing his hair. Next he rumpled it just a little.
“What are you going to do?” Feg asked. “The witch and the girl could be anywhere.”
“The rest of that crowd can march around the woods all night. We'll start by asking for information here in the castle. The girl and her friend may have been castle servants.”
“We?”
“You'll talk to the stableboys and manservants. I'll talk with the maids and ladies.”
Feg guffawed. “Of course you will.” He sobered. “It
won't do any good. There must be dozens of servant girls with brown braids.”
“Ask the men if they've seen anything odd,” Bain told him.
“Maybe she wasn't from the castle at all.”
“True enough. But we might turn up other tidbits as we spy about.”
Feg still looked doubtful. Bain slapped him on the back. “Don't worry, old friend. We'll ride out in the morning. You can go into the city and talk to wizards, to find out if anyone paid for invisibility magic.”
“And you?”
“I'll hunt the witch out toward the moors.” Bain smiled. “If I find a bandit along the way, so much the better.”
“Careful,” Feg said. “Wouldn't want you to end up tied to a tree.”
 
The counterspell was a little wooden box, also triangular. It appeared seamless, but Lex assured them it was not. “Give it a twist, then touch the silver box with it,” he said, showing Meg which way to hold the new box.
“All right,” Meg said, putting out her hand.
The wizard gave her the box. “My payment?” he said politely.
Meg drew out the dragon gold and piled it on the table. “What do you want all this treasure for?”
Lex gestured around the room. “My fees usually go
toward overhead. Magic costs, you know. Powdered wyvern's tail doubled in price just last month.”
“But you said dragon's gold is magic,” Nort remembered.
“Even better. I can use most of it directly for my spells.”
Meg and Nort moved toward the door.
“Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay and talk a bit?” the young wizard asked, disappointed. “I could make hot chocolate.”
Nort perked up at this, but Meg shook her head. “We've got to find out where Bain's keeping the spell.”
“That's Dilly's job,” Nort said.
“You could sleep over,” Lex told them. “I've got guest rooms.”
“Bain won't be going anywhere tonight,” Nort pointed out. “Even if he does, Dilly can follow him.”
Lex looked hopeful.
“It's not like we can sleep in our own beds,” Nort said significantly.
Meg felt her own weariness. It
was
rather late. That Bain would probably be going to bed himself. “All right,” she said. “But we'll have to get up early.” She remembered her manners. “Thank you, Lex.”
“You're welcome!” The wizard bustled out of the room, coming back shortly with three steaming mugs of chocolate. Meg hoped he kept his food supplies and his magic supplies separate. Her stomach growled.
Nort turned toward the fireplace, where purple and green flames curled dangerously. “Do you have any marshmallows?”
Lex nodded. “And bread for toasting, too.” He flicked his hand. A plate of bread and marshmallows thumped out of thin air onto the table. Three silver toasting forks popped into sight beside them.
“Why didn't you get the chocolate that way?”
“It's liable to spill,” Lex explained. He tilted his head quizzically. “Why can't you sleep in your own beds?”
 
Dilly kept her head down, finishing her work. At last she made her way toward the little room she shared with three other maids, hoping not to have to talk with any of them. She was good at keeping secrets, but they did prickle her insides. I should have pretended I didn't know anything, she told herself, wondering what Meg would think about her encounter with the queen. But the queen had already known Meg was out. And, Dilly thought hopefully, she didn't act like she was going to interfere. Dilly turned a corner.
Prince Bain was in the passageway, talking to Maude, the queen's lady-in-waiting. Dilly turned softly to go back the other way, but they had already seen her.
“That's Dilly,” Maude said, “the princess's own maid.” Dilly froze.
“Thank you,” Bain said charmingly. Maude simpered as he walked toward Dilly. Finally Maude left, with a last longing gaze at the prince.
As Bain came closer, he lifted his brows. “Ah,” he said. “You are
also
the young lady I met outside the witch's cottage.”
Dilly scowled. “I told you, I went after a love spell!”
“Did you?” The prince lowered his voice, staring at Dilly with his bright eyes. “Or were you there to sell your mistress into the hands of the crone?”
Dilly's jaw dropped. “I would
never
—” she said indignantly, but Bain interrupted her. “Apparently not.”
“I have nothing to say to you, sir.”
“No,” Bain said thoughtfully. “I suppose you don't.” He stood watching Dilly as she scurried away down the hall.
 
“I'm the princess,” Meg told the wizard. “I've run away from that stupid contest they're having.”

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