Thrice Upon a Marigold (10 page)

“Have you forgotten I'm a scientist?” Vlad asked. “I can whip up a sleeping potion with one arm tied behind my back.”

The only sleeping potions Emlyn had known to come out of Vlad's laboratory were ones that made someone sleep permanently. “Do you mean actual
sleep?”
she asked. “Or . . .” She trailed off.

Vlad ignored her and kept going, weaving sinuously between the trees. They plunged on, following him until he came to a halt at a jumble of rocks that looked as if they'd been tossed around by a giant's hand. Maybe they had been.

“Ah,” he said. “This will do.”

“What?” Fogarty asked. “What will do?”

“You know this whole area is riddled with caves, don't you?” Vlad said. “The dragon lives in one. That great big, crystal-studded one is now the Zandelphia castle. They're all over the place. And I'm betting there's one in here. One that will be hard to find—though not for me, of course—because of the disorder of these rocks.” He climbed up into the rock pile and began poking around while the rest of them sank onto the ground, panting.

“If he's so smart, why are we in this mess?” Fogarty said. “I thought this was supposed to be a straight, uncomplicated job. Take the kid, get the money, give the kid back.”

“So did I,” Emlyn said. “Maybe this is just a little hitch. After tomorrow we'll have our money and it'll be over.” But her voice didn't sound as confident as she wished it had.

“What about it, Boris?” Fogarty asked. “What do you think?”

Thinking wasn't something Boris was all that familiar with, but he wrinkled his brow and gave it a try. He had spent his life building instruments of torture and using them. That was easy, unlike thinking. Since the exile, he'd been rootless and restless, desperate for something to do, but he hadn't been able to figure out what. And he was running out of money, besides.

This kidnapping idea of Vlad's had seemed like the answer to a prayer. Some excitement, some vengeance on the people who had ruined his life, a lot of money at the end of it, and the opportunity to relocate, to find a place where he and Vlad could use their skills again. But somehow it all seemed to be going horribly wrong. No one had ever mentioned anything about a tent, or a goat, or running for one's life. Or about being abandoned by Vlad, his lifetime accomplice. Boris's home in exile might be a pigsty—really, he didn't think it was
that
bad—but it was familiar, and he wished he was in it right now.

“Well, I . . .” he began, not sure what he was going to say. But before he could go any farther, Vlad exclaimed, “I've found it! Come here!”

They all began scrambling over the rocks, passing the laundry basket containing Princess Poppy from hand to hand as they hustled to where Vlad waited. But they couldn't see any opening to a cave.

“You found what?” Boris asked, wiping sweat from his eyes with the tail of his shirt.

“Look.” Vlad pointed. “Down there.”

They looked. At their feet was a small hole, barely visible under an overhanging rock.

“Oh, no,” Fogarty said. “I'm not going down there. It looks like there's only one way in or out. That's never smart. Didn't you say we should hide somewhere we couldn't be trapped, and where we could get away easily? And didn't you say we should be near water? This has none of that.”

“And it's
dark,
” Emlyn said. “How can you make a sleeping potion in the dark?”

“I'm not sure I'll fit in there,” Boris added. “It's a pretty small hole, and I've put on a bit since I haven't been working.” He patted his round stomach. “And we don't know how big the space is. Will we all fit?”

“One must be adaptable,” Vlad said. “Those are all reasons that it's the perfect hiding place. There's only one way in, so no one can sneak up on us. And if they try to get in, they're perfect targets. Yes, it's dark, but that makes it safe. And I already have the sleeping potion. I brought it here with me from my lodge. As for you, Boris, I'm sure we can get you in if we push hard enough. And we'll all fit inside, even if I have to have Boris lop off a few parts.”

These arguments were met with silence. Especially the last one. Finally Emlyn said, “What if they find us and don't even try to get us out? What if they just cover the hole with rocks and go away?”

Fogarty gulped loudly.

“Don't forget,” Vlad said smoothly. “We have the baby. They'd never do that as long as we have her.”

Again they were silent. And Emlyn was again the one to speak. “What if it
is
too small for all of us?”

Just then, behind them and above the treetops, a flock of widgeons suddenly took flight, as if startled by something. Like maybe a king and his followers on the chase.

“Anybody have a better idea?” Vlad asked.

Another flock of widgeons, a little closer, erupted over the treetops.

“Well?” he prodded.

Fogarty sighed heavily, then said, “Oh, all right,” and lowered himself into the hole.

“You next, Emlyn,” Vlad said. “Chop-chop. They're getting closer.”

Reluctantly, Emlyn followed Fogarty down into the hole. Once she landed, she called up, “It's deeper than I thought down here. And darker.”

“You next, Boris,” Vlad said, holding the laundry basket containing the princess under his arm.

Boris, whose brain cells had been piqued by some of Fogarty's and Emlyn's comments, felt a crowd of question marks arriving in his mind. Could Vlad be trusted? Come to think of it, he'd never known him to be especially trustworthy.

“That's okay,” Boris said. “You go ahead. I'll hand the basket down to you.”

“I insist,” Vlad insisted.

“How come you're so insistent?” Boris asked. “Why don't you want to go first?”

“What's going on up there?” Emlyn called.

Vlad said, “I can't go first because someone will need to give you a push to get you through. Now move it! Time's wasting!”

“You can pull on my legs from down there to get me in,” Boris said. “Now I'm insisting.” He flexed his thick biceps and scowled.

Vlad took a long look at Boris, his brows drawn together in contemplation, then turned on his heels and sprinted off, clambering over the rock pile and vanishing down the other side.

“Huh?” Boris said, before realizing that Vlad had never had any intention of going down into the hole. He was escaping! With the object of the ransom! That baby was worth two million ducats and Vlad was getting away with her!

With a spurt of adrenaline, Boris took off after him.

“Hey!” Emlyn yelled from the bottom of the hole. “Where is everybody else?”

The only sound she heard was the rattle of stones under Boris's boots as he hustled up over the rock pile, hot on Vlad's trail.

I
KNOW THEY CAME THIS
way!” Chris called back as he ran. “I didn't spend my childhood in these woods without knowing how to track.”

They had had to stop while Wendell caught his breath. Chris wished he could have kept the group running off without Wendell, but it had been his idea to bring the wizard on this expedition, so he was forced to have them all accommodate. If they'd only reached Vlad's lodge a few minutes sooner, he'd have Poppy now, safe and sound (he hoped), and Boris and Vlad and their cohorts would be in custody. Why hadn't they started earlier, ridden faster, dawdled less? But now he was so close behind, he could almost smell them. Or maybe he actually
was
smelling Boris, who had always left quite an aroma in his wake.

Sebastian, Rollo, and the other guard stayed alert to make sure they weren't set upon—either by the kidnappers or any other random rogues who frequented the forest. And as Sebastian looked around, he noticed something.

“Where's Phoebe?” he asked. “When did we lose her?”

“She was behind me when I ran out the back door,” Wendell said, proud that he had been going fast enough to be ahead of
someone.
“But I don't recall seeing her since then.”

“Neither do I,” Chris said, rising from where he'd been examining the trail. He knew now which way the culprits had gone and he was eager to keep going.

Sebastian wondered how he could have taken this long to notice she was missing, when he was usually conscious of her every move. “I'll go back,” he said, alarm in his voice. “Something must have happened to her.”

Just then they heard a call through the dense forest.

“It's Phoebe!” Sebastian said, running back the way they had come. “It's Phoebe!”

It took longer than Christian had hoped it would, but soon Sebastian returned to the clearing, holding Phoebe by the hand. She was followed by a goat on a rope, and in her other hand she held her sash, the opposite end of which was bound around the wrists of Bartholomew.

“What's this?” Christian asked.

Phoebe gave him a quick explanation. The presence of the goat, once the king understood it, caused his heart to grow cold.

“We've got to find them,” Chris said. “We've
got
to. Wendell, I want you and the guardsman and Hannibal to head back to the castle with the goat and Bartholomew. I'll deal with him later. Right now, we've got to move faster.”

Wendell grumbled about being left behind, but truthfully, he was glad. His legs were old and short and he'd run about as far as he could. “All right. As long as you know I wish I was coming with you. But I'll do my duty. Come on, you.” He pulled the goat behind him while the guard took hold of Bartholomew.

Chris turned to the young footman. “And in case you're getting any ideas, Wendell is an accomplished wizard and he can turn you into a toad in an eye blink if there's any funny business.”

Wendell wasn't entirely sure he
could
do that, but the king's stern voice was apparently convincing, because Bartholomew muttered glumly, “It might be better if he did. I'm pretty much a toad already.”

“Come on, then,” Wendell said, and he and the guard dragged their captives off through the trees.

When Wendell, Bartholomew, and the goat were out of sight, Sebastian said, “Pardon me, Your Majesty. I don't mean to be insubordinate, but do you think it's wise to send Wendell off, even if he is a wizard? Bartholomew is twice as big as he is, and younger and stronger. He'd have no trouble overpowering Wendell if he took it into his mind to do so.”

“I don't mind your questioning me at all, Sebastian,” Christian said. “It's the duty of a conscientious citizenry. But don't worry about Wendell. Even if his powers are diminished—and I think I convinced Bartholomew they aren't—he's as tough as ten ice bears and has a heart of iron. Bartholomew wouldn't have a chance. Besides, there's a very well-armed guard with them.”

Phoebe was thinking,
Insubordinate.
What a lovely word.
And when was the last time she'd heard a nice-looking young man use it? Why—never, that's when. What a treat. And to have a ruler who could say
conscientious
and
citizenry
in the same sentence. Lovely.

With that, Christian turned back into the forest and once again picked up the trail of the kidnappers.

 

Emlyn and Fogarty each reacted differently to being left deep in the hole. Fogarty, to his own surprise, burst into furious tears. And Emlyn scooped up all the rocks she could find and hurled them out of the hole, even though she knew the Terrible Twos were long gone and couldn't be touched by them. She also yelled every bad word she had ever heard, taking some satisfaction in hearing them echo in the dimness. She hated to admit it, but she was as worried about the fate of Poppy as she was outraged at being so easily hornswoggled. She should have known better than to trust Vlad when it came to dividing up a lot of money. Of course he would try to get rid of his cohorts.

“How long do you think we'll be in here?” Fogarty whined.

“How should I know?” Emlyn said crossly. “Maybe forever.”

Forgarty burst into fresh torrents of weeping.

“Oh, shut up,” Emlyn comforted. “We need to figure a way to get out of here.”

“There is no way without someone to help us,” he sobbed. “We have no tools, no equipment. Nothing.”

“You make a very good point,” Emlyn said. “Thanks for the helpful information. I think maybe I could get out if you would let me stand on your shoulders.”

“Then how will
I
get out?”

“I'll go get a rope,” she said brightly.

“Nothing doing. I know you well enough to know you'd never come back. So why should I help you escape?”

He was smarter than she'd hoped. Folding her arms across her chest, Emlyn plopped down on the damp ground. “Since you're so smart,
you
come up with a plan.”

They sat in grim silence, stewing and fuming and weeping helplessly.

There are only a few things worse than having to face up to the fact that the predicaments one finds oneself in are usually the results of one's own foolish actions.

 

Chris powered on through the trees, his mind on Poppy, and also on Marigold, trapped in the dragon's lair with no way out. He'd have to worry about that later, though. Right now, he had to get Poppy back before those Terrible Twos starved her, or abandoned her someplace where he'd never find her.

Abruptly he came to a halt against a great tumbled pile of rocks.

“Looks like a giant's been playing here,” Chris said. “But here's something I know about giants' playgrounds. Giants leave deep footprints. Big as caves. Those footprints might be covered with rocks, but there could be places underneath big enough to hide in. This could be a possible hiding place.”

“Do you think this is the kind of place where Vlad would really choose to hide?” Sebastian asked.