Thrice Upon a Marigold (12 page)

“Of course,” Chris said. “I've come to believe in your sound judgment and good ideas.”

Well, that was about the nicest thing anybody had ever said to Sebastian, and it made him terribly afraid to say anything more. What if this was one time his judgment wasn't sound at all and his ideas were dreadful? But his king was waiting for him to speak, so he had to.

“I think it would work best if you and Rollo took the prisoners back to the castle and Phoebe and I went in search of our fathers. We know them better than anybody does, so we have the best chance of tracking them down.”

“You're amateurs!” Rollo exclaimed, his professional pride hurt.

“And Poppy's
my
daughter,” Chris said.

“We know,” Phoebe said. “And no one knows better than we do that the worst place for a little baby to be is with our fathers. We want to get her away from them as much as you do.”

“We can't leave the prisoners unattended while we all go off searching,” Sebastian said reasonably. “They could get loose. And we can't bring them with us. That would slow us down. Someone has to take them back.” He stopped there. Unlike most people, he knew when to quit talking. He had made his case and understood that the person who had heard it now needed time to think it over.

After a moment, Christian's shoulders slumped and he said, “You're right. We'll take these vermin back to the castle and then we'll come right back here with your horses and be ready for you when you come back with the other vermin. Oh. Sorry. I know they're your fathers.”

“It's okay,” Sebastian said. “They
are
vermin.”

“Indeed,” Phoebe added.

“We'll hurry, but I can't promise we can get back before it's completely dark. How do you feel about being out here in the dark, searching?'

“I don't think we have a choice,” Sebastian said. “We're running out of time. We have to use every minute.”

“Then, here.” The king handed Sebastian his knapsack. “Take this. There's some food and water and some things for Poppy if—I mean
when
—you find her.”

Sebastian took the knapsack. He and Phoebe had their own, too, of course, but he understood the king's need to help. And maybe they would be gone so long, they would need more supplies. Expecting to find Vlad and Boris by nightfall seemed wildly optimistic. “Thank you, Your Majesty. You can count on us.”

He hoped he was right.

S
EBASTIAN AND
P
HOEBE WATCHED
as their king marched Emlyn and Fogarty off at the end of his halberd, back toward where the horses waited. Once the sound of their footsteps had faded into the trees, Phoebe said, “What do we do now? I have absolutely no idea where my father could be. Do you?”

“I've been giving it some thought,” Sebastian said. “And I do have an idea. They still want the ransom, don't they? And that means they intend to go to the dragon's lair at sunset tomorrow. So they have to stay close enough to get there by then. We could just wait for them there.”

“But the princess,” Phoebe reminded him. “They didn't take the goat; they're not even bothering to feed Poppy now. They might show up for the money and not have a baby to exchange for it. You know they'd just take the money and run again. And they have time now to make a better plan for escape. For all I know, they've made a deal with the flying monkeys.”

“That would be bad, of course. But those monkeys are unusually hard to locate. I think they're going to try to use the dragon. They're fascinated by her, they want the ransom exchange made near her lair, and she could easily hold back an army with her flames, giving them plenty of time to get away.”

“So where do you think they are now?”

“I may be wrong, but I think they've gone back to either Vlad's lodge or Boris's pigsty to wait it out. Those are the last places they'd expect anyone to look, since they've already been searched. And I think my father meant to leave your father behind in that hole, too, with Emlyn and Fogarty, but something went wrong.”

“You think your father wants to be the Terrible One?”

“He's a loner, he's arrogant—thinks he's smarter than everybody, always has—and I'm sure he doesn't want to share the ransom money.”

“My father may not be as smart as yours, but he's very tenacious. It's always been almost impossible to get him to stop something once he has his teeth into it, so to speak. Though sometimes, literally. Vlad is going to have a hard time getting rid of him, if that's his plan. And the dragon—what makes you think she'd cooperate with them?”

“She's a dragon, isn't she?” Sebastian said. “Since when do dragons have any scruples?”

Phoebe straightened her back, fire flashing in her eyes. “And just how many dragons have you known?”

“Well, only the one. But I've been hearing stories about them all my life.”

“The same way people have heard stories about us?” she asked, her voice tight. “Just because of who our fathers are? Without any evidence of any kind that we've ever done anything the slightest bit wrong?”

Sebastian finally took a good look at her set face and blinked. “Oh,” he said. After a silence, during which Phoebe continued to glare at him, he said, “I see your point. I'm sorry. That was very foolish of me. Wouldn't it be interesting if the dragon's not as big a threat as we think she is? But I don't think we should count on that. Remember how much burning and scaring she's done over the years.”

“I haven't forgotten that. But I don't want you to forget how easy it is to make judgments that are not based on any facts.”

He took her hand. “Forgive me. Please.” The look he gave her was so remorseful that she had no choice but to accede.

They stayed that way, gazing into each other's eyes for several long moments, until Phoebe cleared her throat and said, “Shouldn't we start looking for the Terrible Twos?”

Sebastian seemed to wake from a minor trance. “Yes. Yes, we certainly should.”

“And if we find them, we should concentrate on saving Poppy, don't you think? Once we have her, the emergency is over. We can leave the Terrible Twos to Rollo and the guards.”

“Exactly,” Sebastian said, relieved.

“We know they're not feeding her, so we might hear her crying from hunger unless they're keeping her quiet somehow. Your father is well-known for his sleeping powders as well as for his poisons, isn't he?”

“Well, yes, but his sleeping powders are intended to put people to sleep permanently.”

“Then, we better get going. Did the king tell you where the guards found Boris's place?”

“Enough that I'm pretty sure I can find it.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?”

Pausing only long enough to divide the contents of Chris's knapsack into their own two, they set off.

 

By the time they located Boris's dwelling, it was almost full dark. Boris's lodge wasn't very far from Vlad's, but it was so concealed by overgrown vegetation that it was almost impossible to see. In fact, they would have missed it entirely if they hadn't spotted a glimmer of lantern light through the wild growth.

Phoebe grabbed Sebastian's arm and pointed. He appreciated the feeling of her hand on his bicep for an instant before he nodded. Both were wondering if the other was as fearful at the prospect of seeing the father they had never wanted anything more to do with.

“We should reconnoiter,” Sebastian said.

“Yes,” Phoebe said. “I suppose we should. What a lovely word. What does it mean?”

“Oh. Sorry. It means to look around. Check things out. Get the lay of the land.”

“Definitely. But it's so dark.”

“We'll have to be very sneaky. The only way we'll have any clue is to get close enough to look in a window. Do you think your father would have any booby traps?”

“I never knew him to be that organized, as you can probably tell by the mess outside here. He liked inventing new instruments of torture but he'd never clean up the clutter left over. He'd just push it aside and step over it. I guess that's a booby trap in itself.”

Sebastian was offended by such appalling habits. But also relieved, under the circumstances. After a long hesitation, he said, “So we should go. Have a look.”

“I know we have to. But I'm scared. Are you?”

He smiled down at her. “Why should I be afraid of one of the nastiest, scariest, most devious brutes the kingdom has ever known? Sure, I'm scared. I've always been afraid of my father. I should be.
Everybody
should be. But do we have a choice? We promised the king we'd rescue Poppy.”

Phoebe took a deep breath. “You're right. Thank you for reminding me.” She began pushing through the tangle of undergrowth toward Boris's house, and Sebastian followed.

They eased toward the window, trying not to make much noise, and arranged themselves on either side of it. When Sebastian nodded, Phoebe bobbed up and darted a look inside, then nodded at Sebastian, who darted his own look. They crouched beneath the window to compare notes.

“Did you see the baby?” Phoebe asked.

“I saw the laundry basket with the royal seal that they took her away in. But it was covered with a towel. I'm not sure she was in there.”

“Of course she's in there. Why else would they have the basket?”

“But the Terrible Twos are surely there, too. How will we get Poppy?”

“We need a distraction. Something that will get them out so we can grab the laundry basket.”

“A distraction,” Sebastian murmured. “Like a lot of noise?”

“Maybe not that,” she said. “If you were in an isolated house in the middle of the forest and you heard a strange sound outside, would
you
go running out to see what it was? Or would you stay inside where it was safe?”

“So we have to make it seem unsafe in there. I know! We could set the place on fire. Then they'd have to come out.”

Phoebe considered this. “I'd be afraid of starting a forest fire. I couldn't bear that.”

And he couldn't bear the stricken look in her eyes. “All right. Well, we could break some windows. That should alarm them.”

“But enough to come out and see what caused it? Or enough to make them hole up inside even tighter?”

“Hmmm. Hard to know. Well, I guess there's only one thing to do.”

“What?”

“We knock on the door and when they open it, hope they're surprised enough that we can rush in, grab the laundry basket, and rush out again.”

“Wow. That's pretty daring. But maybe direct, straightforward action
is
the best thing.”

“Come on, then.” He took her hand and began pulling her toward the front door.

“Oh! You mean now?” She dug in her heels.

“How will it get better if we wait? We'll just get colder and more scared.”

They tiptoed up the front steps, which were littered with leaves and other trash, and raised the door knocker, which, to Phoebe, looked like a leftover part from one of Boris's torture devices. Sebastian took a tender look at her and let the knocker fall.

Faster than they had anticipated, they heard heavy footsteps approaching the door, which was flung open to reveal Boris. He was so large, he filled the entire doorway, dashing their plan to rush past and grab the laundry basket.

“Phoebe?” Boris said. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I, uh, I . . .”

“Have you come to your senses and decided to join your old dad after all?”

The elation in his voice made Phoebe pause. Maybe he really had missed her. Maybe even one of the nastiest, scariest, most devious brutes the kingdom had ever known could have a soft spot for his little girl. Or maybe, her realistic side reminded her, his motivation was something entirely more selfish, nasty, and/or devious. Yes, she had to admit, probably that.

“Come in, come in.” He opened the door wider. “And you, too. Sebastian, isn't it?”

Phoebe and Sebastian threw each other a what-do-we-do-now look, then stepped inside. Almost before they could register the extent of the disarray in the room—pigsty, indeed!—Vlad stepped out from behind the door and blew a handful of sleeping powder from the palm of his hand into their faces.

Their last vision, before they fell to the floor, sound asleep, was of Vlad's evil and very satisfied smile. And the last thing they heard was Boris saying, “I'll throw them in the storeroom. They'll never get out of there.”

A
PLACE WITHOUT WINDOWS IN
the middle of the night is about as dark as it gets, as Phoebe and Sebastian discovered when they woke up. They said each other's names, using the sound to locate each other, the way bats do. When they finally did, they clung together like lost souls, which is exactly how they were feeling.

“The door's locked,” Sebastian said. “I already tried it. And as you've found out, there's plenty of stuff in here to trip over, so we have to be careful.”

“You're still wearing your knapsack!” Phoebe exclaimed as she hugged him. “And so am I! We can use the flint and steel and make a fire for some light!”

He slid the straps off his shoulders. “If we can find them by feel. And if we can find something that will burn.”

“Are you sounding discouraged?” Phoebe asked. “Don't! We're still kicking and we have tools to help ourselves. Think! What is in your knapsack that might burn? What's in mine?”

“Um, let's see. Crackers. Diapers. A handkerchief. Clean socks. My Arthurian mace . . .”

“Oh! Oh!” Phoebe exclaimed. “I've got the king's map! The one we transferred from his knapsack! We're beyond needing a map by now. Let's make a fire with it and get a look at what else is in here. Maybe there'll be something we can use to get ourselves out.”