The Robe of Skulls

by Vivian French

  “There must be a kitchen somewhere,” she said hopefully, and the quill pen zoomed over her shoulder and fluttered in front of WATER WINGS.

  HOT AND COLD WATER, it wrote at enormous speed. GOOD SLEEP HOPE SO TAKE CARE DANGER. It quivered for a second, then did its usual vanishing trick.

  “Thanks!” Gracie called, and opened WATER WINGS’s door to find a large and well-equipped kitchen piled high with dirty dishes. Well, that’s something I can help with, she thought cheerfully as she put down her tray. She filled the sink with scalding water, put as many plates in to soak as would fit, then dried her hands and went to find door seventeen.

  The Ancient One was asleep under her cats, but as Gracie coughed politely, she sat bolt upright. “Ah! There you are, my dear. Sleep well?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Gracie said. She had been about to offer her services in the kitchen, but she was distracted by the web. A dark stain was spreading over the silver fabric, and Elsie was throwing the shuttle to and fro considerably faster than she had been when Gracie saw her last. Val was poring over the fabric with an anxious gaze.

  “Things aren’t good,” Edna said, “and we need your help, if you are willing to give it.”

  Gracie nodded. “I’d be pleased to,” she said. “I was going to offer to wash dishes, but if there’s anything else, I’ll do that instead. Or as well,” she added quickly, in case it sounded as if she was being choosy about doing dishes.

  Edna chuckled. “I knew you were just what we needed the moment you offered to make us tea. Now, let me tell you what’s happened. While you were asleep, we’ve had more news.” She paused. “Perhaps I should go back to the beginning. Did you know your stepsister followed you?”

  “Oh, yes,” Gracie said. “Marlon was so clever! We gave her the slip!”

  “But she was meant to follow you,” Edna said. “That was Marlon’s plan — but it went wrong.”

  Gracie took a sharp breath. “He meant her to? But . . . but he gave me the Trueheart Stew, and she went to sleep! He helped me escape!”

  “He never meant Foyce to catch you,” Edna reassured her. “He wanted her to follow your trail all the way here so she would be caught by the Unwilling Bushes and the Bogs of Unimaginable Depths. They’d have held her fast, you see, and we could have bargained with her. Her life in exchange for a shortish spell on the web. A mere fifty years or so would have cured her nicely.”

  “Erm . . . she’s not very easy to bargain with,” Gracie said.

  A fierce blue fire shone in the Ancient One’s eye. “We have our ways” was all she said, but Gracie was suddenly very glad the Ancient One was her friend and not her enemy.

  “So what went wrong?” she asked.

  Edna leaned forward. “Marlon made a mistake. He forgot that Foyce’s mother was a werewolf. A human would have slept for hours, but she was after you in no time at all . . . and as you know, she can run like the wind. He couldn’t risk her catching you, so he abandoned his plan and brought you here as fast as possible.” Edna’s one blue eye twinkled. “For once he was a bat of his word. It seems you are his hero, Gracie Gillypot. He thinks you can hear spiders laugh.”

  Gracie looked guilty. “And I thought he’d abandoned me . . . but what do you want me to do?”

  The Ancient One stopped twinkling and looked serious. “Is your True Heart also a brave one?”

  “Um.” Gracie thought about it. “I don’t think I know. But I can try to be brave.”

  “A good answer. Now, Foyce has joined forces with Lady Lamorna of Fracture Castle. We knew the old sorceress had a plan — a very simple plan. She intended to turn a number of princes into frogs, then demand gold in return for restoring them to human form. She needs, you see, to pay for a new dress.” For a fraction of a second, the Ancient One of the House of Crones looked extremely smug. “A very beautiful new dress. Embroidered with spiders, and —”

  Elsie cleared her throat in a meaningful way, and Edna lost the dreamy look in her eye.

  “So,” she went on briskly, “we’ve been standing by, waiting for messengers from the palaces to come riding up to ask for help. We have antidotes, you see. In the words of Lady Lamorna’s servant, ‘Frog. Zap! Prince.’ Unfortunately, Foyce has tangled this plan and now has the six royal frogs in her power — and Foyce has ambitions far beyond those of the aged Lady Lamorna.”

  “So what do you want me to do?” Gracie asked.

  The Ancient One looked straight at her. “We want you to go to Fracture and find the frogs. We want you to bring them here so we can remove the enchantment. We want Foyce to follow you, because it is essential for the kingdoms of the Northern Plains that she is kept under our watching eye. There will be help — Marlon has sent word that a young prince, Marcus, will meet you on your way. His brother is among the royal frogs.”

  “Oh.” Gracie looked down at her bare feet so Edna couldn’t see how scared she felt. When she looked up, she was grinning. “Shall I wash the dishes before I go or after I get back?”

  There was a tiny flutter of applause, and Gracie saw a bat balanced on the top of the curtains.

  “Marlon!” she said. “I’m so pleased —”

  “Tch!” Edna interrupted her. “That’s Millie, dear.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “You mustn’t make the mistake of thinking they all look alike.” Then, in her normal tone, she went on: “Marlon is recovering from heat exhaustion in Dreghorn church tower, so Millie has offered to be your guide. By the way, she’s Marlon’s daughter.”

  Gracie was surprised. Somehow she had never thought of Marlon as a family bat. She waved at Millie. “How do you do? It’s very kind of you to help me.”

  Millie flew down from the curtains and looped the loop. “Delighted, I’m sure,” she said. “Are you ready?”

  “I’m ready,” Gracie said.

  Lady Lamorna hardly spoke on the long journey back to Fracture. The realization that Foyce had outmaneuvered her grew clearer with every step, but she could see no way of regaining her power over the girl. Foyce had the royal frogs and was obviously determined to keep them in her possession until she was paid, and paid handsomely at that.

  Although Lady Lamorna still had spell powder in her traveling bag, she was uneasily aware that there was very little left. Only a few pinches. And would the frog spell work on the daughter of a werewolf, or might something much, much worse result? The old sorceress was not given to berating herself, but she could not help but think she had made a mistake. Possibly the worst of her whole life.

  The road seemed endless. Foyce had insisted they stop briefly in Gorebreath while she sniffed her way up and down the two main streets. She said she was looking for a sister, but to Lady Lamorna she had the air of a ferret hunting down a featherless chick. No sister was found, and Foyce took out her frustration on the donkey burdened with the royal frogs. She slapped him so hard he took off at a gallop, and although Foyce easily kept pace with him, Lady Lamorna was hard pressed to keep her in sight.

  What if she gets away from me? the sorceress worried. What can I do? Even the knowledge that she alone could restore the frogs to their human form was of little comfort. She found herself longing for the familiar shambling shape of Gubble. Gubble, who was devoted to her. Gubble, whom she could have ordered to bite, bite, bite . . .

  If Lady Lamorna could have seen Gubble at that very moment, she might have given way to complete despair. Gubble was, for Gubble, looking cheerful. He was not a long way behind the sorceress and Foyce, and he was riding Marcus’s pony with a fair degree of success. There was something like a grin spread over his flat green face, and every so often a deep rumble shook him from head to foot. Marcus, alarmed at first, had decided that this was Gubble’s way of laughing and grinned back.

  When the bedraggled figure had first limped out from behind the gravestone, Marcus had reeled away in horror. But Glee had pushed him forward to look again.

  “Help Gubble,” the troll said hopefully. “Gubble help boy.”

 
Marcus stared. “Did you know your head is on back to front?” was all he could think to say.

  “Gubble knows.” A tear dribbled a green channel down Gubble’s muddy face.

  Marcus studied Gubble carefully. “Don’t you work for that witch?” he asked. “I saw you with her!”

  The troll’s face screwed itself into an expression of intense hatred. “No more Evilness,” he spat. “Gubble’s Trouble, Evilness is.”

  Marcus was impressed. “What about that girl — Foyce?” he said.

  Gubble’s face grew even more livid. “Gubble hate girl.”

  “But I’ve got to find her,” Marcus explained. “She’s got my brother! I have to rescue him — him and the others. Can you show me the quickest way to Fracture? I’ve got a map, but I’d be quicker with a guide. . . .”

  Gubble tried to nod, but his shoulders got in the way. “Gubble knows,” he said. Then again, “Help Gubble!”

  “I’ll do my best,” Marcus said. “I’ll have to get the spell taken off Arry somehow — so whoever does that could help you too. If someone can take the spell off a frog, it should be easy for them to swap your head around.” He put his foot in his stirrup, then paused. “Would you like to ride Glee? I’ll run for a bit. Erm . . . which way do you want to face?”

  After a short experiment, it appeared that Gubble felt happiest with his body facing backward, his head looking forward. This meant that he could hold firmly on to the back of Glee’s saddle, and he felt safer than he ever had riding on the donkey. “Nice!” he said approvingly.

  “Let’s go,” Marcus said, and they left the churchyard to cut across the fields, Glee trotting steadily and Marcus running alongside.

  As the evening drew on, the clouds sank low and a steady drizzle made the various travelers shiver and pull their cloaks and coats tight around them. Gracie was more than grateful for the thick cloak Val had given her. Marcus wondered how Ger had managed with such a thin jacket and resolved that if he found Arry and was able to get him home safe and sound, the first thing he would do would be to buy Ger a brand-new coat that kept the rain out. Lady Lamorna, huddled in her old peasant woman’s woven wool, felt dampness seeping into her bones. Foyce, warm and dry in her fur-lined cape, lessened her pace a little as the narrow path turned muddy and slippery. Only Gubble was happy. His rumblings became a steady drone, and Marcus suspected that he was singing.

  In the church tower at Dreghorn, the clock solemnly chimed midnight. There was a small rustling, and Marlon shook himself awake. “Time for a checkup,” he told himself, and flew to the window. There he let out a series of high-pitched squeaks, stopped, and listened. From Gorebreath came a clear answer, and then, after a pause, a series of relayed messages came flooding in from far and wide.

  “Hmm,” he said to himself proudly. “My Millie’s a good girl. She’s doing well. At the rate she’s traveling, she and kiddo numero uno’ll be in plenty of time for the action. Kiddo number two’s doing good too.” He scratched his stomach in a thoughtful way. “We may get that dame yet . . . but it’s still early.” He yawned a sharp-toothed yawn and flew back to his beam. “Quick doze. Need to keep fresh. Don’t want any more mistakes. . . .” And Marlon slept again.

  He was woken by the faint light of early morning and the flip-flap of the belfry’s resident bats making their way back to bed. After giving his fur a cursory brush, he went back to the window and squeaked again. This time there were fewer replies, but Marlon’s eyes lit up. “Thought the rain would slow ’em down,” he said, “but they’ve done well! All of them getting close. Time to make a move. Better see that the kids are OK. Ciao, all!” And he left the local bats to heave a sigh of relief as they got ready for bed. Having Marlon as a lodger meant far too many interruptions.

  As he flitted his zigzag way over Gorebreath and up Fracture Mountain toward the village, Marlon was pleased to see that the rain had stopped. There were many footprints and hoofprints in the mud of the narrow highway, he noticed. As he soared higher, he saw Marcus and Gubble wearily picking their way up a half-hidden path that led over steep rocks but cut out many of the bends of the usual road. Glee was tethered below on a small patch of grass.

  Marlon swooped down. “Hello, there,” he said cheerfully. “Does the troll know he’s got his head on back to front?”

  Gubble stopped his singing and grunted.

  “Hello,” Marcus said. “And yes, he does. What do you want?”

  Marlon was hurt. “Is that the way to talk to a pal?”

  “You said it was my adventure.” Marcus was grumpy from lack of sleep and soaking-wet boots. “It’s fine for you, flitting about. We have to climb.”

  “See my heart?” Marlon said. “It’s bleeding. Thought you’d like to know that the dame’s back in her den. But I know when I’m not wanted . . .” He shook his head and flew slowly upward.

  “Oops — I’m sorry,” Marcus said with real sincerity. “I really am.” He lowered his voice. “Is it far now?”

  “Well, I never was one to hold a grudge,” Marlon said cheerfully, “so I’ll check it out.” He winked at Gubble and disappeared. Two minutes later, he was back. “Hey! Kiddo! Reinforcements! Follow me —” And he shot off at an angle up the steepest aspect of the slope.

  What does he mean, reinforcements? Marcus wondered, but he scrambled after the bat as fast as he could, Gubble struggling behind him.

  Gracie had found the journey back to Fracture easier than her journey out, despite the rain. Millie was a chatty little bat, and much concerned for Gracie’s comfort, so she took care to pick out the easiest paths. She was very proud of her father and spent much of the journey telling Gracie how busy he was, flying to and fro for the Ancient Crones (“He takes nearly all their orders, Miss Gracie!”) as well as keeping the bat brethren organized, passing messages from one to the other.

  “If you want to find out anything, Miss Gracie, just ask my dad! D’you know he even spends time in the palace library? My mom and me, we say he ought to be a Royal Appointed Bat! He looks at so many books, you wouldn’t believe! Whenever the princes leave them open, my dad’s in there having a peek just as soon as it’s dark. And there’s this professor, see — he’s Miss Val’s brother — and it’s ever so sad because she wants to not be an Ancient Crone anymore, but even my dad can’t find anyone to take her place.”

  Millie paused for breath, and Gracie saw the lights of Fracture village twinkling high above them. A deathly cold feeling seeped into her stomach, and she was particularly glad to have the little bat chatting happily in her ear as she climbed.

  “But you, Miss, I’m sure you’ll be able to do as Auntie Edna says, Miss. If you can lead that nasty stepsister of yours into the mires, you’ll be doing us all such a favor! ’Cause Miss Val says that when she retires, she’ll let me and my mom and my dad all live with her and her brother, see, and we’ll be as happy as clams, because my dad’s getting on a bit, and it’ll do him a world of good to rest —”

  “What’s that? Who says? Hi, kiddo — having your ear bent by my littl’un, are you?”

  Gracie stopped for breath and beamed at Marlon. “We’ve been having the nicest chat,” she said.

  “Little old blatherer, she is,” Marlon said fondly, and he and Millie rubbed noses as they landed side by side on a twig. The cold feeling in Gracie’s stomach was suddenly shot through with a sharper pain. She ignored it resolutely and went on smiling. “Are you here to show me the way back again? I have to rescue some frogs, and Foyce”— Gracie hoped her voice wasn’t wobbling —“has to follow me.”

  “Right on, kiddo. There’s a lad and a troll right here on the same mission — wait, and I’ll bring them on up.” And Marlon was off once again.

  “Ooooh!” Millie fluttered her wings and smoothed her fur. “That’ll be the prince! Aren’t you excited, Miss Gracie? You’ve never met a prince before, I’ll bet — me neither!”

  Gracie did remember the Ancient One promising she would have help, but the fact that the boy conc
erned was a real prince hadn’t sunk into her consciousness. She had been studiously avoiding thinking about what she was going to have to do once she got to Fracture, and this included anybody who might be involved — Foyce especially, but all others too. A vague idea of crowns and glitter and velvet floated into her head while Millie twittered and made sure her wings were neat. I hope he won’t want a lot of curtsying, Gracie thought. Maybe he’ll be very posh and grand.

  But when Marcus hauled himself up from the steep slope below the path, his face red and sweaty with the effort, Gracie saw that he was neither posh nor grand. He was wet, grubby, and tired, but he grinned cheerfully before he leaned back to help the most extraordinary creature that Gracie had ever seen.

  Gubble had not traveled well. Even when his head faced the right way around, he was not built for speed and agility. Back to front, his progress was painfully slow, and only grim determination had kept him going — grim determination and two important words that rattled around in his small and confused brain. One word was Help, the other Revenge. He rolled himself onto the path, and then with Marcus heaving on one arm and Gracie on the other, he finally stood up. “Dead,” he announced. “Gubble dead.”

  Marcus slapped him on the front. “Not yet,” he said encouragingly. “Remember? We’re going to get your head sorted out for you.”

  Gubble didn’t answer. He was squinching up his eyes and staring at the lights on the hill above. “Evilness,” he said. “Girl.” And his face screwed up into an expression of extreme loathing.

  “That’s right,” Marcus said. He turned to Gracie. “Hi, I’m Marcus. And this,” he added, patting Gubble again, “is Gubble.”

  “OK, OK, OK — no time for chitchat!” Marlon whizzed in between and around the figures standing on the path. “Got to plan!”

  “Actually,” Marcus said as he leaned heavily against a mossy tree trunk, “I need a rest. Just for a moment,” he added hastily.