by Lee Bacon
“I see.” Percival backs away, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
Xyler lets out a nervous chuckle. “The girl’s obviously confused. If I could just speak with her for a moment alone, I’m sure—”
“That won’t be necessary,” Percival interrupts. “I’ll buy the ring.”
Xyler’s ears prick up in surprise. “You—you will?”
“Indeed I will.”
“But…you said—”
“I know what I said. And despite my threats, the girl refused to back down. That tells me she can keep a secret.”
The fwarf holds the ring up to the light of a candle admiringly.
“If I’m going to acquire such a unique object, I need to know the girl won’t blab to the wrong person. Otherwise, the Royal Guard’s gonna start poking their noses into my business, asking about missing rings. Can’t have that, now, can we?”
“No, you most certainly cannot.” Xyler gazes up at me like he’s seeing me for the first time.
I let the two of them handle the negotiations. Once they come to an agreement, Percival drops several gold coins into a small velvet bag.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” he says, pressing the bag into my hand.
As we exit the tent, I feel like doing a celebratory fist pump. My first shady business deal with a half dwarf, half faun! Not exactly the kind of thing I’ll be able to put on my college applications someday, but still—it’s exciting.
Xyler grumbles that we got ripped off. “The value of that ring is far greater than what he paid us,” he complains. But it’s more than enough for what we need.
When we return to our hiding place, my triumphant mood takes a nosedive. There’s no sign of Prince Fred. Xyler and I glance around, tendrils of confusion and fear creeping into my brain. Then my attention gets snagged by a flicker of movement from a nearby alleyway. A hand waving at us. As we approach, Fred pokes his head around a corner.
“Finally! What took you so long?” His voice comes tumbling out in a frantic whisper. “The Royal Guard. They were sniffing around everywhere. Nearly spotted me. Had to find a new place to hide. I was worried you’d been captured or killed or—”
“It’s okay.” I place a steady hand on Fred’s shoulder. “We’re fine.”
The prince shakes his head. “We’re most certainly not fine. I overheard a couple of guards. They said they’ve set up checkpoints at every city gate. Valpathia has been sealed off.”
A grim look clouds his features.
“There’s no way out of the city,” he says. “We’re trapped.”
The awful reality of our situation hangs over us like a dark cloud. If we can’t leave Valpathia, we have no chance of finding her father. Or of seeing my parents again.
“We have to at least try.” Desperation clings to Kara’s voice. “There’s gotta be a way out. We just have to keep looking.”
She stuffs a clump of brown fabric into my arms. My disguise. I find a private section of the alley and change. The new attire is drab. The scratchy material makes me feel like I’m wearing a potato sack. But at least I no longer resemble a prince.
When I step around the corner, I find Kara waiting for me in her own new outfit. A brown dress, with a matching scarf to conceal her hair.
She looks like she just stepped off a farm. I probably look the same.
In our new clothing, we scurry through the dark, winding alleyways of Valpathia. Turning a corner, Kara comes to an abrupt halt. We duck behind a barrel, and she points to the street ahead. A patrol of Royal Guards. They’ve set up a checkpoint at one of the city gates. We turn and take another route, but the result is the same.
Another checkpoint. More guards.
“It’s just as I feared.” I let out a frustrated breath. “The streets are closed.”
“Then perhaps we should travel above the streets,” Xyler says.
I glance at the cat. “What do you mean?”
“Humans are always keeping their feet on the ground. You forget there are other ways of getting from one place to another.”
“You’re talking about crossing the city…by rooftop?”
Xyler nods. “The path will be more difficult. But if you move quickly, Sturmenburg’s troops won’t be looking for you there.”
He guides us silently away from the guards. Until we reach a stone house at the end of the alley. Crimson ivy clings to one wall. Without a word, Xyler clambers up.
I turn to Kara. “Have you ever done anything like this before?”
“My mom sometimes takes me to the climbing wall.” She shrugs. “Can’t be harder than that, right?”
And with surprising skillfulness, she skitters to the roof. When my turn comes around, I feel much more awkward. Grabbing a handful of ivy, I try to pull myself up. Instead, the leaves rip loose from the wall and I tumble backward.
Kara peers down at me. “Use the vines underneath. They’re thicker and they make good handholds.”
I take her advice, and my second attempt goes much better. Digging my hands beneath the clusters of leaves, I grab hold of the ropy vines that cling to the wall, using them like a ladder for my hands and feet. Up and up and up. Slinging my leg over the top, I pull myself onto the roof.
“Now what?” I ask.
“We’ll travel west.” Xyler points. A jumble of rooftops stretches like a quilt under the moonlight. “If we stay above street level, we should be able to avoid the Royal Guard’s checkpoints. Just remember—people are sleeping beneath us. So tread lightly.”
Xyler moves silently to the edge of the building. I try to mimic his soft steps, but I’m not a cat. Stealth isn’t my strong suit. Roof tiles clatter quietly under my feet. I only hope the sound isn’t as noticeable for whoever’s snoozing down below.
The stone house is separated from the next building by a narrow alley. Xyler leaps over the gap and lands on the opposing rooftop.
I glance uncertainly at Kara. “Have you ever done this before?”
“Coach Peterson makes us do long jump in PE,” she says. “Does that count?”
I exhale a jealous sigh. Why don’t we have climbing walls and PE in Heldstone?
Kara manages the leap from one roof to the next. Now I’m the only one left standing on the stone house. As I peer over the edge, all I can think about is the fall. The journey ahead is difficult enough already. It’ll be impossible with a broken leg or two.
“You can do this,” Kara says in a quiet voice from the next rooftop. “I know you can.”
The confidence in her voice helps distract me from the knot of fear in my stomach. I take two steps backward. Deep breath. And before the doubt can creep back into my brain, I surge forward and—
Jump.
Somewhere between the two buildings, my heart skips a beat. But in the next instant, my feet make contact with the roof. I did it! And from there, it gets easier. Xyler leads the way. From one building to another. One rooftop to another. Keeping low to avoid being seen by anyone on the street below. Until eventually, we arrive at a house on the edge of the city.
Xyler glances over the edge of the roof. “This should be far enough. The Royal Guard won’t have any checkpoints out here.”
We climb down a drainage pipe. As my feet land on soft dirt, I peer into the darkness. In the distance, I can just barely see the walls that surround Valpathia on all sides.
We made it outside the city. But we still have a long way to go.
Kara unclasps the inner compartment of her purse and out springs the little silver owl. The Chasing Charm flaps its metal wings, darting into the air from one end of the necklace. Kara keeps a tight grip on the other.
The owl’s beak points west. We set off in that direction.
It feels like we’ve been walking for hours. My entire body is weak from exhaustion and hunger. But every time I’m sure I can’t take another step, I think of my dad. The sound of his voice. The way he always called me hija. Spanish for “daughter.” His smile, which made every lightbulb
in the room burn a little brighter. All the tiny, huge things that have been missing from my life for these past three years.
The only way I’ll ever have a chance of seeing him again is if I keep moving. One foot in front of the other. Following the path of the owl necklace.
So I keep walking. And walking.
And walking.
Fred and Xyler trudge along beside me. My sore feet stumble over mud and rocks. I’ve never been so hungry in my life. Or so tired. I catch myself fantasizing about drifting off to sleep on a bed of hamburgers and french fries.
When I’m sure I’m about to collapse, I notice a shape in the darkness. As we stagger closer, I can see it more clearly. Fred has obviously spotted it, too. He points a finger.
“Look there.” His voice comes out as a weak croak. “A farmhouse.”
“There’s a stable beside it,” I add. “Maybe we can spend the night there.”
We creep toward the farmhouse. The windows are dark and there’s no smoke coming from the chimney. Anyone inside has probably been asleep for hours. As we approach the stable, I peer through the open doors. The place looks vacant. Just a few stalls, a barrel, piles of hay—
“Moo!” A cow pokes its head out from one of the stalls.
Okay, so the stable isn’t entirely vacant after all.
The cow takes a few steps in our direction, peering at us with its big, bovine eyes. Then it opens its mouth and speaks in a gentle female voice.
“May I help you?”
For a long moment, all I can do is stare. I’ve never had a conversation with a cow before.
Luckily, Fred’s not so new to this kind of thing. “We’re terribly sorry for disturbing you so late at night,” he says. “And for intruding on your home. My name is Pr—”
The prince catches himself before blurting out his full name and title. After another second, he continues.
“My name is…Fred. And these are my friends Kara and Xyler.”
The cat and I wave hello. The cow introduces herself as Gerta.
“We’ve been traveling a long time without food or rest,” Fred continues. “When we saw this stable, we thought…well—”
“You thought you might stay the night?” Gerta suggests.
“Precisely.”
“The farmer and his wife live in the house. They wouldn’t like the idea of uninvited guests in their stable. Not at all.” Gerta pauses, considering us. “I, on the other hand, could use the company. It’s not the most luxurious lodging, but there’s a roof over our heads and plenty of hay to sleep on. Just make sure you leave before the farmer and his wife wake up.”
I’ve never wanted to hug a farm animal so much in my entire life. “Thank you!”
“Don’t mention it. It’ll be nice to have others around. It’s been so lonely in this stable since…”
Gerta goes quiet suddenly. Her brown eyes hang for a long moment on a wooden box near the entrance to the stable. It’s twice my height, filled with rows of cages. Wire mesh covers each opening. Feathers are scattered along the floor of each cage, but there’s no sign of any birds.
“Is that a chicken coop?” I ask, pointing to the box of cages.
Gerta nods.
“But where are all the chickens?”
“For a long time, they shared this stable with me. Their constant clucking could get annoying, but they were nice birds. And then one day…” Gerta hesitates. “One day, they—uh…migrated south for the winter.”
I blink, confused. I don’t know much about the migration patterns of chickens, but the answer sounds like a lie to me.
“Er—let’s get on with the tour…,” Gerta says quickly, as if she’s eager to change the subject. “There’s a well at the top of the hill for water. And the window around back doesn’t lock properly. It leads to the kitchen, where you should be able to find some leftover bread and cheese.”
At the mention of food, I forget all about the missing chickens. My stomach lets out a rumbling growl.
“The farmer and his wife are deep sleepers,” says Gerta. “As long as you’re quiet, they won’t notice you.”
“But don’t you think they’ll mind us taking their food?” I ask.
“The farmer’s wife will buy fresh bread at the market tomorrow. And technically, I’m the reason they have the cheese.” Gerta bats her eyelashes. “And I grant you my permission to sample it.”
Gerta’s explanation is good enough for me. Fred and I set off on our late-night kitchen raid. We offer to bring something back for Xyler, but he shakes his head. “I ate a juicy beetle on the way here.” The cat pats his belly. “Very filling.”
Sure enough, the window’s been left unlocked. Fred swings it open and we slip inside. After searching around in the dark, we manage to find bread and cheese. By the time we return to the stable, Xyler’s fast asleep. So’s Gerta. Fred and I settle down on a spot of grass outside the stable.
With our backs against the wooden wall, we spread out our food on the ground in front of us. Sort of like a picnic. The bread’s hard and the cheese doesn’t taste like what my mom buys at the grocery store, but I’m way too hungry to care. For a few minutes, neither of us says a word. We’re too busy stuffing our faces.
Eventually, Fred wipes the crumbs from his lap and looks up at the night sky. “Do you know why the Luminary Ball takes place tonight of all nights?”
I shake my head.
“Because of that.” He points upward. An array of moons hanging in the night sky like perfectly round lamps. “Seven full moons on the same night. An occurrence that only comes along once every seven years. And so we celebrate it.”
“With the Luminary Ball.”
“Precisely.”
A faint smile pulls at my lips. “Guess I’m lucky I was here to see it.”
“Too bad the rest of your visit hasn’t been so lucky.” He pulls a blade of grass from the ground and twists it between his fingers. “It’s a shame, really. Makes me wish…”
His voice is swallowed by the wind.
“Wish what?” I ask.
“That we could’ve met under more normal circumstances. You know, without all the craziness surrounding our lives. Like the fact that you come from another world—”
“Or that you’re a prince,” I point out.
“Or that we’re being hunted by an evil shadow and her army.”
Neither of us says a word for a minute. We just listen to the breeze and the soft snores of Gerta from inside the stable.
“Who knows?” I shrug. “Maybe someday everything will be normal. And we can get together and just hang out. You know, like typical kids.”
“Do you really think that’s possible?”
I peer up at the night sky. “I’m in another world, next to a real-life prince, looking up at seven full moons. So, yeah. I’d say, pretty much anything is possible.”
For a long time, Fred and I sit there in silence, staring out at the bright moons. They seem at once far away and close enough to grasp in the palms of our hands.
It’s a beautiful view. A magical view. No matter what else happens on this quest, I’m glad Fred’s here to share it with me.
If only I could hang on to the moment longer. But it’s late. And after the day we’ve had, we’re both experiencing some serious inter-dimensional jet lag.
Returning to the stable, Fred and I shuffle tiredly into neighboring stalls.
“Big day tomorrow,” I say. “See you in the morning.”
“Sleep tight,” he replies. “Don’t let the bed fairies bite.”
All I have underneath me is a thin layer of hay and hard wooden slats, but it might as well be a king-sized feather bed. In less than a minute, I drift into a dreamless sleep.
When my eyes open again, light’s streaming through the stable. I let out a massive yawn, rising to a sitting position. That’s when a shadow shifts across the floor. Glancing behind me, I’m met with a sight that wakes me up faster than a cold shower.
There’s a
stranger in the stall with me. A stout lady in an apron. And she’s poking a pitchfork in my face.
“Well, lookie here. We got a coupla vagrants sleepin’ in the stable.”
These are the first words I hear when I wake up the next morning. Opening my eyes, I’m met by a most unpleasant sight: a large, hairy man glowering down at me. He’s gripping a shovel as if it’s an ax.
This must be the farmer. The man prods me up with his shovel and marches me into another stall, where Kara’s been cornered by a plump woman with a pitchfork. She must be the farmer’s wife.
The pointy end of the farmer’s shovel pokes me in the back. I stagger forward until I’m standing next to Kara.
Glancing around, I don’t see any sign of Xyler or Gerta.
It’s just the two of us.
And the two adults.
“This is no charity inn.” The farmer’s wife eyes us suspiciously. “You younguns are trespassin’.”
Leaning forward on her pitchfork, the farmer’s wife inspects me more closely. For a torturous moment, I’m sure she’ll recognize my true identity. But the expression in her eyes makes it clear—she has no idea I’m the prince. Neither does her husband. To them, I’m just a common boy with grit on my face and hay in my hair.
“We’re very sorry for the intrusion,” I say, doing my best to hide my highborn accent. “Can’t you please just let us go?”
The farmer shakes his head firmly. “ ’Fraid not. You younguns committed a crime. And crimes gotta be punished.”
“But…” Kara’s voice trembles. “We won’t do it again. Promise.”
“Save yer excuses fer the soldiers,” the farmer replies.
A strain of fear needles into my brain. It doesn’t matter whether these two don’t recognize me. The soldiers will. My muscles twitch with the impulse to escape. But the adults are blocking any path out of the stall, gripping their tools close.
“Please.” I turn my desperate gaze from the farmer to his wife. “We have money. We can pay.”
“Too late fer that,” the farmer replies.
“Isn’t there something we can do?” Kara asks.
“Well, now thatcha mention it…” The farmer’s wife exchanges a crafty glance with her husband. “One thing does come to mind.”
