They rounded a curve and came to a long, steep gorge. A river foamed at the bottom, tumbling over sharp rocks and broken tree limbs. It looked dangerous, but at least it wasn’t giants.
And fortunately, the bridge was only a short distance away. It looked sturdy, with broad wooden planks held up by a large stone support.
Marabel’s heart rose. They were out of the woods, and it was a beautiful day, and the bridge was large and strong. At this rate, they’d be at Mab’s castle in no time!
She caught sight of another sign. This one hung above the bridge, with letters written on it so crudely that they were hard to read. As she tried to decipher it, she nearly plowed into Ellie, who had stopped short.
“What is it?” Marabel asked, but then she saw it, too, and it felt like a cloud had covered the sun, so dark did the world become.
It looked like—yes, it was a troll.
ow Marabel could make out the sign hanging above the bridge: STOP! PAY TROLL. A crooked arrow pointed to the left at the words EXACT CHANGE and another arrow went to the right, where the sign said ATTENDANT.
The troll was sitting on a stump under the second sign, with his feet propped up on a rock. He was as ugly as trolls were always said to be, with wisps of olive-green hair scattered over his lumpy head, a warty nose, and tiny eyes. He wore a dark blue shirt and matching trousers, like a uniform. The pants stopped right below his knees, showing his crooked ankles and bare, bumpy feet. He held something in one knobby hand.
“He hasn’t seen us,” Marabel whispered to Ellie. “Let’s get out of here.”
Before Ellie could answer, the troll rose to his feet and looked straight at them. Ellie squeaked and buried her face in Marabel’s shoulder. Marabel tried to say something, but her mouth just opened and shut silently. Floriano whickered nervously.
“Oh, hey,” the troll said.
If this wasn’t the last thing Marabel expected a bridge troll to say, it was way down on the list. Why not something more trollish, like, “Who dares try to cross my bridge?”
She swallowed her terror and said, “Hey.”
“You can’t believe how long I’ve been waiting for someone to come by.” The troll broke out in a brown-toothed grin that didn’t do much to improve his looks. “Now pay up.”
Marabel shook her head. “We don’t have any gold.”
The troll’s face wrinkled hideously in disappointment. “Precious stones?” She shook her head again. “Silk or velvet?” Once again, Marabel had to disappoint him.
“There’s just one thing left, then.” The troll took a step toward them and the girls clung together, Floriano trying unsuccessfully to hide behind them. Was the troll going to eat them one at a time, or all at once? Marabel wondered in horror.
“You have to answer three questions,” he said. “If you do, I’ll let you cross.”
They looked at one another. “Let’s try,” Ellie said. “What do we have to lose? If we can’t answer him, surely there’s another bridge somewhere, maybe one without a troll.”
“All right,” Marabel said, and she turned to the troll. “We accept.”
“And of course,” the troll went on, “if you can’t answer, I have to throw you off the bridge.” They looked down at the jagged rocks and rushing water and then back at the troll. He shrugged apologetically. “Sorry, but those are the rules.” He tapped the leather-bound book he was holding. The gold writing on the cover read, Rules and Regulations Governing the Crossing of Bridges, Causeways, Dams, and Dikes: A Practical Guide for the Guardian Troll.
“Ready for your first question?” he asked brightly, as though this were a game.
“Wait a minute,” Marabel said. “Just wait. You tricked us. You didn’t tell us everything before we agreed, so forget it. No questions, no throwing anybody off any bridge. Come on, Ellie.” But the troll let out an angry shout, and immediately their way was blocked by three more trolls, each bigger and uglier than the last. They all wore the same dark blue uniform.
“That will teach you,” said the biggest and ugliest troll, “not to agree to anything unless you know what’s in the small print, so to speak. Rules are rules. It’s a good lesson to learn.”
“Not that they’ll get a chance to profit from the lesson!” said a scrawny violet troll, and all three burst out laughing.
The bridge troll looked embarrassed. “Those are my supervisors,” he said.
The supervisors growled at Marabel and arranged themselves in a line across the bridge.
Marabel looked at the trolls and realized that they didn’t have any choice except to answer the questions. Marabel straightened and took a deep breath. Lucius always said this was the best way to calm yourself. “So ask us your three questions,” she said as bravely as she could.
“No,” the troll said. “Three questions each!”
“Sorry.” Marabel mimicked his gruff tone. “That will teach you not to agree to anything unless you know everything about it. You were looking at all of us when you said, ‘You have to answer three questions.’ That means three questions all together. So what’s the first one?”
The troll, looking unhappy, glanced at his supervisors. The violet one said, “She’s right, I’m afraid. Rules are rules. Next time, be more careful to say that they each have to answer three questions. But don’t worry—they won’t be able to. They never can!”
The bridge troll appeared to cheer up at that. He must have been prepared for this, because he didn’t hesitate. “How many straws go into a bird’s nest?”
“What kind of bird?” Marabel asked.
The troll said, “It doesn’t matter.”
If it doesn’t matter, Marabel thought, then there isn’t a real answer. It’s a trick question, like a riddle. She closed her eyes and thought.
Suddenly, Ellie said, “None.”
“None?” the troll asked.
“None. Straws don’t have feet. They can’t go anywhere. So the answer to how many straws go into a bird’s nest—or anywhere else—is none.”
The three trolls behind her grunted in what sounded like disagreement, but the bridge troll was fair. “All right,” he agreed. “That wasn’t the answer I was looking for, but it makes sense, so I’ll allow it. Hmm. Now, how about this one: How many calves’ tails would you need to make a rope long enough to reach the moon?”
“Easy,” Floriano said. The girls and the troll looked at him. The unicorn swished his elegant tail. “Just one, if it’s long enough.”
“That’s two!” Marabel squeezed Ellie’s shoulder in delight. “Only one more to go!”
The bridge troll frowned at them and the other three growled low. “You’d better ask a good one,” the biggest, ugliest troll warned. “If you let your first travelers cross without paying, you’ll never get promoted.” The trolls took a few steps closer and Marabel nearly gagged at their musty smell.
The bridge troll looked down at his feet, and then up at the sky. He tapped his lips with his finger as he thought.
“We don’t have all day,” Marabel said to him, and he waved a hand at her to hush.
Finally, he brightened. “I’ve got it!” He turned to the other trolls. “You’re going to love this one!”
Marabel didn’t like the sound of that.
The troll turned back to them, grinning. “What’s my name?”
Stunned, Marabel took a step back. His name? How could she possibly know his name?
“That’s not fair!” Ellie burst out, but Marabel knew there was no point in objecting. The rules didn’t say anything about what kind of question he could ask.
The rules. The stupid, stupid, stupid rules. All her life she’d lived by rules, by the Book, by the customs of Magikos. What good were rules anyway?
The three trolls moved forward menacingly. The big one licked his lips.
And then it hit her. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before.
She looked straight at the bridge troll and grinned in triumph. “Your name is P
aul,” she said.
The three supervisor trolls burst out laughing. The bridge troll flushed green, and snapped, “That’s not even close! Trolls don’t have names like ‘Paul’! We have names like Rumbleguts and Goateater.”
“Too bad,” Marabel said as regally as she could. “You said we had to answer three questions. We did, so let us cross.”
“B-b-but—” the bridge troll stammered.
“You never said we had to answer them correctly. You just said answer them. Rules are rules, like you said. Come on, Ellie. Let’s go, Floriano.”
Ellie gave a little whimper as they passed the bridge troll. But Marabel strode by with her head held high and refused even to look at him. He looked stunned as he watched them go by. Floriano lifted his legs in a little prance and flicked his tail jauntily.
They were no more than halfway across when a great yell made them jump. Ellie glanced back at the trolls and grabbed Marabel’s arm.
“They’re coming after us!” she shrieked, but before Marabel could answer, the bridge troll said to his supervisors, “You can’t pass unless you each answer three questions, and answer them correctly,” and the thud of big bony trollish feet on the wooden planks was replaced by indignant howls as the trolls argued.
Soon they were safely on the other side, and the sounds of the conflict faded, along with the roar of the rushing water. At last, they were on their way to Mab’s castle.
And to Marco.
arabel, Ellie, and Floriano walked all day, so elated at their success with the bridge troll that they scarcely noticed how tired and hungry they were until the sun dropped low and their shadows lengthened. They found a sheltered spot near a stream, where the girls piled up pine needles and covered them with dry leaves to make beds. Floriano tiptoed to a spot near the two girls. Marabel smiled as he curled up and laid down his head.
From her pine-needle bed, Marabel watched the stars coming out, and thought of the birthday banquet back home in the palace three days earlier.
Where are you, Marco? she wondered to herself. Are you being fattened in a cage so Mab can eat you? The idea of her gentle brother being tormented by their aunt was horrible. I’m coming, she thought. I’ll find you and rescue you—somehow—and we’ll go home together.
She turned over, restless. Had her father’s messenger left for Mab’s castle yet? What answer would Mab give him? Were both sides preparing for war even now? She couldn’t imagine what that would be like. There hadn’t been a war in Magikos for centuries, not since the time of King Malcolm and his great wizard, Callum.
A burst of distant laughter came to her.
I must be imagining things, Marabel thought. Who would be laughing in the middle of the night, in the middle of the forest? She turned over, pine needles pricking her, and closed her eyes, but it was hard to sleep when she was so hungry. It had been a long time since she’d eaten more than a few bites of bread and cheese.
Then she heard it again. Only this time, a strain of music accompanied the laughter. It sounded like a violin.
Marabel propped herself up on her elbows. I’ll go take a quick look, she thought as she got up. If it’s something dangerous, I’ll come back and wake up Floriano and Ellie so we can sneak away. No point in worrying them if it’s nothing.
She moved as silently as she could and hid behind a bush. Before her was a marvelous sight. In a clearing, musicians played drums, fiddles, and horns, the instruments beautifully reflecting firelight. People danced in a circle around the fire, laughing and talking, helping children make the correct steps, tripping over their own feet and laughing some more.
Marabel felt a hand touch her shoulder. Startled, she gasped and froze in place. The hand felt too heavy to be her friend’s, but she whispered hopefully, “Ellie?” A soft chuckle, much deeper than any sound Ellie could make, was the response. Marabel looked down at her shoulder.
It was not a human hand. It was huge, and its fingers were long and bony, with sharp yellow claws instead of nails.
Marabel screamed.
The music stopped abruptly, and a babble broke out among the dancers: “What on earth was that?”
“Could you tell where it came from?”
“You don’t think it’s one of those banshees playing tricks again, do you?”
Marabel jerked free of the bony hand and tried to run away, but her feet refused to move. She stared up at the creature, unable to speak. She could barely see in the darkness, but it looked more or less like a person who had kept growing until it was far taller than any human, with pale orange skin that reflected the light of the moon. It was grimacing—no, it was grinning. It had long, knobby limbs, and its big head was topped by a mop of straw-like hair.
She wished she had paid more attention to her natural history lessons that covered the different sorts of Evils that roamed the Barrens. What was this? A goblin? An ogre? Something she’d never heard of?
“Nay, fair maiden, fear not,” the strange-looking creature said. “’Twas but a jest. I humbly apologize for having affrighted you.” And it made a surprisingly courtly bow.
“Ack,” was all Marabel could say.
Then came the pounding of hooves and an indignant whinny as Floriano burst into the little clearing. He drew to a halt and said, “Hey! Leave her alone!”
The creature raised both hands in the air. “I intend no harm, Sir Unicorn,” it said. “The lady mistook my intentions.”
The bushes parted and a crowd peered at them. The curiosity on their faces quickly turned to amusement. A chubby little woman came bustling out of their midst. “Cornelius!” she scolded. “Have you been frightening people again?”
Soon Marabel was being served a very late supper while Floriano and Cornelius fetched Ellie.
“Please excuse Cornelius,” the chubby little woman told Marabel as she set down a steaming bowl and a wooden spoon on the table in front of her. “He was merely playing a little joke and didn’t think you’d be so frightened. He didn’t know you were from the other side.”
“The other side of what?” Marabel asked.
“You’re from Magikos, aren’t you? The kingdom that lies on the other side of the Wall, ruled by the evil King Matthew?”
Marabel thought she should defend her father, but she was afraid that she’d give herself away and jeopardize her quest, so instead she changed the subject. “You don’t see many Magikians here?” She blew on a spoonful of stew. It smelled delicious.
“In my whole life I’ve only seen three,” the woman answered. “One was a peddler who used to visit every spring when I was a girl. And to think that the second and third would come years later, and only a day apart!” She chuckled.
“I’m the third?” Marabel asked.
“You are.”
“So the second was…?”
“Someone from the other side, who came through the village only yesterday.”
“Was it a human?” Marabel asked, her heart pounding.
“Oh yes. A man. Dressed all in blue and gold.”
Marabel laid down her spoon. Her appetite had fled at the mention of the Magikian royal colors. It had to be her father’s messenger. Marabel had known that the messenger would show up before too long, but it sounded like he had already gotten ahead of them. They had to hurry.
“What did he want?” she asked.
“He just asked the way to the castle. We were hoping it was something about our problem, but alas, no.”
“What problem?” Marabel asked cautiously, hoping she wasn’t being nosy.
Luckily, the woman seemed talkative. She sighed and sat down. “For several years now, we’ve been noticing that magical beings aren’t behaving the way they used to. Why, when I was a girl you could walk through the woods without worrying about being trapped by a witch or snatched up by a dragon. Everyone mostly got along, magical or not. But those days are long gone. Magical beasts are acting strangely, and we don’t know why. We were hoping that he was coming with some word about that, but as
it turns out, he was only passing through.”
Marabel picked up her spoon again. “Was he on horseback?”
“No, on foot, and Cornelius—my son, the one you met in the forest—said that he was complaining about blisters from his fancy shoes.”
“Cornelius is your son?” Marabel was astonished. “Are you… I mean, you don’t look…” She stopped.
“Oh, he’s adopted,” the lady said. “My husband and I—we’re human beings, like you. But Cornelius was orphaned a few years ago, so we took him in.”
“But isn’t he… an ogre?”
“Of course! But that makes no difference to us. We love him.” The woman ladled more stew into Marabel’s bowl. “A child’s a child. And he’s a very good son.”
“Cornelius is just a child?”
The woman chuckled. “He’d hardly appreciate being called that, but to me he is. I suppose he’s a little older than you. What are you—twelve?”
“Thirteen.” It was the first time Marabel had said that, and it made her think of the birthday banquet, and of Marco, with a pang. Her aunt might lose her temper and have Veneficus change Marco into a frog even before the thrennight was up. But there might be hope for them yet. If the messenger was on foot and if he already had blisters, they still had a chance of beating him to the castle, if they hurried. Slowly Marabel’s appetite came back. And the stew was delicious—rich and savory with herbs.
She took a bite of brown bread and watched the dancing start up again. A silver unicorn joined the circle. Marabel marveled at how smoothly they all danced, humans and beasts together. A lady twined her fingers in the unicorn’s mane, and the man on the unicorn’s other side held on to an embroidered cloth that hung down from her horn. Nobody seemed surprised at the presence of the magical creature, and now that Marabel looked more carefully, she realized that the circle included at least one gnome and a few other non-humans.
Cornelius and Floriano returned, bringing with them a nervous-looking Ellie. Ellie’s face relaxed when she saw Marabel dining happily, and she joined her at the table. So did Cornelius, who gulped down an entire roast chicken, bones and all, in two swallows. Floriano nibbled on an oat cake.
Marabel and the Book of Fate Page 7
