Someone called out, “Hey!”
The voice was familiar, and they paused.
Through the woods came a long, lean figure. It was the faery from the day before, and behind him was—Floriano! The unicorn did have quite a habit of turning up when he wasn’t expected. He pranced along, looking as pleased with himself as if he had just conquered a kingdom.
The faery stopped in front of Marabel. “Here’s your unicorn,” he said. “You have to take him back. He’s so annoying. All he does is complain and argue. We don’t want—”
The girls didn’t wait to hear the rest. They flew to Floriano and threw their arms around his blue neck. Marabel looked carefully into his eyes. To her relief, his pupils were the familiar star shape, only they looked suspiciously swimmy with tears.
“So you’ll take him back?” the faery asked anxiously.
“Of course we will,” Marabel said. “No questions asked.”
The faery produced a clipboard from behind his back and handed it to her. “Sign here at the X,” he said, pointing to the bottom of a page. It was headed “Return of Magical Being,” followed by “Reason for return.” Under it was a list, with checkboxes next to each entry:
Unsolicited merchandise
Damaged goods
Doesn’t look like description
Wrong size/color (specify)
Already have one
Unsuitable for purpose
Marabel happily signed her name, and then initialed where the faery’s long finger pointed to a line that read “All returns final. Item will not be sent back to faeryland.”
“Thank goodness,” the faery said as he hurried away. “Don’t bother to write!” he called over his shoulder right before he vanished.
The girls turned to Floriano. “What ever made you go with him?” Ellie asked as they stroked his white mane. He curved his neck proudly, as though being kicked out of faeryland was a great accomplishment.
“It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen,” he answered. “Something glinted in the sunlight, and when I looked at it, a blue unicorn with a white mane and a golden horn was looking back at me.” The girls exchanged puzzled glances. This was a perfect description of Floriano himself. “I’d never seen anything so lovely. When you wouldn’t come with me, I decided to make his acquaintance. But I couldn’t get to him. He was behind a piece of glass and whenever I moved, he did, too. While I was looking, that guy—the one who brought me back—cast a spell on me.” He shuddered. “He led me to a strange place. I think it must have been faeryland.”
“Floriano,” Marabel said, “that was a mirror. You were looking at your own reflection in a mirror.”
“I was looking at my own what in a what?”
“It’s a piece of glass with something shiny painted on the back so you can see what you look like,” Marabel explained. “You’ve never seen one?”
Floriano rolled his eyes. “Do you think there are things like mirrors in a stable? Would donkeys really want to see what they look like?”
“But surely you’ve seen your reflection in water!” Ellie exclaimed.
Floriano shook his head. “That never works very well. This was much better. I always knew I was pretty, but I didn’t know I was that pretty,” he said happily. “Can I have one of those mirror things when we get home? I know the perfect spot for it in my stall!”
“He’ll be impossible from now on,” Ellie whispered.
Floriano’s return renewed Marabel’s sense of purpose, and they headed east again with fresh energy.
Soon, they saw something that made them forget how tired and hungry they were. It was a road.
raffic choked the tree-lined road. Marabel hung back with Ellie and Floriano, and watched the crowd go by. Just about everyone was on foot, although an occasional carriage or wagon rattled past. They didn’t know if anyone was looking for them, and they especially didn’t want to run into King Matthew’s messenger, who would be sure to recognize Marabel and Floriano.
Marabel recognized dwarves, carrying shovels and pickaxes; a noble white stag that strode regally down the road; both fairies and faeries; a group of young wizards and witches in green uniforms who marched down the road singing about “a hundred bottles of brew on the wall, a hundred bottles of brew”; a giant with a club over his shoulder; a tank on the back of a wagon, with water sloshing out of it. A woman holding a baby peered over its top.
Marabel wondered why the woman was in the water until she passed the baby to a man next to her. Marabel saw with delight that the baby had a fish’s tail, and when the woman dove into the water, her own long, scaly tail briefly flicked into the air. Marabel and Marco had once gone out on a mermaid-watching boat in the Purple Ocean but none had appeared, and ever since then she had longed to see one.
Marabel and Ellie stepped off the path to figure out what to do next.
“We’re running short on time,” Marabel said. “It’s got to be a lot faster to walk on a road than fight our way through the woods. It’s riskier, but I say we go by the road.”
“I say we stick to the woods,” Floriano said. “They’ll be looking for us. What if we run into that messenger you’re so worried about?”
Normally cautious, Ellie surprised them both when she said, “Let’s take the road. It doesn’t look like anyone’s particularly keeping an eye out, and it’s sure to get us there faster.”
“That’s settled, then,” Marabel said, trying not to sound triumphant, which would hurt Floriano’s delicate feelings.
They waited for a gap to open. “Come on,” Marabel said. She gripped the hilt of her sword for reassurance and stepped out, followed closely by the other two.
None of them had noticed a green-and-red toad wearing a tiny crown, who hopped to one side and croaked, “Hey! Look where you’re going!”
“Sorry!” said Floriano, whose hoof had barely missed the little creature.
“No harm done,” the toad said. “Mind if I hitch a ride?” And without waiting for an answer, he jumped up onto the startled unicorn’s back.
“Thanks,” the toad said, settling in. “It’s a long way to hop. Where are you headed?”
“The castle,” Marabel answered shortly. To keep him from asking why, she quickly added, “And you?”
“Home to the swamp,” the toad answered. “I’ve been away visiting relatives.”
Luckily, he didn’t seem to be a chatty kind of toad. That was all he said until they reached a fork in the road, with a signpost pointing in two directions. One sign said SWAMP: 500 PEBBLES and the other said CASTLE: 2,000 PEBBLES.
The toad tapped on Floriano’s shoulder. “This is where I get off,” he said.
Marabel lifted him down and placed him on the ground. “Can you tell me something before you go?” she asked.
The toad nodded agreeably. “Only fair, after the free ride!”
She pointed at the signpost. “What does that mean, about pebbles?”
The toad looked at her curiously, and then at Ellie and Floriano. He sighed. “Don’t they teach anything in schools these days?”
“Really, we want to know,” Ellie said.
“A pebble is a unit of distance,” the toad said. “It’s how far apart you have to space your white pebbles to leave a trail so you can find your way home, if, say, your parents leave you in the woods because they’re starving.” He hopped about a yard. “There. That’s a pebble.”
“Thank you!” they called after the toad as he hopped toward the swamp.
“That would make two thousand pebbles a little more than a mile, I think,” Ellie said. Their hearts lifted. After they’d traveled so far, a mile didn’t sound like much. And indeed, they hadn’t walked for very long when the road took a sharp turn around a hill, and when it straightened, Mab’s castle came into view.
Floriano gave an excited little skip, and the girls grabbed each other’s hands and squeezed. They wanted to shout for joy, but composed themselves with difficulty so they wouldn’t draw atte
ntion.
Marabel knew that her aunt’s castle was ancient, far older than the palace she herself had grown up in. It was made of massive blocks of dark stone, and its towers were tall and broad. Its few windows were slits designed for archers to loose their arrows through. They were far too narrow to let much light in.
And Marco was in that grim place, without a weapon or even warm clothes. Marabel wondered if he was in a dark, smelly cell, chained to a wall, with only rats for company and rotten food thrust under the door once a day. She clenched her hand around the hilt of her sword. She was ready to use it to free her brother, if necessary, even if it was only made of wood.
They climbed the green slope. The sun shone brightly, and the few people milling around glanced at them without curiosity. A group of gnomes worked busily in the garden. It wasn’t the way a witch’s garden ought to look, Marabel thought—it should be bedraggled and full of thorn bushes and gnarled trees. Instead, it was neat and tidy. Many-colored flowers bloomed on long stems, and dark green shrubs were trimmed into all sorts of interesting shapes—fantastical spires and globes and even a few animals.
Strange—there were no guards in sight, the moat was dry, and the drawbridge was down. Mab must not be afraid of attackers. Perhaps everyone in the kingdom—or queendom—was too afraid of her to pose a threat. They exchanged a quick glance and strode forward, trying to look as though they belonged there. They were successful—no one tried to stop them. Marabel took a deep breath when they reached the door.
Marabel spotted a wooden board, ruled into squares like a checkerboard, hanging on the door. She examined it. In each square was a small bell with a string dangling from it so they could be rung like miniature church bells. Next to each bell was a label bearing a number. A list thumbtacked next to the sign read:
RING 1 IF YOU KNOW YOUR PARTY’S EXTENSION
RING 2 IF YOU HAVE AN APPOINTMENT WITH HER MAJESTY’S CHANCELLOR
RING 3 IF YOU ARE MAKING A DELIVERY
RING 4 IF YOU ARE A WITCH OR A WIZARD
RING 5 IF YOU HAVE BUSINESS OF A MAGICAL NATURE
RING 6 IF YOU HAVE BUSINESS OF A NON-MAGICAL NATURE
… and so on.
None of the sixteen labels said, “Ring this one if you want to rescue your brother” or “Ring this one if you are storming the castle.” In any case, Marabel didn’t want to summon anyone and answer questions. She tried to open the door, and wasn’t surprised to find that it was locked. She turned to Floriano and asked, “Do you mind?”
“I’m starting to feel like a locksmith,” the unicorn grumbled, but he reared up and brought the tip of his horn down where the door met the wall.
The door sprang open, showing a large stone entryway. No guards here, either. Marabel felt a prickle of uneasiness. Could it really be this easy? She heard the faint sounds of people talking, and then someone laughing far away inside the castle.
“Well,” she said. “Let’s go in. If we act like we know what we’re doing, maybe no one will stop us.”
But they hadn’t gotten very far when a man came hurrying up to them. “There you are!” he barked. “Why are you so late? I didn’t even hear you ring!”
“W-w-we didn’t know which bell to—” Marabel stammered.
“Never mind now,” he said impatiently. “The important thing is that you’re here. Her Majesty is waiting for you.”
“Her Majesty?” Marabel asked.
“Waiting for us?” Ellie squeaked.
“Of course. If you’re going to be tonight’s dinner entertainment, she has to hear you first and make sure you sing as well as the reports have said. She sees to everything like that herself.”
“But—” Marabel started.
“You’re not going to quibble over the price, are you?” the man asked. “Your agent drove a very hard bargain, and Her Majesty won’t pay a penny over what was agreed on!”
“Oh, no, the price is fine,” Marabel said.
“Well, then, what is it?”
“We’ve had a long, dry walk,” Floriano put in. “We have to save our voices. You don’t want us to croak like frogs when the time comes to entertain, do you?”
“What I want doesn’t matter. It’s what Her Majesty requires, and she requires that you sing for her and prove your skill. Come along now.”
The last thing Marabel wanted to do was come face-to-face with her aunt—she just wanted to find Marco and get out as quickly as possible. She didn’t know how well Mab had seen her during Marco’s kidnapping, and she didn’t want to risk being recognized. But they had no choice.
They hurried down the long corridor, lined with suits of armor, tapestries, and heavy wooden furniture that looked like no one had used it in centuries. The man threw open a door and ushered them in.
Marabel, expecting a coldly elegant formal chamber, was surprised at the homey little room. It was filled with soft-looking, rather shabby armchairs, small tables piled with books and other objects, a few musical instruments scattered around, and portraits hanging on every wall. Two shaggy white dogs jumped up from a rug in front of the fireplace and ran to them, their tails wagging.
A woman was seated at a desk, her back to the door. Marabel knew it had to be her aunt Mab. She looked down, hoping to escape notice.
“The singers for this evening, Your Majesty,” the man said.
Mab rose and faced them. “Well?”
“Well, what?” asked Floriano.
“Well, let’s hear you sing,” Mab said.
“We have to save our voices for tonight,” Ellie said nervously.
Floriano shot a warning look at the girls and mouthed, “Hush,” at them. “I’ll sing a solo,” he said more loudly. “Their voices aren’t as robust as mine.” Marabel started to object but Floriano shot her an even fiercer look, and she didn’t say anything. She closed her eyes and cringed inwardly. What would a unicorn’s voice sound like? As soon as he neighed, Mab would know for sure that they were impostors.
Then Floriano opened his mouth. To Marabel’s astonishment, he didn’t neigh, but sang in a beautiful, rich tenor. Ellie stared at him with her mouth hanging open, and Marabel realized that she was doing the same thing.
Marabel snapped her mouth shut as Floriano finished. The unicorn bowed, extending one foreleg and lowering his head.
Silence fell. Then Mab said, “Even if the two girls caw like ravens, you’re hired. All of you.”
“I wouldn’t perform with anyone who cawed,” Floriano said stiffly. “It would ruin my reputation.”
The queen turned to her manservant. “Balthazar, take them to the green room to rest and have some refreshments. I want them to perform both before and during the dinner. Have the scientists and generals arrived?”
“Not all of them, Your Majesty,” the man—Balthazar—said. “The Minister for the Management of Magic is delayed, and the census taker has sent his report on ahead. He asked me to tell you that more instances of misbehavior have been—”
“Enough,” Mab snapped. “Never speak of classified material in public!”
“A thousand pardons,” Balthazar said. He looked at Marabel and the others as though he’d forgotten they were there, and opened the door. He motioned them out.
Marabel relaxed a little. Her aunt had barely glanced at her. The first hurdle they faced in the castle was behind them. She thought she would burst out of her skin with impatience as she turned toward the door.
But before they could leave, the queen said, “Young ladies, I see you’re not carrying any bags. Do you not have something more festive to change into for your performance? What you’re wearing is tattered and filthy—hardly stage apparel!”
Marabel wanted to retort, “You try walking for twelve days and see how clean you’d be,” but she kept her mouth shut. Ellie muttered something about losing their luggage, and something else about giants and a man-wolf.
“Well, we can’t have you going in front of my guests dressed like that,” Mab said. “I’ll tell my wardrobe m
istress to find you something. Come here and let me look at you.”
Marabel didn’t know what to do except turn back and join Ellie in front of her aunt.
Mab looked Ellie up and down. “Pretty, in a conventional sort of way.” Then she turned to Marabel, who felt her face turn hot. Mab started to say something and stopped. After a moment, she asked, “Have we met before?”
“No, Your Majesty,” Marabel mumbled.
“Odd.” Mab stared at her. Marabel felt more and more uncomfortable. “I feel sure… You look so familiar.”
“I would remember if I had met Your Majesty,” Marabel said.
“So you would.” Her aunt’s voice regained its brisk tone. “Well, you must need to rest and rehearse. I’ll have the wardrobe mistress bring you some things. Balthazar, take them away.”
The man beckoned, and they hurried after him.
All the way to the door, Marabel felt her aunt’s eyes boring into her back.
althazar led them up a flight of stairs and then down one corridor after another until Marabel was thoroughly confused. He finally opened a door and motioned them in. “The green room,” he said. “You can wait here until the wardrobe mistress has found something suitable for you to wear.”
All the furniture in the room was upholstered in forest green, the floor was paved with sea-green tile, the walls were painted a lime shade, and the curtains were the fresh color of spring leaves. The curtains turned even the sunlight green.
“We need to rest,” Marabel told him. “Please have the wardrobe mistress leave the clothes outside the door and not disturb us.”
“As you wish.” He hurried away.
“We have to look for Marco right now,” Marabel said. “I can’t stand waiting another minute. I don’t want them to come by with costumes and find us gone. Come on.”
The door wasn’t locked. Marabel cracked it open and peered first one way down the hall, and then the other. “Let’s go,” she whispered. She looked back. Ellie was right behind her, but Floriano hovered inside the room. “What are you doing?” Marabel asked in a low voice. “We don’t have much time!”
Marabel and the Book of Fate Page 11
