“That’s it!” Elspeth exploded. “You expect me to defeat a well-trained army with an unarmed bunch of misfits, losers, and scaredy-cats?” Elspeth realized her voice had risen to the point that it was audible to all. She turned to face her troops. “No offense.”
Not surprisingly, her recruits all looked far too complacent to be insulted.
“Okay, this is war, and we’re going to need weapons, plain and simple,” she said, while repeatedly pounding her fist into the palm of her hand. “I need every bit of metal we’ve got gathered up right away.”
“I’ll get the word out,” said Dumpty.
“Of course all the metal in the world does us absolutely no good unless we have a blacksmith.”
“We do,” Dumpty said excitedly. “Simple Simon is a blacksmith.”
Elspeth’s eyes narrowed. “Would that be the same Simple Simon who’s afraid of rabbits?”
“That . . . sounds like him,” said Dumpty. “But he’s a very good smith.”
“Even so,” said Elspeth, “we’re still going to need some kind of edge.”
“An edge?” Georgie echoed.
“I’ve played in quite a few chess tournaments in my life,” Elspeth explained. “I’ve lost to people I should have beaten, and I’ve beaten people who were ranked much higher than me. Each time I won one of those matches, I did so by finding some tiny little weakness and taking advantage of it. I read their biographies and articles written about them, looking for anything about their personalities that might help me predict their actions. And that’s what we need here.”
“Yes,” said Winkie. “But what would give us that edge?”
“Not sure,” said Elspeth. “If only we had some way of getting into the castle. Didn’t you say that’s how Krool was able to take you by surprise?”
“Yes,” Winkie confirmed, “thanks to your friend Georgie here.”
“I told you once and I’ll say it again: I had nothing to do with that,” said Georgie. “And I resent the implication.”
“It’s not an implication; it’s a statement of fact,” said Winkie.
“Enough!” shouted Elspeth. “We’ve got plenty of problems as it is without having to fight each other.”
The verbal spat quickly turned into a glaring contest with each man refusing to turn away from the other.
“Now listen, Georgie,” Elspeth said. “As his former personal assistant, no one knows Krool better than you. I want you to make a list of everything you know about him. His likes, his dislikes, his daily habits. Everything.”
Georgie brought his hand to his forehead in a sharp salute. “You can count on me, ma’am. I’ll get on it right away.”
Georgie sneered at Winkie one more time then marched off to carry out the order. Dumpty looked back at the troops milling around and sprawled about on the ground. “So you really think that’s it then? You think finding a weakness is the key to victory?”
Elspeth surveyed her sorry excuse for an army and said, “I think to win this fight we’re going to need more keys than a janitor.”
While Simple Simon went to work on turning forks, spoons, and other bits of metal into instruments of warfare, Elspeth tried to her best to whip the troops into top physical shape. But they seemed far more interested in grumbling about living conditions and strange noises coming from beyond the trees.
“Quiet, please!” Elspeth shouted. “For the last time, there’s nothing behind those bushes but more bushes.”
“How do you know that?” asked Goosey Goosey Gander. “Have you looked behind all of them?”
“No, I haven’t,” said Elspeth. “I’m a little busy trying to prepare for battle right now, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Permission to speak freely,” said Gene.
“When do you ever not speak freely?” said Winkie.
“I wasn’t speaking to you,” said Gene. “I was just thinking that maybe if we did some team-building exercises it might result in less complaints.”
“That’s fewer complaints,” said a familiar voice.
Elspeth turned quickly to her advisors. “What did you say?”
“I didn’t say anything,” said Winkie.
Just before Dumpty could make the same denial, something across the way caught Elspeth’s eye.
“Fergus!” Elspeth shouted. Without thinking, she threw Gene to the ground and ran across the compound. She wrapped her arms around the owl, and he immediately pulled away.
“Ow, ow. Easy there,” said Fergus. “My wing.”
“Sorry,” said Elspeth, stepping back to have a look at the injured bird. “How did you . . . it’s just that . . . I thought you were . . .”
“Dead?” said Fergus. “I very nearly was.” Before he could continue, Dumpty caught up to them.
“Fergus, old boy,” he said. “I can’t tell you how good it is to see you.”
“Oh, give it a try,” said the owl.
Dumpty smiled. Same old Fergus. “All right then. It is unbelievably and overwhelmingly good to see you.”
“Thank you,” said Fergus. “I assure you the feeling is quite mutual.”
“So what happened?” asked Elspeth. “Where have you been?”
“I’ve been lying in a ditch is where I’ve been,” replied Fergus. “When I finally found the strength to pull myself out, I realized that my left wing was nothing but a useless flap, thanks to one very sharp spear.”
“Then how did you get here?” asked Dumpty.
“Walked,” said Fergus. “Something we owls are not designed to do, I might add. My talons are killing me.”
Dumpty laughed again and shook his pointed head. “The important thing is that you’re back with us,” he said. “I’m going to spread the good news.”
Once Dumpty had run off to tell the others, Fergus turned to Elspeth and said, “You know, I thought you were dead too.”
“Why would you think that?” asked Elspeth.
“While I was lying in that ditch below the castle wall, I overheard some very interesting things. For example, Krool thinks you and the others were killed by a torcano.”
“Really?” said Elspeth. “We almost were. I guess the fact that he thinks so is good news for us. If he really believes we’re dead, it certainly gives us more time to prepare. Not to mention the element of surprise.”
“Yes,” said Fergus. The owl looked uneasy. “I feel obligated to tell you that there’s quite a bit more to it than that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Apparently,” said Fergus, “Krool is so convinced of your death that he has ordered the guards to be taken off the well.”
“Wait a minute,” said Elspeth. “The well? You mean the way home? The way out of here? That well?”
“Yes,” said Fergus. “That well.”
For a brief few seconds, Elspeth looked as if she were working out a complicated math problem in her head. “If that’s true,” she said, “then all of this is completely unnecessary. All this armed rebellion nonsense is just a total waste of time.”
“I wouldn’t agree that it’s a waste of time,” Fergus argued. “Not to your soldiers it’s not. To them it’s everything. Still, the decision to continue on with this or to be on your way is ultimately yours.”
“Yes,” said Elspeth. “I suppose it is.”
“I imagine it won’t be an easy one to make,” said Fergus.
Elspeth looked at Fergus and his badly disfigured wing. She took time to consider the risk he had taken and the sacrifice he had made so she might live. “Actually,” she said, “it’ll be incredibly easy.”
“You’re what?” shouted Winkie as he paced about his royal tent. “You’re leaving?”
“Shh,” said Elspeth. “There’s no need for everyone to know about this.”
“No need? Look at these people.” Winkie threw open the tent flap, and there they were, some eating peas porridge, others just moping around, and each of them oblivious to the drama unfolding on the other side of a wa
ll made of canvas. “They’ve placed every ounce of faith they have in you.”
“Then they shouldn’t have,” said Elspeth. “They should try putting faith in themselves for a change. Though I don’t know what good that would do either. They’re hopeless.”
Coming as close to slamming a door as one who lives in a tent can, Winkie threw the flap with a huff. This was followed by a prolonged silence. It was clear there was much he wanted to say, but he seemed to be carefully weighing the implications of doing so.
“I don’t know why you’re so upset,” said Elspeth, no longer able to endure the silence. “I didn’t ask for any of this, you know.”
“A hero never asks for his lot in life,” said Winkie. “It is handed down from sources unknown. And when it is, he accepts his fate and all the burden and glory that comes with it.”
“That’s big talk for such a little man,” said Elspeth, refusing to be bullied.
“Fine,” said Winkie. “If you feel it’s the right thing to do, if that’s a decision you can live with, then I won’t try to stop you. But if you’re going to leave, you should probably do it as soon as possible.”
As Winkie made for the door, Elspeth said, “Wait a minute.”
“Yes?” Winkie said hopefully.
“About the uniform . . .”
“You can keep it,” said Winkie. “After all, it was made especially for you.”
Elspeth twisted a brass button between her finger and thumb. “I never got a chance to thank Old Mother Hubbard,” she said. “If you could tell her . . .”
“I would if I could,” said Winkie. “But for that I would need a time machine or a necromancer. Old Mother Hubbard died several years ago. Her daughter, Young Mother Hubbard, does all of our sewing and tailoring now.”
Again Winkie tried to leave, and again Elspeth stopped him. “Hold on. That makes no sense,” she said. “You just told me she made the uniform especially for me.”
“If you don’t understand it by now, you never will,” said Winkie, and this time he walked out, leaving Elspeth alone in the tent.
For a long while she stood in place, rehearsing just what she would say to Jack and Jill, Dumpty, Fergus, and the others. When she finally got up the nerve to face them she found the reactions to her decision mixed, from disappointment to anger to sadness.
“We’ll miss you greatly,” said Jill, wiping away a tear and then another until there were too many to brush away.
“Are you sure about this?” asked Jack. “It’s just that everyone’s counting on you.”
“And what about the prophecy?” said Georgie. “You can’t deny the prophecy.”
“Leave the girl alone,” said Dumpty, moving his oval body between Elspeth and the others. “She has no obligation to any of us, prophecy or no prophecy. If she wants to return to the Deadlands, that’s her prerogative and we should leave it at that.”
“Thanks,” whispered Elspeth, her eyes lowered. She was anxious to be on the road before the guilt reached unbearable levels. She was therefore disappointed when Jack insisted it would be much safer to wait until after dark to make the trip.
“Crossing Torcano Alley at night is risky, as you know,” he said. “But potential for disaster is far greater traveling in the light of day. Krool thinks you’re dead. Let’s be sure to keep it that way.”
“I’m sorry,” Elspeth said to all of them while making eye contact with none. And then, no longer able to bear the stares and the whispers of those hovering about, for word had obviously gotten out, Elspeth announced that she would wait for nightfall in the privacy of her tent. In just a matter of hours, the arriving darkness would provide cover from both the eyes of the enemy and the eyes of all those whom she had disappointed.
The privacy she sought was quickly ended when she heard a voice she recognized outside her tent. “Hello?” said Farrah, not sure how to knock on the door of a house made of cloth. “May I come in?”
“What do you want?” said Elspeth.
Not waiting for an invitation, Farrah walked in. “I hear that you’re leaving,” she said.
“Who told you? Your boyfriend?” said Elspeth.
“Fiancé,” said Farrah.
“Well, that was quick,” Elspeth said bitterly.
“Yes,” Farrah agreed. “William is a very passionate man.”
“I suppose congratulations are in order,” said Elspeth but then offered none. “Sorry I won’t be here for the big day.”
“You’re not the only one who’s sorry. There are a lot of people counting on you.”
“I don’t see how this is any business of yours,” said Elspeth.
“The problem seems to be,” said Farrah, “that you don’t seem to see how it’s any business of yours.”
“Why should it be any of my concern?” said Elspeth.
“Because these are your people.”
“What? They’re not my people. In fact, most of them aren’t even people at all. There’s a stick, a spoon, a goose, a slab of cheese, and one guy who’s half-egg on his mother’s side.”
“Is that how you determine whether someone is worthy of your help?” asked Farrah. “By their shape? By what they look like?”
“You know what I’m saying,” said Elspeth, who was very close to picking up the doll and hurling her out of the tent.
“Yes, I do know what you’re saying,” said Farrah. “Do you?”
“Of course I know what I’m saying,” said Elspeth. “You’re trying to confuse me, but it’s not going to work. Besides, this isn’t about them, is it? It’s about you wanting Winkie back on the throne so you can be queen.”
“Yes,” Farrah agreed. “You’re right. I do want to be queen. His queen. And whether he ends up as a butcher, a baker, or a candlestick maker, I will be his queen, regardless. Other than that, you’re wrong. This has nothing to do with me.”
“I don’t believe you,” said Elspeth. “And if you’re through trying to make me feel guilty for wanting to go home, I’d like you to leave.”
“Okay,” said Farrah. “But first I have a proposal.”
“I don’t want to hear any proposals you might have,” said Elspeth. “I’ve made up my mind and that’s that.”
“One game,” said Farrah.
“What?”
“One game of chess. You against me. If I win, you stay until Krool is defeated. You win, you go on your not-so-merry little way and never look back.”
“Why would I agree to that?” asked Elspeth. “There’s nothing in it for me.”
“Perhaps not,” said Farrah. “But if you don’t play me, you’ll always wonder whether you could have beaten me.”
“Of course I can beat you. Any day.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about, do you? So? What do you say? One game.”
Elspeth stared at Farrah with fists balled up in fiery resentment. “Fine,” she said at last. “One game. But we’d better get started. Because once the sun goes down, I’m out of here.”
Sing a song of eight pawns, for king and queen they warred,
Two and thirty black squares upon the checkered board.
When the game was over, the crowd began to sing,
“We’ll make a dish that’s best served cold to set before the king.”
Chapter 23
Past tournaments in which Elspeth had competed usually drew no more than a handful of spectators—mostly parents, teachers, and certain oddly fanatic chess enthusiasts. In addition, the stakes were no higher than personal pride and, on occasion, a trophy, a certificate, or a small cash prize.
Now, as a crowd of two hundred gathered around that mossy log, most of them secretly rooting against her (and some not so secretly), she could hear her heart accelerating, could feel her palms growing moist.
It helped to remind herself that she was competing against a doll, though there was certainly something to be said for being the underdog.
As a show of confidence, Elspeth chose black. Farrah would enjoy the n
early insignificant advantage of moving first.
As the match began, each player opened conservatively and predictably with an eye on controlling the center. At first, the opponents mirrored each other’s moves, as can happen when student and teacher compete head to head.
As play entered the middle game, there would be a few minor exchanges, with each giving up a knight for a bishop and bishop for a knight. But as the sun inched toward the horizon and the spectators crept closer to the players, Elspeth began to develop a slight positional advantage.
Farrah had learned much from her mentor, but she was outmatched, though it wouldn’t become apparent until the endgame when she made a move and immediately realized her blunder. She sighed and ran her hands across her bristly sprockets of hair. Because of her mistake, all Elspeth would have to do would be to move king rook b2 and Farrah would be forced to sacrifice her queen to remain out of check. After that, it would be just two more moves before Farrah would find herself in checkmate.
Farrah could only stand and watch as Elspeth placed her fingers upon the rook. For the first time in the match, Elspeth looked up from the board at her opponent, something she only ever did when she knew the game was in hand, for to do so at any other time, she believed, showed doubt and weakness.
Farrah nodded as if to say, “Go ahead. Get it over with.”
Elspeth gazed out upon the audience members, who were impatiently leaning forward. Most of them had no understanding of the game and thus no idea that Elspeth was about to wrap it up. She picked Fergus out of the crowd, and the bird gave her not a sneer or a scowl, but instead a very surprising wink. When she looked at Jack and Jill, they offered her a reassuring smile. And when she found Dumpty, he gave her an affirmative nod and a thumbs-up. Despite the fact that a victory here would forever doom them all to a life of misery, they were rooting for her. But why? And then it occurred to Elspeth. They wanted victory for her because they knew how badly, how desperately she wanted to go home. Despite the devastating effect it would have on their own lives, they wanted what was best for her.
Blue in the Face Page 15
