The Heart of Glass (13 page)

Gracie was studying the ladder. “I think it’ll be long enough; I just hope I can get it through the entrance.”

Bestius tipped his hat to her. “It would be my pleasure to help you, miss.” He swung his spade, and in seconds the tunnel entrance had doubled in size. Gracie smiled at him, her eyes shining. “Oh, that’s wonderful! Even Gubble will be able to get out now. Thank you so much.”

“Stand back, kiddo.” Marlon flew over her shoulder. “I’ll check it out.” Alf flew straight after him; there were sounds of argument and protestation — and then a long silence.

Gracie, clutching the ladder, strained her ears but could hear nothing. She turned to Flo, but the little bat had no answers.

“I can’t hear any more than you can,” she apologized. “It’s all the sneezing. My ears get blocked. I’ll go and see what they’re up to.” With a flick of her wings, she too was gone, and Gracie was left waiting restlessly for one or all of them to return.

“You don’t think something could be catching them, do you?” she asked Bestius.

He shook his head. “They’ve gone exploring, I’d say. Looking for that friend of yours. What was his name? Gubble? Another prince, is he? That Prince Marcus was properly upset when he thought you were stuck underground. All in a tizzy, he was, make no mistake.”

Gracie concealed her pleasure at this information with a laugh. “Gubble’s a troll,” she explained. “He lives with me at the House of the Ancient Crones.”

Bestius gulped. “The . . . crones? The ones who spin the web? The web of power?”

“That’s right.” Gracie nodded. “Do you know them?”

The dwarf gulped again. He had convinced himself that it was allowable to hide a few unpalatable facts about trolls from Marcus, but this information made him look at things from a very different perspective. If word ever got back to the Ancient One that a dwarf had had anything to do with leading a friend of theirs — or even the friend of a friend of theirs — into danger, then anything might happen. Bestius began to chew the end of his beard while he tried to think what he should say.

Before he could say anything, Marlon, Alf, and Flo came flying out of the tunnel bursting with news. “He’s there, Miss Gracie!” Alf did a double spin in his excitement. “Gubble’s there, but he’s got a tree root wrapped around him, so he can’t get out, and
loads
of earth have come down! And there’s the most enormous pair of feet you ever did see sticking out from underneath, and I wanted to tickle them but Unc said not to!” Alf ended his breathless report with another spin and a double dive before settling on a twig close beside Gracie. Flo settled next to him and confirmed his report with several sneezes.

“It’s cool, kiddo.” Marlon stretched his wings. “Checked the pit too — you’ll be OK if you take it steady on the ladder. Watch the troll doesn’t shift it on the way back — he’s heavier than you.”

Gracie nodded. “Will you come with me? It gets really dark in the main tunnel.”

Bestius, who was feeling more and more guilty, reached into his coat pocket and produced the lantern he used when working. He lit it with his tinderbox and handed it to Gracie. “Here, miss.” Gracie’s beaming smile did not improve the way he was feeling, and he added, “I’ll come after you and hold the ladder steady while you crawl across.”

“Thank you,” said Gracie. “You’re very kind.”

Bestius felt even worse. As Gracie crawled into the tunnel, he was so deep in thought that she had already dragged the ladder into place over the pit and was almost halfway across before he realized what she was doing. He hurriedly scrambled after her and held the ladder safely in position until she reached the other side.

“It’s OK,” Gracie called over her shoulder. “You can let go now.”

The dwarf looked down at the ladder, then beyond into the darkness of the tunnel, where the glow of Gracie’s lamp was steadily getting smaller and smaller. “Oh, oddspillikins,” he said, and slapped himself on the chest. “Bestius Bonnyrigg, are you a dwarf or a sneaky, sniveling goblin?” And he set off after Gracie.

Marlon, who had been watching the dwarf with interest, chuckled to himself. “Typical Trueheart, our Gracie. Brings out the best in the good, and the worst in the bad.” He called for Alf and Flo, but there was no sign of them. The two little bats had vanished. Marlon called again with increasing irritation. Finally he heard a series of distant answering squeaks — but it was not Alf or Flo who flew down to join him.

It was his daughter, Millie, and she was looking ruffled. “Dad! Have you seen Miss Gracie? There’s an urgent message from Miss Val’s brother. Miss Gracie’s not to go near any trolls — well, not meaning Gubble, of course, but any other ones. If you see her, can you tell her? I’m off to the House — the professor said they might know anyway, but I’ve got to make sure.”

“Hang around, kid,” her father said as Millie showed signs of flying off again. “What’s the panic?”

Millie paused. “I’ve got one of my feelings, Dad. Mr. Prince says it’s all OK, but —”

Marlon held up an imperative claw. “You’ve seen the Royal? Where? What was he doing?”

“I don’t know,” Millie said peevishly. “He was with a girl; she was hiding behind a tree, but I saw her. All in flounces and petticoats, but nothing like as nice as Miss Gracie. And Mr. Prince said Miss Gracie had fallen in a hole but not to worry — but I AM worried, Dad, and we’ve got to find her!”

Marlon put a comforting wing around his agitated daughter. “It’s cool, kiddo. Young Gracie’s safe as houses down that tunnel. Gubble’s in trouble, but she’ll save him.” Marlon’s tone was admiring. “Sounds as if the Royal’s doing good too. Found a dame already, I’d say.” He puffed out his chest. “It’s a plan, Millie my girl. Going like clockwork.”

Millie refused to be impressed. “Do Miss Val and Miss Edna and Miss Elsie know about it?”

“The crones? Natch.”

Marlon had only hesitated for a fraction of a second before replying, but it was enough for Millie. “You haven’t told them, have you? Not all of it, anyway. I know you, Dad — you think you can sort everything out all by yourself, and I know you’re wonderful and as clever as can be, but this is serious stuff. Like I said, I’ve got a feeling. A bad one.”

Marlon gave his only daughter a loving nibble on her ear. “Old worryguts. OK. Here’s the deal. Gracie’ll be in and out of that tunnel in a couple of ticks, and she’ll bring the troll with her. Young Marcus is collecting a princess — guess it’s the dame you saw. She’ll be delivered to the dwarves, ’n’ the dwarves’ll take her to the troll king. Then she gets rescued by Marcus with trumpets and stuff, and the kid’s a hero. Check!” Marlon finished with a flourish and waited for the applause.

None came. Instead there was a thoughtful silence until Millie said, “I don’t get it. Why does the princess have to go and see the troll king in the first place?”

Marlon was beginning to sense that his plan was not being as well received as he had hoped. “The dame’s by way of a swap. But there’s no need to bother your —”

Millie was in the air, raging. “Dad! Don’t you DARE! I’m going straight to Miss Edna, and I want you to promise you’ll stop Mr. Prince this minute! The very idea! That princess may be nothing but frills and fancy clothes, but she’s still a girl, and girls have feelings, and you’re treating her just like a . . . like a PARCEL! I never, ever thought I’d say this, but I’m ashamed of you, Dad — I really am.” And Millie gave a heartbroken sob as she flew swiftly away.

A deflated Marlon watched her go. He was genuinely taken aback by her outburst; part of him was worried because he had upset her, but another part wondered if his plan could, in fact, be altered without the most terrible consequences. Coming to the conclusion that it would be impossible, he began to justify his actions. “Little Millie don’t know the whole story — that’s the problem. We only got the royal dame involved because we wanted young Gracie dug out. Couldn’t have known she’d pop up like a bunny from a hole, could we?” He shifted from foot to foot as he waited for the uncomfortable knot in his stomach to subside. It didn’t, and he began to feel angry instead. “Too independent, that young bat. Hmph. Needs to mind her own business!” And he shot into the tunnel to check on Gracie.

He was traveling at such a speed that he was quite unable to avoid Bestius, who was carefully maneuvering himself off the ladder at the far end. As Marlon thudded into the back of his head, Bestius yelped in surprise before rolling onto solid ground. The ladder slid sideways, wobbled, then fell down, down, and down again into the murky depths of the pit.

Q
ueen Bluebell was feeling extremely pleased with her success in sending Prince Vincent on a mission to rescue Marigold. It seemed to her it had all the right ingredients: not too much danger and possibly even the beginnings of a useful romance. She was comfortably settled in her favorite armchair drinking a large, self-congratulatory glass of something considerably stronger than tea when the Dowager Duchess of Cockenzie Rood was announced.

“Hortense!” Bluebell said in surprise. “I thought you’d be helping soothe Kesta’s ruffled feathers!” She shook her head. “Kesta’s a good woman, but she does get herself into a terrible state about those girls of hers. Have a glass of Wadingburn’s Best Old Malt. Excellent stuff.”

The duchess shook her head. “That’s kind of you, but not just now. I’ve come to ask your advice.”

“Advice?” The queen raised an eyebrow. “What sort of advice?”

Hortense sat down on the edge of a sofa. “I’ve been wondering if I should go after Marigold.” She saw Bluebell’s eyebrow rise even higher and hastily added, “I know you’ve sent Vincent to rescue her, and it’s a splendid plan if it works — but I can’t help worrying. I never expected her to help herself to Fedora’s dress and her pony and cart, and if she’s surprised me once, she might surprise me again. What if the silly girl hasn’t stopped at the border of the Five Kingdoms? What if she’s gone chasing into the Enchanted Forests to find Marcus? He was off to Flailing to look at the dwarves.” She paused and looked guilty. “That’s what I told her to do. I haven’t told Kesta, though.”

“Hmph.” Bluebell frowned. “I see your point. Vincent’s far too chicken to go looking for her if she’s not where she’s meant to be.”

“I feel so responsible.” The dowager duchess sighed. “I thought it would do her good to have an adventure. I should have realized that she doesn’t have the sense to do it properly. Do you think she’ll come to any harm if she
has
gone to Flailing? She’s wearing her sister’s wedding dress, so she’s not exactly hiding the fact that she’s a royal princess. Stupid girl. You and I used to borrow the milkmaids’ dresses, and nobody looked at us twice.”

Her friend took her feet off her footstool, sat up, and rang the large bell on the floor beside her. When a small page appeared, Bluebell said, “Be a chum and fetch the professor for me.” The boy shot off, and the queen turned to Hortense. “We’ll ask Scallio what he thinks about it all. Good chap, even if he can’t do a thing with Vincent. His sister lives in the More Enchanted Forest, and she tells him things I know nothing about. Gets a bit excited, sometimes — was wittering on about trolls earlier, and we all know they’re no trouble these days — but overall he talks a lot of sense.”

The duchess nodded and sat back among the sofa cushions.

A moment later, Professor Scallio appeared, a large book tucked under his arm; Queen Bluebell waved for him to join them. “Need your help,” she said. “This adventure I told you about — Princess Marigold. What if she goes as far as Flailing? Any danger, would you say?” She paused. “Girl’s all dressed up in her sister’s wedding dress.”

If Professor Scallio was in any way taken aback by this information, he did not show it. He stroked his chin while he considered what to say. His first thought was that this could be an excellent opportunity to make sure Marcus and Gracie were safe, but he was a man of honor and not prepared to take advantage of his employer. “Well,” he said slowly, “am I right in supposing she has a pony and cart?”

Bluebell and Hortense nodded.

The professor went on thinking. “The roads are decidedly rough beyond the border, so traveling is not always easy, and the different tracks — such as they are — have no signposts. I would suspect the princess might well give up long before she reaches the Unreliable Forest, which is where there might perhaps be some”— he coughed —“some uncertainty.”