Thrice Upon a Marigold

by Jean Ferris

  After another long pause, Sebastian said, “We all get mad and think crazy, cruel thoughts sometimes. But to act on them is what’s barbarous. Only a few do that. Like the Terrible Twos. That’s what makes them terrible.”

  “You said barbarous,” Phoebe said in admiration.

  “Something wrong with barbarous?”

  “No. Nothing. That’s what’s so great. It’s the perfect word. Hardly anybody can do that, get just the perfect word. You do it all the time. The king’s not bad at it, either—after all, he said egregious—but you’re better. I’ve been noticing.”

  Suddenly Sebastian felt too self-conscious about his vocabulary to say anything at all.

  And as usual, when Phoebe herself felt self-conscious, she spouted an odd fact. “Did you know that a hummingbird can beat its wings seventy times in one second?”

  “No,” Sebastian said. “I didn’t know that.”

  After that they were both silent, keeping an eye on the hole. And on each other.

  After what seemed a very long time, when the sun was past the zenith in the western sky and the afternoon air was cooling, Sebastian and Phoebe got to their feet and went to stand next to Christian, who still rested against the rock, his eyes closed. Sebastian cleared his throat loudly.

  Chris opened his eyes and blinked a few times. “Yes, Sebastian? Phoebe? What is it?”

  “I think Phoebe and I have come up with a way to get them out of there without anybody getting hurt,” Sebastian said.

  “And I’ve got a few ideas myself.” Chris sat up straighter. “Let’s hear yours.”

  “First, we roll some of these rocks down into the hole. Big rocks. Just a little smaller than the diameter of the hole.”

  Chris’s expression brightened. “I see where you’re going with this. Then what? I’m thinking fire myself.”

  “Yes, sire. That’s what I was thinking, too.”

  “And then vines,” Phoebe said. “From those trees right over there.” She pointed.

  Christian jumped to his feet. “Brilliant!”

  Once all the rocks were collected, Chris yelled down into the hole, “Look out below if you don’t want to get hit by a rock! There are a lot of them coming down!”

  On Sebastian’s signal, they began pushing the rocks into the hole, one after another. When the final stone had been pushed in, Chris, Sebastian, Rollo, and Phoebe stood coughing in the dust that had been stirred up.

  “I think that’s enough to do the trick,” Sebastian said. “Now the fire.”

  Phoebe had gathered a pile of dried moss and twigs next to the hole, and she watched as Chris took a flint and steel from his knapsack. Those were things no experienced woodsman ever went into the forest without. As Chris stood over the little pile, struggling to strike a spark big enough to ignite it, he muttered, “I wish somebody would hurry up and invent matches. This is really tedious.”

  Finally a spark fell into the dried moss and a wisp of smoke rose from it. Gently, coaxingly, Chris, Sebastian, Phoebe, and Rollo blew on the tiny spark until the whole pile caught and became a merry little blaze with lots of smoke.

  “Perfect!” Phoebe exclaimed, clapping her hands.

  “Well done, sire,” Sebastian said.

  “Not bad, if I do say so myself,” Chris said. “Now we need more tinder.”

  Bit by bit they added fuel until the fire was so big, they wished they had some marshmallows. Then Rollo took his battle ax and used it to push a burning section down the hole.

  “Hey!” Emlyn yelled. “What are you trying to do, burn us alive?”

  “Finally,” Chris said. “A reaction.”

  “No!” Sebastian yelled into the hole. “We just want you out of there! The smoke is encouragement. If you pile up the rocks, you can climb out.” Rollo pushed another burning section into the hole.

  “As the smoke gets worse in there, you’ll probably have to,” Phoebe called. “We can wait!”

  It didn’t take long before they could hear a commotion, though the smoke made it impossible to see what was going on. Suddenly, through the billows, out popped Emlyn.

  “None of this was my idea!” she shrieked. “I’m a victim myself! They threatened me with terrible things if I didn’t cooperate!”

  As her feet reached solid ground, she tried to run, but Rollo and Sebastian grabbed her before she could get anywhere. Phoebe was quick with the vines, and they had Emlyn tied up before she was quite sure what had happened. But that didn’t shut her up.

  “I was just a happy laundress!” she exclaimed. “Minding my own business. I’d never even met them, the Terrible Twos. Especially that time Fogarty and I got lost in the forest, looking for a private place to . . . I mean, to have a picnic. I never even knew we were so close to where they lived, out past the dragon. And nobody ever mentioned there could be so much money involved in a kidnapping. What would I want with all that money? I was a happy laundress.”

  “Is there any way to muzzle her?” Phoebe asked. “I can’t stand all these excuses.”

  Chris delved into his knapsack and brought out a clean diaper, which he’d brought figuring Poppy would need it by the time they found her. He took pleasure in jamming it into Emlyn’s mouth, cutting off her stream of pleas and denials.

  “I hope you’ve got another one of those,” Rollo said as Fogarty emerged, coughing and bellowing, “She’s the one got me into all this! I was proud of my position as a footman in the castle. I had no interest in any kidnapping! None! She made me!” Muffled howls came from Emlyn as Phoebe and Rollo trussed Fogarty with the vines and gagged him with another diaper.

  Christian picked his halberd up from the ground and ran his thumb along the very sharp edge of the blade. “Which one of you wants to tell me where Vlad and Boris have gone with my daughter?” he asked calmly.

  Emlyn’s eyes got very big and she shook her head wildly. Her hair, which had long since come undone from its bun, flopped back and forth across her face while she grunted noises, presumably of denial.

  Fogarty shook his head, too, squealing in fear.

  “You mean neither of you knows where they’ve gone?” Chris asked.

  They continued shaking their heads and moaning.

  “Then I guess it’s back to the castle and the dungeons for the two of you,” Chris said. “I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to do that.”

  He really had hoped that. He’d hoped they would tell him where the villains and his baby were, so that he, Sebastian, and Rollo with their weapons—and Phoebe with her wits—could go right there and foil the kidnapping. Now things were much more difficult and complicated.

  “May I suggest something, sire?” Sebastian asked.

  “Of course,” Chris said. “I’ve come to believe in your sound judgment and good ideas.”

  Well, that was about the nicest thing anybody had ever said to Sebastian, and it made him terribly afraid to say anything more. What if this was one time his judgment wasn’t sound at all and his ideas were dreadful? But his king was waiting for him to speak, so he had to.

  “I think it would work best if you and Rollo took the prisoners back to the castle and Phoebe and I went in search of our fathers. We know them better than anybody does, so we have the best chance of tracking them down.”

  “You’re amateurs!” Rollo exclaimed, his professional pride hurt.

  “And Poppy’s my daughter,” Chris said.

  “We know,” Phoebe said. “And no one knows better than we do that the worst place for a little baby to be is with our fathers. We want to get her away from them as much as you do.”

  “We can’t leave the prisoners unattended while we all go off searching,” Sebastian said reasonably. “They could get loose. And we can’t bring them with us. That would slow us down. Someone has to take them back.” He stopped there. Unlike most people, he knew when to quit talking. He had made his case and understood that the person who had heard it now needed time to think it over.

  After a moment, Christian’s shoul
ders slumped and he said, “You’re right. We’ll take these vermin back to the castle and then we’ll come right back here with your horses and be ready for you when you come back with the other vermin. Oh. Sorry. I know they’re your fathers.”

  “It’s okay,” Sebastian said. “They are vermin.”

  “Indeed,” Phoebe added.

  “We’ll hurry, but I can’t promise we can get back before it’s completely dark. How do you feel about being out here in the dark, searching?’

  “I don’t think we have a choice,” Sebastian said. “We’re running out of time. We have to use every minute.”

  “Then, here.” The king handed Sebastian his knapsack. “Take this. There’s some food and water and some things for Poppy if—I mean when—you find her.”

  Sebastian took the knapsack. He and Phoebe had their own, too, of course, but he understood the king’s need to help. And maybe they would be gone so long, they would need more supplies. Expecting to find Vlad and Boris by nightfall seemed wildly optimistic. “Thank you, Your Majesty. You can count on us.”

  He hoped he was right.

  14

  SEBASTIAN AND PHOEBE WATCHED as their king marched Emlyn and Fogarty off at the end of his halberd, back toward where the horses waited. Once the sound of their footsteps had faded into the trees, Phoebe said, “What do we do now? I have absolutely no idea where my father could be. Do you?”

  “I’ve been giving it some thought,” Sebastian said. “And I do have an idea. They still want the ransom, don’t they? And that means they intend to go to the dragon’s lair at sunset tomorrow. So they have to stay close enough to get there by then. We could just wait for them there.”

  “But the princess,” Phoebe reminded him. “They didn’t take the goat; they’re not even bothering to feed Poppy now. They might show up for the money and not have a baby to exchange for it. You know they’d just take the money and run again. And they have time now to make a better plan for escape. For all I know, they’ve made a deal with the flying monkeys.”

  “That would be bad, of course. But those monkeys are unusually hard to locate. I think they’re going to try to use the dragon. They’re fascinated by her, they want the ransom exchange made near her lair, and she could easily hold back an army with her flames, giving them plenty of time to get away.”

  “So where do you think they are now?”

  “I may be wrong, but I think they’ve gone back to either Vlad’s lodge or Boris’s pigsty to wait it out. Those are the last places they’d expect anyone to look, since they’ve already been searched. And I think my father meant to leave your father behind in that hole, too, with Emlyn and Fogarty, but something went wrong.”

  “You think your father wants to be the Terrible One?”

  “He’s a loner, he’s arrogant—thinks he’s smarter than everybody, always has—and I’m sure he doesn’t want to share the ransom money.”

  “My father may not be as smart as yours, but he’s very tenacious. It’s always been almost impossible to get him to stop something once he has his teeth into it, so to speak. Though sometimes, literally. Vlad is going to have a hard time getting rid of him, if that’s his plan. And the dragon—what makes you think she’d cooperate with them?”

  “She’s a dragon, isn’t she?” Sebastian said. “Since when do dragons have any scruples?”

  Phoebe straightened her back, fire flashing in her eyes. “And just how many dragons have you known?”

  “Well, only the one. But I’ve been hearing stories about them all my life.”

  “The same way people have heard stories about us?” she asked, her voice tight. “Just because of who our fathers are? Without any evidence of any kind that we’ve ever done anything the slightest bit wrong?”

  Sebastian finally took a good look at her set face and blinked. “Oh,” he said. After a silence, during which Phoebe continued to glare at him, he said, “I see your point. I’m sorry. That was very foolish of me. Wouldn’t it be interesting if the dragon’s not as big a threat as we think she is? But I don’t think we should count on that. Remember how much burning and scaring she’s done over the years.”

  “I haven’t forgotten that. But I don’t want you to forget how easy it is to make judgments that are not based on any facts.”

  He took her hand. “Forgive me. Please.” The look he gave her was so remorseful that she had no choice but to accede.

  They stayed that way, gazing into each other’s eyes for several long moments, until Phoebe cleared her throat and said, “Shouldn’t we start looking for the Terrible Twos?”

  Sebastian seemed to wake from a minor trance. “Yes. Yes, we certainly should.”

  “And if we find them, we should concentrate on saving Poppy, don’t you think? Once we have her, the emergency is over. We can leave the Terrible Twos to Rollo and the guards.”

  “Exactly,” Sebastian said, relieved.

  “We know they’re not feeding her, so we might hear her crying from hunger unless they’re keeping her quiet somehow. Your father is well-known for his sleeping powders as well as for his poisons, isn’t he?”

  “Well, yes, but his sleeping powders are intended to put people to sleep permanently.”

  “Then, we better get going. Did the king tell you where the guards found Boris’s place?”

  “Enough that I’m pretty sure I can find it.”

  “Well, what are we waiting for?”

  Pausing only long enough to divide the contents of Chris’s knapsack into their own two, they set off.

  By the time they located Boris’s dwelling, it was almost full dark. Boris’s lodge wasn’t very far from Vlad’s, but it was so concealed by overgrown vegetation that it was almost impossible to see. In fact, they would have missed it entirely if they hadn’t spotted a glimmer of lantern light through the wild growth.

  Phoebe grabbed Sebastian’s arm and pointed. He appreciated the feeling of her hand on his bicep for an instant before he nodded. Both were wondering if the other was as fearful at the prospect of seeing the father they had never wanted anything more to do with.

  “We should reconnoiter,” Sebastian said.

  “Yes,” Phoebe said. “I suppose we should. What a lovely word. What does it mean?”

  “Oh. Sorry. It means to look around. Check things out. Get the lay of the land.”

  “Definitely. But it’s so dark.”

  “We’ll have to be very sneaky. The only way we’ll have any clue is to get close enough to look in a window. Do you think your father would have any booby traps?”

  “I never knew him to be that organized, as you can probably tell by the mess outside here. He liked inventing new instruments of torture but he’d never clean up the clutter left over. He’d just push it aside and step over it. I guess that’s a booby trap in itself.”

  Sebastian was offended by such appalling habits. But also relieved, under the circumstances. After a long hesitation, he said, “So we should go. Have a look.”

  “I know we have to. But I’m scared. Are you?”

  He smiled down at her. “Why should I be afraid of one of the nastiest, scariest, most devious brutes the kingdom has ever known? Sure, I’m scared. I’ve always been afraid of my father. I should be. Everybody should be. But do we have a choice? We promised the king we’d rescue Poppy.”

  Phoebe took a deep breath. “You’re right. Thank you for reminding me.” She began pushing through the tangle of undergrowth toward Boris’s house, and Sebastian followed.

  They eased toward the window, trying not to make much noise, and arranged themselves on either side of it. When Sebastian nodded, Phoebe bobbed up and darted a look inside, then nodded at Sebastian, who darted his own look. They crouched beneath the window to compare notes.

  “Did you see the baby?” Phoebe asked.

  “I saw the laundry basket with the royal seal that they took her away in. But it was covered with a towel. I’m not sure she was in there.”

  “Of course she’s
in there. Why else would they have the basket?”

  “But the Terrible Twos are surely there, too. How will we get Poppy?”

  “We need a distraction. Something that will get them out so we can grab the laundry basket.”

  “A distraction,” Sebastian murmured. “Like a lot of noise?”

  “Maybe not that,” she said. “If you were in an isolated house in the middle of the forest and you heard a strange sound outside, would you go running out to see what it was? Or would you stay inside where it was safe?”

  “So we have to make it seem unsafe in there. I know! We could set the place on fire. Then they’d have to come out.”

  Phoebe considered this. “I’d be afraid of starting a forest fire. I couldn’t bear that.”

  And he couldn’t bear the stricken look in her eyes. “All right. Well, we could break some windows. That should alarm them.”

  “But enough to come out and see what caused it? Or enough to make them hole up inside even tighter?”

  “Hmmm. Hard to know. Well, I guess there’s only one thing to do.”

  “What?”

  “We knock on the door and when they open it, hope they’re surprised enough that we can rush in, grab the laundry basket, and rush out again.”

  “Wow. That’s pretty daring. But maybe direct, straightforward action is the best thing.”

  “Come on, then.” He took her hand and began pulling her toward the front door.

  “Oh! You mean now?” She dug in her heels.

  “How will it get better if we wait? We’ll just get colder and more scared.”

  They tiptoed up the front steps, which were littered with leaves and other trash, and raised the door knocker, which, to Phoebe, looked like a leftover part from one of Boris’s torture devices. Sebastian took a tender look at her and let the knocker fall.

  Faster than they had anticipated, they heard heavy footsteps approaching the door, which was flung open to reveal Boris. He was so large, he filled the entire doorway, dashing their plan to rush past and grab the laundry basket.

  “Phoebe?” Boris said. “What are you doing here?”