Ella and the Panther's Quest

by Lisa Anne Nisula

  *

  I woke up in the night feeling cozy. Still half asleep, I nestled closer to the warmth, then opened my eyes just enough to see if it was safe. My cheek was resting against soft black fur. I opened my eyes a bit more and saw that the singed patch was far enough away that I would not bump it or aggravate it in my sleep, then closed my eyes again. I knew I was safe now, and I was too tired to wonder why he was there. Besides, it would give me a puzzle to work out as we walked.

  *

  I was cold. That was what woke me up. Cold and somehow less comfortable, even though my head was pillowed on my knitting bag. I opened my eyes and saw Nathaniel lying on the ground several feet away. I was close to thinking his presence in the night had been a dream, but I remembered the feeling of soft fur against my cheek so clearly, and the cloak still held a little of his warmth.

  Nathaniel raised his head and saw I was awake. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.” I sat up and decided to say nothing about the night before. If Nathaniel had wanted me to notice he had been beside me, he would have made certain I did.

  The fire had died down during the night. I got a small stack of sticks and built it up until there was enough of a flame to be useful. I watched Nathaniel melt into the shadows again, looking for his own breakfast, no doubt. Which was a good idea. I took out my bag and enjoyed the luxury of being able to choose my meal. I decided on bread and pears for breakfast, toasting the bread over the fire for a few moments before I ate it.

  By the time Nathaniel returned, I had finished breakfast and was putting out the fire. He watched me, and when I’d finished he asked, “Are you ready to go on?”

  “Yes, I think so. Does this look out to you?”

  While I got my bag, Nathaniel gave the fire a second look and a sniff. “It looks fine.” He watched me adjust my bag on my shoulder. “How is your food holding up?”

  I found myself searching the question for some criticism, but all I found was concern. “I stole quite a lot from Mrs. Boswell’s kitchen,” I admitted.

  “My kitchen,” Nathaniel said with a bit of a smile, “if that makes you feel better about it.”

  I hadn’t thought of it like that. “It does.”

  Nathaniel waited until I was beside him before melting back into the forest.

  Chapter 21

  The part of the forest we entered was pitted with small ditches and patches of downed tress. Nathaniel guided me around the obstacles, warning me about fallen limbs and holes in our path. I was already missing my boots. The slippers fit well, but what had been comfortable on wooden floors and smooth garden paths was not practical in the forest. Despite Panther’s warnings of the larger things in our path, I could still feel all the small stones and irregular roots poking up from the ground, and my ankles had no protection from the bristly weeds and sharp sticks that were pushed down by my skirt and sprang back up against my legs.

  Nathaniel glanced back at me several times, but did not speak after we broke camp. I was glad; I didn’t want to talk and I needed all my concentration to pick my way along without injury.

  We reached a particularly deep ditch. Nathaniel went a few steps ahead to examine it, carefully looking at the bank around the log that lay across it and down into the ditch. He seemed satisfied and used the fallen log to cross. I lifted Feste onto the log and, once he’d gone a few feet ahead, climbed up behind him, careful not to look down into the deep chasm. The log was wide enough that I was able to walk almost normally and keep my balance without much effort. I found myself wondering how the log had come to fall so neatly across the ditch, and what exactly Nathaniel had been looking for.

  Nathaniel waited for me to finish crossing and hop down off of the log before he asked, “Yesterday you said you saw McNair?”

  “Yes.” I was pulling the cloak more tightly around myself and completely missed his tone of voice. It wasn’t until he went on that I understood what he really wanted to know.

  “And I suppose Mistress Leone and Grigsby.”

  “Yes, and Mrs. Boswell. There were quite a few servants at the manor.” I tried to guess how many, rounding up a bit. “Forty people maybe.” I saw Nathaniel hesitate and added, “But I didn’t see everybody, of course, and there was a group out on a hunting party.”

  I couldn’t read Nathaniel’s expression as he went on. “Do you remember anyone in particular?”

  “My maid was named Phoebe. And there was a very helpful kitchen maid named Clara.”

  Nathaniel interrupted me. “How many other kitchen maids?”

  “Four, that I saw. One was Jane.”

  “And the other three? What did they look like?”

  I started to describe the girls.

  *

  I had made my way through the kitchen staff, downstairs maids, upstairs maids, and the footmen and was just starting to describe the gardeners when Nathaniel stopped walking, his ears straining to listen, his eyes scanning the area. I stopped talking and stayed close beside him. We were approaching a deep ravine with a rickety wooden bridge stretched across it. I thought it was the ravine I had seen from my window at the manor house. When we were a few feet from the bridge, Nathaniel stopped abruptly, his tail darting out to stop my progress. “Wait.”

  I saw his hackles rise and his eyes dart, scanning the path ahead.

  “The bridge?”

  Nathaniel nodded once. “Stay back.”

  I stood with Feste while Nathaniel crept forward, head low, scanning the area around the bridge. I held very still, not sure what I would do if something jumped out at Nathaniel.

  Nathaniel edged closer to the bushes blocking the drop into the ravine. He batted them with his paw, scaring out a squirrel and two birds, then pushed at them with his nose.

  And then I was on the ground, the wind knocked out of me. I lay there face down, stones from the path pressing into my stomach, as a huge weight settled on my back. Enormous rough hands were ripping at my cloak, grabbing at my back. I tried to kick out with my legs, but I only came in contact with hard stone. I braced my hands on the ground and tried to push up, thinking to drag myself out from under the monster, but it was too heavy and I didn’t manage to do anything but scrape at the ground.

  Barely a few seconds had passed when I heard a growl and the thunk of Nathaniel hitting my attacker. I could hear Nathaniel whimper as he was pushed away, then growl again as he bounded back.

  This time the monster rose up to swat at Nathaniel. I used those seconds to drag myself out from under it. I crawled to a tree and pulled myself to my feet. I stayed there, out of the way, hoping the tree would offer some protection, as I scanned the ground for something I could use as a weapon. There was nothing useful, no rocks, no branches bigger than a twig. Nothing. Footstool crept out of the bushes and shook his head. I realized he had been trying to help too, and hadn’t had any more luck than I’d had. I turned back to the fight, watching for any way to help Nathaniel.

  Now that I was out from under the monster, I was able to identify it. It was a huge troll, with cracked leathery skin and beady eyes, wearing piecemeal bits and tatters of clothing. He didn’t have a weapon, but didn’t seem to need anything other than his chipped teeth and club-like hands. I shuddered back against the tree.

  The troll shoved Nathaniel aside as if he were a house cat and came at me again. I put the tree between myself and the troll. Nathaniel leapt in front of the tree, his teeth bared, claws unsheathed, ready to defend me.

  The troll tried to reach around Nathaniel, grabbing for my skirt.

  Nathaniel clawed at the troll’s outstretched arm and snarled. “Leave her! I will pay your toll as is your right to demand, but not with her. You will leave her be!”

  “But I’m cold!” The troll sat down and started to cry.

  Now that the fight seemed over, I started to slip out around the tree. Nathaniel noticed and glared at me until I stayed put. Nathaniel approached the troll. “Explain.”

  The troll had tears running down his
face. Every so often one would hit the ground and splash Nathaniel. “I’m cold. The forest is cold. Even when I come to this bridge. It used to be warm here. And nothing they give me fits. It all rips. Velvet is warm.” His hand went to my skirt again.

  “You want her cloak?” Nathaniel emphasized the last word and glanced back at me. “Then she will be cold, and it will not fit you any better than what you have.”

  “It’s all right, Nathaniel,” I whispered. “I could give him my cloak.”

  Nathaniel edged back until he was close enough to me that he could whisper, “You know that’s not all he wants. I might convince him to give you passage for it, and you could sneak Feste across, but he’d immediately ask something else for me, probably a velvet dress. I have much experience with trolls.”

  “Then what do we do?”

  “I’ll offer him something else. He wants warmth.” Nathaniel stepped forward. “Good troll, we have matches and wood for a fire.”

  “Fires don’t work here. More clothes will. And there are two of you.” His hand went to my cloak, and I knew Nathaniel had been right. The troll would not be easy to satisfy.

  Nathaniel was at a loss. He tried to negotiate, offering several items from my bag, but the troll answered each one with, “But I’m cold.”

  The troll could tell when Nathaniel had reached his end. “Give me her clothes or I make you my prisoners until the toll is paid.”

  I unclasped the cloak and let it slide from my shoulders, careful to control my shivering, but Nathaniel wasn’t about to give in.

  “We’ll figure something else out,” Nathaniel whispered and stared at me until I wrapped the cloak back around my shoulders.

  The troll led us along the edge of the ravine. I didn’t want the troll to know Feste was alive and ask for something else in payment, so I carried him tucked under my arm. Feste seemed to understand and held as still as he could. The troll did not seem to find traveling with a piece of furniture odd, but I wasn’t sure if that was because he was slow or if traveling with enchanted furniture was normal in this world. Nathaniel stayed beside me, slowing his pace to match mine. I considered asking him about the troll ignoring Feste, but it felt odd to discuss Feste with him tucked between us. Instead, I took advantage of Nathaniel’s closeness and whispered, “What’s the normal way to deal with trolls?”

  “It is their right to demand tolls at bridges; travelers usually carry something to give them. Normally they want food, but they can be distracted by shiny things. I had thought, if we encountered any, one of your sandwiches from home might be novel enough to work, or the gauntlet. Now, perhaps you would have had some shiny bauble from the manor house. But if all he wants is something to keep him warm, he is truly desperate.”

  I took another look in my bag as we walked. Nathaniel kept an eye on my path so I wouldn’t stumble. I had been far too practical, or too honest, when I’d left the manor house. There was no bit of jewelry or shiny object to tempt the troll. Nothing shinier than the trim on my gown. “We could rip some of this off and offer it.”

  “No, if he wants warmth as badly as he claims, he’d want the whole dress or nothing.” Nathaniel wrapped his tail around my waist. It was as strong as an arm, but flexible and covered in soft fur. The tip curled around me, brushing against the inside of my elbow before sliding down and settling in my palm. It seemed natural to curl my fingers around it, like holding a human hand. Nathaniel did not seem to mind. “Don’t worry. Trolls aren’t the worst that can befall us. They’re only violent if they’re confused or hurt. We’re not a threat. We’ll be safe at his camp and we’ll think of a way out of this.”

  I forced a smile, wondering what was worse than a twelve-foot creature who wanted my clothes.

  Chapter 22

  I wouldn’t have realized we’d reached our destination if the troll hadn’t sat down on the ground with a thump that shook the whole area. Even then I would have thought he was only resting, if Nathaniel hadn’t stopped too and started to examine the area with an intensity that I knew meant he was looking for possible escape routes. I examined it too. I didn’t know what was useful for escape, but I was curious and wanted to know what I was getting into. The troll’s home was not a house of any kind, but a clearing in the woods, with ragged stumps that looked like the trees had been snapped off, and earth that had been pounded down by enormous feet, and small lean-to shelters made of branches tied together against the few trees left standing. Nathaniel seemed to expect this, so I didn’t worry too much, not yet. I still wanted to know what was involved in being the troll’s prisoner.

  There didn’t seem to be much. The troll made no effort to restrain us. I didn’t see anything that could have served as a prison, or a cage, or even an enclosure. He kept a close eye on us, and from the way Nathaniel stayed in the area, I was pretty sure the troll could have stopped us if we simply tried to run away, but we were left free to roam the camp.

  The troll watched us for a little while, then said, “You will stay here until you pay the toll.”

  “What will you accept as payment?” I could tell from Nathaniel’s voice that he had asked this before.

  “A way to keep warm.” The troll approached me, his hand reaching for my skirt. I edged a little closer to Nathaniel. Nathaniel wrapped his tail around my waist again and took a step forward, placing himself in front of me.

  I was being foolish, I told myself. If we were going to get out of this, we would need to think. Nathaniel knew a lot about trolls. There had to be a way, but I had to keep my wits about me to work out what it would be.

  Nathaniel was still trying to negotiate. “What have you tried so far?”

  “Only clothes help. I take them, they tear, I take more.” He pointed to a heap of rags. Nathaniel and I went to look.

  I stared at the stacks of clothes the troll had collected then discarded, and picked up a few pieces. Most of it was so torn and ragged there was not enough left intact to hold stitches without unraveling. I wondered if there was even enough left to sew together.

  Nathaniel nudged the pile with his nose, looking at the lower layers. “Any ideas?”

  I shook my head. “It wouldn’t hold together if I sewed it.”

  “What if you knitted it up?”

  I raised an eyebrow. I hadn’t known Nathaniel had noticed I had been knitting on the rock by the hedge. I picked up the pieces again. If they were ripped a bit more, knotted together … “I think so, but do you realize how long it would take?”

  Nathaniel stared at the uncovered layer of clothing. “But it could be done?”

  I looked at the troll. “It takes a couple months to make myself a sweater; can you imagine how long it would take to make something that size?”

  Nathaniel did not look up. “Nine months? He’s about three times your size. It’s a long time, I know.”

  I did not want to stay here, with the troll, in the cold, for nine more months. I tried to appeal to what was important to Nathaniel. “It will delay our return to the castle. The curse won’t be broken for nine more months.”

  Nathaniel sighed. “You’re right, of course. And this is a terrible place. And I know you didn’t take anything close to nine months of supplies from my kitchens. We might be able to sneak out. I could probably jump the ravine, even carrying you and Feste. That might be the wisest course.” But he didn’t move toward the ravine, or even look at it. He kept staring at the clothes. Once he would have given an order and waited for me to obey, but I thought we had become friends since then, at least since the night he had curled up beside me in my sleep. I didn’t pester him, but waited for him to explain.

  “My people will come through here to come home.”

  So that was it. I should have guessed. “You’re sure? Maybe they’ll be whisked over.”

  “Maybe, but they’ve already passed through here once.” He caught a filthy bit of cloth between his teeth and pulled it free. “That’s a bit of my livery. It’s all through here.” He pulled a second bit fr
ee. “Maid’s uniform.” He pulled out a jacket, ripped and stained with what might have been blood. “You told me that McNair was a missing hand and had a limp. He had neither when I knew him. This was his, head groundskeeper.”

  I did not make him go on. I didn’t know how he could recognize one bit of colorless rag from another, but I was certain he had been able to. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  I took an armful of cloth and carried it to the tree stump. I dumped the clothes on the ground and sat on the stump. I dug around in my knitting bag, through the odds and ends that never seemed to get cleared out. I found a set of knitting needles that would do for knitting the cloth and slid the stitches that were already on them to the tail end of the yarn.

  I looked at the scraps and picked up a couple of things that looked older than anything Nathaniel had shown me. I ripped them into long strips, knotting them into an even longer piece which I wound into a ball. I cast on and knit for a few rows.

  Nathaniel sat on the ground beside me, watching silently. I knit a few inches, then put down my needles. “It will work; it’ll take a while, but it will work.”

  “What do you need?”

  I looked around. “I’ll have to measure him.”

  Nathaniel nodded. “I’ll talk to him. Is there any other way I can help?”

  I wanted to ask what he could do, but when I looked at him, he seemed so ready to do what I asked, I didn’t want to discourage him, and I couldn’t think of a way to phrase the question that I was sure would come out the way I intended. “I don’t know yet.”

  Nathaniel accepted that. He crossed the clearing to the troll. I started ripping the cloth into strips I could use and listened to the negotiations.

  “Great troll, you say you attack travelers because you are cold. If my companion were to knit you something you could wear to keep you warm, would you stop attacking travelers and let us continue our journey?”

  The troll stared at Nathaniel, then leaned in to get a close look at him. “She will do that?”