by K. M. Shea
“It turned out great, didn’t it? And that’s all that matters,” Gabrielle said, watching drenched villagers haul away a few of the bandits. (This time the cowshed would be guarded.)
“Alright, I shall, for once in my life, admit defeat. Lady Gabrielle, I acted poorly when I met you. I regret my conduct now, having fought with you and having witnessed your charming personality transformation,” Steffen said, bowing.
“I reacted with quite a bit of spite,” Gabrielle acknowledged. “So, let’s call it a draw and forget about it—although you should never ask a lady about her sleeping arrangements.”
“Consider that information noted,” Steffen said. “I suppose I should go check on my father, but later tonight or perhaps tomorrow I expect I shall see—”
“There you are, Gabrielle, looking as filthy as a dormouse. Lena will have to draw another bath for you,” Puss said, trotting up to them. He traveled flush against the homes and buildings—leaving him dry in spite of the heavy rains.
“Puss, where have you been? I screamed all across town for you—the bandits attacked again,” Gabrielle said.
“So I noticed,” Puss said, pawing the head of a knocked-out bandit before retreating to the shelter of an alley.
“—cat,” Steffen said, his blue eyes enlarging as he stared at Puss. “Talking cat.”
“I told you he was magic,” Gabrielle said, unable to keep smugness out of her voice. “That will teach you not to believe me, you arrogant boaster.”
“Ahh, Crown Prince Steffen, how good it is to make your acquaintance. I just had the most charming conversation with your father.”
“Prince?” Gabrielle said, fastening her gaze on Steffen.
“Talking cat,” Steffen dumbly repeated.
Gabrielle gaped at the handsome prince in horror. She had just spent a good portion of the evening verbally abusing the future monarch of Arcainia! She could be tossed in a dungeon—not that Steffen was likely to be so bitter after the conversation they had just shared, but still!
Gabrielle scooped up Puss, who yowled in protest. “Ew—you are soaked worse than a frog. How disgusting!”
“A cat that talks. You own it,” Steffen repeated, as if trying to get himself used to the idea.
Gabrielle gave the prince a half-curtsey-half-bow and hurried off to the Green Ivy Inn. “You couldn’t have found me sooner to inform me that the man I was having a shouting match with will one day be my king?” she hissed to her cat.
“You let those girls dress me up, Gabrielle. I wore boots for the better part of an hour.”
“Serves you right.”
“Aren’t you hateful? Anyway, you may forget about Steffen. His father is the one with whom we must concern ourselves. If we can worm into his good graces, the crown prince will not matter at all,” Puss said.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m just handling your public image. Anyway, keeping your…interactions with Prince Steffen in mind, perhaps we should leave early tomorrow morning before the royal party rises.”
“You think?” Gabrielle snarled.
“Temper, temper, Mistress. Lest no one will believe you to be a lady of good breeding,” Puss said. “Also, I think it will be necessary to train you to speak with charisma and charm. You cannot treat King Henrik as you have his son.”
“An hour wasn’t enough. The next time we stay at a village, I’m going to let little girls play with you for an entire afternoon,” Gabrielle vowed as they stopped outside the door of the Green Ivy Inn.
“Empty threats,” Puss sniffed.
“Don’t tempt me,” Gabrielle growled as she pushed her way inside. “Good evening.”
“Good evening, Lady Gabrielle,” Jakob, enfolded in a wool blanket, called from a bench. “It is good to see you again after such a messy episode!” He had been one of the villagers to take on the bandits, wielding a sturdy shovel—which was now a little dented.
“Jakob claims the fight went well. Thank you for facing those bandits, Lady Gabrielle. Please, help yourself to a blanket.” Lena smeared a paste over her husband’s puffy eye. It would be a shiner in the morning.
“Oh, it wasn’t just me. Everyone helped,” Gabrielle said, eyeing the proprietress. (There was no telling what she would do if she felt Wied owed Gabrielle even further.) She gratefully took a wool blanket and wrapped it around herself.
“You and Kronprinz Steffen seemed to get along quite well,” Jakob said.
Gabrielle muttered, “How is it that everyone recognized him for what he is, except me?”
“You missed his arrival,” Puss said before raising his voice to speak to the couple. “We must thank you again for your hospitality tonight.”
“It is our pleasure—ouch,” Jakob said, wincing when Lena smeared balm on a cut on his arm.
“Indeed, especially given the evening’s activities and your afternoon of work,” Lena said, sparing her husband for a moment to fix her thoughtful gaze on Gabrielle.
“Sadly, we must depart early tomorrow morning,” Gabrielle said.
“Yes,” Puss agreed.
“Stay with us for a few days,” Lena ordered.
“It don’t feel right to have you save our village twice and not spend even a full day with us,” Jakob added.
“Prince Steffen and his guards were tonight’s saviors. I am certain they will stay through tomorrow,” Gabrielle said, squeezing water from her hair.
Lena pursed her lips.
“Alas, we have other commitments,” Puss said, cutting the proprietress off before she could strong arm them into staying.
“We do?” Gabrielle whispered.
“We do. I came up with them just now,” Puss admitted in a lowered voice.
“Where are you traveling next?” Jakob asked.
“Muarg,” Gabrielle said when Puss glanced up at her. “And beyond.”
“Muarg is the next village over—although there are a few farmers in between,” Jakob said, running a hand through his damp beard. “It will take you half a day to get there—a little longer if you walk.”
“If you’re visiting Muarg, you must stay at the Egret and Eagle,” Lena said. “It is run by friends of ours—Dieter and Herta—and it is the only respectable inn in Muarg.”
“Perhaps,” Gabrielle said, unwilling to commit given that she had almost no money to her name.
Lena swiveled her sharp eyes to Jakob.
“Dieter has a fine brew from a local farmer,” Jakob said.
Lena looked upwards and shook her head. A pleased smile spread across her lips, and she looked back at Gabrielle and Puss. “I have a letter for Herta. I hate to ask for another favor, but could you deliver the letter for me? With the uproar from the bandits, it is unlikely anyone will think of traveling to Muarg soon.”
Suspicion nipped at Gabrielle, but she couldn’t easily refuse.
Puss flicked his tail.
“I suppose so,” she reluctantly agreed.
“Wonderful,” Lena smiled. “I will give you the letter in the morning.”
“Oh, but we are leaving very early,” Gabrielle said.
“And you will need breakfast before you go,” Lena firmly said. “Now, go up to your room, and I’ll see about drawing more water for you for another bath.”
“But you already—”
“If you don’t warm up soon, you’ll catch a chill. And you, Puss in Boots—”
“Don’t call me that!”
“I have your dinner set aside.”
“Thank you, madam.”
“You’re very welcome. Now go.”
Gabrielle bobbed a curtsey, muttered her thanks, and carried herself and Puss up the stairs. The cat was heavy in her arms now that her joy and energy had abandoned her. She would be glad for the warm bath. And with some luck, she would fall into bed without ever catching sight of Prince Steffen.
“If all innkeepers are as cunning as Mistress Lena, our travels will be very comfortable indeed,” Puss said, purring deep i
n his throat when Gabrielle cleared the last step.
“No,” Gabrielle said, sloshing down the hallway. “We cannot take advantage of innkeepers as we have taken advantage of Jakob and Lena.”
“As you wish,” Puss said when Gabrielle set him down outside the door of their room. “But if they are all as bossy as Lena, what you decide will not make one whit of a difference.”
“I know. We’ll just have to be discreet—and quick,” Gabrielle said. “Was it alright to say we were going to go to Muarg?”
“It is east of here, is it not?”
“Yes.”
“Then it is acceptable. We shall have to obtain a map of Arcainia so we might better plan our travels.”
“Good luck. Maps are expensive. They cost as much—if not more—than your boots,” Gabrielle said, giving her burlap sack a meaningful look.
“Don’t worry your pretty head. I’ll make all the arrangements. And Gabrielle.”
“Hmm?”
“Try not to consort with princes too often. I have a long-term plan I’m seeking to achieve. If you head-butt or slug one of the Arcainian princes the way you commonly abused the boys of Ilz, my plans will never come to fruition.”
“If you tell me the next time we’re around a prince, I will do my best,” Gabrielle said, twisting water from her skirts.
“I see.”
“You sound unconvinced.”
“That’s because I am. I’m not certain you can ever act with any sort of decorum.”
“Of course I can, Puss in Boots. I’m supposedly a lady or a duchess or whatever, aren’t I?”
“A marquise,” Puss corrected. “And right now you more closely resemble a drowned rat.”
“You should see the bandits.”
Chapter 6
The Second Meeting
“I plan to never eat another springerle cookie again,” Gabrielle announced as she slipped her boots off her feet and turned them upside down, making crumbs fall like snow. Over a month had passed since she first set out on her adventure with Puss. The jaunty life of a wandering adventurer suited her.
“What, catching the gingerbread man did not make you crave sweets?” Puss arched his back as he stretched his paws in front of him.
“It made me want to wretch.” Gabrielle shivered. She unlaced her leather jerkin—custom-made, with two side pockets and front laces. The tanner who made the jerkin for her had also made it longer so it stopped two hand-lengths beneath her hip. When Gabrielle first received it in exchange for outsmarting a troll, she had been somewhat reluctant to don male clothes—even if the tanner had fashioned it to look as feminine as possible. But now, after her countless adventures in her jerkin, she would be hard-pressed to return to dresses and skirts. It was so much easier to run, jump, and kick a man in the chest when she was wearing pants.
She crouched next to the pond and started scrubbing at the smear of green frosting that colored her tan, cotton breeches. “Out of all the tasks we have completed on behalf of Arcainian citizens, this one made me the most nauseated. What kind of fiend would magic a gingerbread man to make him a deviant that can only be destroyed by consuming all of him?” she asked, holding her stomach.
“The witch in the candy cottage,” Puss said, sharpening his claws on a tree trunk.
“The one luring children away from Kinzig?” Gabrielle asked, dislodging a red candy chip from her thick, heavy braid.
“Indeed,” Puss said. “And now that we’ve taken care of the gingerbread man—”
“He was a springerle cookie.”
“—and his rampage across the countryside, we are free to attack his creator.”
“So soon?” Gabrielle asked,
“What do you mean, so soon?” Puss asked. “Were you hoping to wait long enough for King Henrik to get wind of your actions?”
“No,” Gabrielle said with great force. She hadn’t seen anymore of Prince Steffen, to her relief. Hopefully by now, the crown prince had forgotten her rude words and their encounter at Wied. After all, Prince Steffen must meet hundreds of people every year. Why would he remember me?
She shook out her jerkin, snapping it with feeling. “I was thinking of the homes and shops the springerle cookie man ruined. I thought you might want to postpone the fight and aid with the rebuilding.”
“No. If we wait too long, I fear the witch will bake another gingerbread man. Would you care to repeat today’s task and consume another child-sized cookie-man?”
“No,” Gabrielle said, putting a hand to her mouth and turning green at the thought. “I will be glad to face the witch. I owe her for today.” She checked her sword—a gift from the village of Lech for battling a band of river pirates with Puss. Driven by self-preservation, she practiced with it often and learned pieces and bits of swordsmanship from the soldiers, guards, and fellow adventurers she ran into, so she was becoming at least a passable swordsman. “Also, I’m anxious to reclaim those children. I don’t know what she’s doing with them, but it can’t be good.”
“Fancy that. You’re happy to involve yourself in an adventure that doesn’t include pirates,” Puss said, his voice lofty and smug.
“Would you stop with the pirate jokes? I said way back in Lech that I didn’t want to hear another song or story involving highwaymen or pirates,” Gabrielle said, removing the string of leather with which she had tied her braid.
“I know, but now you understand how foolish you sounded when we first started adventuring. My only choice is, of course, to remind you of this,” Puss said, a purr vibrating his voice.
Gabrielle started unbraiding her hair. “You are insufferable. Since you have so much free time, tell me this: how has this witch in her candy cottage been around for months without the Veneno Conclave, the Arcainian army, or Prince Rune taking her out?”
“The witch’s cottage lies inside lands that belong to the ogre of Carabas. She isn’t on Arcainian soil. As Carabas doesn’t quite belong to Arcainia anymore, the king cannot request help from the conclave. And as Prince Rune hasn’t been in the business of hero-work for very long, I imagine King Henrik is being selective with his missions,” Puss said, rubbing up against the tree he had clawed.
“It’s odd; I don’t recall the country having so many magical problems when I was little,” Gabrielle said, shaking her blonde hair out.
“That is because there weren’t as many problems. With Queen Ingrid living in these lands, even the ogre kept to his borders. Since she has died, evil and deviant magic have spilled in from Carabas,” Puss said.
“How do you know?”
Puss twitched his tail back and forth. “My previous mistress was an enchantress-in-training, and Arcainia was always fodder for gossip, with its ban on magic and the Lady Enchantress Ingrid serving as its queen,” he said, his voice guarded and slow.
Gabrielle held her breath. The most she had ever gotten out of the cat about his life before their travels was that he was given, as a kitten, to a lovely girl by her master. She had assumed the girl must have been a mage of some capacity, but Puss had never confirmed it. But to think that his previous owner was an enchantress? No wonder Puss was so powerful and smart!
She hoped Puss would continue, but instead he changed the topic. “I don’t think we’ve reached the darkest magic yet, either,” he said. “Mark my words. Soon there will be dragons, sea serpents, packs of trolls, and worse.”
“Because of the ogre?” Gabrielle asked.
“Perhaps,” Puss said, narrowing his eyes.
“You aren’t fooling me, by the way,” Gabrielle said as she folded her jerkin and placed it next to her boots and sword.
“Hmm?”
“For the past month, we’ve been inching closer and closer to Carabas. I’m not going to take on that ogre. You are a wonderfully talented, magical cat, but even you can’t hope to take the ogre on, Puss.”
“I know; you’ve told me before,” Puss said, his voice light and airy. “We will avoid Carabas itself as long as you wish. Does that
mean we should leave the witch in her candy cottage to plague Kinzig and its inhabitants?”
“I didn’t say that,” Gabrielle sighed. “We’re still attacking the witch—but not the ogre!”
“As you wish. If I might enquire, why are you disrobing?” Puss asked, watching Gabrielle bend forward to scrub yellow frosting off the sleeve of her white, cotton undershirt with pond water.
“Because I’m going to bathe.”
“What, here? Whatever for?” Puss sniffed.
“Because I have frosting and springerle crumbs rubbing my skin raw, that’s why.”
“Ask Anja to draw a bath for you at the Galloping Gelding,” Puss said.
“No. Anja and Okan are already letting us stay at their inn for free. I won’t further inconvenience them with a bath. It’s summer; I can bathe here,” Gabrielle said, gesturing at the clear pond. “I swear, all innkeepers are in league with one another.”
“They do all seem well informed of your exploits. I no longer even have to trumpet your arrival when we enter a new village,” Puss acknowledged.
Gabrielle pursed her lips. “And none of them will let us pay for our room and food. Anyway, I want to shed these crumbs. You’ll serve as my lookout?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
Puss laboriously blinked. “I fail to understand why you gave me the option, then.”
“Because it makes me sound generous. Now shoo. Go watch for Peeping Toms and the like.”
“I hardly think there will be any Peeping Toms in the middle of the woods,” Puss said.
“Hardly think does not mean you absolutely know. Go watch,” Gabrielle ordered.
“As you wish.” He pushed through undergrowth, making his way out of the small copse of trees that surrounded the pond. “I hope a snapping turtle bites you,” he added.
Gabrielle ignored his caustic wish, shimmied out of her clothes, and hopped into the pond. “Clean at last,” she sighed in delight, even though the pond water was chilly and mud from the bottom of the pond squelched between her toes. “What a fantastic day.”