by K. M. Shea
“You look cheerful,” King Henrik said, squinting in the sunlight that eased in from several open windows.
“Something good happen to you?” Timo asked, grunting in thanks when Okan set a tray of food down in front of him.
“I’m up before Gabrielle,” Steffen said, toasting the guard commander with his mug. “She’ll be so vexed.”
“Er…begging your pardon, Your Highness,” Okan said. His voice was deep and slow, somewhat similar to a giant’s.
“Yes?” Steffen asked.
“You’re not.”
“I’m not what?”
At that moment, Anja—Okan’s bright and boisterous wife—entered the common room, her baby strapped snug to her back. “Okan, did you make any—oh. Please, excuse me,” she said, blushing when she realized who was speaking with her husband.
“Not at all,” Steffen said, giving her his most charming smile in his good humor.
“Anja, Lady Gabrielle,” Okan said.
Anja’s blush cleared. “Oh. Oh, my.” She turned to Steffen and curtsied. “What my husband is trying to say, Your Highness, is that Lady Gabrielle has already left.”
“What?” Steffen asked, slamming his mug on the table. “Where is she running off to this time?”
“A neighboring village, I believe, given the pattern of her travels,” Anja said, clasping her hands together.
“When do you expect her to return?” Steffen asked.
“We don’t,” Anja said. “She and Master Puss in Boots left the village and are moving on.”
Steffen placed his hands on his lap so he could privately squeeze them into fists. “I see. Thank you for the information,” Steffen said, keeping his voice lighthearted.
When the innkeeper and his wife shuffled away, Steffen glared at his food. “I should have known better. Foolish girl,” he growled.
“Something wrong, Steffen?” King Henrik asked.
“No,” Steffen said, his voice curt.
“But, Kronprinz, you seem to be rather short of temper,” Timo said, his scar curling when a smug smile budded on his lips.
Steffen glared at him as Dominik and Moritz picked up their trays from their table and eagerly joined King Henrik, Timo, and Steffen at theirs.
“You aren’t often in a foul temper. Could it be Lady Gabrielle’s abrupt exit?” King Henrik asked, his voice too innocent as he smothered his potato pancake with sour cream.
“No,” Steffen said, making an effort to bring his foul temper under control. “While I find the lady’s impulsive behavior insufferable, it has no effect on my temper.”
“I’ve always thought Lady Gabrielle is quite logical,” Dominik said, drawing Steffen’s dark gaze and Timo and King Henrik’s bemused attention. “She is quite thorough in her planning.”
“Dominik has a point, Your Highness,” Timo said.
“Indeed. Lady Gabrielle and Master Roland are always careful to plan out their actions,” King Henrik said.
Moritz nodded.
Steffen looked to Alwin—the only one not sitting at their table—but he was methodically eating and seemed oblivious of their conversation.
“Fine, perhaps she is meticulous. That still has no impact on my temper,” Steffen said.
“Oh, Steffen,” King Henrik said, clicking his tongue several times in a mild chide.
“Lying is not becoming of a future king, nor of anyone, I suppose,” Timo said.
“Neither is bossiness,” Steffen said, eyeing the commander.
Timo laughed. “Your Highness, I was in your father’s guard when your mother was pregnant with you. Your glares are adorable,” he said, reaching across the table to pinch Steffen’s cheeks.
Steffen leaned out of range. “I am irritated she left on short notice without bidding farewell to any of us. What of it?”
Dominik sighed and planted a hand on his chest. “Puppy love,” he said with an addled look on his face while he shook his head.
“No. No!” Steffen said, first to the young soldier and then to his father and Timo.
“She is beautiful, and it seems she can keep her head in a fight,” King Henrik said.
“Both are very attractive qualities,” Timo said.
“Absolutely not,” Steffen firmly said.
King Henrik smiled, but Timo snorted.
Steffen glowered at the older men and pinned his gaze on his half-consumed food. This is utter foolishness, he thought. Gabrielle is free to do whatever she wishes. She is an amusing travel companion, but that is all. It is just as well she left, or more might get the wrong impression.
“You spend much of your time with her when she is near,” Moritz said, breaking the blessed silence.
“True, and you toss aside your sense of decorum to chase after her if you think she’s in danger,” Timo said.
“Please. I’ve spent three days with the girl. I hardly know her,” Steffen snorted.
“Maybe, but she knows you.” The entire tabled turned in stunned silence to stare at the normally flat and emotionless Alwin, who was still consuming his breakfast.
“What do you mean?” Timo asked the guard.
Alwin blinked, his expression flat. “The Kronprinz has never before treated a lady with such familiarity. He has never fought with another lady or sat casually with one over food.”
King Henrik frowned. “Alwin is right,” he said, turning his gaze to Steffen. His eyes had a questioning look in them as he stared at Steffen.
“It is a result of our travels,” Steffen said. “In our short acquaintance, Lady Gabrielle and I have been through much together. When we are no longer traveling, it will not be so.”
“Maybe,” Timo said. “But just a few moments ago, you were trying to convince us how poorly you know her.”
Steffen sighed in aggravation. It was vexing of the other men to put him on the spot like this, but their probing questions were making Steffen realize how well he did know Gabrielle, in spite of the short duration of their friendship. This is all for the better, he decided. Next time I see her, I will have to be careful to show more formality. It wouldn’t do at all if Gabrielle herself got the wrong impression.
“How much longer do you plan to stay in Kinzig, Your Majesty?” Timo addressed King Henrik, breaking the conversation—almost as if he’d sensed they were on the brink of pushing Steffen too far. “Lady Gabrielle’s slaying of the witch yesterday rather bungled your plans, I believe.”
“Yes, I would like to spend another night here, possibly two or three,” King Henrik said. “With the witch gone, we should take advantage of the situation and explore the borders of Carabas.”
“Shall we send a dispatch rider to Castle Brandis to summon Prince Rune?” Timo asked.
“Perhaps when we leave Kinzig. I would like to have more information before I call him to us,” King Henrik said.
“Are you certain? It will take him a few days to prepare and a few days more to catch up with us,” Steffen said, pushing away his breakfast tray. Although the food was delicious, Steffen found he didn’t have much of an appetite.
“It’s fine. I don’t mean to attack the ogre at this time. Indeed, someone else might rid Carabas of him,” King Henrik said.
“Who?” Dominik frowned.
King Henrik stared outside for a moment. “Who, indeed?” he smiled.
Chapter 9
The Golden Goose
“This has to be our stupidest adventure ever. Ow!” Gabrielle said a week and a half later. She winced when the mean-spirited and heavy goose she carried bit her arm. “Can’t you seal its beak shut?”
“I told you already: it’s impervious to magic,” Puss said, trotting next to Gabrielle as she carried the goose.
“I didn’t even want the goose. Why did we have to take it?” Gabrielle complained. “It might be pretty, but it has the temper of the little old man we took care of.”
“You aren’t listening this morning,” Puss said. “I said the little old man was a fairy—that’s why he wa
s able to injure those three strapping village boys. And only a fool leaves a fairy gift behind!”
“If that’s the case, I wish we were fools.” The goose smacked her in the face with its wings, causing her eyes to water.
When Gabrielle first heard of Jagst’s main concern, she thought it was a joke. Apparently a little old man was haunting the woods, trying to shake down the woodcutter and his sons for food. Whenever they refused him, they were injured while working. If they did give him food, the little man turned the food into ash and hit them on the head, knocking them out for a good portion of the day.
Gabrielle and Puss had no troubles routing the wicked little man—whom Puss insisted was a fairy. Gabrielle pinned him in place with her sword, and the two gave the man/fairy a stern talking to. (Puss may or may not have used his favorite threat and told the little old man/fairy he’d be chopped into mincemeat.) The deviant promised he would leave the area and offered them a “golden goose” as restitution.
The goose was not really gold. It merely had pretty, gold-colored feathers. It was terrible-tempered and just as evil-spirited as every other goose Gabrielle had met, which was why she had been strongly opposed to bringing it with them.
But Puss insisted, and so Gabrielle stumbled through the woods, carrying the nasty-tempered thing, which liked to honk in her face, thrash her with its wings, and peck her—strong enough to bruise her.
“What are we going to do with it?” Gabrielle asked.
“We could keep it as a pet,” Puss suggested. “With its beautiful feathers and sullen temper, it quite reminds me of you.”
Gabrielle glared at her companion. “We’re adventurers. We have a single pack to our name. Our life is not one conducive for keeping animals.” She wrestled the goose’s head under its wing.
“We will give it to someone at the village,” Puss said. “The woodcutters, perhaps. They were the ones wronged by the fairy, after all.”
“I don’t think so. Ouch! We should give it to their worst enemy or that creep of a carpenter—stop that!” Gabrielle said, shaking the goose and upsetting it further.
“We’re almost there,” Puss said.
“Some consolation. I’m going to look like a spotted cow by then.”
“Did you ever picture this when you longed for adventure?” Puss asked, a laugh escaping from his throat.
“You mean did I ever picture being escorted by a magic, talking cat and carrying a gold-colored goose that weighs as much as a boulder through a forest? No. I can’t say I did.”
When the village finally came into view—only when the trees started to thin out—Gabrielle cheered. Or she would have if she had enough air in her lungs. Instead, she sweated and dragged herself and the mean goose towards civilization.
“We’ll take the goose to the inn for now. There’s a stable out in back. We can keep it there…I am certain Michi and Dano will not mind,” Puss said.
Gabrielle groaned. The inn—The Turtle & Doves—was on the far side of the village. The golden goose hissed and bit her ear. Gabrielle set her shoulders and plunged into town, her countenance stormy.
“Oh, my! What a pretty goose,” a young girl of fourteen—one of Michi and Dano’s many grandchildren—said. The girl reached out to stroke the goose before Gabrielle could rally enough air to warn her about the fowl’s terrible personality. “What’s this? I can’t pull away,” the girl said, her fingers glued to the goose’s gold-colored plumage.
Gabrielle rolled her eyes and tried to pull the goose away. While Michi and Dano were an intelligent couple, their daughters and sons-in-law equally so, several of their granddaughters had the sense of a chicken.
The action yanked the empty-headed girl with it, pulling her straight into Gabrielle.
“Mona, Nona, help! I can’t get away from this goose!” The girl shrieked as the goose honked and flapped its wings, nailing her in the face.
Two more of Michi and Dano’s granddaughters latched onto their cousin.
“Now I can’t let go of you,” the second granddaughter said.
“And I can’t let go of you, Nona!” the third granddaughter added, straining to pull away from her sister.
“Girls, why are you hindering Lady Gabrielle?” asked the village vicar. “Let her go,” he said, reaching for the tail end of Gabrielle’s unwilling procession.
“Don’t!” But Gabrielle shouted too late. The vicar grabbed on.
“W-what? What’s going on?” he asked.
Gabrielle struggled with the goose. “Don’t let anyone else touch you!”
“Lady Gabrielle, I saw you returned from the village. Did you chase off the little old man?” one of the woodcutter’s sons asked.
“I did, though I’m no longer—Stay back!—certain I won that round.” Gabrielle’s arms and shoulders ached from the weight of the goose.
“What’s wrong?” the young man asked.
“It seems this goose is magic, and no one can let go once they touch my procession.”
The young man tilted his head and raised the axe he had resting on his shoulder. “I imagine I could chop a limb free,” he said.
“Don’t!” Michi and Dano’s granddaughters yelped.
The vicar grabbed the young man’s wrist to keep him from swinging, and doomed him to trail with the rest of the group.
“Puss, I’m going to drop this goose,” Gabrielle announced.
“That would be coldhearted of you,” Puss said, twitching his whiskers in amusement.
“Why?” Gabrielle asked.
“You’re restraining it now, but if you set it loose, who knows where it will run off to? And everyone on your trail will be forced to chase after it,” Puss said.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Gabrielle groaned. She set her shoulders and plowed forward, pulling towards The Turtle & Doves.
“And that’s assuming you have the ability to let go of the goose yourself,” Puss added.
“Oops,” the woodcutter’s son said when he accidentally brushed up against a goat, forcefully pulling it with them.
“Ingo, you get back here with my goat!” a plump housewife called.
“Sorry, I can’t,” the woodcutter’s son said.
The housewife reached for her goat’s collar. “What do you mean—yeek! What’s happening?” She shrieked and joined the procession.
“Lady Gabrielle,” the carpenter said—a comely man who possessed an oily smile that reminded Gabrielle too much of her tormentors in Ilz. “How fine you look today.”
Gabrielle tried to veer far away from the man, but he must have put the clues together, for he reached out and touched the goose, giving him a reason to crowd in close.
“We have to end this soon,” Gabrielle said between gritted teeth. I will not tolerate this creep near me for long.
By the time she reached The Turtle & Doves, her procession was sixteen people, two goats, a dog, and a donkey. Her arms ached from the goose’s bulk, and the nasty thing pinched her earlobe so hard it drew blood. She was ready to kill the goose and be done with it.
With her long train, she could not enter the stable and was stuck standing next to the duck pond. When the carpenter breathed on her neck, Gabrielle tried to slither away from him. It was then that she noticed a dust cloud raised by a carriage and some mounted guards growing closer.
“Perhaps we should take action to make sure your procession does not get any longer,” Puss suggested.
“What?” Gabrielle said, turning around just in time to see person number seventeen join the lineup. “For the love of—is no one thinking?” she muttered before raising her voice. “Listen to me! Don’t brush up against anyone or anything. Villagers, listen! Stay away from us—no, stop that!” Gabrielle said, trailing off into a groan when a toddler joined the line, his mother moments behind him. “I give up! I hate geese, and I hate little old men!” Gabrielle said, her bad temper exploding.
“He was a fairy,” Puss said.
“I hate fairies, too!” Gabrielle de
clared. “I hope that fairy gets his wings clipped.”
“It isn’t all that bad, Lady Gabrielle,” the carpenter said, his predatory smile inching across his face. “Now we have time to get acquainted.”
When Gabrielle felt a hand brush her backside, she lost it. “That’s enough! I’ve had it!” She tossed the goose into the duck pond.
The members of the procession yelped as they were dragged forward, but when the honking, flapping goose hit the water, whatever spell had forced everyone to stick to it was broken. Michi and Dano’s granddaughters went sprawling, and the rest of the parade tumbled head-over-heels—able to move again.
The villagers groaned, and the air was heavy with complaints.
Gabrielle scurried away from the carpenter and glared at the goose with heaving shoulders as she unsheathed her sword. There were great booms in the air, and it took her a moment to realize the sound was someone roaring with laughter. She turned on her heels and discovered that the carriage and the guards—who wore the royal uniform—had pulled into Jagst just in time to see Gabrielle’s temper-tantrum.
The door to the carriage was open, and the stairs were flipped down. King Henrik perched on the highest step, laughing so hard his shoulders shook, and tears streamed from his eyes.
Gabrielle put her sword away as the villagers picked themselves off the ground. “Your Majesty,” she said, awkwardly curtseying to the king.
This made him laugh harder.
Timo and a few of the other guards joined in with the laughter, exchanging chortles and chuffs with their sovereign.
Gabrielle could have died in embarrassment, but she kept her chin high and her shoulders squared. Puss sat at her feet, smug and pleased. “I don’t understand,” Gabrielle said when the laughter continued. “Was it that funny?”
“It was more than mildly entertaining,” Puss said as King Henrik released a few final peals of laughter. “But I suspect what has the commander and guards laughing is sheer joy.”
Gabrielle blinked. “Why?”
“Because King Henrik has not laughed since Queen Ingrid passed away in spring,” Puss said.
“Oh,” Gabrielle said, all of her indignation and anger draining from her.