Whiskerella

by Ursula Vernon

  It is rather difficult to trample people without hurting them, but feathers helped. Harriet began shoving princes aside with her wings. “Get to Whiskerella!” she qwerked. “And find that fairy!”

  “On it, Boss!” qwerked Mumfrey.

  “I can’t get this table off my head!” qwerked Wilbur.

  “Mad quail!” screamed someone. (Harriet suspected that it was Prince C.)

  “Do something!” yelled the hamster queen.

  The hamster king gazed mournfully at his sandwich. “Be a dear,” he called to the herald, “and go get someone from the stables to wrangle these quail, will you?”

  Harriet saw Whiskerella and began shoving through the crowd. Hamsters bounced off her feathery chest.

  Whiskerella looked terrified. Harriet could tell that she didn’t know whether to run toward Harriet (in hopes of being saved) or away (in case the fairy did something awful to Harriet).

  “Qwergghkk!” Splat. Wilbur, unable to see his feet over the table around his neck, fell over the sandwich table. There was a brief, localized rain of cucumber slices.

  Harriet was nearly to Whiskerella. She still couldn’t see the fairy.

  She was stretching out her wings to put protectively around the beautiful hamster when someone stepped forward.

  “Begone, feathered fiend!” he shouted.

  It was Prince A, and he was holding a sword.

  CHAPTER 24

  Halt!” cried Prince A.

  “I’ve already halted,” said Harriet, annoyed. “You can’t yell Halt! when somebody’s already stopped.”

  But of course, all the prince heard was “qwerk-qwerk-qwerkggha-werk.”

  “Get behind me!” said the prince to Whiskerella. “I’ll protect you!”

  “Protect me from what?”

  Whiskerella looked at him like he was an idiot. So did Harriet.

  “I don’t think she’s mad,” said Whiskerella. (This was wrong. Harriet was, in fact, furious.)

  “You can’t be too careful!” said Prince A. “It may have rabies!”

  “Quail don’t get rabies!” yelled Harriet, which came out “QWERRRKK!”

  “There, you see? Clearly rabid! It’ll be foaming at the beak shortly!”

  Harriet really wanted to launch into a diatribe about how birds really can’t get rabies and wouldn’t foam at the beak and furthermore how Prince A was an idiot who had probably never ridden a quail in his life, but since all he would hear would be “qwerk,” she didn’t. There is nothing more infuriating than delivering a really good diatribe to someone who isn’t listening.

  Also, at that moment she heard a familiar voice behind her say, “Oh dear!”

  It was Ralph.

  “Ralph!” shouted the hamster king. “Good man! Why are these quail in here?”

  “I don’t know, Your Majesticness,” said Ralph. “I’m sorry! They’re not our quail—well, that’s Mumfrey, obviously, but the white quail are from somewhere else.”

  “Mumfrey, have I led you astray?” asked Harriet.

  “Constantly, Boss,” said Mumfrey. “It’s basically what you do.”

  “Well, so long as we’re clear . . .”

  “Frankly,” said the hamster queen, “it’s a lot more likely that Harriet led them all astray! Where is she? You can’t tell me she’s not behind this!”

  “Errr . . . she’s in the bathroom,” said Ratpunzel helpfully.

  “Well, these things happen,” said the king. “I once spent an entire October in the bathroom. It was very restful.”

  The queen stared at her husband for a moment, then turned to Ralph. “Get these quail out of here! The floors—the ambassador’s ball—”

  “Oh, don’t worry about me,” said the ambassador. “I haven’t had this much fun since the Duchess of Umberwall went sleepwalking in the middle of a battlefield and beat the enemy champion in her nightgown.”

  Harriet made a mental note to get to know the Duchess of Umberwall immediately.

  At that point, three things happened more or less simultaneously.

  Prince A, apparently thinking that Harriet was a dangerous animal that might attack at any time, lunged forward with his sword—

  —the fairy re-appeared—

  —and a viscountess shouted, at the top of her lungs, “Someone has widdled in the punch bowl!” and fell over in a dead faint.

  CHAPTER 25

  Prince Archibald’s sword work was as dreadful as the rest of him. He missed Harriet by a mile. Harriet wondered how she was supposed to disarm somebody when she didn’t have hands—did she stand on one leg? Use her beak? There was something weird about grabbing somebody’s sword with your face.

  Fortunately, at that point Mumfrey simply bit his wrist to make him drop his sword.

  “That’s right, I will!” qwerked Harriet. “You can’t force people to be happy!”

  “I don’t want your happily ever after!” said Whiskerella. “I just want you to leave me alone! I’m tired of balls! I’m tired of princes!”

  Prince A, still clutching his wrist where Mumfrey had nipped him, looked up. “What? How dare you!?”

  Stinky, recognizing a familiar voice, came out from behind the punchbowl and galloped across the dance floor toward Whiskerella, leaving small, excited puddles in his wake.

  “Now, Mumfrey . . .” said Ralph in coaxing tones. “I know there’s a lot going on and you’re upset, but let’s all go back to the stable and get some nice birdseed . . .”

  “Qwerk!” said Mumfrey, which was Quail for “I would like some birdseed but I am rather busy right now, and also have you noticed that this quail is actually Harriet?”

  “Huh?” said Ralph. “The what?”

  “Tell him I’m under a spell!” qwerked Harriet.

  “She’s under a spell,” qwerked Mumfrey.

  “She is?”

  “Ralph,” said the hamster king, “I appreciate that you’re trying to have a chat with Mumfrey, but could you get the quail out of the ballroom first? Or at least get the one out of the sandwiches?”

  “Tell him the one in the sandwiches is Wilbur,” ordered Harriet.

  Mumfrey dutifully relayed this information. “Qwerk qwerk qwerka-qwerk . . .”

  “Happiness can’t be forced!” yelled Whiskerella.

  “The heck it can’t!” the fairy yelled back.

  “Sir,” said Ralph. “I mean sire. I mean Your Kingness. Uh—Mumfrey says that these quail are actually Harriet and Wilbur.”

  Harriet nodded vigorously.

  Her father looked at her. He looked at Ralph. He looked back at her.

  “Well,” he said. “All right, then.”

  Harriet put her wing over her face. She appreciated that her father was trying to be supportive, but a little less support and a little more fairy curse breaking would have been nice.

  Ralph yelled, “Look out, Ha—Princess!”

  Harriet yanked her wing away from her eyes and saw Prince B and Prince C approaching, from opposite sides, waving swords of their own. Possibly they hadn’t understood that she was a princess, or possibly they didn’t care.

  Backward was Mumfrey. Forward was Whiskerella. That only left one direction.

  She launched herself into the air, flapping madly, and at that moment, the clock struck midnight.

  CHAPTER 26

  Harriet waited to change back . . . and didn’t.

  “Not this time!” screamed the fairy. “Everyone stays the way they are until Whiskerella is swept off her feet!”

  Some birds, such as hummingbirds, hover like helicopters. And some birds, such as quail, hover like bowling balls. Harriet plummeted to the ground.

  Fortunately, her fall was broken by Princes B and C. All three went down in a heap. Harriet tried to roll, knocked into Whiskerella,
and she went down too. A pair of dancers who had, somehow, still been trying to waltz fell over the fairy.

  “Midnight!” cried the bat ambassador. “The ball has ended! It is time for the unmasking!”

  “Yes!” said the fairy, sounding a bit muffled. “Yes, it’s time to unmask!”

  Normally the unmasking was greeted with cheers or sounds of anticipation. This time, it was met with groans.

  The ballroom looked like a battlefield. Most of the guests had fled or wedged themselves in the corners of the room. Ratpunzel and the rat prince had taken shelter behind an overturned table. Ralph and Mumfrey stood in the middle of the room, looking very out of place. Wilbur was trying to get a tablecloth off his head. The hamster king was looking for undamaged sandwiches. The hamster queen had her eyes closed and her hands over her mouth.

  Harriet sat up groggily. Her beak was clogged with fairy dust. There was something on the ground in front of her.

  It was a glass slipper.

  It occurred to her that she was probably sitting on Whiskerella. She got to her feet and began trying to drag the other hamster loose from the princes.

  Whiskerella’s mask had come off. Her other shoe was lost somewhere under Prince C’s backside. She was no longer the most beautiful hamster in the world. She looked as tired as Harriet felt.

  “NO!” screamed the fairy, crawling out from under the dancers.

  She had seen better days. Her wings were crumpled and her wand was bent. The twinkle in her eyes had become a furious blaze.

  “Princes!” she shouted, stabbing her wand toward Whiskerella. “She’s unmasked! Look!”

  The princes looked.

  The princes looked at Whiskerella.

  “Don’t be stupid,” said Prince A. “That’s not her. She’s not nearly beautiful enough. The other hamster was much prettier.”

  Despite having said something similar a few days earlier, Harriet had a strong urge to peck Prince Archibald right in his smug little nose. How dare anybody insult Whiskerella like that! Whiskerella was worth a dozen princes! Maybe two dozen!

  Fortunately, someone else stepped in for her.

  “Excuse me, Your Prince-ness—”

  “Oh, bravo!” Without taking his eyes off the scene, the bat ambassador stretched out a wing and snagged another canapé.

  “Ralph,” said the hamster king mildly, “we do not solve our problems with violence.”

  “Sorry, sir.”

  “We certainly do not solve them by punching princes.”

  “Yes, sir . . .” Ralph hung his head.

  “As punishment, I am afraid I will be forced to give you a raise and a promotion,” said the hamster king. “You are now the Royal Head Groom. I trust that will make you think about what you’ve done.”

  Ralph blinked.

  “No!” shouted the fairy, stamping her foot. “Stop! We’re not done here!”

  Prince B and Prince C looked panicked. “Who, us?”

  “The glass slipper!” yelled the fairy. “Pick it up!”

  “Um. Ew,” said Prince B. “It’s all sweaty. It’s gonna smell like feet.”

  Prince C looked like he was about to say something more, and then he saw the expression on the fairy’s face and hurriedly picked up the shoe.

  “Now, put it on!”

  “Not you! Put it on her!” The fairy was so furious now that little flecks of spit were raining down whenever she spoke. “The slipper belongs to the beautiful stranger! If you put it on her, you’ll see that she’s the one you’ve been dancing with!”

  Prince C looked at the glass slipper in his hand as if it were poisonous and might attack at any time.

  Harriet pushed Whiskerella behind her. “Qwerk!” she yelled, which was Quail for “Just try it!”

  “You!” screamed the fairy. “You’ve ruined everything! They were supposed to take the slipper and go through the kingdom looking for the girl whose foot fit into it, and then she would have been beautiful forever and had a happily ever after, but you had to get involved!”

  Harriet stared at her. So did everyone else.

  “I—why—you—” The fairy spluttered in rage. “Shut up! It’s a great plan! It would have worked if everyone hadn’t stuck their noses in! Well, now you’ll pay the price!”

  The broken wand made a noise. It was not a magical noise. It sounded more like broken machinery.

  “What?” The fairy slapped her palm against the star a few times. “Why won’t this thing work right?”

  The star fell off and hit the ground with a ker-CLUNK!

  “Fine! Good enough!” The fairy flung the wand aside, snatched the slipper from Prince C, and advanced on Whiskerella. “I’ll do it myself!”

  Whiskerella put up her arm to ward off the terrible slipper. The fairy lunged forward . . .

  . . . directly into a puddle of widdle.

  CHAPTER 27

  The fairy’s foot skidded out from under her. She flung her arms up, trying to catch herself. The glass slipper went flying across the ballroom (the bat ambassador ducked) and smashed into a wall, where it shattered into dust.

  The fairy herself plowed into Whiskerella, who jumped out of the way, skidded to avoid another puddle—Stinky had been very nervous—tripped on a fallen sandwich, and went sprawling.

  Ralph caught her before she hit the floor.

  “Ralph?” said Whiskerella weakly. “You caught me?”

  “Uh,” said Ralph. “Yes. Sorry, miss. I didn’t mean—I mean, I meant to, but—um—”

  “It’s all right,” said Whiskerella leaning against him. “It’s fine.”

  Ralph began to blush. The tips of his ears turned bright red. But he didn’t put Whiskerella down, either.

  The fairy stood up. She looked around for her wand, for the slipper, for anything, and saw the two hamsters embracing.

  “I believe,” said the bat ambassador, “that the night’s entertainment has run its course, madam.”

  The fairy glared at him. “The spell isn’t done!”

  “Oh, I don’t know. The mysterious stranger has been swept off her feet, has she not?” He waved a wing at Whiskerella and Ralph.

  “Fine . . .” The bat ambassador rolled his eyes. “Young man! Ralph!”

  “Y-yes, Your Ambassador-ness?” asked Ralph, looking up guiltily. He had been gazing into Whiskerella’s eyes.

  “By the power vested in me as an official of the kingdom of bats, I pronounce you ruler of the Second Crag of Extreme Lower Batavia. You are now a prince.”

  Whiskerella put her finger over his lips. Ralph blinked.

  Harriet started to qwerk something, but suddenly her feathers shrank and turned to fur. Her neck retracted on itself like a tape measure rolling up—sssnnnnrrrp! Her tail dwindled away to a nub and her beak softened and turned into lips.

  All of this was, if not painful, at least very weird and uncomfortable, but fortunately it was over quickly.

  “Oh, hello dear,” said the hamster king. “If we’re all done here, could the guards please come take this fairy away?”

  The fairy sniffed. “I’ll see myself out,” she said, and walked to the door with as much dignity as someone squishing quietly from lizard widdle could.

  “But sir!” whispered Ralph as soon as the fairy was out of earshot. “I don’t want to be a prince! I’m not good at princing!”

  “Don’t worry about it,” said the bat ambassador. “The Second Crag of Lower Batavia is about three feet tall and six inches wide. It’s in my guest bedroom. Your princeness is purely symbolic.”

  One by one, the guests filed out of the ballroom. Wilbur took Mumfrey back to the stables. Misty came in and collected Stinky from a corner. The hamster queen, looking around the room, declared “I am going to bed” in much the same tones that one would declar
e war on a rival nation.

  Ralph and Whiskerella looked at each other. They looked away.

  “Um,” said Ralph. “I . . . uh.” His ears were turning pink again.

  Whiskerella tucked her arm through his and led him toward the door. “I want you to tell me everything you know about quail diseases,” she said firmly.

  “R . . . really?” stammered Ralph. “Well—uh—there’s bent gizzard and wogglebeak and . . .”

  Then it was only the king, and the ambassador, and Harriet.

  “You found a way around it,” said Harriet. Her body still felt unpleasantly tingly, as if parts of it had been asleep. “I was afraid Dad was going to have to adopt him.”

  The bat ambassador grinned down at her. “It is what ambassadors do,” he said. “We can’t all hit people with swords until they get along, you know.”

  “It’s worked so far,” muttered Harriet.

  “The Pax Hamstera . . . ha!” He ruffled her hair with a claw. “You must come to the bat kingdom someday, young Harriet. You would find it most interesting. And now—it has been a very long night, and I think perhaps I shall seek my bed before dawn for once.”

  And then it was only Harriet and her father.

  The king sighed. “Still, it makes your mother happy. And I guess it worked out.”

  “More or less,” said Harriet. “More or less. And we averted a happily ever after, anyway.”