All eyes, including Rapunzel’s, were focused on Jack. When he spoke, it was with obvious reluctance.
“I have to bring something to a giantess in Geguul,” he said in a voice so low that it didn’t sound like his. “The fairies will help me do it, but only if I help Rapunzel. So we can’t stay.”
Purl’s eyebrows flew up until they were nearly lost in her silver hair.
“A giantess,” she repeated. “In Geguul.”
Even the fire seemed to stand still. No one knew how to reply except Prince Frog, who gave a long, slow croak.
“Are you a witch, boy?” Greve’s growl was a shock in the silence, and Jack jumped.
“No!”
“Then how do you have dealings in Geguul? No mortal can go there and back again without White hatching, can they?”
“I got there by accident,” Jack said, putting his hands up in protest.
“No one climbs the highest Peaks into the White Fairy’s lair by accident.”
“I didn’t go that way,” said Jack. “I swear. There was this giant beanstalk —”
“Beanstalker!” Rapunzel cried, remembering what Glyph and Rune had called him. “I knew I forgot to ask you about something.”
“A giant beanstalk?” said Edam with contempt. “Start making sense, would you?”
“I know it sounds crazy,” said Jack, “but you have to believe me. If I were a witch, why would Red fairies help me?”
“How do we know Red fairies are helping you?” Edam countered. “You could be lying.”
“He’s not lying,” said Rapunzel. “I was there. The leader of the Red fairies, Eldest Glyph — she’s the one who promised to help him. She said we have to go to the First Wood together.”
Purl looked first at Rapunzel and then at Jack for a long, hard moment. Then she rapped the tip of her cane against the floor, and the whole room seemed to start. “Oh, for the love of trees, Edam,” she said, waving her cane at him, “back off and stop scaring my granddaughter. Greve, get away from that door. You’ve held these youngsters prisoner enough for one day. Rapunzel may come and go from this house as she pleases.”
“But —” said Edam, with a face full of passion.
“I won’t trap her,” said Purl. “I’m no witch. Rapunzel, I hope that you and Jack will break your journey here with us tonight. I very much wish you to stay longer and speak with me, but I will not force you.”
Rapunzel looked at Jack, who cast his eyes around the room and studied each of its inhabitants coolly. Then he nodded.
“We can stay one night,” said Rapunzel. “We would have had to camp anyway. I don’t think Rune will stop us as long as we leave tomorrow.”
As she said this, she thought she saw a trail of red light out of the corner of her eye. She turned quickly to the nearest window, but the light had already vanished, and all she could see were the shapes of trees in the darkness, outlined against the starry sky.
“Then it’s settled,” said Purl. “Greve, you help me back to bed. Edam, fix them something to eat — and don’t plague Rapunzel with questions, any of you. Not one more word about witches or towers until morning.”
THE evening began in strained quiet. Edam prepared supper almost without a word, and Jack seemed inclined to stay out of everyone’s way. He sat in the farthest corner of the living room, out of sight of the kitchen, thumbing through the same book about magic that Rapunzel had been looking at earlier.
Once Purl was tucked away in bed, she called for Rapunzel and asked if she would kiss her good night. Rapunzel did it, feeling rather strange as she put her mouth to her grandmother’s wrinkled cheek. Purl looked so hungrily at her that Rapunzel was relieved when it was time to put out the lamp. She was even more relieved when she emerged from Purl’s room to find that Greve had gone back to his own house next door, leaving her and Jack with Edam and Skye.
Edam relaxed a little after that. He couldn’t resist asking Rapunzel about the jacks tournament, and Rapunzel was quite happy to recount every play of it to him, which he very much appeared to enjoy. By the end of her tale, supper was ready, and the four of them sat down to a real, non-Ubiquitous meal, complete with fennel salad, cheese soup, and roast beef, and followed by a slice of chocolate cake so delicious that Rapunzel secretly believed Edam might be as good a cook as Witch.
Afterward, Rapunzel bathed for the first time in what felt like forever, and she washed her itchy scalp with lots of strong, nice-smelling lavender soap. Prince Frog refused to splash in the bathtub; he stayed far away and entertained himself by eating dead bugs from the windowsill. When she was clean and dry, she put on a long, soft flannel nightdress that Skye said she had made for Natty when she was first pregnant. When Skye left her, Rapunzel pulled the downy covers up to her chin and lay there in her mother’s old bedroom, feeling nearly as safe and secure as if she were in her own tower.
She had questions. Strange questions. Why had Witch grown that garden? Why had she tricked Rem LeRoux and taken Rapunzel away from a mother who wanted her? Was it that Witch loved her so much that she’d been willing to hurt people to get her? But why had she loved her? Rapunzel hadn’t even been born yet, when the bargain was struck — what had made Witch want to bring her home to the tower and care for her?
At dawn, she woke to the sensation of a hand clasping her own. She opened her eyes to find Purl sitting on the edge of the bed, wrapped in a fleecy dressing gown. She gazed down at Rapunzel with an expression quite different from yesterday’s hungry, aching looks. Her wrinkled face was quiet; her bright blue eyes were curious.
“Good morning,” she said.
Rapunzel sat up a little, squinting. “It’s early,” she said, peering at the window. Outside, the sky was still pale purple.
“I had an unexpected visitor last night,” said Purl. “Rune, he called himself.”
Now Rapunzel sat up straight. “What happened?” she demanded. “Are you all right?”
Purl squeezed her hand. “He did nothing alarming — other than appear. That was enough, I can tell you.” She snorted. “No — he only told me that you and Jack were telling the truth about this First Wood business, that you must leave me today at dawn, and that I have no choice but to let you go.” She paused. “It’s difficult, you see. I’ve had to let you go before, without a choice. I’m afraid I’ll never see you again. And our meeting was such a brief one.”
“I’ll come back,” said Rapunzel impulsively. “Once I’ve been to the First Wood and I’ve had a chance to talk to Witch, I’ll come back here again.”
Purl looked doubtful.
“I will,” said Rapunzel, and she meant it. “I like it here. I want to visit for a long time, and I want to hear everything about my mother and father, and you —”
“You truly intend to go back to Envearia?” her grandmother said.
“I have to,” said Rapunzel. “I have so many questions.”
“Can’t I answer them?”
“I don’t know. Can you tell me why Witch was willing to cause so much unhappiness?”
“Witches possess the magic of the White,” said Purl, “and the White is cruel.”
“But Witch isn’t cruel,” said Rapunzel. “I wish someone would believe me. I wish you could know how kind she is, and how much she loves me.”
Purl let go of her hand. “You’d better wear this,” she said, and reached behind her neck to unfasten a long, dull chain of what looked like silver, but without any gleam. She hung it around Rapunzel’s neck. It was fine, but heavy. “Iron,” said Purl. “It dampens magic, and it inflicts painful injury on witches. It’s worth a fortune, so wear it under your clothes, where it won’t tempt the bad sorts.”
Rapunzel reached up to remove it. If it would hurt Witch, then she didn’t want it.
Purl stopped her hand. “If you believe anything we’ve told you here, then wear it,” she said. She braced herself on the edge of the bed and pushed herself carefully to her feet. “Now, wake your friend. The sooner you finish this er
rand of yours, the sooner you’ll come back to visit me — and you will come back?” she asked with sudden urgency. “Promise me?”
At the look on Purl’s face, Rapunzel’s chest tightened. She did not fully understand the tears that stung her own eyes, but she felt with fierce certainty that she must and would return here. She owed it to Purl, who had waited for so long. She owed it to herself too. She could never know the mother who had wanted her — but she could know her mother’s mother. That was something.
“I promise,” she whispered.
Once Jack was awake, Purl fed the two of them a hot, sturdy breakfast of porridge and eggs, and then they were off, plunging northeastward into the frosty dawn, toward Independence and the First Wood. Jack pulled the wagon, Prince Frog burrowed into Rapunzel’s front pocket, and Rapunzel stopped and looked back at her grandmother’s home.
Purl stood on the front step, leaning on her cane, her tail of hair shining silvery pink in the dawn light. She raised her hand in parting. As Rapunzel raised her hand in reply, her heart gave a sharp pang, and she decided she had better not look back anymore. She turned away and started walking again. The faster they made it to the First Wood, the better.
“How many more days until we reach Independence?” she asked when they had put the distance of a league or so between themselves and Purl’s house.
“Six? Hopefully not longer.” Jack sighed. “I never imagined I’d miss home so much, but I’ll sure be glad when this is over and I get back to the Peaks.”
“You didn’t think you’d miss your home?” asked Rapunzel, surprised. “I thought you liked playing with Tess.”
“I do. But I’ve always wanted to adventure,” he said. “I’m like my dad that way. When Tess and I play make-believe — I mean, when I help Tess play make-believe,” he corrected himself, looking a bit pink, “she always plays a fairy godmother, and she grants me wishes and lets me go wherever I want, with all the money I can carry.”
“A fairy what?”
“A fairy godmother — they’re fairies who help people.”
“Like Serge!”
“Exactly,” said Jack. “Tess loves pretending to be a fairy,” he added, smiling. “She usually makes a gown out of old feed sacks, and we make wings and a crown out of leaves and stuff. If my mother’s not there, Tess gets up on the kitchen table so that she can pretend she’s flying.” He laughed. “She’s going to love those Ubiquitous costumes you bought her.”
“The bandits didn’t get them?”
“Nah, I kept those ones in my belt.”
They walked on for many hours, stopping only for lunch, and then again when it was time to set up camp for the night. Rapunzel barely noticed the quiet. Her brain was full, her body weary. She was shocked at how exhausted she became after just a day of walking. Riding in Greve’s wagon had let her forget her sore feet and aching muscles, which were now all throbbing again. Still, the pain helped to keep her thoughts from gathering too close together.
She slept heavily that night and woke to find sunlight streaming through the trees and Jack bending over her, his face full of worry.
“What is it?” she asked.
“You were crying in your sleep,” Jack said. “Are you all right?”
“I … don’t know.” Rapunzel pushed herself to her elbows and winced when she found that her head was pounding as hard as any of her muscles. “My head,” she moaned, and reached up to rub it, shutting her eyes against the painful sunlight. “Please let’s not walk today.”
“We have to,” said Jack. “Rune’s still watching us.”
They pushed on. As they walked, the throbbing in Rapunzel’s head distracted her from the ache in her feet. But it could not distract her from her thoughts. She had no interest in the father who had traded her, but she did not understand why Witch would not have let her at least meet her mother. Her mother had wanted to raise her and love her, yet Witch had taken her away, even though her mother had screamed. Even though she had gone to the governor for help.
Why?
It was the heaviest question of all. Why had Witch taken her? Why had she told Rapunzel that she had rescued her from the swamps? Why had she raised her in a tower, so far from the place where she was born? Why had she said that fairies were useless? Why had she never mentioned Rapunzel’s parents or said that her name was Envearia? Why had she never told Rapunzel that her own last name was LeRoux?
So engrossed was Rapunzel in these questions that she did not notice how cold the air had grown until her breath was coming from her mouth in great white puffs. Surprised, she flexed her fingers and found that they were stiff from cold. She and Jack stopped their march for half an hour to eat lunch and dress more warmly. They donned their mittens, slung cloaks over their shoulders, and pulled up the hoods. Thus protected, they continued their winding path through the woods and down the hills.
It was twilight before they came to a good campsite. Sleep came quickly, and so did jumbled dreams. When she woke the next morning, her head ached as though it would split. But when Jack expressed concern, she only brushed him off and picked up the wagon handle, wanting to walk in spite of the pain. The sooner they finished their journey, the better. She would have no peace until she spoke with Witch.
They walked for an hour, Rapunzel still lost in thought. She became conscious of the cold white flakes that tumbled all around her only when they began to fall thickly. She looked up into the sky and then down at the ground in surprise, watching as a white blanket formed at her feet.
“What’s this?” she asked. “Salt?”
Jack laughed. “It’s snow. Snow’s like rain, but it’s soft and cold. You’ll love it.”
“Why would I love it?” she asked as it caught in her eyelashes and stung her cheeks. She pulled the hood of her cloak farther forward. “It’s freezing.”
“You’ll love it anyway,” said Jack, grinning. “Because I have a surprise. Wouldn’t you like to stop walking for a while?”
“Well, yes,” Rapunzel admitted. “But we can’t.”
“We can’t stop moving … and when we find some open space and have a little more snow, we won’t have to,” said Jack mysteriously.
About an hour later, they came to the edge of the forest and studied the map once more. From here, Rapunzel saw, it was just short of twenty leagues to Independence. Jack folded the map and looked ahead. A smooth expanse of untouched white snow stretched before them into the distance.
“I didn’t think we’d see this much snow,” he said, surveying it with a delight Rapunzel did not share. “I was hoping — but it’s not even quite winter yet, and we’re not far north enough. This is pretty intense weather for this time of year.”
“It’s going to make it harder to walk, isn’t it?” said Rapunzel, sighing.
“We’re not going to walk.” He produced a gleaming silver Ubiquitous acorn. Rapunzel recognized it as by far the most expensive one from the Cornucopia shop — a Hawthorne all on its own. And Jack had bought two of them. She held out her hand.
Jack hesitated. “Actually, do you mind if I do it?” he asked. “I’ve always wanted to crack one of these.”
“All right,” said Rapunzel, who was now very curious. “Go ahead.”
Jack knelt beside a small rock that protruded from the snow. He raised his hand and brought the silver acorn down with a mighty CRACK.
Rapunzel shrieked and leapt back. Whatever it was he had cracked, it quickly filled the space between them, a strange, flat contraption with metal railings and leather straps leading from its front. Attached to the straps were round collars. To Rapunzel’s amazement, translucent creatures materialized as well, their necks secured by the collars, their bodies covered in silvery, transparent fur.
“Dogs!” breathed Rapunzel. There were six of them, all attached to the flat thing, all sniffing one another and scratching themselves. “Are they real?” She had seen pictures of ferocious dogs in her books, but they had always looked solid in the pictures — not see-
through like these.
“They’re real enough for a little while,” said Jack. “Real as magic can make them, anyway. A Ubiquitous Instant Dogsled!” He paced around it, admiring. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wished I could afford one of these.”
Jack loaded their wagon onto the sled. He sat down and gestured for Rapunzel to join him.
“How does it work?” she asked, climbing in.
“Like this,” said Jack, lifting a long leather thing that was coiled at the front of the sled, just behind the dogs. He flicked his wrist, and the leather thing lashed upward into the air and came down with a cracking sound. “YAH!” he shouted, and the dogs took off at once, racing across the snowy expanse. Wind blew Rapunzel’s hood off, exposing her face to the freezing cold, and she shrieked and laughed together.
“Fantastic!” Jack yelled. “I knew these sleds were supposed to be fast, but this is incredible! We’ll make it to the First Wood in half the time!”
“Won’t the sled crash in twenty-four hours?” Rapunzel shouted.
“No!” Jack’s hair flew straight back from his face as he grinned into the snow and wind.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know! I can just feel it. This sled will take us a long way.”
Rapunzel believed it. Commonwealth Green raced past them in a blur as the Ubiquitous dogs pulled the sled forward, faster and faster, until they were almost flying. “I love it!” she cried, and Jack thumped her on the back with his fist.
Rapunzel’s heart was lighter than it had been since she had left her tower. “I’m coming, Witch,” she whispered, and the words were whipped away by the rushing wind before Jack heard them. “I’m coming.”
By evening, the snow had stopped and the clouds had rolled away, leaving a canopy of starry darkness. Only one tent remained, so they did not crack it — they had to save it for bad weather, Jack said. The night was cold, but blankets made it bearable, and they made camp on the sled to keep from freezing on the snow. The Ubiquitous sled dogs did not seem to feel cold or hunger; they curled up in the snow and went to sleep.
Grounded: The Adventures of Rapunzel Page 20