“I’m to eat with them. Tell Petten and make a plan. She’ll kill him. She wants Mount Pasture.”
Janna didn’t know how stressed she was until she tried to explain everything to Alissa. The words rushed out fast and jerky, though she didn’t cry. She was too tense to cry.
Alissa came to stand in front of her and put both hands on Janna’s shoulders.
“Petten and I will talk to the Maker,” she said, giving each word weight. “Do not forget that we belong to him. He will take care of us.”
Janna’s hands trembled. “He doesn’t always. She’s killed—”
Shaking her head firmly, Alissa interrupted her. Alissa never interrupted anyone. The princess from Green Waters had impeccable manners. Despite the tension that gripped her, Janna was shocked.
“Even then,” Alissa said. “He was killed for us in the old world but lived again. We are his people. When we die, we go to live with him. He loves us.”
The words poured calm into Janna’s spirit. Her body went limp and the held-back tears ran down her cheeks.
“Thanks,” she whispered and the girls hugged.
****
The meal that night was undoubtedly delicious, but Janna found it hard to eat. Always in the past she’d found it hard not to eat, and the thought did cross her mind that this was a unique experience. However, she was hardly in a position to enjoy it. Her throat constricted until she could barely swallow.
Her father had stiffened when his daughter sat at the dinner table with them. He was not stupid. Janna knew he’d figure out what it meant. Nevertheless, he carried on his end of the conversation; indeed, he made himself so interesting that she began to hope the queen would enjoy him too much to harm him.
The Fern Queen was in a high good humor. The uncomfortable situation obviously gave her great satisfaction, and besides, she loved to talk. On and on, she and Luff talked, through soup and salad, meat and bread, vegetables and fruit, cake and tea. Janna didn’t say anything. Her emotions had coiled tighter than she could bear. She was able to take one slow bite after another, but that was it.
Finally, after dessert was over and tea had been served, the queen finished her play. She took a sip of the fragrant beverage and laughed.
“How could such an intelligent man be so foolish?” she asked in her most silky voice. “Did you think I would not notice the family resemblance between you and Janna, or that I would not be well informed about the royal family of marvelous Mount Pasture? Indeed, you have been most foolish. Fatherly love is to blame no doubt.”
The last sentence was said with a dryness that could have parched a mountain stream in flood.
Luff made no effort to pretend any longer. He folded his napkin, put it by his plate, and said simply, “No doubt.”
As he spoke, he gave Janna a look of such love that she smiled back at him. Warmly and openly, she smiled and found new strength in the exchange.
“The question is what to do with the two of you,” continued the queen impatiently. “Such devotion should not go unrewarded.”
She considered, sipping her tea, and then nodded. “Yes, I think there is room in my household for two such devoted fools.”
Janna stared at her in confusion. Would she make King Luff a servant too? That was risky, and Janna knew the woman well enough by now to know that she didn’t take risks. She wanted Mount Pasture, didn’t she? Understanding suddenly broke through, and Janna cried out in horror. Her father, who had been unable to figure out what the syrupy words really meant, turned with a puckered forehead to his daughter.
For the first time that evening, the Fern Queen also turned to her.
“Yes, my dear. You and your papa will make a charming pair of fernpeople. I will mix the potion tonight. I feel up for a little kitchen work.”
“We would rather die than become one of your ugly, hideous fernpeople,” Janna said hoarsely.
The queen actually squirmed in her chair.
“They are rather ugly, but I am working on the potion. I always change it the slightest bit. Perhaps this batch will be the best ever.”
“No!” Luff said in a firm tone of voice. “Janna and I won’t take your potion. We belong to the Maker and will not deny him. He has the care of us.”
“And what do you think he can do about it?” snapped the Fern Queen. “You see, I have the care of you now. There is nothing that can stop me. If I want you to take my potion, then take it you will. There are ways.”
She rang a bell that sat beside her place at the table.
“Take these two to their rooms and lock them in,” she said when the fernmen at the door responded.
“You,” she added, waving a hand toward the fernwoman who had served in Janna’s place, “tell Cook to leave the kitchen at once. I have brewing to do.”
She took another sip of her tea, then gracefully stood and moved toward the kitchen, singing a few lines of an old Montaland song.
Fine chopping and sifting,
Stirring and baking,
It’s off to the kitchen,
We’ve cakes to be making.
Fresh flour and sugar
And spices we’re taking
Quick, off to the kitchen,
We’ve cakes to be making.
Janna had no time to do anything but exchange an anxious glance with her father before one of the fernmen pushed her out of the dining room and up the stairs. Her father and the other fernman followed, but she knew they would turn down the second-floor hallway. She glanced around when she started to climb the third flight of stairs, wanting to see her father one more time, but the broad fernman’s shoulders blocked her view.
He pushed her again, so she had to keep going, though it was hard to climb and blink back tears. She stumbled more than once. As soon as she entered their room, Petten and Alissa rushed to her side, beaming with relief. Janna had quit crying by then, but that didn’t mean she could smile.
It was up to her to tell Alissa and Petten of the Fern Queen’s plans. The threat to Janna and her father was almost certainly a threat to her friends also. They would all be forced to take the potion that would change them into dull-eyed, heavy-veined fernpeople—and she didn’t know how long it took to mix the potion.
“I have to tell you something,” she said and explained everything, though her voice wobbled and she couldn’t help watching their faces for the fear that was to be expected.
To her surprise, Petten’s face hardened with determination, while Alissa’s shone with gladness.
“That’s it. We leave tonight,” the prince announced, smacking one fist into the other hand.
Alissa echoed, “Yes, we leave. It is over.”
Janna regretted being the one to say it, but it had to be asked. “How?”
Petten checked the door. After he’d shoved Janna into the room, the fernman had locked it. They had heard him turn the key and hang the heavy chain in its place.
Janna ran feverishly to the window slit, but it was too narrow. Besides, even if they could have squeezed through, they would have found themselves on a smooth wall with nothing to hang onto and a long drop to the ground.
“We must ask for help,” Alissa whispered as their helplessness was once again realized.
They joined hands and lifted beseeching faces. Janna opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, they heard footsteps in the hallway.
“They’re coming,” Petten said and put an arm around each girl.
In the ensuing silence, Janna noticed that Alissa was trembling. She knew that the golden princess wasn’t used to difficult situations. The threat of being turned into a fernperson must have been too much for her. It was at that point that Janna noticed her own body shaking. And why wouldn’t her mouth close?
“It could be someone bringing our supper.”
Janna never knew whether it was Petten or Alissa who spoke. Such details weren’t nearly as important as the sound of the chain rattling as it was taken down. There was a clicking sound as the key
went into the lock, then the lock turned and the massive door opened.
The figure of a fernperson was standing in the dark hallway, but it wasn’t bringing supper, nor was it motioning angrily at them to come out. Instead, it was putting a finger on its lips and beckoning.
The fernperson was Cook.
Chapter 13
Up Is Best
Without hesitation, Petten and Alissa hurried out of the room, but neither of them knew Cook. Janna stayed right where she was, mouth still open. She’d worked with this fernwoman every day for weeks. Cook had a potted-plant personality. Cook never left the kitchen. These were basic facts.
“Come on,” Petten urged in a low voice.
That broke the shock. Janna closed her mouth and ran out of the room into the hallway, but as she passed the fernwoman, she couldn’t resist an incredulous sideways glance. Cook locked the door and fixed the chain. Then she led the way down the hall to the servants’ stairs, and as she passed Janna, the girl distinctly heard a low “humph.”
Was Cook joking?
Janna’s mouth dropped open again; however, when they started down the stairs, she forgot everything but the possibility, the very real possibility, of someone coming through a hall doorway and catching them. She wasn’t the only one on edge. Petten stepped on a creaky step and sprang six inches into the air. Janna nodded. She knew he’d passed dozens of fernpeople on those very stairs every day. He must feel particularly—then a creak under her own feet made her clutch at the wall on either side.
When she reached the second floor landing, Janna jerked to a stop.
“Go on. I—I’ll catch up.”
“What!” whispered Petten incredulously, and Alissa beckoned frantically.
“My dad,” Janna began, but before she could go on, a shadow moved at the bottom of the stairs and a low voice said hoarsely, “Shake a leg, Janna. I’m here.”
Janna shook more than one leg as she ran down the stairs and threw her arms around her father. The outside door was locked too, but Cook produced another key and slid it open. They slipped quietly out of the castle. Janna expected to feel relieved, but she didn’t. Most fernpeople would be inside by now, having their supper, but there were always a few whose duties kept them outside, and it would only take one of them to sound the alarm.
Petten took over at this point, as if he knew what to do. Janna feverishly hoped he did. The scout led them toward the back of the castle, hugging the narrow strip of shadow near the wall. When they reached the end of the stone wall, he walked silently to a dark clump of bushes and they walked after him, though not nearly as silently. From there they went to a dark stand of ornamental trees, then crawled a long way through several gardens that had conveniently tall grasses.
As they crawled, a mass of clouds moved into the valley, which made it less scary to stand and make the short run from the last garden into the woods. If someone was looking out a castle window, they would only see shifting shadows under the trees. However, the clouds also made it harder for them to see where they were going.
Janna stumbled more than once, crashing through the undergrowth a few steps before regaining her balance. Whenever she made the extra noise, she glanced at Petten, and every time she was able to see him in the forest gloom, he was frowning at her. They were already making more noise than he liked. You’re a scout, Janna wanted to remind him. Your first baby steps were in the woods, and everyone frowned at you until you could walk quietly. How do you expect—
The sudden clamor of dogs barking interrupted her. It wasn’t your normal dog clamor either. These were deep, throaty barks from the massive chests of very large dogs. The Fern Queen’s hunting dogs must have heard them.
“Hey, you,” shouted a voice that was as deep and throaty as the dogs’ barking.
Everyone froze. The Fern Queen’s woodsmen were as mean as their dogs.
“Eat this and quit barking. You disturb the queen again and she’ll make fertilizer out of you.”
The barking stopped as the dogs began snarling over their supper. The voice laughed roughly, and then she heard feet stomping toward the castle.
Janna, Alissa, and Luff exhaled deeply, while Cook sagged against a tree. Petten motioned, and they continued following him through the woods, stumbling over sticks and small plants, and getting scratched by low branches that were hard to avoid in the dark.
Finally, they reached a stream that splashed noisily as it reached the foot of a mountain, and Petten turned to them.
“We can talk here,” he said. “The sound of the stream will hide our voices.”
“How did you get out, Dad?” Janna asked.
Fear had not dampened her curiosity. By the look on Petten’s face, there were more important things to discuss, but she didn’t care. She had to know.
“Cook let me out before she went upstairs for you three. I was closer. Cook, we appreciate beyond words what you have done for us.”
The fernwoman grunted.
“Do you know the best route for us now?” Petten asked.
“No,” she replied in a dull voice.
The dull voice didn’t surprise Janna. Cook usually had a dull voice, but she found herself moving to stand next to her. How did a fernperson feel in open rebellion against the Fern Queen? Janna doubted it had ever happened before. If there was anything the fernpeople all had in common, it was unquestioning obedience to their queen.
Trying to speak cheerfully, she said, “Leave her alone, Petten. You’ve studied the land around here. You lead us.”
Petten nodded as if he’d expected the responsibility.
“I think we should go northwest up this stream. It might buy us a little time because she’ll expect us to go due west toward Mount Pasture. Also, this is the highest mountain bordering the valley. The higher we get, the safer we should be. The Fern Queen doesn’t seem to care for mountaintops. Her people may not be able to handle the colder air.”
But what about Cook? Janna wondered but didn’t say anything out loud. They had to get away somewhere or they would be captured. There was no option worse than that for any of them, including Cook.
“We’ll wade. The stream will hide our steps, and it’ll also guide us. You’d be surprised how easy it is to wander off track in the dark.
“Good,” said King Luff briskly. “Let’s go.”
Janna shuddered as she stepped into the stream, but she wasn’t reacting to the cold temperature of the water. This was a cruel woman they were dealing with, a woman who played games with her victims. She could be waiting anywhere in the dark shadows.
At first, the stream led them up through what was practically a fern forest. The rustling of giant fronds over Janna’s head would have been delightful if she were at home walking through them. Here, every swish made her think of the Fern Queen’s favorite dresses. She kept looking over her shoulder to make sure nobody was there.
The others were jumpy too. When a deer bounded past, Alissa let out a quickly stifled scream and even Cook clutched at her heart, as if to keep it in place. The tension was unbearable. Janna opened her mouth to break it, but it was then that something happened, though it wasn’t what everyone had been dreading—a shout of discovery or the howl of a hunting dog or an attack from the darkness around them.
A loud boom sounded, echoed slightly, and then faded away.
“What was that?” Alissa asked in a trembling voice, but nobody could answer her.
They waited, listening.
Then Cook cleared her throat to speak, though it obviously took an effort.
“When she ordered me from the kitchen, I knew what she meant to do, and I couldn’t take it, not this time. I slid the grease pot onto the stove. When it got hot enough, I knew it’d boil over and start a fire, but it would’ve only been a little fire. It wouldn’t have made a big boom.”
Janna stared at her, dumbfounded to hear the fernwoman say whole sentences, one after another. She’d only done it once before to the girl’s knowledge, and that was wh
en she’d been emotionally upset by the memory of her family’s deaths.
“Cook, when did you learn to talk in paragraphs?” she asked but was roundly ignored.
“Whatever slows her down has got to help us,” Petten said approvingly.
Everyone except for Janna nodded in agreement. Janna shuddered instead. She’d seen the Fern Queen react to small obstacles. They made her furious.
“Let’s go,” she whispered.
They sloshed their way up the mountain as quickly as they could, but it was hard going. The current of water cut a pathway through the woods, but the streambed was slippery, and there were sharp rocks as well as loose ones. Before long, everyone was wet and sore, though the exercise did protect them somewhat from the cold. Up and up, they climbed, stubbornly continuing long after everyone but Petten wanted to quit.
When they reached a small clearing on one side of the stream, Luff called a halt. “We’ve done enough for one night. We’ve escaped from the castle, decided on our route, and made a start.”
Petten shook his head, but his followers were wheezing with exhaustion. Cook had her hand on her heart again. Mutinously, Janna staggered past him into the clearing and collapsed. The others followed.
The scout was the only one who stayed on his feet. They could hear him moving about in the dark, but nobody had the energy to ask why. However, when he came into the clearing with a large armload of wood, several people made frightened protests.
“She’ll s—s—see the s—smoke,” Janna said through teeth that had begun to chatter.
“I can build a fire that smokes very little,” Petten assured her. “If we have to rest, we should dry out. It’s too cold for wet clothes.”
“Do you have flint and steel?” Luff asked.
“Of course, I do,” Petten said, as if Luff had asked if he had two ears. “No good scout would be without them.”
There were plenty of rocks near the stream. Luff helped Petten carry enough into the clearing to make a circle so their fire wouldn’t spread. Then Petten grabbed an armload of dry leaves and mounded them inside the circle, putting twigs around and over them. With evident skill, he struck the flint onto the steel, making a spark fly straight into the leaves. The leaves and twigs began to crackle cheerfully, and he fed the flames with larger and larger pieces of dry wood until they had a warming fire.
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