Janna grinned for the first time in days. “This I’ve got to see,” she said and tiptoed toward the door that led from the dining room into the kitchen. Her father hid behind the door as she opened it.
“Coward,” she whispered and he nodded vigorously.
Caramel Brute was lying under the kitchen table. The two women had their backs to Janna. So far, so good.
Janna marched boldly into the room.
“Good morning.”
Neither woman responded.
“Good morning,” she said a little louder. “Why don’t I make sandwiches for lunch today?”
Her mother turned from the table where she was rolling out a buttery piecrust. Cook turned from the stove where she was stirring a low-fat caramel pudding. Both women stared at her blankly.
“Because you two are so busy,” Janna said ingratiatingly.
The stares deepened in blank intensity. Caramel Brute lurched to his feet and slunk out of the room.
“Then again, maybe not,” Janna muttered and backed out of the kitchen, her father snickering from behind the door.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully, if being unhappy and dreading the evening counted as uneventful. Late in the afternoon, Janna lured Caramel Brute into the garden and closed the gate after them. He would hate a noisy crowd of people, but the only way to keep him from following Cook was to confine him.
Janna wished she could stay in the garden too, but her father had told her to be ready to go in thirty minutes. She headed toward her favorite pear tree, hoping it would soothe her.
The trees hadn’t yet turned into the autumn colors that would splash red, yellow, gold, and brown all over Montaland, but their leaves were preparing for the change by becoming brittle and thin, which made it easier for Janna to see the outline of someone lolling about in her secret perch. No one was allowed to loll about in that perch but her. No one was even supposed to know about it.
Janna charged at the pear tree, ready to tell off the intruder in no uncertain terms, but as soon as she ducked under the low-lying branches, she came to an abrupt halt.
Oh no.
“I’ve been hearing things about you. People think you’re crazy,” drawled Benk in a remarkably good imitation of his older brother Alland’s drawl.
“Everything I’ve told them is true, but I don’t expect you to believe me,” Janna said as courageously as she could, given the hopelessness of the situation.
She would leave within the hour for either Green Waters or Far Reaches. Maybe Far Reaches would be better because it had lots of scouts and one of them might find her before she died of starvation, because she certainly couldn’t go to the kitchen for provisions, not with her mother and Cook in such foul moods. Maybe she’d head out west. She didn’t know what was in that direction, but it was as good a place as any to—
Benk quit lolling and sat up.
“I believe you,” he announced.
Janna glared at him.
“Sure, you do,” she said from between clenched teeth. “Maybe you can make up another song about how fat I am. It would go with what a lamb loony you must think—”
The seven-year-old jumped out of the tree, shaking his head.
“Sorry about that song,” he said offhandedly, though, strangely enough, it sounded as if he meant it. “I didn’t know you’d run away. Besides, you’re not as fat anymore.”
“Yeah, I’m only crazy,” Janna said, eyeing him suspiciously.
“No more than you ever were. All right, tell me about the Fern Queen and the high-home animals.”
He was acting as if he really wanted to know. It was almost believable. Janna had never known Benk to pretend something for the sake of being a jerk. He had always been a very straightforward jerk.
“Why do you believe me? Nobody else does.”
“Alland and I ran into two friends of yours on our camping trip. An older dame that Alland got all drooly over and a scout,” he finished, saying the last word with reverence. “I’m going to be a scout one day.”
Janna’s face lit up. “You don’t mean it! You and Alland met Alissa and Petten? You went randomly into the wilds on a camping trip and just happened to run into Alissa and Petten?”
You did that? she asked on the inside, and that particular question was not directed toward Benk.
Benk was nodding. “Don’t worry about the others,” he said, dismissing the rest of Mount Pasture with a wave of one hand. “I’ll take care of them. They’ll be begging you to tell them everything before tonight’s over.”
Janna laughed.
“I’m glad you believe me, but there’s no way you can change the whole Kingdom of Mount Pasture in three or four hours.”
Benk grinned.
“Watch me.”
****
“We’ll have to take the wagon,” Luff stated grimly thirty minutes later. “It’s bigger.”
He and Janna had carried a pot and casserole out to the castle buggy. The buggy had been the logical choice because it had seats for four people, while the wagon only sat two. However, the buggy’s storage compartment, which had always seemed spacious before this evening, was much too small for the pots, pans, casseroles, and baskets that were presently covering the dining room table.
“Two people will have to sit in the back of the wagon,” Janna said. “Me, of course, but who else?”
“Me,” Luff said quickly. “Berta can drive, while you and I keep things from spilling.”
“That’s a good idea,” agreed Janna, who understood her father perfectly. She didn’t want to sit near the competing women either.
“How long is this tension going to last?” she asked, but Luff could only shrug as he went toward the barn.
When they had the wagon in place, the two of them carried things outside, while Berta feverishly iced a butternut cake and Cook pitted cherries for a salad. Five minutes later, both women were done. They took their aprons off and freshened up, as Janna carried the cake and salad outside, and Luff found a place for them.
“Berta, you drive. Cook can sit next to you, and Janna and I will…”
Luff’s voice trailed off as he looked at the double layer that covered every inch of the wagon bed. The dishes with tops to protect them were on the bottom layer, while the ones that would have been damaged if squashed were on the top layer. It was an amazing feat of packing ingenuity with one problem—there was no room for Janna and Luff. They didn’t have time to walk. It was a good two miles to the large field where the event was being held, and they were already late.
“I’ll stay home,” Janna offered. “I don’t want to go anyway.”
“No!” said Berta and Cook, who had each spent hours concocting dishes with Janna in mind.
Everyone stared at the wagon, trying to find space somewhere. Luff took a deep breath.
“If you want Janna and me to go, some things will need to be left here. They won’t go to waste. We’ll eat them over the next few days.”
“No!” said both women again.
“What I’m going to do is take four of Berta’s and four of Cook’s things out. Whose is this?”
“Mine,” Berta said worriedly, “but don’t take that one. It has blueberry muffins in it. Janna loves my blueberry muffins.”
“And this?” Luff asked, ignoring his wife and picking up the dish that had been underneath the rather large basket of muffins.
“Mine, but that’s Janna’s favorite,” Cook said in alarm, reaching for the casserole.
Berta grabbed her basket of muffins and held it to her breast. Cook clutched her casserole and did the same. The two ladies narrowed their eyes and glared at each other, while Janna and her father waited anxiously, not knowing what was going to happen next.
“You’ll get cheese on the front of your dress,” Berta said to her rival.
“Blueberries stain,” Cook shot back.
Each woman hugged her precious food item closer in a last-ditch stand. Then, without warning, Berta giggled. J
anna was wondering if her mother had lost her mind when Cook let out a deep chuckle. Janna’s attention shifted, though the gist of her thought pattern remained the same. Was insanity catching?
The giggling increased in tempo; the chuckling got louder in volume, then both women began shrieking with laughter. Janna went into action. First, she grabbed the basket away from her mother, then snatched the casserole out of Cook’s hands. She had to—both hitherto-prized items were tilting dangerously.
Her father was no help. He was laughing so hard his eyes streamed tears. The tensions that had built up over the past week were finding their vent, Janna supposed. One at a time, she carried the casserole and basket back to the kitchen. The adults were still venting, so she proceeded to take enough items out of the wagon to provide sitting room for two.
No one challenged her choices, which was good, since she didn’t know who had made what. The three adults didn’t recover easily, which was even better, because if they took long enough, maybe they would all stay home.
It didn’t happen. Everyone but Janna was determined to go, and she eventually found herself squeezing into a narrow space in the back of the wagon. The food items on either side of her were uncomfortably hot, but Montaland’s autumns were always windy, and a rush of cool air over her face made the situation bearable. Wedged into his own narrow space on the other side of the wagon, Luff closed his eyes and leaned back on the dishes he had promised to protect from spilling.
“Keeping ’em stable,” he said, but he didn’t look as if he cared one way or another about a little spilled food.
Janna cared less. She tried to avoid the hottest of the pans and listened to Berta and Cook murmur to each other. Seemingly, the two women were now the best of friends, which was hard to understand but certainly better than starting the evening off with tension.
There would be enough of that at the potluck supper.
When they finally reached the big field with its long tables of food on one side and picnic quilts on the other, Janna’s facial muscles tightened. Everyone in Mount Pasture must have come. The place was crawling with shepherds and shepherds’ wives, and to make matters worse, one of the shepherds had organized a game of stickball in a corner of the field. Surely, there were more children playing stickball than even Mount Pasture could produce. Someone must have brought them in from neighboring kingdoms, the better to humiliate her.
Her mother was driving the wagon toward an empty parking space near the stickball game. Maybe she could sneak away before anyone saw her—
“It’s Janna,” one of the girls shouted. “She’s here.”
Janna cringed visibly. The shepherd organizing the game turned her way, and she cringed again.
“Hey, Janna, come over here. We want to talk to you,” Muck yelled.
“I’ve got to help unload,” she called back, desperately hoping he would leave her alone.
“Oh, we’ll do that,” several people offered as Berta stopped the wagon. “You go on. They’ve been waiting for you.”
A strong impulse rushed over Janna to jump off the wagon and run in the general direction of Green Waters, screaming wildly and waving her hands in the air; however, she was experienced by now with the symptoms of panic and knew what to do.
You can handle anything, Maker. Please, please, help me out.
Alland materialized next to the wagon. “Hello, Janna, let me help you out.”
MAKER! THAT IS NOT FUNNY, she thought loudly, but inexplicably, the tension in her face relaxed.
Swinging Janna out of the wagon, Alland pushed her toward the stickball crowd who had quit their game and were indeed waiting for her—like wolves waiting for their dinner. Later, Janna was gratified to remember that she walked steadily toward them. She might have turned pale, but she did keep going.
“This is a good place,” Muck said as he lifted her onto a box they had been using in their game.
Janna swayed, feeling twenty feet high.
“Tell them,” a voice ordered.
She knew that voice. Janna looked speechlessly around to find its owner. It wasn’t hard to do. He was in the front, as he usually was, the leader of the pack. “Everyone be quiet,” the seven-year-old shouted. “Go on.”
Janna’s mouth dropped open as she realized what he meant, and Benk grinned at her.
“Two hours,” he said cheekily.
****
By the end of the potluck picnic, Janna had talked so much about her trip that her throat was sore. She didn’t care. People were friendly and most of them believed her, even though her story was already being twisted out of shape.
As she carried an armload of empty casseroles, pans, and baskets to the wagon, she overheard Benk telling a group that the Fern Queen had flown through the air dropping potions on people. Those unfortunate individuals, in the wrong place at the wrong time, had turned green, sprouted fern fronds, and rooted right in the ground where they stood. Cook was the only one who had ever recovered from the effects of the potion, and even so, she had to be careful not to stand too long in one place.
There was a dramatic pause.
“Her roots might start growing,” Benk finally said in a low, eerie voice, and several people gasped.
Janna shook her head and kept going. She owed Benk and not merely for changing Mount Pasture’s mind in two short hours.
Earlier in the evening, Alland had cornered her and proceeded to ask question after question about Alissa. Janna had patiently and tolerantly answered every question. She wasn’t surprised that he was fascinated with Alissa. Who wouldn’t be fascinated with the most beautiful princess in Montaland? Before her trip, Janna had often been impatient with her next-door neighbor, but she was more mature now. After all, she and Alland had grown up together playing tag with his brothers and sisters in the castle garden.
It’s a sign of inner growth to—
“Alissa and I are going to write each other. It’s a good way to begin our relationship,” Alland had said.
Patience, tolerance, and other signs of inner growth had blown away in the autumn wind. Janna had indignantly asked, “What relationship?” while someone croaked like a frog on Alland’s other side.
The tall shepherd lad had laughed and waved a dismissive hand as he strolled away. Janna and Benk had turned toward each other, faces stony. With a single nod, they had formed an unspoken pact. Then they’d separated, but Janna had put words to the pact as she went.
This relationship will go no further. There! Janna had spoken! Well, maybe she had just thought, but if spoken words were necessary, she was capable of supplying them, and besides, with Benk on her side, success was certain.
That was the reason she didn’t publicly correct the seven-year-old’s ridiculous story about the Fern Queen, though she had every intention of doing so later. At this moment, however, she was tired and her armload of casseroles, pans, and baskets was heavy. As quickly as she could, she carried them to the wagon, heaped them in a corner, and collapsed next to them.
Luff, Berta, and Cook brought the rest of their things. The horse was harnessed, and Cook climbed into her seat, but even then they didn’t go. Luff and Berta couldn’t bear to leave until they had said goodbye to everyone, some more than once. Janna was used to this, but she wondered what Cook was thinking when they were the last to pull out of the field.
Cook didn’t seem upset. She murmured back to Berta, who was chatting away happily. Luff lay beside Janna and the two of them silently gazed at the stars that were beginning to appear in the sky.
Without warning, the peaceful time was shattered by a loud commotion. Janna sat up, startled. She must have dozed off. They’d almost reached the castle, and she could dimly see the big garden gate ahead in the rapidly darkening night. The gate was barking thunderously at a large noisy group coming down the road from the other side of the castle. Janna shook her head to clear it.
“Let’s play tag,” someone shouted.
The group crowded around the wagon, and Jan
na recognized Alland, complete with brothers and sisters, every one of them laughing or whooping. Scrambling off the wagon, she tried to whoop too but was laughing so hard that a pathetic yelp came out instead, which made the others laugh and whoop even harder. Luff swung Berta and Cook down, then the ladies hurried to the increasingly loud garden gate to reassure it that no one was under attack.
Caramel Brute had been in the garden since late afternoon. While it was true that he would have hated the crowded potluck, it was also true that he hadn’t liked being confined. In fact, he had spent the entire evening with his nose sticking out of the gate as far as it would go, barking at anything that moved on the other side.
Glad to be reunited with his favorite human, he walked protectively close as Cook and Berta made their way through the garden to the nearest bench. As soon as she’d settled herself on the bench, Cook put her arms around her dog and nodded to Berta, who shouted, “Okay, it’s safe.”
The avalanche of tag players poured through the gate.
The big dog didn’t try to take part in the game, though his ears quivered constantly. Berta and Cook listened too. It was quite dark by now, and they couldn’t see much beyond a figure occasionally flitting in and out of the moonlight, but what they could hear was most entertaining.
“Can’t catch me,” bellowed King Luff from a far corner.
Someone shrieked near the asters.
“Janna’s it,” came a shout from the direction of the old pear tree.
“That’s not fair, Benk; you knew my hiding place.”
More shrieks, giggles near the chrysanthemums, and another bellow from Luff split the night air.
“You’re it, Alland,” screamed a triumphant voice.
Berta smiled with pleasure. She turned to share the good time with Cook and discovered tears on the older woman’s face.
“Why, Grissie, what’s the matter?”
When Berta asked how someone was, she was never brushed aside. She too obviously cared for the person and meant the question.
“It has been so many years since I’ve seen my little girl,” Cook whispered.
Captives of the Fern Queen Page 17