“Thanks for helping me out here, Clifton,” Charles told him gratefully as they rode their horses on the road to the Palace. “I've never done a double act before.”
“Sure, man.” Clifton patted the black and purple silk tunic and trousers he wore. Silver necklaces and fine trim glowed dully in the evening twilight. “Thank you for convincing Mr. Wizard to give me these threads. Never had anything finer.” His polished boots matched his sleek stallion, a handsome creature who was twice the size of Cornelius.
“If we're going to play for the royal court together,” Charles laughed, “we have to look the part. You know what you have to do when you get in, right?”
“Don't worry, Charlie. It's in the bag. I gotta distract Malade and make sure she doesn't get ideas.” His ever-present smiled turned down. “You be careful out there. Don't let those trolls catch on.”
He gave Clifton a wan smile. “I'll be all right, Cliff. I have to do this. It's for my friends, and the kingdom. And,” he added softly, “it's kind of for me.”
“Hey, man,” the town crier's ears pricked as screams and stomping feet could be heard ahead of them, “what's all the noise goin' down in Holly Woods?”
Charles grinned. “I know what it is. Come on! We have to get through there, while the guards are busy!”
As they spurred their horses into a gallop, smoke belched from the main town. They passed Ira directing his men to put out a fire in a pile of hay near the stables. Orson threw guards over his shoulder in the Town Square, sending them into trees or slamming into each other. “This is...fun!” He held one over his head. “I feel...powerful!” He looked powerful, too, towering over just about everything in the area but some of the trees. He even used a guard's sword to pick his teeth.
“Hey!” Gary Scarlet's red cape flashed in the late afternoon sunlight. “Watch where you aim that guy! You almost knocked me into the fire!”
Sarah waved to them as she passed with a bucket of water. “We'll be along as soon as we help put this out! Or,” she added with a giggle, “keep it going for as long as we can without actually burning the town down!”
“I am...” Orson snarled as menacingly as he could manage, “the...uh...Great Green Giant...of the Corn Fields! I will destroy your crops...and...burn your villages! I'll mess up your hair...and give...you noogies!” He snared Ira one-armed and rubbed the top of his head. “You look...like you need a good...one!”
“Great Green Giant, my rear!” Ira grumbled as he struggled in his arms. “If you're a Great Green Giant, I'm a canary.”
Orson held Ira by his collar, his grin as wide as his entire skinny body. “The Great Green Giant...thinks you need...a bath!”
“I don't need a bath now!” Ira complained loudly. “I have to get to the Palace before the ball starts! I'm supposed to go straight there after clearing out the bad guys here!”
“So you want...to go...to the ball?” The towering troll easily lifted the sheriff over his arm for a pass. “You can...fly for free! I'll help!” He threw Ira into the air so hard, he went streaking over the houses and tree tops.
Debralee's eyes widened. “I didn't mean for him to go that far!” She waved her wand at Charles and Clifton. “Come on! I think I might be going to the ball with you after all.”
They galloped down the highway, passing fancier carriages filled with nobles in silks and satins and gold chains. Televisa City was far busier and more cheerful than it was when Charles passed through weeks before, with flower garlands hung over the streets and every store decorated with bright late summer flowers. Those who weren't invited to or working at the party celebrated having nobles staying in their boarding houses and hotels or coming out for a late nightcap in their taverns.
As their horses followed the traffic over the bridge and the river to the palace, they heard a loud splash, followed by snickering. Ira spluttered in the water, yelling for someone to help him out. He'd already abandoned his water-logged velvet coat and was floundering for the shore.
“I'll keep him busy,” Debralee smirked. She waved her wand over the tiny waves created when Ira landed, until they became small tsunamis that washed over Ira and chased him downstream. “You boys move along,” her voice trailed as she flew after him. “He won't get ideas!”
“Stop!” The tall young man with the dark curls and dimples took their names at the gate. “Do you have your invitations?”
“Sure do!” Charles handed them over. “Here you go, Sir Convy.”
He gave him a wide dimpled grin that reminded Charles of Richard's. “Looks like you boys are our house musicians. You'll be taking your horses that way,” he pointed off to the right, “and setting them in the stables with the servants' mounts.”
“Sir Convy,” Charles whispered, “Gene told me you're a friend of his, and you'll be able to round up other friends to help us. Is that true?”
“Let's just say,” Sir Convy gave them a grin as he produced a shorter version of Gene's silver wand, “I know a little magic. I already talked to...colleagues of mine...in the Palace. They're all ready. Bill Cullen's here, too. He's in the kitchen, charming the maids.”
“He's here?” Charles murmured. “I wondered what happened to him. We sent him to get help, and he never came back.”
“He'll tell you more when you get into the Palace.” Sir Convy pushed them along with a grin. “Hey, you're blocking traffic! Go set up for the show. I'll keep an eye on the door.”
“Come on, man,” Clifton chuckled as he shook his reins. “Let's park our boys here and see where they want us to sing at this shindig.”
Password Palace was normally regarded as one of the most beautiful homes in Nerdocrumbesia. Built in the century before for Allen's great-grandfather, it was more like the lavish chateaus of France, a sprawling estate with a roof of shingles as blue as the sky that framed it. Carved flowers in orange and yellow gold leaf trim glowed over their heads in the late afternoon sun.
Charles could never get over how huge the place was on the inside. Endless halls filled with fine oak furnishings and colorful draperies turned into mazes. Good thing he'd sung for Queen Betty and King Allen before. He knew where the ballroom was.
“Clifton,” he said as they stopped at the entrance, “why don't you set up for the show? I'll meet you later. I want to see if any of the others have arrived.”
“Sure, man.” He took his guitar from the side of his horse, then went on amiably. “Just make it back in time to rehearse. Dancing's gonna start around six.”
“Don't worry, Cliff,” he assured him, patting his shoulder. “I haven't had a job in weeks. I'm not losing this one.”
As he made his way down the hall towards the kitchen, he swore he saw a flash of pale green and gold making its way towards the gardens and stables surrounding the castle. The silhouette of a woman with fluffy yellow-brown hair carrying a golden ball came into his vision. “Betty?” He murmured. “Queen Betty? Where is she going?”
The gardens at Password Palace had once been among the most spectacular in the kingdom. Once Malade moved in, she banished the shady trees and blooming roses, replacing them with rocks and prickly thorn vines that choked the marble walls.
“My poor garden! I should check on the horses. Bet she's worked them into exhaustion!” Betty grumbled. Her gown, with its mounds of emerald ruffles and green crystal beads, almost glowed against the waning afternoon light.
“Hello?” She turned around on his approach. “Charles? Oh, thank heavens! It's just you. I thought you'd be back in the ball room, getting ready to play the music with Master Davies.”
“Actually, I was going to make sure the others arrived.” He frowned as she tossed the ball again. “Forgive me, Your Majesty...Betty...but why do you always have that ball with you? You've barely put it down since we found you at the Fairies' Realm.”
She sat on the edge of an old well and turned the ball over in her hands. “Allen gave it to me for our tenth wedding anniversary. It's all I have left of his. When I hold it, toss it, I think of him and all the fun we used to have together. Besides,” she went on as she threw it in the air again, “tossing it helps me think.”
“You really shouldn't throw it there, Your Majesty...Betty,” he fussed. “What if it goes in the well? You'll have to jump in to get it, and the water would ruin that beautiful dress the fairies made.”
“First of all, I'm calling myself the Marquise De Nivens.” She shrugged. “It was the first name I could come up with. Second, I'm fine. Why don't you go find Sir Richard...Prince Peter...and see if you can start looking for that contact?”
Charles shivered as he gazed around the garden. “I'm all for getting out of here. This place is giving me the creeps!” He'd never seen so many statues! Each one, young and old, human and animal, wore an expression of pure terror...except for the big stone fellow he ran into whose craggy carved face showed more anger than fear. “Wonder who pissed that guy off?” he muttered as he hurried over to Betty.
As he hurried away, he tripped over a rock and stumbled into her. “Oh no!” the queen in disguise wailed as the ball slipped out of her hands and dropped into the well with a plop. “Now what am I going to do? No one will ever find another ball like that!” Betty insisted. “Allen had it specially made just for me!”
She'd started to roll up her sleeves as she heard a voice. “Hello, Mistress! I believe I can be of some assistance!”
They both leaned into the well to see where it came from...but all they could find was a fat yellowy-green frog sitting on a brick jutting into the inside of the well. “I can get your ball back for you, Mistress, but you have to make a promise to me!”
“A promise?” Betty arched an eyebrow. “What kind of a promise?”
“If I bring you the ball,” the frog croaked, “you have to make me your escort tonight. I have to eat off your plate and drink from your glass. After that...” The rubbery grin widened, “you have to kiss me.”
“Well, I've known many frogs. You're not unpleasant fellows,” Betty admitted, before adding quickly, “when you can get around the mucus! Yes, I know it's not slime.”
“In that case,” the frog called up to her, “you'll have no problems having one for an escort!”
“Oh...” Betty sighed. “All right. Please go get my ball! I don't know how I'll explain you to the door man. Maybe you can hide in my skirt or pocket or something.”
The little frog leaped back into the well with a splash. “Your Majesty,” Charles muttered, “are you sure about this? How can a frog talk? There has to be something more at work here.”
Betty nodded. “I know there is. Animal lover that I am, I'm well aware that frogs don't talk. And yet,” she added thoughtfully, “there something...familiar...about him. Maybe it's the voice. Under that croak, I think I've heard it before.”
Within minutes, a pair of warty arms emerged from the well. “Here you go, Mistress!” He tossed the ball onto the side of the well, then leaped up himself. “Keep your promise and make me your escort. And do it now!” His protruding eyes, under the circular marks that looked like glasses, slid to the rapidly setting sun. “We only have until midnight!”
“Goodness, you're a pushy little fellow, for a frog!” She dropped him in her pocket, but he wiggled his way free.
“No!” The frog grumbled, “I'll be smothered there! I have to ride on your shoulder and be seen.”
Betty sighed again. “I guess I could tell people you're my pet and companion. I can't go anywhere without you. Besides,” she added as she settled him on her shoulder, “now I'm glad Joyce insisted I wear green. You sort of blend in up there.”
“Nice view.” The frog's eyes rolled to her cleavage, which the dress did nothing to hide. “Very nice.”
“Ahem,” Charles rasped as he cleared his throat, “Betty, I think we'd better see if the others are at the ball room yet. I'm going to start singing soon.”
“Just as long as we don't run into Malade.” The little frog on Betty's arm shuddered. “She threatened to turn me into frog's legs if she got her hands on me!”
“Oh she did, did she?” Betty's arms stiffened. “No one hurts an animal on my watch! I'll make sure she never lays a finger on you!” She took Charles' arm. “Come on. They'll probably be announcing the guests soon, if they aren't already.” The frog hopped down and put his leg through hers, almost like he was holding her other arm. “I bet I have the two best-looking escorts at the party!”
No comments:
Post a Comment