The Flight of Dragons (22 page)

Professor Scallio — comfortably settled in the largest chair in the kitchen with a cup of tea in one hand and a piece of toast in the other — nodded. “It certainly looks like it. A great relief, I must admit.”

Elsie pulled off her wig and scratched her bald head. “I was thinking Gracie might prefer to celebrate with Marcus.”

“On their own?” Edna shook her head. “She’ll want to be here with us.”

“We’ll see.” Elsie carefully replaced her red curls. “But she’s growing up.”

The Ancient One nodded. “And quite right, too, Elsie. But she’s not growing up
that
fast. Tell you what . . . you set a place for Marcus, and I’ll send the path to fetch them home.”

“Wheeee!” Alf was twirling in ecstatic circles. “Look, Uncle Marlon!
Look!
The path’s come to meet us ’n’ we’regoing to go home ’n’ we’re going to have a PARTY!”

Marlon was inspecting the path, which was quivering hopefully at the edge of the meadow. It gave an encouraging ripple — but Marlon looked doubtful. “Hmm. Gets me dizzy, traveling on that.”

“Oh, Dad.” Millie sighed loudly. “Don’t be such an old grouch. You sound just like Great-Uncle Alvin.”

Marlon zigzagged over Marcus’s head and onto Gracie’s shoulder. “Never let it be said that I sound like Unc. All the best for today, kiddo. Let’s go party!”

Alf looped a double-spiral backflip of his own invention that bore a very faint resemblance to the shape of a heart. “Have you wished her a happy birthday, Mr. Prince? Have you?”

Marcus grinned. “Not yet,” and he leaned forward and kissed Gracie on the cheek. “Happy birthday, Gracie Gillypot.”

Find out how Gracie, Marcus, Marlon, and Gubble met in the First Tale from the Five Kingdoms!

The Robe of Skulls

The First Tale from the Five Kingdoms

Vivian French

“Lady Lamorna, an evil sorceress . . . wants a gown ‘beyond all compare.’ . . . Only the Ancient Crones can produce such a garment. . . . Unfortunately, the Crones charge dearly for their work, and Lady Lamorna has neither gold nor silver. So she devises a clever scheme: find all the princes in the land, turn them into frogs, and then ransom [them] to their parents. . . . An adventure where everyone gets his, her, or its due, where goodness is rewarded and evil punished oh-so-wickedly.”
— The Horn Book

There are more adventures to be had in the Five Kingdoms!

The Bag of Bones
The Second Tale from the Five Kingdoms

Vivian French

“
Dear
Mrs. Cringe! I’m so glad you’re with us tonight!
And
Mrs. Vibble and Mrs. Prag as well. Fabulous! And darling Ms. Scurrilous is here too!
And
Mrs. . . .”

The Grand High Witch faltered for a moment. What was the name of the hunched old witch on the far side of the fire? Even with the flames now burning brightly under the cauldron, it was too dark to see her face. It certainly wasn’t Mrs. Gabbage, and Ms. Pettigroan had sent a bat earlier that evening with polite apologies.

Mrs. Cringe shuffled up, looking distinctly guilty,and the Grand High Witch’s heart sank. Even worse, her little toe had begun to throb, which was a far more reliable warning of impending trouble. She had always been wary of Mrs. Cringe, not least because she was known to have relations outside the Five Kingdoms who were suspected of indulging in Deep Magic of the nastiest kind.

“Ahem,” Mrs. Cringe addressed the Grand High Witch, whose toe was becoming increasingly painful. “That there’s my grandmother, Truda Hangnail. She’s come visiting from the other side of the More Enchanted Forest. Asked if I could invite her in for a week or two. Things got troublesome for her over there, she said. Too many two-headed cows and sheep with five legs appearing all over the place.” She stepped closer and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Best to be polite. She’s in a bit of a temper. Fell in a ditch on the other side of the border gate.” She nudged the Grand High Witch. “Shouldn’t even be here in the Five Kingdoms. Deep, she is. Very Deep. But we won’t tell, will we?”

Evangeline Droop, Grand High Witch of Wadingburn, froze. It was a serious offense to invite a Deep Witch to cross the border of the Five Kingdoms. They had been banished many years before, together with werewolves and sorcerers. On the other hand, she had absolutely no idea how to confront a Deep Witch, let alone how to tell her to go home.

Evangeline’s little toe was now excruciating. All the same, she extended an unwilling hand and said as gracefully as she was able, “Delighted to meet you, Mrs. Hangnail!”

The visitor stared at her with beady little eyes, and the strangely sinuous animal draped around her neck lifted its head and stared too. “Deep or Shallow?” the witch croaked.

Mrs. Cringe took her elderly relation by the arm. “I told you, Grandma. There aren’t any Deep Witches in the Five Kingdoms.”

Truda Hangnail gave a laugh like knives scraping steel. “There’s no fun in that,” she sneered. “You can’t turn princes into toads with Shallow Magic. How d’you put red-hot nails in a milkmaid’s shoes? And how d’you scare folk into giving you plump young chickens and apple pies and bowls of eggs and dishes of cream?”

“Actually, Mrs. Hangnail,” the Grand High Witch said haughtily, “we are respected members of our community.”

Mrs. Prag looked smug. “We’ve all been invited to Queen Bluebell’s eightieth-birthday party to hear the Declaration.”

“It’s a Declaration Ball, Vera,” Mrs. Vibble corrected her. “
Do
get it right.”

“
So
exciting!” Ms. Scurrilous beamed with pleasure. “We’ll be among the very first to know who she’s chosen as her successor!”

Truda stiffened like a fox who has seen a foolish young rabbit. Even her nose sharpened. “Successor?”

Ms. Scurrilous heaved a romantic sigh. “So sad. Her daughter ran away, and there’s only a grandson. And of course we don’t have kings in Wadingburn, so it’s been a terrible worry.”

“Serves the old bag right,” Truda snapped.

“Excuse
me,
Mrs. Hangnail!” Evangeline’s voice rose several octaves. “You are speaking of our beloved monarch!”

“Oooh—beg your pardon, I’m sure.” The old witch bobbed a sarcastic curtsy. “So what else do you do, besides visiting royalty?”

Mrs. Vibble bridled. “We offer charms and soothing cures for the afflicted.”

“That’s right,” Ms. Scurrilous added. “And we get paid for our work without frightening anyone.”

“YAH!” Truda stuck out her long green tongue. “Mimsy-whimsy sort of stuff. Cough drops and love potions as well, I’ll be bound.” She hobbled toward the bubbling cauldron and peered inside. “Just as I thought. Moldy mushrooms, shriveled spiders’ legs, chicken soup, and nail clippings. Call yourselves witches? Spineless old hags is what you are! Now, let me see . . .” She began to fish in the pockets of her shabby old cloak, then pulled out a tattered cloth bag. “Frog bones, bat bones, rat bones, cat bones . . . How about a few dragon bones to begin with? Nicely ground into dust, of course.”

Mrs. Prag grabbed Evangeline’s arm. “What’s she doing?” she hissed. “Stop her! Dragon bones are illegal!”

Evangeline swallowed hard. As Grand High Witch of Wadingburn, voted into the post by every witch in the kingdom, she knew she should take command. She should order this terrible old hag to go, scat, vamoose, and refuse to take no for an answer. But there had been something in Truda Hangnail’s eyes that was making Evangeline feel oddly indecisive.

“Erm . . .” she began. “We don’t usually use those kinds of ingredients.”

“You don’t, eh?” Truda sneered. “Well, could be it’s time you did. I’m thinking we could have some fun and games in this cozy little kingdom of yours. I’m thinking we could make it a tad more exciting. Could just be I’ve found something worth staying for!” She gave an evil cackle, opened the bag, and tossed a handful of gray dust into the cauldron.

What happens when a lonely troll king decides he’d like a princess of his very own?

The Heart of Glass
The Third Tale from the Five Kingdoms

Vivian French

“Silence!” King Thab waved an imperious arm. “Write, Spittle.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Of course, Your Majesty.” The goblin’s pencil squeaked furiously on the slate. “Erm . . . how about, ‘Thab, King of All Trolls, pre-sents his compliments to Master Amplethumb, and is delighted and ekstatik’ ”— Spittle paused and crossed the last word out —“ ‘Is delighted and happy to agree to his request for assistance in the matter of extracting gold from the valleys of Flailing. Thab, King of All Trolls, is willing to offer . . .’” Spittle paused again and put down his pencil. “Excuse me, Your Majesty, but how many trolls will you be sending?”

Thab turned to the dwarf. “How many? He ask.”

“One or two would be sufficient, sir,” the dwarf told him, “trolls being that much bigger than us dwarves. And stronger,” he added with a sideways glance at Mullius.

“That’s right. That was in Master Amplethumb’s letter, Your Majesty.” The goblin picked up the parchment. “Erm . . . here we are. ‘The pressures upon us are immense owing to the forthcoming wedding in the Kingdom of Dreghorn. All our able-bodied dwarves are already actively employed in the extraction of gold, but I fear the order will not be ready in time unless you are able to assist us. One, or at most two, of your strongest trolls would be invaluable.’”

The king nodded. “Yes. Write, ‘Agree. One troll. One troll to dig.’”

Spittle’s pencil began to squeak again.

He put down his pencil, but the king snatched it up and thrust it back into his hand. “Write more, Spittle. Exchange! Payment! Write, ‘Troll dig for dwarves. Exchange pretty princess.’ Pretty for me — for King Thab!” Exhausted by this effort, the king lay back in his throne and closed his eyes, thus missing the expression of total horror on the dwarf’s face.

Spittle gave a sly chuckle and went on: “‘In exchange for this act of generosity, King Thab will expect delivery of a princess —’”

“Pretty!” interrupted the king without opening his eyes.

“So sorry, Your Majesty. I was about to add that requirement. ‘One PRETTY princess, to keep His Most Royal Majesty company.’”

Bestius stood first on one foot, then on the other, as Spittle went on writing. How could he promise a princess in return for a troll? “Your Majesty,” he began, “there . . . there might be a bit of a problem.”