The Flight of Dragons (7 page)

Gubble looked up, his cheeks bulging. “Ug.” He sounded reproachful. “Gubble hungry.”

“Hmm.” Gracie was inspecting the remains. “Sorry, Marcus. The chocolate cake’s gone, too. There’s a fruitcake left — hang on a minute. It’s got a huge bite out of it! Gubble . . . how
could
you?”

The troll stared down at his toes. “Bad Gubble. Gracie angry. Gracie hate Gubble.”

“Heavens, no.” Gracie patted his arm reassuringly.

A puzzled expression crossed Gubble’s flat green face. “Niven’s Knowe?”

Gracie realized his mistake. “No . . . I said, ‘Heavens, no.’ I meant I wasn’t angry. Just a bit disappointed. I’m ever so hungry, and Auntie Elsie makes the best egg sandwiches ever.”

“More egg at home,” Gubble suggested. “Go home.”

“That’s an idea,” Marcus said eagerly. “We can tell your aunts about the dragons and ask about the web.”

“I’ve always wanted to see a dragon.” Gracie shook the last crumbs out of the picnic basket. Without looking at Marcus, she added, “That was a nice idea of yours to take me to see a — What was it? A flight? — a flight of dragons for my birthday.”

Marcus shuffled his feet. “Oh. Good. I mean, I just wanted to do something special.” There was a pause, and then he said rather quickly, “You see, you’re a bit special, Gracie.”

“Wheeeeeeeee!” As Gracie blushed, Alf looped an enthusiastic loop over her head. “Go on, Mr. Prince! Go on! Give her a kiss!”

Marcus turned an agonized scarlet, and Gracie all but shut herself in the picnic basket.

Alf looped another loop. “Wheeeeeee!” he caroled, “Wheee — OOF!”

There was a small but solid
thump
as Gubble put up his hand and checked Alf midflight. “ ’Nuff,” he said firmly. “Bad bat.”

Alf, lying on his back on the grass, glared up at him. He was too winded to speak. Marcus began to laugh loudly, and Gracie looked at him in surprise. Realizing he was only trying to cover his embarrassment, she joined in. Gubble stared at them before trying out a few puzzled chuckles himself.

“It would serve Alf right if we shut him in the basket,” Gracie said with feeling, and she gave Marcus a rueful smile.

Marcus breathed again.
Good old Gracie,
he thought.
All the other girls I know would have made a terrible fuss. But she’s different.

Alf managed a hoarse squeak.

“He’s sorry,” Gracie interpreted. “Come on. Let’s go back to the house. It looks as if it’s about to rain.”

She was right. As the small party emerged from the trees, a few drops began to fall, followed by more and more. By the time they reached the House of the Ancient Crones, they were soaked through.

“We can’t go in through the front door, I’m afraid,” Gracie said as she negotiated the path, which was twirling around her ankles in a loving but irritating way. “It’s been behaving very badly recently. It’s spent the last two days up on the roof. Maybe we should go around to the back, and then you can put Glee in the stable before we go inside.”

They dripped their way around the outside of the house, and after drying Glee with a wisp of straw and settling him comfortably, they headed for the back door. The front door had slid down beside it and was flapping its mailbox in an inviting manner. Gracie looked at it suspiciously. “Last time it did that, it tried to pinch my fingers. I think we’ll use the other one.”

Marcus, who was used to doors staying where they were, was happy to agree. He, Gracie, and Gubble trailed inside and immediately found themselves in the kitchen. There was a roaring fire in the hearth and a kettle singing on the stove; Marcus’s and Gracie’s spirits rose, and Gubble grunted approval.

The Youngest One was stirring a large saucepan of delicious-smelling soup, and she nodded knowingly. “Thought the rain would send you home, so I’ve made some soup. Or did you have time to eat your picnic?”

“Gubble did,” Gracie said as she handed Marcus a towel. “He ate all the sandwiches and the chocolate cake. I think he only left the fruitcake because he doesn’t like raisins. Marcus and I are starving. That smells wonderful!”

Val smiled. “Good. Do you want some bread?”

“Yes, please,” Gracie said — and then feeling Marcus’s eyes on her, she added, “Did you know Professor Scallio’s been watching out for dragons, Auntie Val?”

Val looked at her in surprise. “Dragons? Frederick? No. I had no idea.”

It was Gracie’s turn to look surprised. “Oh . . . I thought he might have told you.”

“He’s been overworking, if you ask me.” Val gave the soup a final stir. “He’s got some research he’s working on, or so he says. Sent Millie with a message that he wouldn’t be home last night. Him and his books!” The youngest crone shook her head in sisterly despair. “Now, when you’ve had something to eat, the Ancient One wants to have a word with you. Marlon’s just arrived, and the two of them are hatching some wild idea.” Val looked disapproving. “Seems he wants you two to go off on some expedition or other. And instead of telling him not to talk nonsense, Edna’s all for it.” She stopped to pour soup into two large bowls.

“An expedition? Where?” Marcus jumped up from the table — but Val waved him down again.

“Now then, Mr. Prince — you sit down and eat your soup. You can’t go anywhere on an empty stomach, and, besides, Edna and Marlon are still talking. Plenty of time to find out all about it once you’ve eaten.”

Gracie grinned at Marcus. “You’d better do as Auntie Val says. She worked as a nanny before she came to the House of the Ancient Crones.” She did not think it necessary to explain that the Youngest had, in those distant days, also been in the habit of regularly absconding with all the children’s toys. Val’s ways had been radically changed by the Ancient One, and she was now a reformed character, as was Elsie. Gracie’s stepsister, Foyce, was currently undergoing the same process; her progress was slow, but the Ancient One was not without hope.

Marcus sighed but did as he was told.

G
lobula and Conducta were not enjoying their visit to their great-grandfather. After kissing his cold slimy face, they had each been kissed in return; both twins had furtively wiped the chilly slobber from their cheeks as they stepped back.

“Sit down now, my little darlings, and we will talk,” their granpappy told them. He lifted a formless fleshy arm, and their legs gave way under them. As there were no chairs, they were obliged to sink down among the heaps of sodden rubbish, moldering rags, bits of rotting paper, and some indefinable sticky substance that seemed to be spreading out from Old Malignancy himself. From time to time, there were furtive slitherings that were far too close for the twins’ comfort; they were more than happy to put a handful of slugs (carefully chosen for excessive size and sliminess) in the pockets of a teacher or an unsuspecting child, but to see silvery trails circling their feet was an entirely different proposition. There was also a remarkable number of worms. Both Conducta and Globula had forced many of their little friends at school to eat worms, but those were of the common pink variety. These were longer and squirmier and a curious greenish white. They gleamed in the faint light from the doorway, and the twins found themselves pulling their dresses closer around their bony thighs.

“Ho, ho, ho!” Granpappy Canker was laughing, but his laughter had no warmth in it. “My little cankerettes don’t like the company I keep, I see. Well, I never. And there I was thinking you’d done away with those nasty finicky Mousewater ways! Too good for me, are you, my persnickety darlings? Had to wipe away your dear old granpappy’s kisses?”

Conducta shifted guiltily but didn’t answer. Globula felt it was the right time to pull out her mother’s brooch. “Here, Granpappy,” she said. “We brought you this.”

“Ahhhhh . . .” Old Malignancy sighed, and it was a sigh of pleasure. “Perhaps I was wrong. Your mother’s brooch, I see. Now, that pleases me, my dears. That pleases me very much. She will be crying and wailing and missing that little gift, and those cries and wails will be music to my ears.” He stretched out his flabby white hand, and, as Globula gave him the brooch, Conducta rubbed her eyes. Was it her imagination, or had her great-grandfather grown larger? Before she could make up her mind, he crushed the little trinket between his fingers and a cloud of bright dust floated into the air before vanishing into the darkness. When he opened his hand again, the brooch was gone. There was, however, a bright red welt on Old Malignancy’s palm. He had also, Conducta noticed, shrunk back to his former size.

“Well, I never . . . what a lot of goodness there was in that brooch. And love.” Old Malignancy’s voice was as sharp as lemon juice in a cut. “We must remember to beware of Mousewaters. A hint of Trueheart in their ancestry, it would seem . . . dear me. How very unpleasant.” He gave the twins such a cold look that they shrank back. “Let us hope, my precious cankerettes, that such an affliction has passed you by.”

“We’re just like our dad,” Conducta told him. She was annoyed to hear that her voice had a tremor in it and tried again. “Mum’s always telling us.”

Globula’s attention had been caught by something else. “What’s a Trueheart?”

Old Malignancy shuddered. It was difficult to see where he began and ended, but the shuddering filled the room until even the walls shook and the twins’ teeth rattled in their heads. Conducta clutched her sister’s hand, and Globula shut her eyes. “We will not speak the word again,” Old Malignancy said as the shuddering subsided to a faint tremble. “They stand in the way of Evil, my little dears. . . . They stand in the way of Evil, and each one must be shredded into many thousands of pieces before the glorious way of Evil lies clear before us. But you are here for a reason, and you meant well by bringing me a gift. What do you want of me?”

The twins looked at each other. This was more like it. This was why they had come. “Granpappy,” Conducta began, “we need money.” She pulled the parchment out of her pocket. “Ma wants us to get jobs, but we’re Cankers.” She gave a sly smile. “We don’t work, not like stupid people. But we need a way of getting money.”

Globula nodded. “We’ve got a plan. We’re going to tell Ma we’re working at the palace, but —”

“Let me see.” Old Malignancy took the parchment from Conducta and studied it before handing it back. Something like a smile crept over his bloated face, and he gave a mirthless chuckle. “How very interesting. A position at the palace.”

“Of course, we’re not
really
going to work there,” Conducta explained. “We’re much too clever for that —”

“Oh, no, my little canker. Not so very clever.” There was something in his voice that made the twins shiver. “If you were clever, you would not have come to find me. By coming here, you have made yourselves mine, and now you must do as I tell you.”

Conducta and Globula opened their mouths to say they had no intention of doing anything they didn’t want to, but the words froze on their lips. “Errrr . . .” they said. “Errrr . . .”

Their great-grandfather chuckled coldly. “You see? Now, listen. You will go to the palace, and you will ask for work. And you will lurk and linger and spy, and you will tell me why there are no servants at Niven’s Knowe. It seems to me that there must be unhappiness there, and dissent, and that interests me. . . . It interests me very much. Perhaps you might care to spread a little more. Anger and resentment can be as catching as the measles if the flames are stirred. So much fun, my little cankerettes. SO much fun!”

This was far more to the twins’ liking. They nodded enthusiastically, and Old Malignancy smiled his chilly smile.

“So now we understand each other. I will consider this further . . . consider it carefully. But now I am tired. Run along, my dears, and come back and see me soon. Very soon, and then we will talk more.”

The twins, released from whatever strange force had been holding them, got to their feet. They began to make their way toward the door — but greed made Conducta brave. “And you’ll give us lots of money if we do as you say, Granpappy?”

Their great-grandfather gave her a look that was half despising, half admiring. “You have your father’s spirit, my dear. There may well be rewards for you . . . if you do as you are told.”