The Robe of Skulls (7 page)

Professor Scallio nodded and began to move away. “Just remember,” he said over his shoulder, “that this meeting between us has never taken place.” And he wandered off into the darkest recesses of the library.

“No — that is, yes, sir . . .” Marcus shook his head. He wasn’t sure if he was dreaming, but the map crackled invitingly in his hand, and he let out a whoop of joy. “Thank you!” he called into the darkness, and rushed out of the library and down the stairs.

Pausing only to grab his jacket, he hurried to the stable to find Ger already leading his pony out into the yard.

“Ger, you are my best friend
ever
!” Marcus said, and swung himself into the saddle.

“Are you sure you ain’t wanting me to come with you, Your Highness?” Ger asked a little anxiously. He knew enough of Marcus’s plans to feel concerned for him.

Marcus would very much have liked Ger to come too, but he also knew that Ger had plans to spend the day with Daisy, the youngest and prettiest palace cook. “It’s OK, Ger,” he said. “I’ll be careful — and I promise that if I get eaten by bears, I’ll get the bears to tell my father that I saddled Glee myself.”

Ger grinned. “D’you still want my coat?”

“If that’s OK,” Marcus said.

Ger pulled a grubby old jacket from a nail on the wall, and the two boys ceremoniously swapped garments.

“Daisy’ll like this,” Ger said, looking down at the blue velvet and golden buttons. “You have fun, now!” And he went out of the yard whistling.

Marcus took a deep breath. This was the moment when his adventure would begin. He had the map safely in his pocket and now there was nothing to stop him. He clucked gently to Glee and rode steadily out of the stable yard and around to the front of the Royal Palace. As he trotted down the long poplar-lined drive, he could see a most unusual flurry of activity outside the lodge gates. Half of him was tempted to cut across the pristine green lawns and head for the fence, but the other half was consumed with curiosity. The curiosity won, and Marcus kicked Glee into a canter and headed for the lodge. As he drew closer, he could see the guards gathered threateningly around a bent old woman, two donkeys, and what looked suspiciously like a troll. They were, without doubt, Persons of
Extremely
Dubious Respectability.

“This really is the best day
ever,
” Marcus said to himself, and he rode Glee behind the lodge. He threw the pony’s reins over a railing, slid from the saddle, and crept around the side wall.

“I
demand
to see the king!” The voice was high and imperious. “I am a poor, unfortunate peasant woman. My name is Grandmother Bones, and I
must
see him!”

Marcus had seen many peasant women, but never one like this. She had unbent now, and he could see that she was even taller than his father. As her eyes flashed, shivers crawled down his spine. “Nasty,” he said to himself. “
Very
nasty!”

“Excuse
me,
madam, but the king ain’t here today,” the captain of guards was explaining in testy tones. “I’ve told you ten times already, madam, and I’d be grateful if you’d just be off.”

The troll half hopped, half staggered forward. “I bites,” he growled. “I bites
hard!
”

“Be
silent,
Gubble,” Grandmother Bones told him. “This is a time for diplomacy, not force.” She leaned toward the captain, and her silver eyes held his in a hypnotic gaze as a tiny puff of purple smoke floated in the air between them. “Tell me this,” she said. “If the king is not here, where can the prince be found?”

The captain blinked, gulped, and visibly shrank. “He’s gone to Dreghorn, if you please, ma’am.” He spoke in a monotone. “He’s gone to Princess Fedora’s engagement party, ma’am. They’ve all gone, ma’am, Crown Prince Arioso and the king and the queen — they went off not so long ago, ma’am — and only Professor Scallio —”

“Enough!” snapped Grandmother Bones. “I have no need to hear about servants! When do they return?”

The captain of guards wiped his hand over his red and sweaty face as if he were waking from a deep sleep. “What? What was that?”

Grandmother Bones repeated her question with increasing irritation. The captain rubbed his eyes, then stood up straight, folded his arms, and frowned. “Now then, old woman,” he said briskly. “Enough’s enough. I’ve answered your questions. The king ain’t back until late tonight, and that’s that, so off with you. The likes of you aren’t welcome around here!”

For a moment Marcus thought that Grandmother Bones was going to strike the captain, but she drew back. “So I will find Prince Arioso at the Palace of Dreghorn,” she said thoughtfully. “And many other princes and princesses will, no doubt, be there as well! Gubble, we must hurry!” She swung herself onto the larger of the donkeys and galloped away. Gubble, managing at last to struggle across his saddle, followed.

The guards watched them go, the captain shaking his head. “Never did see anything like that before,” he said.

One of the younger guards coughed. “Erm . . . Do you think it was wise to tell that old bag where the Royal Fambly is, sir? I mean, she didn’t look the friendly type to me. Nor that ’orrible troll.”

“I never told her nothing!” the captain said indignantly. “Not a word! What do you take me for? If you’ve nothing better to do than make up stories, young Jim, you can make us all a good strong cup of tea! Talking to that old lady’s left a nasty taste in my mouth.” And he marched inside the lodge house, leaving the guards looking at one another in bewilderment.

“It’ll be all right, Jimmy,” a bewhiskered one said reassuringly. “They’ll have soldiers and guards everywhere at Dreghorn Palace. And if she comes back here tomorrow, you can run up to the palace and warn ’Is Majesty, double quick. Now, let’s have that cup of tea.”

Marcus leaned against the wall to wait until the guards had disappeared. He was doing some serious thinking. Was Arry in danger? Should he abandon his plans and ride to Dreghorn? But what, after all, could he tell them? A weird-looking old woman and a mud-covered troll had been asking to see them. . . . Marcus frowned. He couldn’t see his father considering either to be much of a threat. Trolls were unusual, to be sure, but not entirely unknown. And while there was something deeply unpleasant about Granny Bones, he had no proof she wanted anything other than an autograph . . . or whatever else it was that ancient old women hoped for from kings. And the guard had been right. Dreghorn had quite enough security to deal with most problems, and there was a delightful rose-covered jail in the center of the high street. But, then again, there had been that strange little puff of purple smoke. . . .

Marcus groaned in perplexity. “What do you think, Glee?” he asked his pony.

Glee whickered and pushed gently at Marcus’s shoulder.

“That’s no help,” Marcus said. “Bother it all. I think we’re going to have to go to Dreghorn. I can’t risk it — oh!” He suddenly brightened. “I know! I’ll go and ask Professor Scallio what he thinks! Come on, Glee — with any luck, we’ll be off to the mountains yet!”

As Marcus galloped up the driveway one way, Lady Lamorna and Gubble galloped in the other direction, Lady Lamorna muttering to herself. “Once I have those princes in my power, I’ll teach their servants how to speak to me! I’ll make them pay! Oh,
how
I’ll make them pay! I’ll make them pay double and triple times over . . . 
Gubble
!”

“Yes, Evilness?” Gubble’s voice was muffled. He was hugging his donkey’s neck in an increasingly hopeless attempt to stay on its back.

“Which way should we go?” Lady Lamorna reined in Figs and stared at the crossroads ahead. She recognized the road that led back to Gorebreath village, but there was no signpost to suggest which of the three other roads led to Dreghorn.

“Umph,” Gubble said, and fell off. His donkey brayed triumphantly and hurried away as fast as its legs would carry it.

Lady Lamorna glared down at her companion. Things were not going according to plan in any way, shape, or form, and she was angry. Angrier than she had been for a long, long time. “Gubble!” she spat. “Stand up!”

Gubble got up slowly, his thumb in his toothless mouth and terror in his piggy little eyes.

“Gubble!” his mistress hissed. “You are completely
useless
!” She slapped him as hard as she could. His head spun off, rolled across the dusty road, and came to rest in a clump of nettles. “Ow! Ow! Ow!” the head howled, and Lady Lamorna smiled in sour satisfaction.

“That’ll teach you,” she snarled, and then stopped. And stared. The most beautiful girl she had ever seen was walking down the road toward her, Gubble’s donkey drooping beside her.

“I think this might belong to you, dear Mrs. Bones,” said the girl as she tossed back her tumbling golden curls and smiled with her rosebud mouth. “May I introduce myself? My name is Foyce Undershaft, and there are things we need to talk about.”

Lady Lamorna looked at Foyce suspiciously. “I thank you for returning the animal,” she said, “but I see no reason for us to speak further. Unless, of course, you are expecting some kind of reward.” She began to reach for her purse, but Foyce shook her head and smiled again. Lady Lamorna’s experience of human beings was limited, but she did know that smiles were meant to be warm and friendly. She was interested to see that Foyce’s smile was as friendly as the stare of a rattlesnake.

“Why don’t we have a little get-together,” Foyce suggested sweetly, but with the sweetness of poisonous berries. “Then we can chat more comfortably.”

Foyce left the donkey standing in the middle of the road, its head hanging, and stepped into the stinging nettles. Lady Lamorna noticed that they had no effect on Foyce’s delicate white skin, and her eyebrows rose. They rose even higher when she saw Foyce pick up Gubble’s head without a shudder and tuck it neatly under the owner’s arm.

As Gubble put himself back together, Foyce leaned against the dejected donkey. “I understand you have a plan,” she said, and put a delicate finger to her rosy lips. “I do assure you that I’m the soul of discretion. You mustn’t think I’ve mentioned your arrival here in Gorebreath to
anyone.
” She looked up and down the empty road and bobbed a little curtsy. “Of course,” she whispered, “I do understand that you’re traveling in disguise.”

Lady Lamorna was, for once in her life, taken aback. Who was this girl? She was certainly different. There was no sickly stench of the milk of human kindness hanging around her. She took decapitation in her stride. Nettles didn’t sting her. The overconfident donkey was in a state of piteous dejection. There was no doubt that she was evil . . . but evil, by its very nature, could not be trusted. Lady Lamorna decided to be careful. Very careful.

“Thank you for your interest, my dear,” she said. “And I can see that you are a very clever girl, but I think I shall deal with my own business in my own way. Thank you again for stopping the donkey.” Her tone changed. “Gubble! Get back in that saddle
now
!”

Foyce watched Gubble flailing about with a curious expression on her face. When he was ready to go, she curtsied again to Lady Lamorna. “We shall meet again, Your Evilness,” she said smoothly, and was pleased to see the sorceress start. “Our ways are destined to join. Oh, the road to Dreghorn is the middle one — and I wish you a fine journey. I also hope you find as many princes as you need for your . . . for your business.” She smiled her snake-like smile and sank down among the nettles to watch Lady Lamorna and Gubble riding away at a brisk trot.