The Runaway Dragon (16 page)

A few minutes later, Alya was holding a midnight meeting in the kitchen with a dozen of her followers and Meg. The women spent the first part of the meeting indignantly describing Malison’s demands.

“She wants to bathe in rose water!” one burly woman grumped. “We’re half the day picking roses and pulling the petals off.”

“And
the water has to be hot, so we use the stoves to heat it, but that puts us off the dinner schedule—”

“Then she’s angry about dinner being late!”

“You call that dinner? Whoever heard of eating candied peacock’s eggs?”

“She won’t settle for fish and potatoes, not her.”

“Why can’t she just use a spell to heat the water?”

Alya seemed to understand that the women needed to complain before they could get anything else done. She listened and made noises of sympathy and outrage until everyone had settled down a bit. Then she started a
discussion about how to free the villagers from the sorceress.

No one paid the least bit of attention to Meg.

“Excuse me,” Meg said finally. “Can I get a black dress? Then I’ll be on my way.”

Alya remembered her. “This is Meg, also known as the Princess of Greeve, though we try not to hold that against her. She came here with a friend she wants to rescue.”

Stefka looked at her more closely. “You! How did you get out?”

“There was this hawk …” Meg said, but everyone sort of frowned, and she gave up. “I had a key.”

“She let me out, too,” Alya said.

“Good girl,” Stefka told Meg.

“Now she wants to go up there and find her friend,” Alya added.

“A man?” a skinny blond woman asked. The other women chuckled.

“Worse,” Alya said, watching Meg. “A wizard.”

“A sort of cheery boy with red hair?” a woman who hadn’t said anything yet asked.

“That’s him!” Meg exclaimed.

“Tell us, Luli,” Alya said.

“I take him his towels,” Luli said. “He’s very nice. Not like her.”

“If you could show me,” Meg began, but Alya was shaking her head. “You’ll have to wait, Meg. If they catch
you while we’re in the middle of our plan, it’ll all fall apart.”

“But I don’t have time!” Meg cried. “I only have five days, four days now. There’s this giant, and this thief—”

A few of the women muttered at the sound of the word “thief.” Meg supposed the former bandits were touchy about remarks on their previous trade. “I have to help my friends,” Meg explained. “Just like you’re doing.”

“We’ll help you with your wizard,” Alya said. “It will be easy once we’ve gotten to that sorceress.”

Meg looked around at the circle of faces: weary, angry women whose everyday lives had been stolen from them, whose fathers and brothers and husbands and sons were under a spell. “All right,” she said. “I hope it’s a
fast
plan.”

“It’ll have to be fast,” Alya told her. “Someone’s going to find that guard we tied up.”

“There must be some other way out,” Crobbs said hopefully.

The others were silent, standing in the middle of the wide kitchen floor in the near darkness, presumably thinking. Unfortunately, they must not have thought of anything much, because the silence continued, and continued …

“There isn’t, is there?” Dilly said.

“If we can’t open the door, we need someone to open it for us,” Cam said slowly.

“They won’t do that!” Nort told him.

“They won’t know they’re doing it,” Cam went on.

“Ah,” said Nort. “We wait for the door to open and then rush out.”

“That’s it.”

“Has anyone got a better idea?” Dilly asked. “Because the minute that child finds out we’re gone, they’ll be looking for us.”

“We just have to hope her mother opens the kitchen door before Loris gets up.” There was another silence as the little group considered the odds of this happening.

“Well,” said Nort. “We need to find a good hiding place near the door.”

“The cupboard’s not close enough,” Dilly observed.

“What about that chair?” Spinach asked. It was amazing how a chair could loom, each of its legs bigger than a tree trunk. The night shadows painted it with menace. It was almost enough to make Spinach wish she was back in her tower.

“No,” Cam said. “The broom.”

“Is that what that is?” Crobbs said.

The broom leaned against the wall beside the door, a thicket of tall straw bristles rising up over their heads toward a handle that was lost in the darkness high above them. “It’s the closest thing,” Nort said reluctantly.

“It’s on the wrong side of the door,” Dilly said.

“We’ll have to run around the door after it’s
opened.” Cam didn’t sound as if he liked his own plan very much.

They didn’t have much of a choice. The five travelers slipped behind the broom, setting up a sort of temporary camp between the wall and the bristle thicket.

The kitchen smelled faintly of the giants’ dinner. “Does anybody have anything to eat?” Crobbs said plaintively.

“I saved one of those crumbs,” Cam told him. Cam divided the crumb into five pieces. The little group sat on the floor eating the rough giant bread, waiting for dawn and the door to open.

The next morning found Malison slouched on her throne pouting. Every once in a while she would think up an order to give, mostly because she liked seeing the guardsmen run off to fetch whatever it was she wanted this time. Actually, they would go and yell at one of the women servants, who would stalk off in disgust to track down the latest item. None of it pleased Malison, anyway. An ivory fan studded with sapphires—“I said rubies!” A map of Malison’s empire—“My part should be bigger. Who drew this?” A single perfect strawberry—“It’s not red enough. Take it back!” A book of poems about world conquest—“That’s the wrong one!” Some curried mushroom-and-ham on toast—“The curry’s too strong!”

Then Bain approached her. “Your Majesty?”

He was really very nice-looking, her chief guard, Malison thought before she remembered she was in a bad mood. “What is it?” she snapped.

“I must inform you that one of the dungeon guards has been overpowered and tied to a chair.”

Malison scrambled to sit up. “And the prisoners?”

“The new prisoner is missing. As is Alya.”

“What? Didn’t you lock them in?” Malison cried. “Didn’t you
turn
the
key
in the
lock?”

“I did, mistress,” Bain said miserably. “I don’t know what happened.”

“Search the fortress!” Malison barked. “Find them before they cause any trouble!”

As Bain hurried away, she called after him, “And keep that princess away from my pet wizard!”

It wasn’t long before guards were poking into every corner of the fortress, swords at the ready. They searched the kitchens with extra care, making the women stand to one side in their tidy uniforms. And really, should they have been expected to notice that there was one kitchen maid too many? The problem with bespelled guards is that their minds are always just a little foggy. And the problem with women servants is that they all look alike to a bespelled guard.

Meg stood quietly in the line of servants, watching the guards open each of the cupboards and peer into the largest kettles. Alya was right: they weren’t going to see her here. The Bandit Queen wasn’t in the kitchen at all.
Her loyal friends had helped her move across the fortress unseen early this morning. Now she waited, motionless, in the perfect spot for vanquishing a sorceress, reflecting on the fact that people expect a fugitive to be too frightened to try anything daring.

Hours passed, and finally a very unhappy Bain made his way back toward Malison’s throne room, where one of the youngest guards was feeding the Empress of the Southern Reaches peeled grapes and trying not to cry. Malison noticed his nervousness. She smiled for the first time since she’d settled Lex in her workroom with a stack of magic books earlier that morning. “If you cry, I’ll turn you into a lizard.”

Her threat was the last straw, of course. The boy gulped and swiped and sniffled, but one tear escaped him and rolled down his newly pale cheek. “Ha!” Malison said, and she chanted a spell. An instant later a small purple lizard scuttled away beneath her throne. Grapes rained down onto the black marble, a gold plate clattering after them, but it was worth it.

One of the guards ran to fetch someone to clean up the mess, and a woman servant soon appeared with a hand broom and dustpan. A moment later Bain returned, more worried than Malison had ever seen him. His men filed into the hall in silent ranks behind him and arrayed themselves properly off to either side of the throne. “I’m terribly sorry, Empress,” Bain said,
“but we haven’t been able to find the prisoners. Perhaps they’ve left the fortress altogether.”

“Perhaps I need a new chief guard!” Malison hissed. Bain bowed his head, waiting, which made Malison more angry than ever. “Look at me!” she cried, and he raised his head again. “Tell me how lovely I am,” she said in a nicer voice.

“You’re as beautiful as a sunrise,” Bain began. He had obviously been through this before.

Malison’s latest frown softened a little. “And?” “And even more beautiful than a sunset,” Bain went on.

“Are you saying a sunrise is better-looking than a sunset?” Malison said, narrowing her eyes.

“I’m saying …” Bain paused, trying to figure out just what he was saying. “That the evening sun is ashamed to remove its light from illuminating the glory of your countenance, while the morning sun rejoices in being able to see your face once more after the long, dark night.”

A faint snort came from the woman who was picking up the last of the grapes. Unfortunately, Malison heard her, and a green lizard skittered to join the purple one underneath the throne. The grapes, the gold dish, the hand broom, and the dustpan all fell to the floor in a small symphony of thuds and clatters.

“After the long, dark night?” Malison repeated as
though nothing had interrupted her conversation with Bain. “Ah. That explains it.” She sank back on her throne, pleased, then flicked a finger at the guard nearest Bain. “You, what do you say I’m more beautiful than?”

The man took a deep breath, thinking of that lizard, not to mention Malison’s wonderfulness. “You’re more beautiful than the snowfall.”

“And you?” Malison pointed to another.

“More beautiful than a flower garden.”

Down the line she went.

“More beautiful than the stars!”

“Than an emerald! With rubies and diamonds on top!”

This was hard to follow, but the next man tried. “Than a unicorn!”

“Than a painting in a gold frame!”

“Than a fish!”

Malison paused. “A
fish?”

The guard stuttered. “I used to b-be a fisherman. B-b-before I came to w-work for you. And I used to say there was no p-prettier sight—”

“A
fish?”
Malison said again. Another lizard scurried beneath her throne. It was gray.

Malison stared fiercely around at her guards, all of whom took an adoring yet frightened step back. “I’ll just have to locate the prisoners myself,” she said, kicking her foot petulantly.

HE MORNING LIGHT SLIPPED INTO THE GIANTS’
kitchen like a spy, where it discovered five tiny people sleeping in awkward heaps behind the broom bristles. Half an hour later, the sound of giant footsteps somewhere in the house woke Nort. He shook the others softly. “Get ready,” he whispered.

Whoever was awake didn’t come into the kitchen at first—they must have gone into the bathroom. Long, tense minutes passed before footsteps clomped down the hall toward the waiting humans. The broom blocked their view, but Nort suspected the approaching giant was Lorgley, since he walked more heavily than his wife and daughter.

To everyone’s delight, the giant headed straight for the door, turning the huge handle easily and swinging the door open.

Dilly was already in motion, with Nort right behind
her. Spinach and Cam rushed after them, and Crobbs brought up the rear. But as fast as they ran, Lorgley was faster. The door shut with a horrendous boom. They all fell down behind it, bumping their heads and elbows together.

Dilly was the first to speak. “If he comes back, he’ll open the door and hit us with it.” No one argued with her. They got up and trudged back to their hiding place, thoroughly disheartened.

“This isn’t going to work,” Cam said. “I’m sorry.”

“Now, you don’t know that,” Nort said staunchly. “Sometimes people leave doors open longer, or stand in the doorway talking.”

“That’s true,” Dilly said.

Nort smiled. Dilly didn’t often agree with him.

“But then there’s Loris,” Spinach pointed out. “What if she catches us? Or steps on us? Do you think giants pay attention to what’s on the floor?”

No one answered Spinach, though Nort and Dilly exchanged a long-suffering look, tired of the girl’s questions—especially the ones that evoked images of being squashed by giant feet.

“We have to try again,” Crobbs said at last in the silence, and of course he was right.

They were so busy concentrating on waiting for Lorgley to come back from outside that when Kitty Comprost bustled into the kitchen, she surprised them all. Especially when she picked up the broom to sweep. Startled,
Nort grabbed the bristle he’d been leaning against, only to be lifted into the air and shoved around the kitchen with the dizzying, dangerous thrusts of Kitty’s broom.