She was convinced that her aunt would help them in their search for the magical crowns of the badger lords of old. What Trundle hoped was that Esmeralda’s aunt would prove to be a sensible and level-headed woman who would tell her to stop chasing fairy tales and who would take Trundle back home.
Well … part of Trundle hoped for that—the cautious part of him that he had spent most of his life listening to. But deep inside him, there was another Trundle, who yearned for far horizons and bold adventures and noble quests.
Sometimes Trundle really wished his inner Trundle would just shut up and go read a book or something! But then Trundle’s paw would stray onto the hilt of his newfound sword, and heroic thoughts would bubble up in him and make his head feel a little woozy.
It was all rather confusing really, and Trundle was torn between wanting to thumb a lift on the next windship back to Shiverstones, and a rather worrying desire to follow this mad quest through and find the other five crowns.
As though in response to his thoughts, Jack began to sing at the top of his voice.
The Badgers of Power, they had six magic crowns
Of crystal, iron, fire, cold ice, wood, and carved stone.
And brave is the beast who can hunt the crowns down—
But no beast can do this who travels alone.
O’er stepping-stone islands, by skyboat and sail,
Pure must the hearts be that follow the trail.
For great is the treasure that waits at quest’s end—
The sundered worlds bonded, the bad spell to mend.
So quickly, you brave hearts, lest evil gets its hour,
For great is the measure of Badgers’ old power.
As the song came to an end, a passerby tossed a coin.
“Thank you kindly,” Jack called, catching the coin with a deft flick of the wrist. “Ah, but it’s grand to be able to sing again!” A hint of regret entered his voice. “I’d give these fine folk a merry tune, too, if only my dear old rebec hadn’t been smashed by those filthy rotters in the mines!”
Trundle was about to ask what a rebec was when Esmeralda let out a triumphant whoop. “Aha!” she hollered. “Just what we need!”
She was pointing toward the ornate white stone facade of a large shop that loomed ahead of them like an extravagant wedding cake. A sign hung above the pillared entrance.
“I’m sick of these rags and tatters we’ve been wearing!” Esmeralda added, marching across the road. “Let’s get kitted up!”
Trundle had to admit she had a point—Esmeralda’s and Jack’s clothes were filthy and torn from their time in the mines of Drune, and even his own jacket and trousers looked much the worse for wear following their recent escapades.
“Follow me!” she called over her shoulder, running up the marble steps and pushing through the double doors. “Service!” She flourished a wad of paper sunders. “Come along—shake a leg! You’ve got customers here!”
They left the Port Tentercombe Gents’ and Ladies’ Outfitters some two hours later, decked out in the very finest explorers’ clothing. They had also arranged for a whole heap of goods and provisions to be taken off to Pooter’s Quay, where the Thief in the Night was moored.
Feeling rather smart with his sword hanging from a brand-new shining leather belt, and with the Crystal Crown and the key tucked safely away in a multipocketed backpack, Trundle headed along the high street with Jack on one side and Esmeralda on the other. The hunt was now on for an inn or hostelry where they could get something to eat and drink while they waited for the Roamany caravans to arrive.
They decided against the Stinky Blue Tavern and the Cheese That Walked Alone Hotel and opted instead for the Bountiful Udder Inn. A few minutes later, they were sitting in the beer garden, basking in the sunlight, eating cheese rolls and swigging fresh milk and watching the clouds go waltzing across the sky.
But delightful as all this was, Trundle couldn’t help himself from occasionally looking up uneasily
Well … part of Trundle hoped for that—the cautious part of him that he had spent most of his life listening to. But deep inside him, there was another Trundle, who yearned for far horizons and bold adventures and noble quests.
Sometimes Trundle really wished his inner Trundle would just shut up and go read a book or something! But then Trundle’s paw would stray onto the hilt of his newfound sword, and heroic thoughts would bubble up in him and make his head feel a little woozy.
It was all rather confusing really, and Trundle was torn between wanting to thumb a lift on the next windship back to Shiverstones, and a rather worrying desire to follow this mad quest through and find the other five crowns.
As though in response to his thoughts, Jack began to sing at the top of his voice.
The Badgers of Power, they had six magic crowns
Of crystal, iron, fire, cold ice, wood, and carved stone.
And brave is the beast who can hunt the crowns down—
But no beast can do this who travels alone.
O’er stepping-stone islands, by skyboat and sail,
Pure must the hearts be that follow the trail.
For great is the treasure that waits at quest’s end—
The sundered worlds bonded, the bad spell to mend.
So quickly, you brave hearts, lest evil gets its hour,
For great is the measure of Badgers’ old power.
As the song came to an end, a passerby tossed a coin.
“Thank you kindly,” Jack called, catching the coin with a deft flick of the wrist. “Ah, but it’s grand to be able to sing again!” A hint of regret entered his voice. “I’d give these fine folk a merry tune, too, if only my dear old rebec hadn’t been smashed by those filthy rotters in the mines!”
Trundle was about to ask what a rebec was when Esmeralda let out a triumphant whoop. “Aha!” she hollered. “Just what we need!”
She was pointing toward the ornate white stone facade of a large shop that loomed ahead of them like an extravagant wedding cake. A sign hung above the pillared entrance.
“I’m sick of these rags and tatters we’ve been wearing!” Esmeralda added, marching across the road. “Let’s get kitted up!”
Trundle had to admit she had a point—Esmeralda’s and Jack’s clothes were filthy and torn from their time in the mines of Drune, and even his own jacket and trousers looked much the worse for wear following their recent escapades.
“Follow me!” she called over her shoulder, running up the marble steps and pushing through the double doors. “Service!” She flourished a wad of paper sunders. “Come along—shake a leg! You’ve got customers here!”
They left the Port Tentercombe Gents’ and Ladies’ Outfitters some two hours later, decked out in the very finest explorers’ clothing. They had also arranged for a whole heap of goods and provisions to be taken off to Pooter’s Quay, where the Thief in the Night was moored.
Feeling rather smart with his sword hanging from a brand-new shining leather belt, and with the Crystal Crown and the key tucked safely away in a multipocketed backpack, Trundle headed along the high street with Jack on one side and Esmeralda on the other. The hunt was now on for an inn or hostelry where they could get something to eat and drink while they waited for the Roamany caravans to arrive.
They decided against the Stinky Blue Tavern and the Cheese That Walked Alone Hotel and opted instead for the Bountiful Udder Inn. A few minutes later, they were sitting in the beer garden, basking in the sunlight, eating cheese rolls and swigging fresh milk and watching the clouds go waltzing across the sky.
But delightful as all this was, Trundle couldn’t help himself from occasionally looking up uneasily
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