can remove the enchantment. We want Foyce to follow you, because it is essential for the kingdoms of the Northern Plains that she is kept under our watching eye. There will be help — Marlon has sent word that a young prince, Marcus, will meet you on your way. His brother is among the royal frogs.”
“Oh.” Gracie looked down at her bare feet so Edna couldn’t see how scared she felt. When she looked up, she was grinning. “Shall I wash the dishes before I go or after I get back?”
There was a tiny flutter of applause, and Gracie saw a bat balanced on the top of the curtains.
“Marlon!” she said. “I’m
so
pleased —”
“Tch!” Edna interrupted her. “That’s
Millie,
dear.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “You mustn’t make the mistake of thinking they all look alike.” Then, in her normal tone, she went on: “Marlon is recovering from heat exhaustion in Dreghorn church tower, so Millie has offered to be your guide. By the way, she’s Marlon’s daughter.”
Gracie was surprised. Somehow she had never thought of Marlon as a family bat. She waved at Millie. “How do you do? It’s very kind of you to help me.”
Millie flew down from the curtains and looped the loop. “Delighted, I’m sure,” she said. “Are you ready?”
“I’m ready,” Gracie said.
Lady Lamorna hardly spoke on the long journey back to Fracture. The realization that Foyce had outmaneuvered her grew clearer with every step, but she could see no way of regaining her power over the girl. Foyce had the royal frogs and was obviously determined to keep them in her possession until she was paid, and paid handsomely at that.
Although Lady Lamorna still had spell powder in her traveling bag, she was uneasily aware that there was very little left. Only a few pinches. And would the frog spell work on the daughter of a werewolf, or might something much, much worse result? The old sorceress was not given to berating herself, but she could not help but think she had made a mistake. Possibly the worst of her whole life.
The road seemed endless. Foyce had insisted they stop briefly in Gorebreath while she sniffed her way up and down the two main streets. She said she was looking for a sister, but to Lady Lamorna she had the air of a ferret hunting down a featherless chick. No sister was found, and Foyce took out her frustration on the donkey burdened with the royal frogs. She slapped him so hard he took off at a gallop, and although Foyce easily kept pace with him, Lady Lamorna was hard pressed to keep her in sight.
What if she gets away from me?
the sorceress worried.
What can I do?
Even the knowledge that she alone could restore the frogs to their human form was of little comfort. She found herself longing for the familiar shambling shape of Gubble. Gubble, who was devoted to her. Gubble, whom she could have ordered to bite, bite,
bite
. . .
If Lady Lamorna could have seen Gubble at that very moment, she might have given way to complete despair. Gubble was, for Gubble, looking cheerful. He was not a long way behind the sorceress and Foyce, and he was riding Marcus’s pony with a fair degree of success. There was something like a grin spread over his flat green face, and every so often a deep rumble shook him from head to foot. Marcus, alarmed at first, had decided that this was Gubble’s way of laughing and grinned back.
When the bedraggled figure had first limped out from behind the gravestone, Marcus had reeled away in horror. But Glee had pushed him forward to look again.
“Help Gubble,” the troll said hopefully. “Gubble help boy.”
Marcus stared. “Did you know your head is on back to front?” was all he could think to say.
“Gubble knows.” A tear dribbled a green channel down Gubble’s muddy face.
Marcus studied Gubble carefully. “Don’t you work for that witch?” he asked. “I saw you with her!”
The troll’s face screwed itself into an expression of intense hatred. “No more
“Oh.” Gracie looked down at her bare feet so Edna couldn’t see how scared she felt. When she looked up, she was grinning. “Shall I wash the dishes before I go or after I get back?”
There was a tiny flutter of applause, and Gracie saw a bat balanced on the top of the curtains.
“Marlon!” she said. “I’m
so
pleased —”
“Tch!” Edna interrupted her. “That’s
Millie,
dear.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “You mustn’t make the mistake of thinking they all look alike.” Then, in her normal tone, she went on: “Marlon is recovering from heat exhaustion in Dreghorn church tower, so Millie has offered to be your guide. By the way, she’s Marlon’s daughter.”
Gracie was surprised. Somehow she had never thought of Marlon as a family bat. She waved at Millie. “How do you do? It’s very kind of you to help me.”
Millie flew down from the curtains and looped the loop. “Delighted, I’m sure,” she said. “Are you ready?”
“I’m ready,” Gracie said.
Lady Lamorna hardly spoke on the long journey back to Fracture. The realization that Foyce had outmaneuvered her grew clearer with every step, but she could see no way of regaining her power over the girl. Foyce had the royal frogs and was obviously determined to keep them in her possession until she was paid, and paid handsomely at that.
Although Lady Lamorna still had spell powder in her traveling bag, she was uneasily aware that there was very little left. Only a few pinches. And would the frog spell work on the daughter of a werewolf, or might something much, much worse result? The old sorceress was not given to berating herself, but she could not help but think she had made a mistake. Possibly the worst of her whole life.
The road seemed endless. Foyce had insisted they stop briefly in Gorebreath while she sniffed her way up and down the two main streets. She said she was looking for a sister, but to Lady Lamorna she had the air of a ferret hunting down a featherless chick. No sister was found, and Foyce took out her frustration on the donkey burdened with the royal frogs. She slapped him so hard he took off at a gallop, and although Foyce easily kept pace with him, Lady Lamorna was hard pressed to keep her in sight.
What if she gets away from me?
the sorceress worried.
What can I do?
Even the knowledge that she alone could restore the frogs to their human form was of little comfort. She found herself longing for the familiar shambling shape of Gubble. Gubble, who was devoted to her. Gubble, whom she could have ordered to bite, bite,
bite
. . .
If Lady Lamorna could have seen Gubble at that very moment, she might have given way to complete despair. Gubble was, for Gubble, looking cheerful. He was not a long way behind the sorceress and Foyce, and he was riding Marcus’s pony with a fair degree of success. There was something like a grin spread over his flat green face, and every so often a deep rumble shook him from head to foot. Marcus, alarmed at first, had decided that this was Gubble’s way of laughing and grinned back.
When the bedraggled figure had first limped out from behind the gravestone, Marcus had reeled away in horror. But Glee had pushed him forward to look again.
“Help Gubble,” the troll said hopefully. “Gubble help boy.”
Marcus stared. “Did you know your head is on back to front?” was all he could think to say.
“Gubble knows.” A tear dribbled a green channel down Gubble’s muddy face.
Marcus studied Gubble carefully. “Don’t you work for that witch?” he asked. “I saw you with her!”
The troll’s face screwed itself into an expression of intense hatred. “No more
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