Giant trouble, p.14
Giant Trouble, page 14
William was stuck. He couldn’t lose the harp, but he couldn’t use the only song he had either. Finally, he asked, “I only have—I mean—I only know one song. Can I play it when we get there?”
“That’s what I thought.” The captain nodded like he was putting puzzle pieces together. “It’s that magic harp the giants were shouting about earlier, before we cleared the area.”
Cleared the area? William blinked. The squadron thought they were responsible for the giants leaving the Marigold Kingdom. He asked, “So you . . . uh, rescued us from the giants?”
“You’re welcome.” The captain bowed.
“But now you’re arresting me?” William wondered whose side the squadron was on.
“For attempted giant-killing,” the captain said, all traces of friendliness gone.
“But the harp is the cure for Mr. G’s sleeping sickness, sir. I have to play the song for him,” William said.
“Oh, I don’t think we’ll be letting you anywhere near Mr. G.” The captain lifted a hand, one squadron member picked up the harp.
“Careful with that—” William called out.
Again the captain gave a signal. Instantly, two squadron members had William’s arms behind his back.
“If you don’t want a gag on this long trip, your highness,” the captain said, “keep your mouth shut.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Eclairs for Lunch
*Queen Ash*
In the Blackfly Kingdom, someone bellowed outside Queen Ash’s office window. The queen closed her eyes. Her office window was too high up for passing barge captains to bellow into. On purpose. She didn’t see why she should have to put up with extra noise every time a captain didn’t want to pay his toll.
Perched higher than everyone else, her office was above the castle keep, on top of a rocky island, and in the middle of the Rhine River.
To avoid exactly this shouty-voice-at-the window state of affairs.
Uncharacteristically, the queen didn’t rise from the throne behind her desk. She was still deciding if she wanted to confront the noisy visitor or leave it to her—mostly efficient—Blackfly archers. She uncrossed her legs and crossed them again at her ankles.
Queens were decisive, by definition. But an ambassador from an unimportant place had nailed a message to the castle door that complained about the Blackfly Castle tolls and called Queen Ash “heartless and impatient”.
Did they expect a monarch to be warm and fuzzy?! The idea! The thing that was making her hesitate—hesitation was another terrible flaw in a queen--the thing that was making her re-consider her strategy was King Schwartz’s reaction when she’d told him about the insults.
A king might rage at his queen’s enemies—even though Schwartz never did—or defend his queen—which would be acceptable though unnecessary. But “There, there, Ash” hinted at . . . sympathy.
Or even the P-word that was the least regal of all, reserved for the weak, the disgraced, or . . . the looked-down-upon. Despite her iron self-control, the P-word whispered in her mind, biting like a flea:
Pity, pity, pity.
Shouting from outside drowned out the whispers and she erased them from her mind. Shouting she could deal with. The only other time someone had yelled directly into her window was when that annoying St. Nicholas had flown by with his pesky reindeer. He hadn’t even paid his toll.
Being reminded of this incident didn’t help Queen Ash’s temper.
A giant nose forced her office window open and actually poked into her office. The queen leapt to her feet.
“How dare you!” she said, in her frostiest voice.
The nose was withdrawn, and an eye appeared that filled the whole window. “Sorry, sorry! Wrong castle? We heard someone was looking for a construction team.”
Her construction team of giants had arrived. How delicious—finally, an end to barge captains slipping past without paying their tolls.
The notice had finally worked. The queen purred, buffing her black fingernails on her sleeve.
NOTICE
Work Opportunity for Giants
The Blackfly Kingdom is offering a unique opportunity in a giant-friendly workplace for giant construction workers. (Don’t expect us to send you Valentine’s or Christmas cards.) Applicants must be strong, follow orders without question, and be skilled at splitting rocks and building dams. Excellent swimming skills are a plus.
Apply at the Blackfly Castle
(Start Work Immediately, If Not Sooner)
Another voice rumbled behind the giant eye, “What do you mean ’Is the Blackfly Kingdom ‘giant-friendly’?’ It says giants right in the Notice. Besides, this tollbooth castle is practically outside the Seven Kingdoms. Border towns don’t mind outsiders—”
The eye moved away from the window. “Can you guys be quiet? I’m trying to hear the queen in there.”
Silence.
The eye reappeared in the queen’s window. She clapped her hands. Time to settle the details. Drawing herself up to her full height, she said, “I might be interested. If you do quality work. How many of you are there?”
“Seven. Maybe you could show us what you need?” the giant suggested.
“And how much you pay?” another rumbly voice said.
“I’d be delighted,” the queen said, ignoring the question about pay. It was a privilege to work for royalty. Pay wasn’t necessary. The queen stopped to calculate. “Seven of you. You’ll be finished in no time.” Once the giants had narrowed the river with a few boulders, the barge captains would be forced to pass directly by the Blackfly Castle. They wouldn’t be able to weasel out of their tolls any more. Silver would pour in.
Her mood lifted. The king had used the wrong words by mistake—“There, there, Ash” had nothing to do with her. He must have burned his famous eclairs or something.
Instead of going down to the riverbank, the queen went up to the top of the Blackfly Castle. The skinny walkway ran all the way around the castle, so she could point out what needed to be done on every side. Without lowering herself to the level of the giants’ big boots.
After pointing out where she wanted the Rhine River blocked, Queen Ash watched the giants’ progress from the privacy of her office. One giant stood in the river, directing the other six, who split rock out of the cliffs above and lowered the boulders down to the riverbank with rope harnesses.
All of the barges that arrived during the first morning of construction came around the Blackfly Castle’s other side. The Blackfly archers collected the tolls and the barges continued. It was all much smoother than before.
But later that afternoon, a barge tried to pass on the construction side of the castle.
“Captain Rhineland!” Queen Ash shouted out her office window. “Go around the other side!”
Captain Rhineland never paid tolls to the Blackfly Kingdom. He didn’t have to.1 For some time, the queen had regretted her past generosity, but she hadn’t been able to think of a way to take back the captain’s privilege.
The giant in the river shouted and pointed to the channel on the other side of the castle. “This is a construction site—you have to go around—”
But anyone could see it was too late for the barge to turn into the other channel. The barge was headed for a head-on collision with the giants’ dam and the full force of the Rhine River was pushing it.
Captain Rhineland was about to destroy his own barge. That would put an end to his shipping business. The queen rested her chin on her hands so she wouldn’t miss a thing. This dam might solve the free-tolls-forever problem for good. It was thrilling.
Then the giant in the river stepped over the partially completed dam, put both hands on the side of the barge, pushed the prow sideways, and forced the whole, heavy barge into the new, convenient toll-collection channel.
The queen picked up her head. All safe? Not even a stray barrel of something she could sell?
Captain Rhineland saluted the giant and the Blackfly archers, and glided out of the Blackfly Kingdom for free.
F. R. Double E . . . free.
The queen’s fingers itched for the silver coins that should have been hers. It was indecent. She opened the window that looked out on the construction project and stuck her head out. “Yoo hoo!” she called to the giants. “You need to build faster. You are costing me lots of silver coins!”
The nearest giant waded over to her window. “What’s that, queenie?” he asked.
“You will address me with respect or you will leave,” Queen Ash snapped. She didn’t tolerate frilly nicknames that looked down on her.
The giant cut his eyes at her. He might as well have said “Who’s going to make us?” out loud. Worse, another giant waded over and stood next to the first one. They both looked down on the queen’s office window.
She decided to ignore their attitude, cleared her throat, and said, “You giants don’t seem to understand that time is running away, you know, tempus fugit and all that. You need to work faster.”
“What’s she saying?” called another giant from the riverbank.
“Tempus fugit,” the first giant tossed it over his shoulder.
“Oh, is that all,” the riverbank giant said. “Nothing about lunch?”
The two giants looked down at the queen. She made shooing motions with her hands.
Now they wanted free lunch. Who knew what they’d want next?
The giants didn’t budge and the scent of King Schwartz’s freshly baked eclairs drifted up into the queen’s office and out the window. The giants closed their eyes and took deep breaths, as if the eclairs were for them.
“Mmmm,” murmured the first giant.
“That smells really good—” said the second.
“Nothing against chapati—” the murmurer said, his eyes still rapturously closed.
“Ash?” King Schwartz called from the courtyard. “Eclairs are ready!”
“Eclairs?” The second giant’s eyes popped open. “Can we have some?”
“No,” she said, and shut the window in their faces. Once they’d tasted King Schwartz’s eclairs, she’d never get rid of them. They’d all want to move in. She didn’t want seven oversized creatures around permanently. She’d only advertised for giants because they wouldn’t expect to be paid for playing around in the water with a few boulders. As soon as they’d blocked the Rhine River on that side of the Blackfly Castle, they could go home.
The riverbank giant’s voice carried right through the window. “So what’s for lunch?”
“No lunch,” the first giant shouted back.
“Only Latin,” the second added.
“Did King Schwartz call her ‘Ash’?” a giant asked. “That name sounds familiar.”
“Yeah,” said another giant. “Wasn’t that the name on the unpaid bill we found at Reggie’s house?”
Queen Ash had no intention of paying unpaid bills. Satisfied that the giants had finally listened, she left her office and went down to eat one of Schwartz’s eclairs. He’d trained with chefs in that Paris school, but her opinion mattered most to Schwartz.
Black skirts swishing, the queen lowered her eyelashes and practiced her demure glance as she went downstairs. Schwartz had told her once that it was terrifying.
Two windows in her office slammed, one after the other, but the queen didn’t bother to check on them. No one was up there, and the giants were too big to get into her office.
Did Royal Prince Poison Mr. Giant?
New evidence in the Mystery of the Magic Beans came out today. In a sinister twist, the comic strip artist known as “Jack” turns out to be Crown Prince William of Marigold, who cooked Mr. Giant’s last meal. The royal Marigold family refused to comment.
Regular readers will remember the comic strip that appeared in a recent issue, just before Mr. Giant’s illness. The comic strip is re-printed here for those who missed it:
Mr. Giant’s experience looks suspiciously like the comic strip—except for the funeral procession—especially since the same person who drew the comic strip cooked Mr. Giant’s last soup.
The High Court must decide: Is the comic strip a coincidence?
Or was it part of Prince William’s dastardly plan to become Jack the Giant Killer?
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Dungeon Visitors
*William*
Bathed in pink and yellow twilight, a lightheaded William marched up the stone steps to the Magenta Fortress with the squadron close behind him. He hadn’t eaten much in a last few days except tiny pieces of chapati and a macaron here and there. Maybe that’s why he felt so loopy.
The Royal Aeronautical Academy squadrons evidently traveled with their own carrier pigeons. A cage full of them was lashed onto the back of William’s wagon and followed them through every stage of the journey. It wasn’t a bad idea, actually.
Lost in a feverish, comic-strip world of daring action, William saw how he would singlehandedly defeat the archers in the Magenta Fortress. Reggie would open his eyes, hold out his hand, and thank William for saving him. With harp music in the background, William would modestly tell Mr. G not to mention it.
Then the squadron stopped on top of the cliff, in front of the fortress gate, and the sun disappeared behind them.
William’s heart sank. In the dark, heroics were harder. The stars weren’t out and there was no moon. Even someone as huge as Reggie would be hard to find in this blackness.
After traveling for hours in the wagon, and on the barge, in the worst journey of his life, William was weak with hunger. His packed lunch had disappeared. Every escape plan he’d come up with had been thwarted by the efficiency of the squadron, worries about his family, and the harp in his jacket that was Reggie’s only hope.
“Can’t we go past Mr. G on the way to the dungeon?” William asked the squadron captain. “It will only take a minute to play a song.”
“So you can finish him off?” the captain asked. “Not a chance, your Marigold majesty.”
It was nice the captain wanted to protect Reggie from harm. Less nice that the captain thought William was the “harm”. William focused on his surroundings. The Magenta Fortress was huge. His comic strip dream world had left out the hundreds of archers stationed at every escape route.
At the entrance to the dungeon, William was turned over to the guard, but the captain took the harp with him.
In a bored voice, the guard told William, “Prisoners are allowed to send one message.”
That gave William an idea.
“Please, Captain,” William called out to the squadron captain’s back. “Can you take the harp to Prince Vlad?”
William didn’t think Vlad would destroy it. He was the judge of the Magenta Educational Royal Court for Youth. Judges didn’t destroy evidence, right? If William couldn’t keep the harp, he needed to know where it was.
The captain’s eyes narrowed, studying William for a long moment. Then, the captain shrugged and headed off in the direction of the M.E.R.C.Y. courtroom.
“Can I send a message to Prince Vlad?” William asked the guard.
The guard’s head pulled back and a sneer appeared on his face. “Do you mean the Crown Prince of the Magenta Kingdom, Prince Vlad?”
No mention of William’s title as Crown Prince of the Marigold Kingdom. Maybe he’d been automatically demoted. For this guard that probably didn’t count for much, even if he knew about it. William swallowed his pride. “Yes, sir.”
The guard gave William a small, grubby piece of something that might have been paper or parchment once, and a pencil with a wiggly lead.
“Thank you,” William said, politely, and wrote his message. He added a face behind a window with prison bars.
TO: Vlad, Crown Prince of the Magenta Kingdom, Judge of the M.E.R.C.Y. Etc, etc.
FROM: William, Crown Prince of Marigold, local prisoner, friend to all giants etc., etc.
Vlad,
I need your help. I’m in your dungeon and everyone thinks I’m guilty, but there’s something I need to do to help Mr. G. Can you visit me? Please?
William
In his dungeon cell, William fell over sideways on the bed. He had to stay awake, so he could go to Reggie as soon as Vlad showed up. William struggled to his feet and turned his back on the bed.
A tortured hour later, the door opened and Vlad came in, the harp in his hand. The door clanged shut and the key turned.
“You brought it.” With his hand outstretched, William staggered forwards, grinning.
“What’s with the harp?” Vlad held it up. “Something to keep you busy while you wait?”
His tone was all business, like he thought William was going to use the harp as a secret weapon to destroy the Seven Kingdoms.
“I have to see Mr. G.”
“Ah.” The warmth left Vlad’s face, he shifted from one foot to the other, and his voice went blank, “Why do you need to see Mr. G?”
William’s chest felt like Vlad had stepped on it. The question shouldn’t have been a surprise. Until thirty seconds ago, William hadn’t expected to meet a friend. He’d forgotten that an accused giant-killer was more of an outsider than the giants.
“I think I might know how to wake Reggie up,” William said. “He’s still sleeping, right?”
It killed William that Vlad considered for a moment before nodding. “Yes.”
William soldiered on with his ridiculous story. “Well, the harp is supposed to wake him up. I don’t think it will work, but it’s all I’ve got.”
“Didn’t know you played the harp,” Vlad said.
“I don’t.” William’s ears caught fire. “It plays itself.”
Vlad’s face cleared and William wished he hadn’t admitted that.
“How about I take it up to Mr. G for you?” Vlad suggested, still in his weighing-the-evidence mode.
