That struck Hudson as odd. What was happening to the princess that her tree kept changing so quickly and dramatically? Could she know that he and Charlotte had tried to rescue her? Could she know that they’d failed and Charlotte was about to be executed?
The falcon bobbed his head. “Some say it means the princess is ready to come home and rule.”
Well, if she was, she couldn’t pick a better time to do it. The people needed her. Charlotte needed her.
Hudson reached the riverbank. “Fly back to the city and stay as close to the castle as you can. Watch for any way you can help Charlotte.”
Without another word, the bird took to the air and shot off toward the city walls. Hudson pulled the tube of disguise paste out of his bag. He needed to look like a person who fit in here. Someone with the right clothes. This was a problem, because in order for the disguise paste to work, he had to have a clear image in his mind. He considered stealing the mustached soldier’s appearance, then decided against it. A lone soldier would undoubtedly be questioned about why he had returned home without his horse or regiment.
It would be better to look like an average boy. Hudson hadn’t seen many of those here. He could only remember one in enough detail to be sure he got the appearance right.
He put a dab of disguise cream on the back of his hand, and the next moment he wore the clothes he first saw Proval wearing. Hudson got out the mirror and checked his face. That looked like Proval, too.
While Hudson put the mirror back, he noticed the squirrel stuffed animal wedged inside his bag. He took it out and used the compactulator to turn it full size, which wasn’t much bigger than its stuffed-animal size.
Meko blinked at him, ears alert. “Where’s Charlotte?”
“I’m going into the city to rescue her. You can help me by…” Hudson looked at the animal, unsure what to tell it. Squirrels, when you came down to it, were just rodents with fancy tails. Still, the squirrel was waiting for instructions with such devout intensity, Hudson had to include him in the rescue plan. “I’m not sure yet. Ride quietly in my bag. I might need you to bite someone later on.”
“Yes, sir.” The squirrel scampered inside, then poked out his head, watching for danger.
Hudson set out toward the city drawbridge. He hoped no one inside the city knew Proval, or knew he was a troll.
16
HUDSON HAD ONLY seen Grammaria during the night. The area outside the city was a much busier place by daylight. People were coming and going on the road that led to the city, most riding animals but some on foot. A large drawbridge stretched over the river, and a line of people stood on it, waiting to enter. Two armed soldiers stood guard at the city entrance, checking people’s wares.
Hudson didn’t go directly to the drawbridge. He walked to the riverbank and sat down as though resting. He pulled the fairy bell from his pack and rang it, making sure to keep it hidden from anyone who might be watching. “I need a fairy,” he whispered.
Nothing happened. No fairy zipped out of the tall grass growing at the water’s edge.
He rang the bell several more times, each time calling a little louder. Where was the fairy now, when he desperately needed her?
Hudson rang again and again, waving his hand so quickly he probably looked like he’d burned it on something. Finally, the river fairy emerged, yawning, from a clump of grass on the bank. Her hair was disheveled, and instead of a dress, she wore foamy pajamas and a pair of fluffy slippers. She slowly flitted over to Hudson, landing on a wildflower near his knee. Her wings had been as pale and shiny as moonlight before, but now they looked like yellow butterfly wings. To anyone who wasn’t close by, that’s all she would seem to be.
She pushed her tangled hair out of her face and glared at him. “Stop ringing that infernal bell while I’m sleeping. Hasn’t anyone ever told you it isn’t wise to tick off a fairy?”
“Sorry,” he said. “I really need your help.”
She fluttered her wings angrily at him. “Then it’s especially unwise to tick me off, isn’t it?” She motioned to the drawbridge. “You don’t need help crossing the river. Just walk over the bridge.”
Hudson lowered his voice and bent down closer to her. “Charlotte was captured by King Vaygran’s wizard. She’s being held captive—probably in the castle somewhere.”
The fairy wiped her eyes tiredly. “That’s lovely. I’m going back to bed. Don’t ring that bell again unless you want it lodged someplace unpleasant.” She lifted off the flower.
“Don’t you care?” he asked. “They’re going to execute her.”
Hudson hadn’t realized the squirrel had climbed out of his leather bag until it scampered onto his shoulder and perched there, baring its teeth. “Do you want me to bite her, sir?”
“No,” Hudson said, and shooed the squirrel off his shoulder. “We need her help.”
The fairy flew higher, unconcerned. “You know, mortals commit injustices every hour of every day. If fairies tried to right them all, our magic would be spent before breakfast.”
“You don’t have to right them all, just this one.”
Meko climbed onto Hudson’s other shoulder. “If I jumped really high, I could bite her.”
“No,” Hudson said, and shooed the squirrel again.
The fairy fluttered in front of Hudson in the scrambled pattern butterflies use. “Righting, like writing, is best done by people.” She let out a tinkling laugh. “That should be Grammaria’s motto. The one about peace, prosperity, and unity never really worked.”
“I’ll pay you a remembrance,” Hudson said before she flew away. “When King Vaygran brings Charlotte before the people, turn her into a bird. Then she’ll be able to fly to freedom.”
The fairy paused, hovering at Hudson’s eye level. “You say Nepharo captured her?”
Hudson nodded.
“Did he tie her arms with silver rope?”
Hudson nodded again, surprised that the fairy had guessed this detail.
She shook her head sadly. “He used enchanted ropes that will bind her no matter what species she changes into.”
“But…” Hudson stared at the fairy bleakly. He had depended on having magic to help him free Charlotte. Now he felt like someone had pushed him to the ground.
The fairy must have thought he didn’t understand. “Even if I changed your friend into a bird, she would still be a bird with her wings bound. She wouldn’t be able to fly.”
He held his hands out, pleading. “There must be something you can do.”
“Yes,” the fairy said, yawning. “I can put in earplugs. Executions are such noisy affairs.” And with that, she flew off and disappeared into the plants that grew along the riverbank.
The squirrel scampered back onto Hudson’s shoulder. His nose twitched in dissatisfaction. “You should have let me bite her.”
Hudson let out a sigh and set off toward the bridge. “Stay hidden. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”
He was going to have to do this himself. He would carry out Charlotte’s original plan, which he hadn’t been thrilled about even before a rescue attempt was part of it. Now it would be even more dangerous.
He would join the crowd in the courtyard waiting for King Vaygran’s speech. When the king came out on his balcony to address the people, Hudson would throw the bag of revealing powder on him. That part he felt confident about accomplishing. If he could get close enough to the balcony, his baseball training would do the rest.
He hoped Charlotte was right about the way the Grammarians would react when they saw their king clearly. If the crowd realized their king was a tyrant, at the very least they would demand Charlotte’s release. Hopefully, the crowd would also grab some pitchforks, or whatever Grammarians used when they rioted; and the king would be so busy dealing with them Hudson could free Charlotte, and they would be able to get away.
If the crowd did nothing, though—if they didn’t care that their king was a tyrant, or if they were too afraid to stand up t
o him—both Charlotte and Hudson would be killed. Everyone would know who had thrown the bag of revealing powder at the king. He wouldn’t be able to get away.
Hudson took his place in the drawbridge line behind a portly merchant, his wife, and two daughters. With luck, the guards standing at the entrance would think he was part of their group and not question him.
Hudson had put the compass and disguise paste in his pockets in case the guards searched his bag. Now he worried that the guards might search his pockets. Maybe those magical items would be better off buried underneath the other things in his bag. After all, when the guards found a live squirrel sitting inside, they probably wouldn’t dig too deeply in the rest of it.
I went out to the forest to catch something for my dinner, he would explain if questioned. Sadly, I could only find this squirrel. It sounded plausible—pathetic, but plausible.
The line moved forward. The guards didn’t seem to be checking people’s things too thoroughly. Good.
Finally, it was the merchant’s turn. One of the guards motioned him to come to the entrance. “What’s your business here today?”
The merchant pulled back a covering on the cart, revealing word-shaped cinnamon rolls. The mouthwatering smell drifted back to Hudson, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten much today.
“I’m selling in the marketplace.” The merchant smiled and gestured to the sign on his cart. It read DON’T EAT YOUR WORDS, EAT OURS. “I’ve the best cinnamon synonyms in the kingdom.” The merchant picked up an iced delight and an equally delicious pleasure and handed them to the guards. “Sample them if you like—a pair costs a copper. You won’t find a better deal anywhere.”
The guards eagerly took the cinnamon rolls and bit into them. The guard closest to the cart called to someone over his shoulder. “Is he hiding anything, boy?”
A voice behind the guard said, “Only that he eats more of his profits than he lets his wife know.”
This response brought an indignant humph from the merchant and a glare from his wife. Although whether she was glaring at her husband or the boy who’d spoken was unclear.
Who had spoken? Hudson took a step to his right and craned his neck, trying to see around the guards. He caught sight of a stool and the pair of legs sitting on it but couldn’t see more than that.
The guard sent the merchant an apologetic look, then called over his shoulder. “The king pays you to uncover conspiracies, not harass his good people.”
The words sent a ripple of fear down Hudson’s spine. Glamora said trolls could tell what a person was hiding just by looking at him. Was there a troll sitting behind the guards, helping them search people? Hudson wished he could check his compass, but he didn’t dare take it from his pocket while the guards were watching.
The second guard took another bite of his synonym and waved for the merchant to pass by. “Have a good day in Grammaria. There’s a fine crowd today.”
Hudson knew he should go forward with the merchant’s family, but for a moment he stood fixed to the spot. The boy behind the guard—had Hudson heard his voice before? He wasn’t sure.
He wanted to turn around and run back across the drawbridge and find some other way to get across the walls. No, that would be worse. It would call attention to him. The guards might chase him if he fled.
With his head down, Hudson followed after the merchant’s family. He kept his walk casual, a saunter that said he belonged with the others. His heart banged against his ribs with fear. Don’t notice me, he thought.
He kept his gaze on the guards’ boots, unable to bring himself to look over at the boy. With each step Hudson took, Glamora’s words grew louder in his mind. Trolls can tell.… Trolls can tell.
No, King Vaygran wouldn’t employ trolls. Not when he had so much to hide. And yet what else could the guard’s question and the boy’s answer mean?
Hudson passed the first guard. In another moment he would be past the second, too. This was almost over.
“Stop!” The boy’s voice was loud and sharp.
The merchant’s family immediately halted. Hudson looked over and found himself staring into Proval’s face. He was the one helping the guards.
Proval stood and pointed a finger in Hudson’s direction. “That boy looks exactly like me. Could you honestly not tell on your own that he’s an impostor who’s up to something?”
Hudson didn’t wait for the guards’ response. He sprinted forward, knocking into the merchant’s wife and then pushing around her. Proval leaped at Hudson, arms outstretched to seize him.
Hudson jerked to the right, avoiding capture. Proval’s momentum carried him forward, and he fell to the ground, blocking the way of the guards who came after Hudson.
As Hudson sprinted into the city, he heard Proval let out an “Oww!” and then yell, “You stupid oaf!” One of the guards must have trampled him.
Crowds of people milled around the streets, dressed in the tunics and dresses that Hudson had grown used to. Some pushed carts full of wares. Hudson ran on, heading toward a side street in an attempt to lose the guards. The road was narrow and lined with stalls on both sides. Shoppers carrying baskets and bags gathered in clumps or wandered between stalls. Hudson darted around a booth selling homonyms. “Two for the price of one!” a man barked out. “Get your alouds allowed! Buy your byes! Too for the price of won!”
Hudson slowed his pace in the hope that if he walked, he would blend in with the other villagers strolling around. A guard behind him yelled, “There he is! The brunet boy in the green tunic!”
So much for blending in. Hudson ran down the street again, weaving around shoppers the best he could. After a couple of minutes, he got caught in a crowd of people gathered to see a demonstration. He slowed to a near standstill as he wedged his way through them.
“Need a bargain?” the salesman called, holding up a shiny brass fit. “Look no farther than this all-purpose word. It’s a noun, it’s a verb, it’s even an adjective.” The man held the word above his head, showing it off. “Impossible, you say? Not for this three-letter wonder.”
Hudson glanced over his shoulder. Three more soldiers had joined the chase. All five headed down the street, pushing through the throng of shoppers.
“Don’t have a fit. It will always fit. And with it, you’ll always look fit.”
The villagers clapped in appreciation. Hudson jostled through people trying to go one way, then another. He barely made any forward progress. The soldiers had almost reached the crowd, and it wouldn’t take them long to clear people away.
He couldn’t hide—but then again, maybe he could. The soldiers were looking for the brunet boy in the green tunic. Hudson took the disguise paste from his pocket and squeezed dabs on each of his fingers. He managed to drop the lid in the process. There wasn’t time to look for it.
He touched a dab of paste on the man in front of him and pictured Proval wearing the same green clothes that Hudson now wore. He did the same to the woman beside him and the two teenage boys to his left. Now instead of one imitation Proval, there were five. As he touched more people in the crowd, the duplicates grew until ten exact images of Proval clustered around him.
Hudson used the residual paste on his fingers to change his appearance. He didn’t want to risk getting any of his features wrong, so he imagined that he looked like himself—himself wearing the rough brown clothes and a straw hat he saw on another boy in the crowd.
The villagers who’d been turned into Provals began to notice the change. They gaped at the identical people around them and then saw their own clothes, arms, and hands. Several of them cried out in confusion.
“What sort of devilry is this?” a Proval with a deep voice asked.
“Who are you?” a Proval with a woman’s voice demanded.
“What’s happening?”
“Do I look like that, too?”
The soldiers’ gazes ricocheted among the different Provals in confusion. “Which one is he?” one of them called. “I lost track.”
br /> “Round them all up!” another soldier said.
If the ten villagers were distressed to find themselves looking like the same teenage boy, they were downright panicked to see soldiers coming at them with swords drawn. Several dropped their parcels, two screamed, and each of them pushed and shoved past the people around them.
It didn’t take long for the crowd to disperse. Men with swords tended to do that to a crowd.
Hudson shouldered his way past a few people and ran down the street. Everyone was hurrying away from the soldiers, so he didn’t even seem out of place. He made his way back to the main street and then headed to the castle courtyard.
The castle seemed much farther away, now that he wasn’t flying the distance. When a wagon filled with orange hay slowed at an intersection, Hudson jumped onto the back and caught a ride down the street.
He worried about wearing his normal face. He had used it because, at the moment, it was the only face he could think of clearly. He reached into his pocket for the tube so he could change himself into somebody else. And then he reached into his other pocket. Even though he went through this process several more times, the results didn’t change. The tube of disguise paste wasn’t there. He’d lost it. Hudson searched the hay beside him. He looked down the street, hoping it had fallen out recently. It was nowhere.
He gritted his teeth and cursed his luck. The guard at the castle garden had seen his real face. The soldiers here were probably looking for someone who fit his description.
As the wagon neared the castle, Hudson slid off the back and walked the rest of the way to the courtyard. He knew he couldn’t stay there long. In about a half an hour, anyone around him would break out in boils.
At the back of the courtyard, a crowd of people surrounded Princess Nomira’s tree, surveying it with shaking heads. Hudson nearly gasped at the change in it. It had grown bigger, with thin new branches everywhere, but it looked as though someone had thrown poison on it. The branches were not only wilted, but they had also dropped leaves everywhere. The ground was covered in a limp blue carpet. What had happened to the princess to make her tree change like that?