“Choked on soot,” said Ardent. “Nasty. Princess, I won’t be so good on these rooftops. Leave me here as a rear guard.”
“No,” said Anya, thinking fast. “We couldn’t get the frog sack up over that roof peak anyway. Let’s tackle the first guard through. I’ll take their weapon, we’ll hold them off until the carpet—”
Her words were lost as a great rush of air knocked her to the ground. Pathadwanimithochozkal the carpet flew way too fast over their heads, overshot the entire building, carried on to whip around a tall spire across the street, and came back somewhat slower to plummet down on the flat area between the peaks and slide right up to Ardent’s front paws.
But not without being seen from the ground.
Shouts came up from below, and there were whistles and general bellowing and carrying on of a variety that indicated a whole lot more guards and possibly sorcerers would soon be rushing up to the roof.
The carpet was too big for all of it to fit on its chosen landing spot, but there was enough space for the questers to lie down with the bulging frog sack between Anya and Smoothie.
“Where exactly are we going?” asked Ardent. “And is it less than thirty leagues?”
“The hut where Martha makes the soup in Trallon Forest,” said Anya. “I think it should be less than thirty leagues. I can’t remember and I can’t get the handkerchief out—ah!”
The exclamation was because someone had just appeared above them, precariously balanced on the ridgeline of the nearer roof peak. Anya only just managed to grab Ardent’s collar and pull him back as he tried to leap up at the intruder.
“Don’t get off the carpet!” she shouted. “Say the words!”
“Frogkisser’s Daring Midnight Raid on Right-Minded Sorcerers!” bellowed the intruder, yet another Gerald the Herald. She (for it was clearly a woman behind the fake beard, moustache, and wax nose-extender) put one leg over to come down, slipped a little, and decided to stay where she was. “Care to comment, Princess?”
“No!” shouted Anya as Ardent spoke the words and the carpet suddenly rolled them up, causing the hitherto silent frogs to start up a mass croaking.
“Oh greatest of all c-c-carpets, Pathadwanimithochozkal, please fly us safely and carefully to the hut of Martha who c-c-ooks soup in Trallon Forest!” gabbled out Ardent.
“Frogkisser Rescues Giant Sack of Frogs!” roared the Gerald the Herald, closely followed by “Aaargh” as the carpet took off and its slipstream blew her off the roof. Fortunately, she only slid down to another area between gables, and could lie there exulting in her exclusive news story, soon to be told to the ravens and spread to every other Gerald the Herald in the land.
Inside the carpet, the noise of the frogs competed with the howling of the wind. Since Ardent hadn’t asked the carpet to go slowly, only carefully, it had gone back to its previous speed, and possibly height, though Anya didn’t want to think about that. It was soon freezing again, the cold quieting the frogs.
“Shrub, you all right?” called out Anya, her teeth chattering. It was a little bit easier to bear the cold this time, because she knew they were going so fast it wouldn’t last very long.
There was no answer from the newt.
The cold intensified. Anya started doing frantic calculations in her head. She thought they were about twenty-five or maybe twenty-six leagues west of the forest, but also perhaps five leagues south. So it would be quite close to thirty leagues all added up. She knew there was a formula to work this out, involving triangles, but she couldn’t remember what it was or how to use it. She’d only read about it in a book, after all. No one had taught her any mathematics, not since her mother had helped her learn to count …
“I hope I haven’t made a mistake,” she said in a very small voice. She said it so quietly that none of the others had any chance of hearing. A small tear formed in the corner of her eye and trickled down, turning to ice before it was halfway down her cheek.
Anya blinked more tears away and told herself not to be silly. They had done so much already. Against great odds, they had got the ingredients for the Transmogrification Reversal Lip Balm. And she hadn’t lost Denholm, even if he was mixed in with dozens of other frogs.
Nothing has gone irreversibly wrong, she thought.
Surely, all will be well.
At that moment, the carpet flipped over and nose-dived towards the ground.
Everyone screamed again, with the noticeable exception of Shrub. Even some of the frogs came out of their cold-induced stupor and added their croaks to the general expression of fear.
The dive went on and on, so long that Anya knew it had to be because the carpet had gone beyond the thirty leagues it could fly. The magic had failed and they were going to smash into the ground and be killed. Duke Rikard would triumph, and Trallonia would become impoverished and miserable and Rob the Frogger would have no food and no shoes—
The carpet leveled out with a stomach-lurching jerk that almost made the bread they’d had on the boat reemerge from everyone’s stomachs.
Even feeling sick, Anya felt a surge of relief.
They were landing after all, not crashing into the ground.
“Thank you, thank you, oh most wonderful carpet Pathadwanimithochozkal!’ she cried out as they bumped down and slid to a halt. The carpet unrolled itself, spilling them out like the bowls across the green at the Sign of the Moon Inn.
Anya lay on her back, staring up at the stars that were twinkling between the great branches of an oak above her. She turned her head and saw the dim light of Martha’s cooking fire, banked coals gleaming, their light reflecting from the great bronze cauldron as little dancing spots of red and yellow.
Ardent shakily got to his feet next to her and lifted his muzzle.
“Ah!” he said, sniffing deeply. “Trallon Forest!”
“Is there a lake or a river near?” asked Smoothie. “I need a proper wash again, to get this soot off.”
“Lots of little streams around,” said Anya. She sat up and looked over at Shrub.
“You all right, Shrub?” she asked.
“Gone dormant from the cold,” said Ardent. “Like last time. He’ll recover.”
“I hope so,” said Anya, with a nervous glance over at the hut. She doubted Martha would be pleased to find her son in this condition. Hopefully, the newt would wake up soon, because Anya was going to have to wake up Martha.
“I’m so tired,” she yawned. “But there’s no time to waste sleeping.”
“What about eating?” asked Ardent.
“No time for that either. The Duke could be following us in his bone ship, and I don’t know how fast that can go, or how quickly he might be able to find us here. I have to start making the mixture, and we need to get messengers out to Bert and the dwarves, asking them to come here. And to Tanitha and the dogs, if they can be found. I guess Hedric might know some good ravens. How are the frogs?”
Ardent was nosing the sack. There were subdued croaks coming from inside, which was a positive sign.
“I’d say they’re all still alive. And grumbling.”
“We can let them go into a stream once we get Denholm sorted out.” Anya slowly got up. All her muscles ached from lugging the sack up the chimney steps, and she felt like she hadn’t slept in ages, despite her short nap on the river beach near the inn.
“I’m going to wake Martha,” she continued. “See if you can find Hedric. Where do druids sleep? Up trees?”
“Sacred groves, if they’ve got them,” said Ardent. “But he said he hadn’t. He’s probably got a bed of moss nearby. I’ll look!”
“Be careful,” Anya warned. “Smoothie, could you please keep watch over Shrub and the frogs?”
Smoothie nodded. Anya walked over to the hut and knocked on the door.
“Hello!” she called. “Sorry to disturb you in the middle of the night. It’s Princess Anya, and your son, Shrub!”
There was quite a lot of screaming, crying, and throwing arms up in the air
in the next five minutes, all of it done by Martha. She’d emerged from her hut armed with a knife and ladle, ready to see off intruders, but had thrown them aside when she’d spotted Anya and then Shrub.
“Oh, my poor boy!” she exclaimed, gingerly wrapping the newt in her apron and half lifting him up. He was too heavy to lift any further.
Shrub made a noise and winked at her.
“Oh, you’re alive!” exclaimed Martha. “Say hello to your mother!”
Shrub made another strange gargling nose.
“Choked up a bit on soot,” said Ardent, who’d just come back with Hedric, who was wearing a nightgown made of leaves with a bark nightcap that looked highly uncomfortable.
“I need to use your cauldron, Martha,” said Anya. She was already sorting out her ingredients near the fire. “And your stirring stick. It is a lightning-struck branch of an oak, isn’t it?”
“Of course it is! Nothing but the best for my soup,” protested Martha indignantly.
“Witches’ tears, cockatrice feathers, three-day-old hail, blood from a retired druid … I need beeswax. Oh, and messengers!”
“To put in the pot?” asked Martha, bewildered.
“No, we need to send ravens to the dwarves in Dragon Hill to find Bert and as many Responsible Robbers as possible, and also to look for Tanitha and the Royal Dogs. Unless you know where they are, Ardent?”
“Who?” asked Ardent, who’d been distracted by a scent at the base of a nearby tree.
“Tanitha and the dogs,” Anya repeated. “Do you know where they’ve gone?”
“Gone?” asked Ardent absently, still sniffing away.
“Oh, never mind! We’ll need at least a dozen ravens to carry the messages and to search,” said Anya. “Ones that can be trusted, of course, not those in the Duke’s pay. Hedric, do you know any reliable ravens?”
“There is an unkindness of highly responsible ravens by the … not far from here,” said Hedric. “I’ll go to them. Is the message simply ‘Princess Anya asks you to come to Martha’s hut in Trallon Forest’?”
Anya thought for a moment.
“No,” she said. “Ask them to say ‘Anya the Frogkisser requests your aid against Duke Rikard, and asks for all her friends to gather at Martha’s hut.’ ”
She thought again, then added, “Have the ravens tell any Gerald the Heralds they see too, and get them to spread the word.”
“But the Duke will hear!” Ardent protested.
“Yes,” said Anya. “But he would anyway. It’s time we, I don’t know, told the world we’re going to fight him. Raise the standard, that sort of thing, like in the stories. Oh!”
“What?” asked Hedric, who had been about to race off. “Is there more?”
“Yes.” Anya took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds, her mind racing. Was she really going to commit to this?
Yes, she thought. I am.
Anya breathed out, drew herself up to her full height, and spoke in a clear, commanding voice.
“After the bit ‘asks all her friends’ add in ‘and friends of the All-Encompassing Bill of Rights and Wrongs.’ ”
“Got it,” said Hedric. “I’ll tell the ravens!”
“So you’ve decided to begin the quest to reestablish the ancient laws!” barked Ardent. “But what will Morven say?”
“Morven will have to get used to it,” Anya replied. Then she grimaced, thinking about how her sister would react to the news that her authority to be as selfish as she wanted was to be severely curtailed. “But I can’t think about that now. I have to eat what’s in front of me, as Tanitha would say. Let’s see, I know I’ve forgotten something … pawpaw!”
She slapped herself on the side of the head.
“I bet there was some in that storeroom too,” she said. “Now we’ll have to use something else for flavor.”
“Pea and ham?” suggested Ardent, with a longing look at Martha’s ladle.
“Not for a lip balm,” said Anya, making a face. She turned to Martha. “Do you have any dried fruits? Apricots, peaches, anything?”
“Got a bag of dried plums,” Martha told her.
“And beeswax, mustn’t forget the beeswax.”
“I’ve got half a dozen beeswax candles. They’re pure and soft.”
“I’ll buy them, and the plums,” said Anya hastily. “Now, I need to get this to a medium fire. What would that be?”
“Hasn’t anyone taught you to cook?” asked Martha. “Watch and learn, dearie, watch and learn.”
She put Shrub back down and rose to her feet, rubbing her hands together with glee.
“Are you a witch?” asked Anya with interest, remembering that all witches were cooks, though not all cooks were witches.
“Well, semiretired. All that coven committee meeting stuff got on my nerves,” said Martha. “But I keep up a little. Didn’t you feel the blessing in my soup? Where’s that recipe you’re following?”
Anya showed her Gotfried’s little book.
“Could you start making it?” the princess asked tentatively, her eye on the sack of frogs. She was still quite worried about Denholm. If he was really sick, it would be vital to change him back as soon as possible. Illnesses went away when you changed shape, as did most injuries, unless they were mortal wounds or caused by silver weapons.
“This?” asked Martha. “Could do it with my eyes shut and my ladle tied behind my head.”
“Thank you, please do it … um … with your eyes open, though,” said Anya. She went over to the frog sack, Ardent at her heels.
“I’ll take them out one at a time,” she said. “Take a look, you can sniff it, and we’ll see which one’s Denholm. Oh, I’ll need another sack or a barrel or something to put the ones that aren’t Denholm in. Martha, can we borrow an empty barrel?”
“Look behind the hut,” said Martha, intent on feeding the fire new sticks and blowing on the coals. “Shrub, you show ’em. Couple of empties there.”
Shrub, still not talking, led the way and pointed. Anya selected a medium-size barrel and rolled it around the front.
The first frog out was smaller than Denholm, Anya thought, and didn’t have the yellow streak. She held it out to Ardent, who sniffed at it while it struggled mightily to get free.
“Definitely transformed,” remarked the dog. “But not Denholm. Old sorcery. Years. Maybe decades.”
Anya stared at the frog. Another transformee?
“Well, we’ll sort you out as soon as the lip balm is made,” she said gently, which made the frog struggle even harder. Anya put it in the barrel and carefully closed the lid.
The next frog was the right size and had a yellowish streak, but Anya didn’t think it looked exactly the same as Denholm’s streak. She couldn’t remember whether his was on the left or right side of his head.
“Also transformed,” said Ardent, taking no more than a single sniff.
Anya put it in the barrel and looked at the dog.
“Maybe they’re all transformed,” she said quietly. She looked at Shrub. “Those thieves who said the Garden was a prison were right after all. There were prisoners there. All the sorcerer’s enemies, turned into frogs and put in that pond, so the Grey Mist could go there and gloat over them. You said that throne was a gloating chair, didn’t you?”
Shrub did his strange shrugging thing, but didn’t speak.
“We’d better sort through all these frogs,” said Anya. “I still need to find Denholm and make sure he’s all right. I wonder how long it will take the Seven Dwarves and the Responsible Robbers to arrive? And … the Duke.”
“I will keep watch,” proclaimed Smoothie. She had found a large smooth rock and was throwing it from hand to hand. “If I see an enemy … wham!”
She threw the rock at a tree. It struck at exactly head height, shearing off a huge piece of bark.
“Don’t do that to the trees when Hedric’s around,” said Anya. “But otherwise, good idea. Shrub, what are you doing?”
Shrub had b
een slinking away. He turned and shrugged again.
“Maybe you need to wash your mouth out,” said Anya.
“And wash the rest of you,” said Martha from the fire. She was carefully adding the ingredients into the bronze pot. “I didn’t want to say, but you all stink.”
“We’ll wash later,” said Anya. “Though I suppose Shrub can go wash now. Let’s get back to the frogs.”
It wasn’t easy sorting frogs. They didn’t find Denholm for another half an hour, and every single frog Anya pulled out was a transformed human, except for one that, while definitely transformed, hadn’t been human in the first place. At least, Ardent couldn’t tell from the smell what it had been originally.
“The Dog with the Wonderful Nose would have been able to sniff it out,” said Ardent, rather dejected.
“Your nose is wonderful too,” said Anya. She’d kept Denholm separate and was holding him up to the firelight to see if the gray patch had got worse. But it was too hard to tell and he struggled so much she ended up putting him in the barrel with the others.
“I wonder who they all are,” she said. “And how long they’ve been frogs.”
“You can come and do some stirring now, Princess,” said Martha. “My arms are tired.”
“I’ll patrol the perimeter,” Ardent volunteered. Which meant he was going to wee on all the same trees he’d wet before on their previous visit, and sniff all the ones he hadn’t.
“Be careful,” Anya warned again. She looked up at the sky, hoping to see only stars and not the bone ship. It was a race now, to see if she could get the lip balm finished and her allies in place before the Duke got back and attacked her.
She was certain he would attack. It went with the cackle and the secret smile. Duke Rikard couldn’t imagine diplomacy, or even staying on the defensive. Once he knew where Anya was, he would strike.
“Come on, everyone,” she whispered to herself as she stirred the mixture. “Please come and help.”
But by the dawn, none of her allies had arrived.
Only Hedric came back. He’d sent the good ravens to carry messages to the dwarves and Bert and to look for the royal dogs. He’d also sent some to see what was happening at Trallonia Castle, which was good thinking.