She put her finger in the now-quite-cool mixture and applied it again. Somehow the plum flavor was not as appealing as it had been earlier, and her face was a bit sore from puckering up so often.
The next frog was Prince Denholm. He stood blinking in the sunlight, then slowly knelt at Anya’s feet.
“Thank you, Princess,” he said, wiping his eyes. “I could not have stood being a frog for very much longer. I was starting to forget that I had ever been a man.”
“I’m sorry you got transformed in the first place,” said Anya. She hesitated, then added, “I expect you’re worried about Morven. While it is true the Duke has completely taken over Trallonia, Morven is … is most likely unharmed.”
“Oh, Morven,” said Denholm uncomfortably. “I’d rather forgotten about … that is, being a frog, my mind was clouded. Of course I shall not rest until Princess Morven is rescued, but … um … I might need some help.”
He looked around anxiously at Anya’s rather raggedy army, who were busy preparing more quarterstaves and cleaning up the battlefield, trussing live weaselfolk for kissing, and dragging the dead ones off into a clearing to make a funeral pyre.
“We’re all going to rescue Morven,” said Anya. “But first we have to gather more reinforcements. The Seven Dwarves are coming, and Bert’s robbers, and I hope the royal dogs, if they can be found. We’ll probably attack the castle tomorrow. If the Duke doesn’t attack us first.”
Denholm frowned, his handsome face troubled.
“Surely with Morven in danger, we must act!” he said resolutely. “Ah, who, by the way, are these dwarves and ‘Bert’s robbers’?”
“Do you not remember anything from when you were a frog?” asked Anya.
“No,” said Denholm. He thought for a moment, the effort of it obvious on his face, reminding Anya that he hadn’t been all that clever when he was a human. He shuddered suddenly and added, “I remember eating bugs.”
“You need time to recover,” said Anya thoughtfully. “Why don’t you go over to Sir Malorak and cut yourself a quarterstaff?”
“Yes, but Morven!” exclaimed Denholm. His memory appeared to be coming back, as he got a kind of goofy look on his face as he said Morven’s name. “My heart aches to think of my poor beauty imprisoned by that foul sorcerer Rikard.”
“Try not to think about it,” advised Ardent kindly. “Think about something nice instead. Like bones. Or rabbits.”
“Bones or rabbits?”
“Hunting or feasting,” suggested Anya. “Now you must go. I have a lot of frogs still to kiss. Go!”
Denholm went, scratching his head. He hopped a little too. Like all the others, he caught himself doing it and almost fell over with the effort of stopping. But at least he wasn’t absentmindedly snapping up flies like Parengoethes.
The next frog was a princess. She was twenty-five or so, and very pretty, even in her mildewed rags, all of which made Anya acutely aware of how stinky, filthy, and young she was herself. But this princess listened politely to Anya’s standard speech, looked around the clearing and the signs of battle, and raised her chin in a determined fashion.
“I’m Princess Saramin of Ulastar,” she said. “I can fight, but I’m a better surgeon and doctor. Is anyone hurt? And do you have medical utensils, bandages, healing herbs, and the like?”
“No one’s really hurt yet,” said Anya, pleased that this older and beautiful princess was treating her as an equal. “But we will have to fight a battle again soon, I expect. Perhaps you could find whatever you can, and prepare?”
“I’ll do that,” said Saramin.
“There’s a prince over there,” said Anya thoughtfully. “Denholm. He could be a useful assistant.”
Saramin raised her eyebrows, which were quite pronounced.
“He doesn’t look very bright,” she said dubiously.
“He’s very good-natured and will do what he’s told,” said Anya. “Please, excuse me. I must kiss more frogs.”
“Don’t exhaust yourself,” warned Saramin. “While not as taxing as spells, even using a magic ointment will weary you.”
Anya hesitated as she lifted more lip balm to her mouth. She did feel incredibly tired, but had thought it was just from her adventures and lack of sleep.
“I have to go on,” she said. “We need these frogs to fight. I don’t know when my allies will get here, and Duke Rikard may attack at any time.”
Saramin looked Anya over professionally.
“Pause for a minute between frogs,” she advised. “Drink water and try to eat a little. Sit down to kiss them; don’t stand, because you may faint. I’ll go and see what I can organize in the way of a field hospital.”
Anya took Saramin’s advice, but she also kept kissing frogs. There were more knights, including the truly massive twin sons of Sir Malorak, whose appearance created several minutes of quite scary backslapping and hugging between all the members of that family. Anya was almost reminded of her confrontation with Beware the Giant, though they were merely very large humans and not giants themselves.
Nearly all the frogs turned out to be knights, Anya gathering from the overheard conversations as they greeted one another that most of them had been engaged in quests to rescue other knights who’d been transformed earlier. If she’d had the time and energy she would have taken a moment to feel proud that one small princess and her friends had managed to succeed where all the knights had failed.
Anya reversed the transmogrification of eighty-one frogs in total, and seven weaselfolk. The resulting weasels were released and sped off quickly enough, the slower ones a little encouraged by Smoothie and Ardent.
At the end of it, Anya slumped against a tree and could barely lift the cup of water or eat the hunk of bread and honey that was handed to her by Martha.
“Could you please scrape what’s left of the lip balm into smaller containers, Martha?” asked Anya. “There should be fifty-five uses left, I think. We’ll need them when we fight the Duke.”
“I’ll do that,” said Martha. “And I’ll make soup after the cauldron’s cleaned. But what about my newt? I don’t understand why it didn’t work on him. Can you try again?”
“I will,” said Anya. “Where is Shrub anyway?”
“Hiding somewhere,” said Ardent, returning from weasel chasing, his tongue lolling out and sides heaving. “Do you want me to find him?”
“No,” said Anya wearily. She dragged herself to her feet. “I’d better see what’s happening. Any news of our allies? Anyone?”
“Hedric’s just back with some other druids,” said Ardent.
Anya looked across the clearing. Hedric was emerging from the undergrowth with three other druids behind him. There was also a raven on his shoulder, and he was animatedly talking with it.
Anya was just about to head over when she stopped and groaned. There, behind the extra druids, was a Gerald the Herald, looking rather tentative but still coming forward.
“That’s the last thing we need,” she said.
“He might know something useful,” Ardent pointed out.
Sir Malorak, who had assumed a position of second-in-command under Anya, met Hedric and spoke to him briefly. Both then walked on towards Anya, with the extra druids, Gerald the Herald, and a few of the former frogs who didn’t have jobs to do following along.
At several paces away, they stopped and bowed their heads.
“Don’t do that,” said Anya uncomfortably. “I’m just a younger princess.”
“You are the Frogkisser who has saved us,” said Sir Malorak. “We must offer our respect and gratitude.”
“Well, keep it for later,” said Anya, who was tired and grumpy. “And what’s that Gerald the Herald doing here? I don’t want any spies for the Duke lurking around!”
“I’m on a special assignment,” said the Gerald the Herald nervously. He was skinnier and considerably younger than any of the others Anya had seen, and had not only an artificial moustache and nose, but also a very ill-fitt
ing wig.
“You don’t talk funny like the others?” asked Ardent.
“Um, I can,” said the boy. “Royal Dog Questions Authenticity of Herald!”
“Don’t,” said Anya. “What’s your special assignment?”
“I’m to stay with the Frogkisser and her army,” said Gerald. “And record what happens for posterity.”
“So you won’t go and talk to the Duke?” asked Anya.
“Uh, no,” said Gerald. “I have to stay with you until … ”
He hesitated.
“Until what?”
“Well, the Superior Gerald told me until you’re dead or transformed,” he said quietly. “But I’d prefer to report your triumph over that pack of sorcerers, uh, if that’s all right with you.”
“Pack of sorcerers?” asked Anya sharply. “What do you mean?”
“Duke Rikard and the rest of the League of Right-Minded Sorcerers.”
“This is what I came to tell you,” said Hedric. He gestured to the raven. “Oddbins here, he has been visiting the castle. Duke Rikard has called for the aid of all the League, and he has sent his bone ship to collect them. By dawn tomorrow or earlier, all five sorcerers will be with his army!”
All five sorcerers?” repeated Anya. “Rikard, The Grey Mist, Ahuren the Nightgaunt, Grandmother Ghoul, and that pirate one, Yngish?”
“That’s what the Superior Gerald told me too,” said Gerald. “By raven, of course. I was already in the forest, reporting on the … on a … on the lost fawn. You might not have heard about it, a pet of one of the foresters … ”
His voice trailed off. No one was listening.
“So by dawn,” said Anya heavily. “Four more sorcerers!”
This was very bad news. While the former frogs would have considerable magical resistance against being transformed again, with so many sorcerers, many more transformees would be bound to end up as amphibians again, and Anya had a limited number of uses of the lip balm. The other sorcerers might well have more awful spells to use too, like The Uproarious Gout of Flame she’d read about, or The Poisoned Pincushion of Absolute Doom, which peppered a foe with a thousand tiny poisoned arrows …
She took a deep breath.
“Have we had any news or word from the dwarves, or Bert, or the dogs?”
“One of the ravens saw a force of humans and dwarves marching over the downs,” said Hedric. “It must be them. They should be here by dusk, or a little before.”
There was a general rumble of approval at this news. Anya looked at the sun and was surprised to see it was already sinking and the afternoon well advanced. Time had flown by while she was kissing frogs.
“And the dogs?”
“No report,” said Hedric.
“I wonder what they’re up to,” said Anya. “Are you sure you don’t know, Ardent?”
Ardent shook his head and crossed his eyes, an emphatic negative.
“I wouldn’t have thought they’d leave in the first place,” he said.
“I think we’ll have to attack as soon after dusk as we can,” said Anya. “Take the castle, imprison the Duke, then … I don’t know, either prepare to be attacked in turn by the other four sorcerers or flee back into the forest and try to hide from them. What do you think, Sir Malorak?”
“This battle has been a long time coming,” said Sir Malorak. Her eyes were cold and hard. “It is not just between you and your evil stepstepfather. It is a contest between the All-Encompassing Bill of Rights and Wrongs and everything enshrined by it, and the sorcerers who would do whatever they please to whomsoever they please. I think we must take the castle and then stand and fight, whatever the enemy brings against us. Fight and win, for the Bill of Rights and for our Frogkisser!”
Everyone cheered, including the people around the clearing who couldn’t have heard a word and had no idea what they were cheering for.
“We must scout out the enemy position,” said Sir Malorak. “May I send a small force to do that now, Princess?”
“Of course,” said Anya. “Um, I think really you should be in charge and decide that sort of thing, Sir Malorak. I mean, I’m just a … a youngster, and I don’t really know anything about battles—”
“You are the Frogkisser, who brought us back to our human selves,” said Sir Malorak. “And Trallonia is your kingdom. You must be in charge.”
“It’s Morven’s kingdom, and I really don’t know what to tell everyone to do in a battle,” said Anya anxiously.
“I will take care of the details,” Sir Malorak reassured. “But you will still be in charge. You need merely say ‘seize that castle’ and we will work out the rest.”
“Oh,” said Anya, brightening. “That sounds all right.”
“I will send the two rangers and my sons to scout,” said Sir Malorak. “And, Hedric, do you have any ravens to spare?”
“Oddbins can fly ahead and take a look,” said Hedric, muttering to the raven on his shoulder. It cawed twice, then flew off to the east, towards Trallonia Castle.
“Before they go, Princess, tell me about the castle,” said Sir Malorak. “If you can sketch its walls and towers in the dust here, and tell me of their condition. There is a moat, I think? And are there any secret ways in or out?”
Anya drew a plan of the castle in the dust around the fire with the stirring stick.
“The walls have fallen down in places, and there are plenty of holes,” she reported. “The moat is deep, though. If they pull up the drawbridge, it will be hard to get across. As for secret ways in from outside, there’s the dog tunnel, but it only goes from the hall to the gatehouse—”
“There’s the very secret tunnel,” interrupted Ardent excitedly. His tail wagged so much it created a minor dust storm. “From the lower kennels to the mound in the c-c-corner of the water meadow.”
“The lower kennels?” asked Anya. “What lower kennels?”
“The ones under the upper kennels,” said Ardent. “Very c-c-ozy in winter. When everyone is in the big c-c-ave it’s—”
“You can lead us through this tunnel?” interrupted Sir Malorak.
“It is very secret.” Ardent scratched his ear thoughtfully with his back paw. “But I suppose … yes.”
“Good!” exclaimed the knight. “While our main force engages the weaselfolk and any other troops, a select group may enter and seize the gatehouse and let everyone else in.”
“And rescue Morven,” Anya added thoughtfully.
“I wantsh to shget the Dook,” said Smoothie, showing her teeth. She had a lot more teeth now that she was back in full otter form.
“We’ll do that as well,” Sir Malorak promised. “Bind and gag him! That’s my advice for dealing with a sorcerer, though as we all here can attest it’s never that simple. But opening the gate must be the first priority.”
“I’ll go with the group in the tunnels,” said Anya.
“No!” protested Sir Malorak. “We need you in the rear, ready to kiss transformees as they are brought back from the front line.”
“Someone else can do that. My mouth is sore anyway.”
“I believe it works better for a princess—” Sir Malorak began, before she was interrupted.
“So Princess Saramin can do it,” said Anya mulishly. “She’ll be staying back to treat the wounded anyway.”
“I suppose that’s true,” admitted Sir Malorak. “But the risk—”
“Am I in charge or not?”
Sir Malorak hesitated, then bowed her head.
“Good,” said Anya. “I will go with the group in the tunnel. We will sneak in, open the gate, and make sure Morven is safe.”
“I’ll come with you! I’ll save Morven!”
Denholm’s head bobbed up over Sir Malorak’s mighty shoulder.
Anya opened her mouth, but no words came out.
“I’ve got a quarterstaff,” said Denholm, holding it up. “And I know my way around the castle.”
“Definitely not,” said Anya. “I promised Morven I’
d bring you back safe, even if she’s forgotten … even if she may have become … er … distracted. You can help Princess Saramin, Denholm.”
“But I’ll c-c-come with you!” barked Ardent.
“Of course, Ardent. Smoothie too. And Shrub, I suppose, if he comes back from wherever he’s lurking. It would be unfair to leave him out now.”
“You must have more force,” said Sir Malorak. “Tilvan, and perhaps half a dozen other knights—”
“I’ll ask the Seven Dwarves,” said Anya sleepily. “That ought to do it. But right now I need to lie down again and—”
She crumpled to the ground in midsentence, was caught by many hands, and was gently lowered the rest of the way.
* * *
When Anya awoke, the sun was setting. She sat up, surprised to find herself on a comfortable camp bed inside a tent. The movement also made her aware her clothes were strangely heavy. She looked down and saw that she had been washed and her clothes changed in her sleep, which must have been very deep indeed.
Now she was clad in hunting leathers, with a mail shirt over the top. There was a helmet and a short sword in a scabbard with a baldric at the foot of her bed, and a small ceramic pot. Anya stood up, put on the helmet and strapped on the baldric and sword, then opened the pot. As she had thought, it was anti-transmogrification lip balm. Perhaps enough for half a dozen uses. The bulk of the remainder from the cauldron would have gone to Princess Saramin. She slipped the pot into the top of her left boot and walked outside the tent, her mail shirt jingling.
Anya saw a very different forest clearing. It no longer looked like the shambolic site of a skirmish around a lone forester’s hut. There were six more bell tents in a row next to the one she was in, and outside them were chests thrown open showing a few remaining swords and suits of mail and helmets, tossed aside as being too large or too small. There were mostly empty stands of spears next to the chests. The dwarves had come prepared to equip an army, which showed either their experience or the Good Wizard looking in her Magic Mirror and accidentally telling them what was going on, since she wouldn’t have done so on purpose with the whole not-interfering thing.
Beyond the tents, along the road, there was an army drawn up in marching order, stretching out of sight into the forest in both directions.