The Robe of Skulls (18 page)

The Heart of Glass

The Third Tale from the Five Kingdoms

Vivian French

“Silence!” King Thab waved an imperious arm. “Write, Spittle.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Of course, Your Majesty.” The goblin’s pencil squeaked furiously on the slate. “Erm . . . how about, ‘Thab, King of All Trolls, presents his compliments to Master Amplethumb, and is delighted and ekstatik’”— Spittle paused and crossed the last word out —“‘Is delighted and happy to agree to his request for assistance in the matter of extracting gold from the valleys of Flailing. Thab, King of All Trolls, is willing to offer . . .’” Spittle paused again and put down his pencil. “Excuse me, Your Majesty, but how many trolls will you be sending?”

Thab turned to the dwarf. “How many? He ask.”

“One or two would be sufficient, sir,” the dwarf told him, “trolls being that much bigger than us dwarves. And stronger,” he added with a sideways glance at Mullius.

“That’s right. That was in Master Amplethumb’s letter, Your Majesty.” The goblin picked up the parchment. “Erm . . . here we are. ‘The pressures upon us are immense owing to the forthcoming wedding in the Kingdom of Dreghorn. All our able-bodied dwarves are already actively employed in the extraction of gold, but I fear the order will not be ready in time unless you are able to assist us. One, or at most two, of your strongest trolls would be invaluable.’”

The king nodded. “Yes. Write, ‘Agree. One troll. One troll to dig.’”

Spittle’s pencil began to squeak again.

He put down his pencil, but the king snatched it up and thrust it back into his hand. “Write more, Spittle. Exchange! Payment! Write, ‘Troll dig for dwarves. Exchange pretty princess.’ Pretty for me — for King Thab!” Exhausted by this effort, the king lay back in his throne and closed his eyes, thus missing the expression of total horror on the dwarf’s face.

Spittle gave a sly chuckle and went on: “‘In exchange for this act of generosity, King Thab will expect delivery of a princess —’”

“Pretty!” interrupted the king without opening his eyes.

“So sorry, Your Majesty. I was about to add that requirement. ‘One PRETTY princess, to keep His Most Royal Majesty company.’”

Bestius stood first on one foot, then on the other, as Spittle went on writing. How could he promise a princess in return for a troll? “Your Majesty,” he began, “there . . . there might be a bit of a problem.”

The king of the trolls frowned. “No problem. No. No pretty, no troll.”

“Ah.” Bestius pulled at his beard. Judging by King Thab’s expression, the matter was best left alone for the moment. He made a decision. Master Amplethumb had asked for a troll; Master Amplethumb could solve any ensuing difficulties. Bowing, he said, “Agreed.”

When a pair of evil twins threatens the Five Kingdoms with Total Oblivion, Gracie Gillypot and her intrepid friends must save the day.

The Flight of Dragons

The Fourth Tale from the Five Kingdoms

Vivian French

“Dragons?” Professor Scallio peered over the top of his spectacles. “MORE dragons? Where were they this time?”

The very young bat perched on a shelf in the ancient library of Wadingburn Palace opened his mouth, but no sound came out. A much older bat, balanced precariously on a pile of books on the professor’s desk, gave him a sharp look. “Give us the gossip, kiddo. Quick smart! No time to hang about!”

The very young bat began to quiver. “If you please, Mr. Marlon Batster,” he whispered. “I ain’t accustomed to human people.”

Marlon gave a snort of disapproval. “Thought you wanted to learn the biz.”

“Oh, I do, Mr. Marlon Batster! I do!” The little bat flapped his wings. “When you said I could be a Batster Super Spotter, I was so excited, I was all of a flap, so to speak, but I didn’t know you’d want me to talk to human people.” He gave the professor a nervous glance. “They’re SCARY!”

“Not as scary as I’ll be if you don’t spill the beans, young Samson,” Marlon said cheerfully. “Come on, kid. You can do it. How many dragons? Where? What time?”

Samson screwed up his eyes and took a deep breath. “Three of them. One gold, one blue, and one green. Beyond the southern border. Twilight yesterday.”

“That’s more like it,” Marlon told him. “Now hop to. You know the drill. Any more sightings and you’re back here, pronto.”

“Yes, Mr. Marlon Batster, sir. Certainly, Mr. Batster, sir. Erm . . . Mr. Batster?”

Marlon lifted an imperious claw. “Spit it out, kid.”

“Ma said I had to go straight back to bed, Mr. Marlon Batster, sir.”

Marlon sighed. “Can’t get quality help these days. OK, young Samson. Scoot.” Samson scooted, and Marlon turned to Professor Scallio. “So. What d’you make of that?”

The professor shook his head and picked up a piece of paper from his desk. “That’s the fourth time your spotters have seen dragons in the South. There’s one report from the North, two from the West, and so far nothing definite from this side of the Five Kingdoms, although Millie heard a farm boy telling his friends he’d seen a dragon. Luckily he’d spent most of the afternoon in the Pig Catcher’s Tavern, so nobody believed him.”

“Good girl, my Millie.” Marlon allowed himself a fond smile. “Not much gets past her.”

Professor Scallio stroked his chin. “So far the dragons have been seen only at daybreak and twilight, and they’re flying well outside the borders and keeping away from humans. But there’s something going on . . . and it’s worrisome. Very worrisome. What could they want?”

Before Marlon could answer, the library door flew open. Prince Marcus, second in line to the throne of Gorebreath, came striding in, his hair standing on end and his riding jacket covered in mud. “Hi, Prof!” he said. “Nina-Rose is staying at our place, and I can’t stand it any longer, so I came to see you. Arry’s behaving like a dying duck in a thunderstorm, and Father keeps talking about ‘jolly little lovebirds, ho-ho-ho!’ and Mother’s flapping around like a headless chicken. It’s murder. I was going to go and see Gracie, but Mother wants me at home tonight for a hideous family dinner, so I’m going tomorrow instead. It’s Gracie’s birthday soon, by the way. Thought I’d take her on an adventure — but I don’t know where yet. Oh! Hello, Marlon! Didn’t see you there!”

“Hi, kiddo.”

Marlon didn’t sound his usual chirpy self, and Marcus swung around to inspect him. “What’s up? You and the prof plotting something?”

The professor and the bat exchanged self-conscious glances, and Marcus brightened visibly. “You
are!
What is it?” He looked at the pile of books on the desk, and his eyes grew wide.
“Dragons: An Introduction. The Larger Beasts of the Five Kingdoms — with pencil illustrations. Illnesses, Abscesses, and Heat Complaints with Reference to Dragons and Other Scaled Beasts.
Wow! Have you found one? A dragon?”

“Certainly not.” Professor Scallio folded his arms. “Nothing of the kind. I . . . I was just doing some research. On dragons. Wasn’t I, Marlon?”

“Sure thing, Prof. Research ‘n’ all that stuff,” Marlon agreed.

Marcus had opened one of the books and was flicking through the pages. “Hey,” he said, “look at this! It’s Niven’s Knowe — there’s a drawing of a whole load of dragons outside Terty’s palace! How come?”

A pained expression crossed the professor’s face. “A flight of dragons, dear boy. A flight.”

“A what?” Marcus looked blank.

His old tutor clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Really, Marcus. Didn’t I teach you anything? Collective noun. Herd of cows. Flock of geese. Flight of dragons.”

Vivian French
began her writing career after many years of acting and storytelling. Writing across genres and age groups, she has published dozens of highly acclaimed books for children, including the other books in the Tales of the Five Kingdoms series. Vivian French lives in Scotland.