The Unwilling Ambassador (Book 3) (3 page)

"Um, thanks, but I don't have any-" Fred paused, squinted his eyes and leaned in toward the old woman. There was a familiar shimmer about her face.

"Fred!" a voice called out. Fred swung around to see Hawkins marching toward him. When the boy looked back the old woman and her wagon of wonders was gone. Hawkins came up behind him. "You've been called to the castle by Ned. It's something urgent."

"Oh, yeah, sure. Be right there," Fred absently replied. His focus was still on the empty patch of ground and the brush in his hand.

Hawkins glanced between the boy and where he stared. "Is there a problem?"

"What? Oh, I don't know," Fred answered. He nodded at the spot. "Um, did you see an old woman at this spot just a second ago?"

"There are too many old women here for me to keep track of a single one," Hawkins countered. "But I was told the message from Ned was urgent."

"Oh right. Thanks for telling me," Fred replied. He stuffed the brush into his waistband beside his broken stick, swung himself onto Fluffy's back and rode off to the city.

CHAPTER 3

Fred hurried up the city and left Fluffy outside the castle courtyard. He rushed through the entrance hall, upstairs and into Ned's bedroom. He skidded to a halt and his eyes widened at the messy room. The bed sheets were halfway across the room and clothes were strewn everywhere. Books were piled high in all the corners and across the floor, and jars and boxes of questionable items were precariously stacked together. There was even a small haystack beside the bed. Fred noticed an especially large pile of clothes in one corner, and the young man yelped when Ned burst out of the mess.

"Ah, there you are," Ned scolded his frightened apprentice. "I'm in great need of your help."

Fred clutched at his heart and scowled at the old man. "Why were you hiding in those clothes?" he asked Ned.

Ned crept along the floor sifting through the piles and stacks. "Hiding? Nonsense. I was searching for a most important item, and I called you here to find it."

"How did all this stuff get here in the first place?" Fred wondered.

"I was tidying my cloak up and everything fell out," Ned replied. He lifted a heavy box and stuffed it into his cloak. Fred had seen enough not to be shocked when the box disappeared into the countless pockets. "Then I remembered a good apprentice needed his own cloak, but I can't find that blasted needle to sew one."

"But I already have a cloak," Fred reminded him.

Ned stuck his head into a pile of the dirty clothes and came out with a sickly face. "Must wash those some day..." he muttered to himself.

Fred rolled his eyes. "I said I already have a cloak," he repeated in a louder voice.

Ned waved his hand at the boy. "Yes yes, I heard you. I'm old and senile, not deaf, and this is a special cloak. I want you to have one like mine to store our provisions for this trip."

Fred's eyes lit up with the possibilities of owning such a cloak. He could hide practically anything inside it, from food to maybe even Fluffy. The young man eagerly looked about the room and he rubbed his hands together. "What are we waiting for?"

A few minutes later outside in the hall Pat and Ruth walked past when they heard a great clamber of noise. They paused, glanced at each other, and Pat ventured a knock on the door. "Ned? Are you all right?" The answer was more clattering, and talking between two voices. Pat frowned, swung open the door and revealed an even larger mess than Fred had found. The stacks were toppled over and the clothes were somehow hanging from the ceiling. The girls gaped at the chaos, and Pat was the first to recover. "What are you doing?" she exclaimed.

Fred popped his head out of the haystack. "Looking for a needle to make me a cloak like Ned's."

Pat's eye twitched. "You're looking for a needle?" Fred nodded. Pat looked at the haystack, put her hands on Ruth's shoulder and turned the surprised girl around. "I think we've seen and heard enough-"

"Ah-ha!" Ned exclaimed as he popped his head up from the mess of boxes. In his hand was a small box used to hold rings. "I've found it!"

Fred hurried up to him and the girls stopped their hasty retreat as their curiosity piqued. The youngsters went over to stand behind Ned, who smiled and slowly opened the lid to reveal a small, golden needle about two inches long. Fred frowned. "That's it? That's going to make me a cloak?" he asked Ned.

"Of course not," Ned replied. "We need some thread."

Fred looked around the room. "And where is the-yow!" He clutched at his head where Ned had plucked a hair. "What'd you do that for?" he yelled.

"Each cloak is tailor-made for its owner, and so needs a piece of the owner to make the material," Ned told him.

"But how's a tiny piece of hair going to make a cloak?" Pat wondered as she looked at Fred's head. "Shouldn't we shave him?" Fred shrank back and clapped his hands over his head.

Ned chuckled. "Watch and see."

He slipped the single piece of hair through the eye of the needle, and the moment the thread passed through the eye the metal brightly glowed. The youngsters jumped back when the needle sprang into the air and a few yards in front of them. The needle danced around in a dizzying circle, and the glowing thread spun a cloak out of the lengthening hair. Fred's eyes crossed so badly he lost his balance and fell back on his butt. Pat rolled her eyes and helped him up, and their hands were still clasped when the needle stopped. The cloak hovered in the air for a moment to be admired, and flew over to wrap itself around Fred. It pushed aside their connected hands and dragged Fred back a few feet.

"Hey!" he yelped as the coat hung itself on his shoulders and the sleeves slipped onto his arms. The droopy sleeves tightened and the large front pulled back at the waist to create two long tails out the back. Buttons sprang up along the front of the waistcoat and the high collar folded down around his neck. Two pockets opened up on the lower front, and Fred felt countless more appear on the inside. Fred looked down at himself and a wide grin spread across his face. "Nice!"

Pat looked the boy up and down, and turned to Ned. "Um, that's not a cloak, that's an overcoat," she pointed out.

Ned frowned and pulled at his beard. "So it seems. Of course, the material tailors to the individual's body and personality."

Pat snorted. "So what you're telling us is Fred is more impressive than you?"

The old castor straightened and coughed. "Yes, well, looks aren't everything, and the cloak changes over time with the personality of the wearer."

Fred ran his hand along the smooth material. It felt as soft as silk and as light as a bird feather. He hardly knew he was wearing anything but for the brush of the cloth against his shirt and pants. He felt something in one of the outer pockets, and reached in to find the needle. Ned snatched that from his hand and placed it carefully back in the box, which he then deposited inside his own cloak. "Mustn't lose this again in case of repairs," Ned pointed out.

"So can I use the pockets like yours?" Fred asked the old castor.

"Yes, but your pockets won't have the depth nor numbers as mine. Those grow with age," Ned replied. Fred was eager to try out his new coat, so he grabbed the box closest in reach. Ned's eyes widened and he yanked the container from the boy's hand. "Not this one!

Fred frowned. "Why not?" It looked as innocent as all the others.

"Do you recall the Dirth beetles?" Ned reminded him, and Fred nodded. Ned held up the box, and now they could hear a soft buzzing sound from inside. "This box is much more dangerous, for it holds a swarm of Diluvian bees."

Fred and Ruth blinked, but Pat gasped and pulled Ruth away from the box. "What are you doing with such a thing?" she exclaimed. "Those things could kill us all!"

"Or at least put us in a sticky situation," Ned agreed. "Their honey is the most adhesive substance known in the world."

"And their stingers are as deadly as any assassin's blade," Pat added. "If you dropped that box and freed them we would be stung a hundred times before we escaped."

"And that is why I am very careful-" Ned stepped forward and tripped over the many clothes on the ground. The box flew from his hands and into an arch in the air. Pat pushed Ruth toward the door, and both Fred and she dove for the container. They grabbed either end of the large box and landed on their stomachs with the box safely held up between them. As Fred gasped for the air that was knocked from his lungs, Pat scowled at the old castor. Ned sheepishly smiled and shrugged. "An honest accident," he told her. He picked up the box and stuffed it into his cloak. "But as much as this is a danger to us, it's good in a pursuit when you need to be rid of a few riders."

"I think
you're
the danger to us..." Pat grumbled as Ruth helped her up.

Fred stood and brushed off his cloak. His hands nicked the brush and it clattered to the ground. He bent over to grab it, and Ned noticed the item. "A very strange artifact you have there," he commented to the young man. "May I see it?" Fred shrugged and passed the brush to him. Ned admired the bent brushed and thick wooden handle. "Where did you happen to acquire this magical device?"

"You mean it actually does something other than brush Fluffy?" Fred countered.

Pat scoffed. "Brush Fluffy? What's there to brush?"

"A cantankus is a very delicate creature and needs brushing as much as any horse," Ned told her. He glanced at Fred. "I can't say what this does, but there is an enchantment over it and the dwarven craftsman was a master."

"I just got it off an old woman in the market outside the city," Fred told him. "She said it would help Fluffy run faster."

"Perhaps it may, but I would show it to Canto before you tried the item on Fluffy," Ned advised as he handed back the brush. "He could tell what magic the dwarves have placed on the brush."

"Dwarves can do magic, too?" Fred wondered.

Pat rolled her eyes. "Of course dwarves can do magic. How do you think they're the best blacksmiths in the world?"

Fred sheepishly smiled and shrugged. "Practice?"

She glared at him for a few seconds before she turned to Ned. "Did you need help cleaning this place? It looks like a clothing army waged war with the box rebellion."

"That won't be necessary. I'll have the mess cleaned up in a moment." Ned grabbed both sides of his cloak and flung open the clothing, exposing himself to all the world. Fortunately for the world he wore some dirty robes beneath the cloak, and showed off only countless rows of tiny pockets. The piles of clothing and boxes in the room flew off the floor and shrunk themselves down to fit into the many pockets. In a flash the room was clean and Ned closed his cloak. "See?"

Fred picked his jaw up off the floor and scowled at him. "Why didn't you clean it up like that when we were looking for the needle?"

Ned shrugged. "Not as much fun." Before any of the youngsters could blow up on him he turned them all around and pushed them to the door. "Now go find that cranky old dwarf and see what he knows about that brush while this old man takes his afternoon nap."

"But it's still morning," Ruth pointed out.

"I sometimes like to get an early start on it," Ned replied.

He shoved them out into the hall and shut the door behind them. Fred and Ruth glanced at one another, and Pat pinched the bridge of her nose. "This is going to be another long journey with him," she grumbled.

CHAPTER 4

Reluctantly they followed Ned's advice and found out the whereabouts of Canto. He stood outside the gate to the castle checking Fluffy's saddle and collar. When the youngsters came around the corner of the gate he scowled at Fred. "Haven't ya enough sense to take care of yer cantankus?" he asked the boy.

Fred stopped in his tracks and blinked. "Um, yes?" he guessed.

Canto pointed at Fluffy's saddle. "Ya see what's wrong here?"

"Um, no?" Fred replied.

The old dwarf rolled his eyes. "If yer not riding the beast than why is he carrying that saddle around on his back?"

Fred shrugged. "Because it's comfortable?" he suggested.

Canto lifted the saddle and showed sore spots along the skin. "Does that look comfortable to ya?" Fred cringed and the girls looked aghast at the raw skin. "Ya have to get his saddle off once in a while and rub him down with-"

"-a brush?" Fred finished.

Canto raised an eyebrow. "Aye, a brush. Most any will do, but it's best to use an-"

"-old one?" the boy added.

The dwarf folded his arms across his chest and glared at the young man. "Is there something ya know that yer not telling me?"

Fred dug into his pockets for five minutes before he found the brush. He held it out to Canto, who took it in hand. "I got that from an old woman who said it could be used on cantankus, and Ned said it was enchanted."

Canto examined the brush and nodded. "Aye, and they're both right. This is an ancient dwarven cantankus brush used when the beasts were still the steeds of war." He pointed at the bristles, and for the first time Fred noticed there was a pattern to them. "This tells what spell is attached to the brush."