Oh, no, thought Marigold. Torville hadn’t mentioned anything about promises, and she had no idea what question he’d agreed to answer. She waited, hoping Elgin would keep talking, but he seemed to expect her to say something in return.

“AN ANSWER?” she asked at last.

“You still don’t have one?” Vivien cried. “We’ve given you a week to dither and whine!” She pushed aside a curl with her deep-red fingernails and leaned closer to the gazing ball. “Some people,” she said, “might question your motives, Torville. Some people might suspect you’ve got something to hide.”

Marigold didn’t like the turn this conversation was taking. “I’M NOT HIDING ANYTHING,” she boomed.

“Then be clear with us, once and for all,” said Elgin. “What will it be? Yes or no?”

Marigold couldn’t begin to guess what Torville was supposed to say. Torville himself was still a puddle and no help at all. But she certainly couldn’t stay silent, either. “AH,” she said. “UM.” It was getting warmer under the hood of her robe. “YES?”

The Miseries both exhaled at once. Then, to Marigold’s amazement, they smiled.

“Bad luck,” Pettifog murmured at her side. “You’ve made them happy.”

Vivien didn’t seem to hear him. “Well!” she said, turning her smile toward Marigold. “That may be the first sensible word that’s ever come out of your mouth.”

“And not a moment too soon,” Elgin added. “The situation in the kingdoms is more serious than we thought. I spoke with my contacts in Carroway and Hartswood last night, and they both told me that their queens have already left for Imbervale. They expect the peace negotiations to begin any day now.”

“Which means your dithering has cost us dearly. We could have caused fifteen different kinds of chaos by now! But, no, Little Lord Mustache had to think things over. As if the whole disaster wasn’t your fault in the first place!”

“Really, Viv,” said Elgin, “it’s Princess Rosalind’s fault.”

Vivien made a face at him. “Who was in charge of keeping Rosalind locked away, Elgin? Who was supposed to imprison her in a certain dank and dismal fortress where she couldn’t make this kind of trouble? And who managed to lose her?” She jabbed a fingernail in Marigold’s direction. “Torville’s the one to blame for this trouble. Helping us put an end to it is the least he can do.”

Marigold was much too hot inside her robe now. She didn’t know what the Miseries were talking about, but the parts she understood sounded impossible. None of the Cacophonous Kingdoms had ever been at peace with any of the others. Some of them were barely at peace with themselves! “ROSALIND IS MAKING PEACE BETWEEN CARROWAY AND HARTSWOOD?” she asked.

“Did you think she’d leave them out of the scheme?” Vivien snapped. “Use your brain, Torville! If we don’t do something quickly, all ten kingdoms will be signing on to Princess Rosalind’s sweet little plan.”

“The Harmonious Kingdoms,” Elgin said in a bored sort of way. “That’s what she wants them to call themselves now. The very name rots the teeth, doesn’t it?”

“It’s rotting the purse, too,” said Vivien. “I’ve already had three clients cancel their orders. King Obin in Puddlewater no longer wants a ghoul to haunt the Stickelridge market square, if you can believe it. He says if peace comes to Puddlewater, he won’t need a ghoul any longer. And I’d spent all yesterday putting on the finishing touches. The claws! The howl!”

“It’s howling in Vivien’s garden shed as we speak,” Elgin put in. “Making an awful racket. Viv never does anything halfway.”

“Except when I’m forced to.” Vivien scowled through the gazing ball. “I still think I should send Rosalind to the bottom of a bottomless pit.”

“NO,” said Marigold. “YOU CAN’T DO THAT!” Even she didn’t think Rosalind deserved to meet such an awful fate.

Elgin winced. “Don’t get him all worked up again, Vivien. He was right to say that we shouldn’t touch Rosalind. All the kingdoms love her. Getting rid of her would only bring them together more quickly, and we’d end up with our heads on pikes.”

“Yours isn’t doing you much good on your neck,” Vivien grumbled.

Elgin glared at her. “You can’t even make a bottomless pit without big magic. You’d need at least ten other wizards to help you.”

“I’ll make one under your feet if you’re not quiet!”

“Can’t you get them to go away?” Pettifog whispered to Marigold. “I can’t take much more of this.”

Marigold couldn’t, either. She hated watching the Miseries argue, she was tired of pretending to be Torville, and she wasn’t sure she could last another five minutes sweltering under the hood of her robe. “ARE WE DONE?” she asked. “I HAVE A LOT OF EVIL THINGS TO DO.”

“More schoolchildren to frighten?” Vivien arched an eyebrow. “I’m sure they can wait, Torville. We need you to go to Blumontaine and do something to pull Queen Hetty out of the peace negotiations. She hasn’t left for Imbervale yet, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to stop her.”

“Just what we need,” Pettifog grumbled. “Another impossible task.”

“MAYBE YOU SHOULD BE THE ONE TO GO, VIVIEN,” said Marigold quickly. “YOU’RE SO GOOD AT BEING WICKED.”

Vivien stared at Marigold for a long and awful moment. Being on the opposite end of this stare, Marigold discovered, was not a nice experience. She felt as if Vivien were rummaging through her insides, searching for something. “Queen Hetty is your client, Torville,” Vivien said at last, “and you’re the one who said we should act with subtlety. Besides, Elgin and I can’t go anywhere near her. She’s still upset about that tarantula incident.”

“I can’t think why,” said Elgin. “They were very small tarantulas.”

“Tell Blumontaine that Foggy Gorge has hired you to send them another molasses flood,” Vivien went on, “or leave a box of moon snakes on Queen Hetty’s doorstep and make it look like it came from Tiskaree. Elgin will deal with Hartswood and Carroway, and I’m going to Stickelridge to steal their king’s prize hunting dogs. When I set them loose in Puddlewater Palace, Stickelridge will think Puddlewater’s to blame. They’ll be back at each other’s throats in minutes.”

“And you’ll be able to get your ghoul out of the garden shed,” Elgin added. “I think it’s breaking pots in there. We’ll talk to you in two days’ time, Torville?”

“TWO DAYS? DO YOU REAL-ly think —” Marigold’s voice soared up three octaves, and she clapped the too-long sleeves of her robe over her mouth. Was the spell wearing off? Had the Miseries noticed? She couldn’t toss more of Torville’s red powder in the air; they’d certainly notice that.

There was Vivien’s long, awful stare again. “Torville? What were you saying?”

Marigold poked Pettifog in the side.

“Ouch!” said Pettifog. “Er, I mean, yes. Two days’ time. Torville will be here. He’s perfectly fine. Perfectly wicked, I mean. Goodbye!” Pettifog gave the gazing ball three quick taps, and the usual clouds spread over its surface, hiding the Miseries from view.

What were you thinking?” Pettifog cried. “Why in all the realms did you say yes to the Miseries?”

“I didn’t know what they were asking!” said Marigold. “And neither did you.”

“The question doesn’t matter,” said Pettifog. “Whatever the Miseries ask, the answer is always no.”

“Well, you could have told me that.” Marigold pushed off her hood, unfastened her robes, and rolled up the sleeves of the work dress she was wearing underneath. She was getting tired of wearing Torville’s old clothes, and Rosalind’s, too. Nothing fit properly, and everything itched. “Do you think Rosalind can really make peace among all the kingdoms?” she asked Pettifog.

“If anyone can do it,” he said, “Rosalind’s the one. She’s a remarkable girl. The Miseries are right to be worried.”

“I don’t understand why they care so much.” The Miseries had spoken as if an outbreak of peace was more to be feared than all the plagues of the Villains’ Bond put together. “Even if the kingdoms aren’t fighting, the rest of us can keep being wicked.”

Pettifog shook his head. “It’s not as simple as that, Princess. Why do you think there are so many evil wizards and second-rate sorcerers and witches-for-hire on the outskirts of the Cacophonous Kingdoms? All the bickering keeps them in business! If Hartswood’s not feuding with Carroway and Whitby’s not breathing down the neck of Quail Gardens, no one will need an itching powder or a sword-rusting spell to send to their enemies. Tiskaree will stop putting curses on Imbervale’s crops, and Blumontaine will clear up all the fog in Foggy Gorge. There’ll be no work for wizards. And wizards just aren’t suited for other sorts of jobs. Can you imagine Torville behind the counter in a bookshop or a bakery?”

Marigold tried to. “He’d curse all the customers, or at least he’d twirl his mustache at them.”

“Torville would hate peace,” Pettifog agreed. “And since the Miseries think you’re Torville now, you’ll have to help them stop it.”

“But I’ve got no idea how to —”

“If you’d said no to the Miseries, you could have sat around the fortress all day in perfect comfort. But you said yes, and now you’re stuck with them.”

Marigold glowered. “Not quite.” She picked up Gentleman Northwinds’ Magical Artes and waved it at Pettifog. “Torville’s stuck with them, and I’m going to get him back.”