“And about everything else,” the woman said. “He takes after you in that way.”
Pettifog cleared his throat. “Vivien. Elgin.” His mouth puckered a little, as if even their names tasted sour. “It’s delightful to see you.”
The Miseries both looked startled. Elgin’s face grew larger in the gazing ball as he leaned forward to squint at Pettifog. “You’re not Torville,” he complained.
“It’s his imp, you fool.” Vivien elbowed Elgin aside. “Where’s our brother? Get him over here at once.”
“Brother?” Marigold mouthed to Torville. From under the cheese dome, he gave a small, exhausted nod. He’d told Marigold that he’d run away from home to escape his brother and sister, but he’d never bothered to mention that these people were the same Miseries who still made his life so unpleasant. How in the world could Pettifog think a hooded robe and a deep voice would be enough of a disguise to fool Torville’s own family?
Pettifog grabbed the folds of Marigold’s robes and pulled her closer to the gazing ball. “Your brother is here, sir and madam.”
“Witches’ whiskers, Torville, it took you long enough!” Elgin sat back again. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d been avoiding us.”
Both of the Miseries stared at Marigold, waiting for her to speak. Marigold stared back, wondering what to say.
“HELLO, ELGIN,” she tried at last. “HELLO, VIVIEN.”
“Vocal powder?” Vivien let out a vast, deliberate sigh. “If you’re trying to impress us, Torville, dear, you’re wasting your magic. We know you giggle like a little girl.”
As if there’s anything wrong with that! thought Marigold. It wasn’t hard to see why Torville called them the Miseries. “I JUST GOT BACK FROM FRIGHTENING SOME SCHOOLCHILDREN,” she said. “THE SPELL HASN’T WORN OFF YET.”
“And I suppose that explains your outfit, too,” said Vivien. “I don’t know why you insist on wearing those awful robes. You look almost as silly as Elgin.”
Elgin smoothed the front of his fine tailored suit. “Some people think I look positively terrifying.”
Vivien ignored him. “Aren’t you going to send the imp out of the room?” she asked Marigold. “I thought we agreed it was safer that way. No listening ears.”
“You’d like me to leave?” Pettifog didn’t even try to hide his delight. “Of course! Say no more! I’ll just —”
“DON’T MOVE,” Marigold boomed at him. If she couldn’t escape from this conversation, neither could he. “AND DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO,” she said to the Miseries in her best imitation of Torville. “I NEED PETTIFOG HERE WITH ME. HE’S VERY TRUSTWORTHY.”
“You can’t trust a creature like that,” said Elgin. He reminded Marigold of her parents’ court treasurer, a man who trailed a permanent cloud of pipe smoke and contempt. “You’re too nice to that imp; that’s what I always say. Don’t I say that, Vivien?”
“You say a lot of things, Elgin. I can’t be bothered to listen to all of them.”
Under the cheese dome, Torville had flattened himself into a puddle, and Marigold wished she could do the same. As much as she disliked having a remarkably good sister, it must have been worse, she realized, to grow up with the Miseries. Listening to them bicker was unpleasant enough to curl anyone’s mustache.
“Anyway, Torville,” Elgin was saying, “you know why we’re calling. You promised us an answer today.”
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.
