Marigold followed Juno into the storeroom and watched her rummage around. She didnāt think Vivien had been joking. āDoesnāt she bother you at all?ā
āWho? Vivien?ā Juno stuck her head into an enormous jar, pulled it out again, and shrugged. āWeāre working big magic,ā she said. āStirring up discord and desolation. Itās not supposed to be pleasant. Oh, here they are!ā She snatched a dusty green tin off a shelf and raced back up the stairs.
That was the curious thing about these evil wizards, Marigold thought. They didnāt seem to like one another much, and they all clearly hated the Miseries, but none of them said so. Even the Twice-Times Witch, who Marigold suspected could work more magic than all the others put together, seemed content to sit back and watch the frantic preparations. And Gentleman Northwinds was obviously enjoying himself. Each time Marigold stepped into the dining room to pour coffee, the voices around the table had grown louder and Gentleman Northwindsā smile had grown broader, as if heād conjured up all the wizardsā quarrels and quibbles himself.
Marigold was sweeping purple dust from the entryway as slowly as she could when Torville oozed onto her foot. In a hurry, she set down her broom, plucked him off her bootlace, and dropped him into her pocket along with the coffee spoon. āAny luck?ā she asked under her breath.
āI wouldnāt call it that.ā Torvilleās voice sounded tinny and muffled inside the pocket. āOld Skellytoes almost sat on me. Take me to see their scrying spell next.ā
Marigold made her way to the room of creaks and whispers. The door was shut, but she could hear Horace and the sharp-toothed wizard bickering inside. āThis shouldnāt take long,ā said Torville, leaning over the lip of the spoon. āStay here. Iāll be back in five minutes.ā
Marigold tried to look busy as she waited for Torville. In her head, she planned out new contraptions to build for the fortress: a bucket that could be cranked up and down to bring supplies from the storeroom to the workroom, hinged shutters to protect the windows from invading night terrors, and a system of bells and pulleys that would let visitors announce their arrival from the far side of the moat. But when fifteen minutes had passed and there was still no sign of Torville, she couldnāt focus on contraptions anymore. After seventeen minutes, she gave up looking busy and lay down flat, trying to see under the door. Had Torville tumbled into the scrying spell? Was he floating in the stone birdbath? Could a blob of glop float at all? Should she rush into the room of creaks and whispers and come to his rescue?
āDid you fall, Princess?ā This was Torvilleās voice, heavy with sarcasm, coming from somewhere above her head. Marigold sat up and eyed the blob of glop perched on the brass doorknob.
āYou wiggled out through the keyhole,ā she accused him. āI wasnāt expecting that.ā
āAnd I didnāt expect to see you sprawled on your stomach like one of King Theobaldās hounds after a day at the hunt.ā Torvilleās reflection was smudged and bulbous in the doorknob. āYet there you are. Did you catch any rabbits?ā
āI canāt believe I even thought of rescuing you.ā Marigold gathered Torville up and stuffed him back into her pocket ā the one without the coffee spoon, this time, so he wouldnāt talk back.
The kitchen was wonderfully empty of wizards. Collin was half hidden behind piles of vegetables, tossing diced potatoes into a stewpot for the dinner Vivien had demanded, and Pettifog sat, head in hands, over a glass of milk. They both straightened up when Marigold came in. āYouāve got Torville?ā Pettifog asked anxiously.
āHeās all right. Are you?ā
āHardly. Iāve spent too long stirring that cauldron. I think Iāve breathed in fumes.ā Pettifog took a long drink of milk. āToasted vipersā scales give off the most revolting smell.ā
Marigold set Torville down next to Collinās stewpot ā it wasnāt much of a mirror, but it would have to do ā and took up a paring knife against the pile of carrots. āKeep an eye on the doors,ā she told the others. āIf any wizards wander in, weāll hide Torville under the potatoes.ā
āAnother winning gambit,ā Torville grumbled. āStuff me in a pocket, stick me in a pot, and never mind my feelings.ā His reflection was spattered with old cooking stains, but at least he wasnāt upside down, the way he had been in the spoon.
āPlease,ā said Marigold, ājust tell us what the Miseries are planning.ā
āAll right.ā Torville scowled at her. āI couldnāt find out everything. But Elginās group is trying to dismantle as many of the protective spells around Imbervale Palace as they can find. The map theyāve got is one I stole from the royal magician years ago, but of course Elginās got no qualms about using my work. He never asks, you know.ā
āWe know,ā Marigold assured him. āAre they having any luck?ā
āEnough,ā said Torville. āTheyāve counteracted most of the spells they know about. There are plenty of newer defenses that arenāt on the map, though, and theyāve already tripped a few of those; one of the younger wizards got himself shrunk to the size of a walnut earlier today. Heās still no bigger than Pettifog, despite the Twice-Times Witchās best curative efforts. But the others have done enough damage that a very strong curse could get through whatever safeguards are left, and Imbervale doesnāt suspect a thing. Thatās what the scrying spell is for, of course: theyāre watching for Imbervaleās response. So far, there isnāt one.ā
āThatās because Imbervale doesnāt know whatās happening,ā said Marigold. āIām sure the royal magician never imagined that twenty-four wizards would attack the kingdom all at once.ā
āAnd the king and queen wouldnāt notice if the Miseries picked them up and flung them into the sea,ā said Collin. āTheyāre much too upset about . . .ā He looked over at Marigold and swallowed the rest of his sentence. āAbout royal things,ā he amended.
Marigold whittled furiously at her carrot. āSo a strong curse could get through Imbervaleās defenses. What kind of curse? Do the Miseries have one?ā
āI donāt know,ā Torville admitted. āThatās the part I couldnāt find out.ā
āItās the spell theyāre preparing in the workroom, isnāt it?ā Marigold asked the others. āThe one they need salt-cured turtlesā ears for, and biletree nuts, vipersā scales, and toadstools?ā
āAnd a full quart of dragonsā breath,ā Pettifog added unhappily. āIt singed my shirtsleeves when Vivien tossed it in.ā
āCan you remember the other ingredients?ā Marigold asked. āMaybe Torville can figure out what the spell is supposed to do.ā
The blob of glop made a snorting noise. āIntention!ā cried Torville. āHow can you keep forgetting itās the intention that counts? Those ingredients are in dozens of curses. I might recognize the incantation if I heard it, but Iād need to watch the spell being made to have any chance of guessing what it is. And I happen to know, since this is my fortress, that thereās not so much as the smallest crack around that workroom door. Iām sorry,ā he said with obvious delight, ābut I canāt give you any more help. It would be impossible.ā
Collin looked up from his cutting board. āCouldnāt you ride in on Pettifogās collar the next time the wizards ask him to stir the cauldron?ā
āActually,ā said Pettifog, āhe canāt. Vivien told me they wonāt require an imp again until theyāre ready to cast the spell. She said I should make myself useful until then by serving my betters.ā He sipped his milk, then took out one of his handkerchiefs and dabbed at his mouth. āSince thereās no one here who fits that description, Iām free to do as I please. But I canāt get Torville inside the workroom.ā
Marigold frowned down at her pile of vegetable peelings. āThere must be another way in,ā she said. āEven if you canāt squeeze under the door, Torville, Iām sure you could get a good look through the windows. Isnāt the one by the cauldron usually cracked open?ā
āSometimes,ā said Torville, āto let out the vapors. Itās also fifty feet up on the curved side of an unscalable turret.ā He looked sternly at Marigold. āThat means you canāt climb it.ā
Marigold wasnāt sure that was strictly true. Sheād had plenty of experience climbing on the Imbervale Palace roof, but even if she could shimmy up the side of the tower, one wizard or another would be sure to notice her. āYouāre right,ā she said. āI probably canāt climb to the workroom. But Iām not the one who has to.ā She smiled at Torville.
āNo,ā he said. āI am not climbing up there.ā
āShall I go and find Gentleman Northwinds, then? Should I let him know what youāve been up to?ā
āYouāre not being sensible!ā Torville complained. āItās too high! Have you seen the size of me? Squelching around in the dining room is one thing, but climbing to the top of the fortress and back would take me days.ā
āAnd at least three bowls of porridge,ā Pettifog agreed.
Torville nodded. āWe donāt have days to spare. The Miseries want to act soon, and ā Marigold?ā He broke off. āWhy does she look like that?ā
Collin glanced over at Marigold and began to laugh. āThatās the look she gets when sheās dreaming up a contraption.ā
Late that night, Marigold got to work. She rummaged in the wardrobe until she felt her old biplane beneath her fingertips. In the flickering green light at the farthest end of the hallway, she examined it again. Its wings had disintegrated in the moat, and its propeller was still useless; she pulled off the bent piece of wire and tucked it away in her pocket. The rest of the skeleton was sound enough to be repaired, though, and Marigold had planned improvements: a spool of string tied to its underside, a place for Torville to sit, and wings wide and strong enough to catch the breeze. She would need paper, lots of it. A little reluctantly, she fetched Evil in Twenty-Three Minutes a Day from under her bed and began to pull out the binding.
Marigold had hoped she might have the fortress to herself in the darkest hours before morning, but voices murmured behind the workroom door all night long, punctuated by the occasional bang of a wizard traveling back from Imbervale. At one point around daybreak, she heard a stampede of feet in the hall downstairs; a few hours later, a great whooping cheer went up from the wizards in the dining room, and Marigold knew she had to work faster. She kept pasting paper, knotting string, and twisting wire, letting her hands find a rhythm as natural as a heartbeat. āYouāll fly,ā she told the biplane sternly. (Although she was making a contraption and not a spell, it seemed like a good idea to weave in a strong intention.) āYouāll carry Torville safely up to the fortress roof and down again. Donāt even think about misbehaving.ā
Pettifog came to check on her in the late afternoon. āArenāt you done yet?ā he whispered. āCollin and I have been picking up all the tasks youāre not doing, and the Miseries are running both of us ragged.ā
āIām almost finished,ā Marigold said. āHas anyone missed me?ā
āVivien did, about an hour ago. She wanted to know where the annoying rat-faced child had gone.ā This memory seemed to cheer Pettifog up.
Marigold added glue to the weights that would keep the plane steady once Torville was inside it. āIāve just got to wait for the contraption to dry,ā she said, āand then Iāll run a test āā
āWe donāt have time for tests!ā Pettifog hissed. āThe last time I poured coffee for Elginās group, they were rolling up their map, and they all looked much too pleased with themselves. Theyād better not harm Princess Rosalind while youāre busy fussing with your toys.ā He ran his hands through his tufts of hair. āHaving the Miseries here is almost as unpleasant as being back in the demonic realms.ā
Marigold touched his hand. āAt least there arenāt any vampire hens.ā
āA small blessing,ā Pettifog agreed.
By nightfall, the biplane was ready. It was a little larger than Marigold had planned, and much too big to hide in the folds of her dress, so she had to wrap it up in the soft green blanket from her bedroom. Collin volunteered to set one of Torvilleās eels loose in the dining room, which caused such a commotion that Marigold had no trouble sneaking outside unnoticed.
It was a blustery evening, as it always seemed to be now that Gentleman Northwinds was in residence. With her bundle tucked under her arm, Marigold lowered the drawbridge and hurried across. The wind was coming from the east, behind the fortress, where the dismal brown wasteland faded into the trees. To her relief, only a few of the fortress windows looked out in this direction, and most of them were dark. Up in Torvilleās tower workroom, however, the lights were blazing.