“So it was you who let the ghoul out!” Vivien cried. “I knew it! I’ll turn your elbows green!”
Watching the Miseries bicker in person was even more upsetting than watching it through the gazing ball. Marigold was afraid they’d start hurling spells at each other and she’d end up caught in the middle with green elbows, or extra noses, or whatever it was that Elgin was swearing he’d do to Vivien at the moment. “Won’t you come downstairs?” she asked again. But it didn’t do any good: the Miseries kept squabbling so ferociously that not even Marigold heard the footsteps on the stairs behind them.
“Vivien!” said Gentleman Northwinds. “Elgin!”
His voice was trimmed with amusement, but it seemed that the temperature in the hallway had plummeted with Gentleman Northwinds’ arrival. “I wondered where you’d gone,” he said to the Miseries. “We were missing you at the party.”
“Good evening, Gentleman Northwinds.” Vivien tugged her cape over her shoulders, looking chilly and annoyed. “We came to check on Torville’s health.”
“We’re very concerned about him,” Elgin agreed.
“I’m concerned as well,” said Gentleman Northwinds, “because on my way up the stairs, Elgin, I swore I heard you threaten to turn your sister’s hair to snakes. Perhaps you’ve forgotten the Villains’ Bond?”
Elgin shivered, though Marigold didn’t think it was from the cold. “No, sir.”
“And you, Vivien?”
She scowled at him. “Of course not. Sir.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Gentleman Northwinds touched Vivien’s shoulder with one hand and Elgin’s with the other. At once, both of them began walking back down the hallway, not as if they wanted to but as if a small, firm breeze were pushing them. “You must try the dragon cheese!” he called after them as they went down the stairs. “It’s wonderfully pungent.”
When both Miseries were out of sight, Gentleman Northwinds turned to Marigold. “You’re the child I helped down the mountain the other day,” he said thoughtfully. “You must be staying here with Torville. Is that right?”
Marigold nodded, wishing he’d follow the Miseries back downstairs. “That’s right.”
“In that case,” said Gentleman Northwinds, “you can help me in return.”
Marigold didn’t like the way Gentleman Northwinds was trying to peer around her down the hall. “You’re looking for something here,” she said. “What is it?”
“You’re curious!” Gentleman Northwinds exclaimed. “Good. So am I. Can you tell me which bedroom is Princess Rosalind’s?”
Whatever Marigold had expected him to ask, it wasn’t that. “It’s the room at the far end of the hall,” she said, pointing, “but it’s not Rosalind’s anymore. It’s my room now.”
“Then you’d better come with me,” said Gentleman Northwinds. “I’d hate to intrude on your privacy.”
He held out his arm, and Marigold reluctantly took it. She’d read enough tales about the wizard to know that it wasn’t a good idea to cross him — and besides, she wanted to know what he was getting up to. “You won’t find many of Rosalind’s things,” she told him, “if that’s what you’re looking for. I got rid of them when I moved in.” Gentleman Northwinds’ long fur coat made a swishing sound against the floorboards as they walked. “I’m a wicked child, you see.”
“Ah,” said Gentleman Northwinds, as though he met wicked children every day. (For all Marigold knew, maybe he did. Had there been others apart from Torville who’d turned up on his doorstep?) He stopped at the end of the hall and peered into the midnight darkness. “That explains the paint.”
When Gentleman Northwinds stepped into the room, Marigold kept hold of his elbow. She couldn’t see what he was doing, but it sounded as if he were running his fingers over the walls, the wardrobe, even the hinges on the door. “What’s this?” he exclaimed after a moment. “Another one of those peach trees?” Marigold could hear the rustle of leaves. “This is muddled magic. What in the world was Torville thinking?”
“The trees were a mistake,” Marigold said quickly. She still didn’t dare to lie to Gentleman Northwinds, but she wasn’t going to tell him the entire truth, either. “A side effect of another spell, I think.”
Gentleman Northwinds gave a disapproving sort of sigh, but he didn’t ask any more questions. Instead, he crossed to the window and pulled open the drapes. Marigold watched his silhouette as he studied the windowsill and every pane of glass. He even opened the window and looked out into the pink-tinged sky. After a minute or so, he drew his head inside again. “Everything here is as it should be,” he said. “And I don’t like that at all. It doesn’t make sense.”
His footsteps moved out of the room. “Where are you going now?” Marigold called.
“To the workroom,” Gentleman Northwinds said. “It’s up these stairs, isn’t that right?” He’d already walked down the hall and pulled the door open; all Marigold could do was hurry after him. What would he say, she wondered, when he saw the blackboard on the floor with the spinning contraption she’d invented for Torville?
To Marigold’s surprise, he didn’t say a word. In fact, the only things that Gentleman Northwinds wanted to look at in the workroom were the windows. Just as he’d done in the bedroom, he examined every pane and sill. Then, shaking his head, he asked Marigold to show him to the garden, where he studied the stone walls; to the eel pit, where he gazed into the murk; and around the whole outside of the fortress, where he paced back and forth in the dirt as the wind around him grew colder. Whatever he was looking for, he didn’t seem to be finding it.
“I don’t understand,” Gentleman Northwinds murmured. They had walked around to the patch of earth that lay two stories below Marigold’s bedroom window. “How did she do it?” He looked up at Marigold. “Maybe you can tell me, child. How did Princess Rosalind escape from this fortress?”
“She climbed down a rope,” Marigold said. Could that be all that Gentleman Northwinds was curious about?
“Yes,” he said dryly, “I’ve heard that much already. But how was it possible?”
Marigold didn’t understand. “She’s a very good climber.”
“But Torville,” said Gentleman Northwinds, “is a very good wizard. I trained him to be one. He would have had protective spells in place to keep Rosalind inside or alarm spells to alert him if she tried to sneak away. And there’s no evidence I can see of a counterspell on any of the doors or windows.” Gentleman Northwinds started walking again, making his way toward the front of the fortress. “It might help if I could examine the rope. Did Torville save it?”
“I don’t think so,” said Marigold. She’d scanned every shelf of the storeroom looking for materials for her contraptions, but she hadn’t seen anything ropelike.
Gentleman Northwinds’ coat billowed around him as he walked toward the door. “Not much happens around the kingdoms that I don’t know about,” he said. “I don’t know what happened here, though, and that irks me. It certainly wasn’t part of my plans.”
Marigold could tell that whatever Gentleman Northwinds’ plans were, he was used to having them followed. At least he didn’t seem to suspect that anything unusual had happened to Torville. Pettifog would be relieved, and Marigold was already feeling bolder. “Excuse me, sir,” she said, “but did you write a book? Gentleman Northwinds’ Magical Artes?”
Gentleman Northwinds paused with his hand on the doorknob. He looked surprised. “I did,” he said, “many years ago, for my students. I suppose you’ve seen Torville’s copy.”
“I wondered,” said Marigold, “when you say you can reverse a curse by performing it backward, what exactly do you mean?”
“Were those the words I used?” Gentleman Northwinds frowned. “I’m not quite sure —”
“Are you supposed to say the incantation backward? Add the ingredients backward? Do the whole thing in front of a mirror? Or . . .” Marigold trailed off when she saw the curious look Gentleman Northwinds was giving her. “It’s just that there are a lot of ways to turn something back to front.”
“So there are.” In the enchanted torchlight, Gentleman Northwinds’ face looked flickering and green. “Why are you asking, child? Does this have something to do with those ridiculous peach trees?”
