Twice Upon a Marigold (16 page)

After a long explanation of the plan to Rollo, Chris said, "You can't change your mind now."

"I won't. Just don't wear that wig tomorrow, okay?"

"You've got a deal. Now I've got to go. But I'll see you tomorrow."

F
AR ABOVE THEIR HEADS
, in Olympia's suite, she also was looking ahead to the next day. But she was doing it with glee.

Lazy Susan asked Mr. Lucasa how many people he reckoned were in favor of the rebellion.

"Everyone I've talked to," he said. "With odds like that it seems the problem should be able to be solved by
ho'oponopono.
But knowing the queen, I see that it's not possible."

"Ho'oponopono?"

"It's Hawaiian. It means solving a problem by talking it out."

"With Olympia? Pardon me while I say 'ha'!"

"Precisely. Do you know when it's to be?"

"Tomorrow. What we're supposed to do is gather up everybody who is on our side, pass out all the
weapons from Ed's collections left behind in the dungeon, and be ready when King Christian from Zandelphia springs the trap. It's going to be during the trial of King Swithbert and the others. We're supposed to pass the word along."

"You've gone to a lot of trouble to help with this. I'm somewhat surprised. I'd heard that you, well, that you were rather
haochi-lanzuo.
"

She just looked at him.

"Oh. Well, it's Chinese. It means to be fond of food, but averse to work."

She looked down at her shoes. In Granolah, where everyone accepted her as she was, being
haochi-lanzuo
had seemed perfectly reasonable. But since she'd been in Beaurivage and had seen how necessary real work was to keep a society functioning, and how important it was for workers to cooperate and help each other, she had begun to feel differently about her slothful existence. Too, she'd experienced the satisfaction of a job well done—even one that involved dragon fat and hoofenpoofer juice.

Meekly, she said, "I must confess, that used to be true. But I don't think it is anymore. And as far as the rebellion—I like feeling a part of something big and important, knowing it could benefit a lot of people."

"And what if the revolt fails?" Mr. Lucasa asked. "What if it turns out to be a
yabu hebi ni naru?
" He added, "It's Japanese for something that backfires. Literally, it means to poke at a bush and get a snake."

"A nice way to refer to the queen," Susan said drily. "But accurate. Well, if it fails, we'll be taking the consequences—and I'm sure they won't be pretty. But the effort is necessary. I really think so. And once you see something that needs to be done, it just makes you feel all itchy and uncomfortable until you take care of it. Doesn't it?"

Mr. Lucasa smiled. "Congratulations. You've met your conscience. In my experience, the world is divided between those who have one and those who don't. And the ones with one are divided into those who will act on their conscience and those who won't. Those who will are, I'm afraid, the smallest category. They will
jeito.
It's Brazilian Portuguese. It means to find a way to get something done, no matter what the obstacles."

"Well, I guess I'm going to
jeito.
At least for tomorrow."

O
F COURSE, NOBODY
who knew what the next day would be bringing slept a wink that night.

Ed spent the long hours muttering imprecations
at the guards who had made such a mess of his collections as they dug through them, searching for usable weapons.

Finbar, Magnus, and Swithbert played snipsnapsnorum with a deck of cards Ed had unearthed until Finbar owed the king more money than he would ever see in a lifetime—at which time he outright accused the king of cheating.

"Well, of course I cheat," Swithbert said, unfazed. "Everybody knows that. That's why nobody but Ed will play with me anymore. He cheats, too, so it's even. I thought you knew that. Magnus, you knew that, right?"

Magnus nodded. "But playing keeps my mind off what could go wrong tomorrow. Now that you mention it, though, in what might be my last hours I should be doing something more—I don't know—more noble, or more significant."

"Don't talk like that," Marigold interjected. She was scared and worried and having palpitations already, and didn't want anybody making it worse. "I know. I'll teach you a new kind of joke I learned. It takes two people so, Magnus, I'll start with you. Knock, knock."

"What?"

"Not
what,
" she said. "You have to say 'who's there?' "

"Oh. Who's there, then?"

"Boo."

"Are you trying to scare me?" He looked to Swithbert for help, but the king just shrugged. "I'm already scared."

"No!" Marigold said, exasperated. "You have to ask 'who?' "

"I don't get this," Magnus said. "And I don't think it's very funny, either. It's not helping me be less nervous."

"Wait. Let me demonstrate with Christian." Which she did, and when they got to the punch lines (Boo who? I'm sorry I made you cry.), everyone understood how it worked, but talking about crying didn't make anybody feel any better.

"I think I'll write Sephronia a letter," Magnus said, "just in case I don't get another chance to explain things to her. Though I'm not sure I really
can
explain what went wrong the last time I saw her."

"When was that?" Christian asked.

Magnus remembered all too well. "It was right after Queen Olympia came back to Beaurivage."

Christian looked over at Marigold and nodded. "You were right," he told her. "She did release something noxious into the air." Turning back to Magnus,
he said, "We were all breathing in some of Olympia's bad effusions, and it made us behave in strange ways. I think even the dogs were affected. It explains all that growling and fighting they've been doing."

"We were breathing Olympia's effusions?" Magnus asked. "Well,
yuck
! And how am I going to explain
that
to Sephronia?" He sighed. "Ed, can you find any ink and paper in that pile? I guess I'd better at least try."

"Does anybody want to do another knock-knock joke?" Marigold asked. "This one will be better, I promise."

Swithbert, always the good father, said (after a silence that went on a bit too long), "Certainly, precious. Knock, knock."

"Who's there?" Marigold asked.

He scratched his head. "I have no idea. Am I doing something wrong?"

"Oh! I'm the one who's supposed to say 'knock, knock.' The person who knows how the joke comes out says it. So, Papa, knock, knock."

"Who is it?"

Marigold stopped herself from correcting him, and said, "Archie."

Swithbert looked over at Christian, who whispered, "Archie who?"

"Oh," Swithbert said. "Archie who?"

"Gesundheit!" Marigold exclaimed, and clapped her hands.

"I didn't sneeze," Swithbert said.

"I know, I know. But when you said 'Archie who?' it sounds enough like a sneeze so that when I said 'Gesundheit,' the joke makes sense. Oh, I just love knock-knock jokes! Ed, give me some of that paper and ink. I want to make up a few more."

While Marigold was busy with her joke writing, Swithbert turned to Christian and murmured, "These knock-knock jokes will never catch on. They're way too complicated, and not very funny."

"I couldn't agree more," Chris murmured back. "I don't know what Wendell was thinking when he taught them to Marigold."

"Wendell the wizard?" Swithbert interrupted. "What's he got to do with all this?"

"He's over at the cave-castle in Zandelphia. Marigold called him in to help us do something about Olympia."

"Wendell? He's the last person I'd call in for something important."

"Actually, he
was
the last person. Which is why I didn't want to tell you that he's going to be part of the revolution."

"Oh, good grief," Swithbert said. "
Now
you tell me. I hope he's not a very big part."

"Hmmm," Chris said. "How about another hand of snipsnapsnorum? Don't worry, I know you cheat."

O
LYMPIA WAS
playing cards, too, just then. With her favorite partner: herself. She had laid out a hand of solitaire and was moving the cards to create a better arrangement. She hadn't a care in the world. Everything was planned to a tee for execution day—and then she would be queen all by herself, without Swithbert in the way.

She scratched Fenleigh's neck and said, "How would you like a little crown, Fenleigh? You can be my consort." And then she laughed uproariously at her own wit.

After a long, long night, morning finally came. Ed had fallen asleep on his pile of possessions, and the others had continued with the joke writing, letter writing, and cheating at cards until they, too, had dozed off where they sat. Not even terror and trepidation can keep exhausted people awake. Sleep is the escape hatch for overburdened minds.

Finbar was the first to awaken, the result of years of military discipline. When he saw his fellow conspirators sprawled out around him, snoring and drooling, he had a moment of great dread. The revolution depended on
these
people? They didn't look capable of organizing a bake sale.

Before he could lose his nerve and run upstairs, ready to blab the whole plan to the queen, he forced himself to remember how much he didn't want to live under her boot. Even if the plan didn't work, he had to know that he had tried.

He straightened his uniform, licked his palms and smoothed his hair with them, and woke King Swithbert first. "It's time, sire," he said. "Today's the day of your execution."

This announcement is guaranteed to get a sleeping person on his feet instantly. Which it did.

"I hope never again in my lifetime to hear those words," Swithbert said as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

Soon everyone was awake and surprisingly hungry. They had all assumed apprehension would kill their appetites, but instead it seemed to have made them hungrier. No one wanted to utter the words "last meal," but perhaps that's what they were all thinking. Because they hadn't expected to be so hungry, they had not asked Christian to bring in adequate breakfast provisions from Zandelphia.

They shared what unsatisfying leftovers they had, hoping it would be enough to see them through what lay ahead. "There's not even any gruel," Ed said. "I'm
sure Olympia doesn't want to waste any provisions on the condemned."

"I'd prefer it if you didn't refer to us as the condemned," Magnus said. "We haven't been tried yet." He pulled his dressing gown closer. Even though he now had on a shirt and pants, he'd grown attached to the garment he'd been wearing for days on end. Besides, it seemed appropriate to keep it on as long as he was still wearing his bedroom slippers.

Swithbert gave him a baleful look, indicating he had no faith in the fairness of Olympia's trials, even if they were to get one.

"I think we'll be more alert if we're a bit on the hungry side," Marigold said brightly. "It'll give us an excuse for a big celebratory meal once we've taken care of our business."

This announcement was met with sullen silence. But there was nothing they could do except sit listening to their growling stomachs and glaring at Christian as he started out the disposal tunnel to prepare for his part in the rebellion.

He noticed the glares and came back. "I promise I won't eat a bite while I'm over in Zandelphia getting ready. My middle name is Solidarity."

"It is?" Finbar asked. "Funny name."

"It's not really Solidarity," Christian explained patiently. "I was just indicating supportiveness. Actually, I have three middle names. Errol Achilles Linus."

"That's nothing," Ed said. "My whole name is Edric Ulf Orion. Orion means 'giant' in Latin. Great name for a guy who's four feet tall, don't you think? My parents
knew
I was a troll. What were they thinking? Anyway, that's the whole name I want on my headstone."

"There aren't going to be any headstones," Chris said. "I'm pretty sure. Now I've got to get going, but I'll see you soon at the trial." He kissed Marigold thoroughly and then disappeared out the disposal tunnel.

He hadn't been gone more than a few minutes when the sound of many marching feet could be heard coming down the stone steps. Magnus, Ed, and Swithbert quickly went into their cells, where Finbar locked them in. Marigold hid in the shadows behind Ed's pile of discarded treasures, and Finbar stood at attention, waiting.

A unit of guards, with Rollo at its head, came pounding down the stairs and stood in formation in the corridor between the rows of cells. "At ease," Rollo said, and the guards supposedly relaxed, but not in any way that was apparent to the naked eye.

Finbar raised his pike in salute. He'd been informed by Christian that Rollo was on their side, but in a castle as full of intrigue as this one was, he wasn't taking any chances. Not until he had to, anyway.

Rollo came close to Finbar and, looming above him, said, "So what happens now?"

"Well, uh, now we take the prisoners up to the queen for trial, don't we?" he said cautiously.

Rollo gave Finbar a hard look. "I know
that.
I mean, how soon before the"—he lowered his voice, but it still echoed all through the dungeon—"rebellion begins?"

"Didn't King Christian tell you?"

"Yes. But I'm the edgy type. Tell me again."

"Well, he'll be coming with a surprise. We have to be up in the bailey with as many armed rebels as we can gather, ready when he blows the whistle. Then we surround the queen and hold off any of her defenders. Since it's Market Day, there'll be a lot of peasants and farmers there who haven't heard what's going on, so we'll have to watch out for them. You never know—some of them might want to support the queen, and they could give us trouble."

Out of the shadows came Marigold, filthy and
ragged and completely unconvincing as a queen. "But I'm sure there are enough of us from the castle to keep things under control. I'd prefer to avoid any bloodshed. People with weapons threatening those without them usually works just fine as a means of restraint."