Chapter 13 In Which the Plot Thickens to the Consistency of Turnip Stew
For quite a change, let's go somewhere else.
Back at the monarch's palace, the witch, Yor Love, had actually gotten up early. Mainly, she was tired of always having to be summoned on the run. This time, she wanted to make a ravishing appearance. What else was there?
Choosing from her store of make-up, over three hundred different tints of just lipstick, getting ready needed at least four hours. So, she had gotten up at the unseemly hour of ten o'clock in the morning. She really should have slept in until two in the afternoon, but there were certain priorities in life. Especially when she had a favor to ask of the monarchs.
You can guess what it was. Or rather, after I say a few more words, you'd better guess what it was.
Each day, without fail, using one of her mirrors—for some reason, each one moodily refused to stop showing her what she wanted after awhile—she looked up how her beloved Axel was doing on the quest. Sure, the monarchs wanted her to check in for their sake, but she spent hours just looking for her own sake. And one by one, her mirrors grew disgusted or jealous.
Now, there wasn't a single one that would show her anyone to do with Axel in any remote way. So, she had to find out in her own way.
That was why the witch was making sure she looked extra special. One does not ask for favors from a monarch having half-curled hair or an un-colored face.
After record time—three hours and forty-two minutes—Yor rustled down the hall in one of her best dresses of silk and put on a demur smile.
At the door to the main hall where the thrones were, she paused before going in, not doing as others did, namely listen for others in order to eavesdrop, but to check her reflection in a nearby suit of armor. The former happened anyway.
The dim voice of the king was coming through the doorway, "Do you think they have any hope of succeeding? Or will Tranquility be back in her room and we never hear from the "rescuers" again?"
Sighing, the queen said softly, "It will be hard to find another dolt naïve enough to marry our daughter if that The Axel never returns. And if we already failed once trying to kidnap another to marry her, I can't see why our luck would change. Drat that blessing from the troll godmother!"
Heart pounding, Yor put a hand to her perfectly lipsticked lips. Her beloved Axel was going to be sacrificed on that annoying wench of a princess? Oh, no, not if she had anything to do about it. In fact, screw asking for permission. It was time for a journey of her own.
Packing, she thought things would be a lot easier if at least one of her mirrors would show her where the others were. But, they were all being stubborn.
So, squeezing shut the sixth and final bag, Yor Love managed to grab them all in her arms and stumble out the door.
Taking a deep breath, Put'oh paused atop the carriage and waited for his heart to stop beating so rapidly. It didn't.
Muggy did not get out of the carriage. Both were hoping they were still on his schedule. Then, bounding out of the carriage, determined not to seem as if he didn't like this brother as much—he did love Put'oh's twin, but he was so intimidating—the boy went up to the door, casting one look back at Put'oh. Though he tried to hide it, in the glance was utter terror.
Thus, finally being needed for his younger brother, Put'oh raced off the carriage and joined him, giving him a reassuring smile.
"Everything will be fine. It's not as if he's going to use us in one of his experiments." Both pictured the eerie clones from Yesah's ship.
Nodding, Muggy turned back to the door, hesitantly putting out his hand as if there would be a shock from it.
The door was yanked open before he touched it. Cue in the creepy music.
Within was a guard in all black robes, the hood so low it covered the eyes. He checked a large pocket watch and waited without a word for approximately six minutes, making the other two on edge, even though they knew their brother would not let them in one second early. (Boy, were they lucky the deal with the pirates lasted no longer!)
Then, finally, he said, "Sorcerer Kiaba Gruff is expecting you. Step this way."
Kiaba Gruff. Most powerful, feared, intelligent sorcerer in all of Ferula and the world. You'd think it would make him a little arrogant—which it did—and give him plenty of spare time—which it didn't. But he was more than a little arrogant and busy. He was downright cold and prone to temper bursts.
Why?
The main reason was that writers kept messing everything up with him. I mean, he had already switched his name to "Kiaba" because of the common misspellings that some odd "fangirls" used (1) in creepy tales about him, but now, they were combining him and his twin brother Put'oh into one character. And they gave such a sissy character his name!
He hated being paired with that worrywart, self-righteous, earth-hugging twin. It didn't help that they looked exactly alike. Minus one thing. The eyes.
Kiaba had been glaring so long he could not ever put them back to the way Put'oh's were. And he didn't care to. He liked having one thing different from his twin, and he liked scaring people by making them think he was constantly about to do the Glare of Death, which he had done before and could do again.
"Mugguba," he said, back to the two entering his laboratory. His hands were clasped behind the flowing royal blue cloak that had its own magical power of a breeze constantly blowing on it. Of course, being a sorcerer meant you could do that kind of thing.
The boy gulped. "Yeah, brother?" For once, he let the hand of Put'oh remain on his shoulder.
"Today I think we will study the ability of lycanthropy." He turned his head just slightly, just enough to narrow his eyes at Put'oh. "Alone."
Scowling right back, not that it was anywhere near as lethal or breath-taking, Put'oh understood exactly what his twin meant, and he wasn't happy.
"You think I'm going to let Muggy stay here alone? After what happened before?"
The hard-as-diamond blue eyes went a millimeter nearer to the Death Glare as he focused completely on his twin.
"You think I would do that to my own brother? You think I don't have control?"
Yes, poor Put'oh's legs were jelly, but as we all know, where Muggy is concerned, he has the will of diamond himself. Twins indeed.
"You did it to our father, back when you didn't have control."
That was what infuriated Kiaba most about his twin. He had the nerve to stand up to him at times and had an all-too-accurate memory of events he had been privy to. And their minds were equally intelligent; they just had each honed in to different uses of them.
Blinking rapidly, not knowing this subtext of conversation, Muggy could not help feeling excited to learn about the werewolf, but it did not make him any less nervous to be around Kiaba.
"You think I don't have control?" he asked again, normally never repeating himself, but this time, the ice in his voice and the low tone was such that it had changed the former statement enough to mean something completely different.
Own eyes narrowing, Put'oh did not answer. He hated not being able to think of good comebacks. That was where Kiaba always won.
"You may go. I'll send Mugguba back to you once our time is out."
The lesson plan they had scheduled was to happen over a few days for three hours each day.
Living in the forest surrounded by traps and evilly things, Kiaba could ask for no better working grounds, but it meant he had to put up with visitors. Or at least, he had to put up with filial visitors. Those were the only ones who dared stay around. Put'oh would stay in a room and stay out of the way until he left with Muggy once more. But, the sorcerer had plenty of workers who would deal with feeding his brother and other habits the human had such problems needing. As to his own needs…well, Kiaba's workers were not quite certain if the sorcerer were still human.
So, after being "escorted" away by several large thugs, Put'oh resided in his room and varied from spontaneous bursts of working on speeches to worrying excessively about Muggy.
The other Gruffs were just as busy in the workroom. But, of course, what went on in there was top secret. Suffice to say, they were busy for a few hours—until nightfall. Then, exhausted, Mugguba went to bed and fell into slumber. Kiaba, of course, continued working.
"Stealth. That's what we want," Blaydelot warned as he snuck forward. The tower was in view.
Axel, then de Vlin, then Clothier, and almost Kun stepped on a twig immediately. The only reason Kun had been spared the crime was that Blaydelot sent a withering look his way in time to make him do a three-minute freeze. Behind him, waiting for him to continue, was Barleyo.
"Make another sound and you're all dead. Don't you know where we are?" the knight hissed.
"How could we? You went all cloak-and-dagger on us," grumbled Axel. "Literally."
Yes, Blaydelot had muffled his armor's sounds and glints with a black raggedy cloak, but his preparation was doing no good when the others had no idea of what the word "stealth" even meant.
Say…you know what it means…don't you?
Also, the others had seen him add a couple of daggers to his original weaponry, which was just his sword. So, everyone was a little on edge. Which wasn't good when they needed cooperation and teamwork more than ever.
(1): Yes, just a personal rant on seeing Kaiba's name spelled as "Kiaba..."
