Lucas could hear King Scrooge screaming upstairs.
"I told you, I will not see another Prince Louie!" His voice was raw and ragged. "I don't want to see another con artist wearing my nephews name in a bid for my fortune!"
Mrs. Beakley's voice was much quieter; Lucas couldn't quite make out what she was saying.
"Get those impostors out of my home!"
Mrs. Beakley said something again.
"I said out!"
Lucas hadn't known a duck's voice could get that loud.
Lucas heard a door close quietly and Mrs. Beakley's footsteps down the stairs. She reappeared at the doorway, her face ashen.
"He has asked you to go," she said. "I'll talk to him, but I cannot make any promises."
Lucas looked at Gladstone, who looked…utterly lost. He was mumbling something to himself, probably either trying to figure out where his luck had gone wrong or where to go from here. Lucas very briefly entertained the idea of running past Mrs. Beakley and into King Scrooge's room before she could stop him, but decided against it. He didn't particularly want to be on the receiving end of an "off with his head!" today.
"The King does have tickets to see the Highland Bagpipers tomorrow evening," Mrs. Beakley said. "I suppose if you were to bump into him there…" To Lucas' surprise, she winked.
Bagpipes. Bagpipes. Lucas hated bagpipes. The only times he ever heard them were from poor souls trying to earn a little money on the street and when the new Scottish government broadcast some sort of event over the radio. If Lucas never heard another bagpipe again, it would be too soon.
"We'll be there!" Gladstone said.
The things you did for family.
The next evening found Lucas, Lena, and Gladstone in front of a big fancy theater with "Highland Bagpipers" emblazoned on the marquee. Lucas made a face.
Gladstone went to the ticket booth to collect the tickets he had somehow managed to win earlier that day. Lucas still didn't understand why there had been a contest to win bagpipe tickets, but when he'd mentioned that to Lena, she'd just said something about Gladstone's luck.
"You got this, Green Bean," Gladstone said, returning with three tickets in hand. He gestured grandly towards the doors. "Shall we?"
Lucas didn't know where to look first as they entered the glittering lobby.
There was a huge chandelier hanging above, throwing sparkles of light at the ceiling and walls. There were sconces along the walls giving off warm yellow light, as if the chandelier wasn't enough. The lobby itself was filled with finely-dressed people, all suits and gowns and elbow-length gloves and pearls and monocles (Lucas hadn't thought that monocles really existed in real life). The carpet was a deep red and so plush that Lucas could feel his feet sink into its softness where he stepped.
"This way," Gladstone said.
Lucas and Lena trotted after him into the theater itself. It was huge, with a chandelier even bigger than the one in the lobby. A massive, tartan curtain hung in front of the stage. The carpet in here was a deep blue swirled with gold. Gladstone showed their tickets to an usher, and the usher led them upstairs and showed them to their seats up in one of the boxes.
"Whoa," Lucas said, looking out over the theater. "And you got these seats for free?"
"Yep," Gladstone said. "I haven't been up in one of these since before the Revolution."
"Did you get to sit up here all the time?"
"Sure, back in Edinburgh. Uncle Scrooge had a reserved box every season, and some seasons, I had one, too."
Lucas' look of awe turned into a frown. "That sounds like a lot of bagpipes."
Gladstone laughed. "It wasn't just bagpipes. Plays, opera, ballets—"
"I always wish I'd gotten to see the Scottish Ballet," Lena mused.
Lucas paused. "Did I ever see anything?"
"Of course. Oh, you hated the bagpipes," Gladstone said fondly. "And the operas and ballets. Come to think of it, you didn't like the plays, either." Gladstone thought for a moment. "We did see a ballet about King Midas once that you seemed to be taken with."
"King who?" Lucas asked, but then the lights flickered. Lucas twitched, just barely holding himself back from diving under his chair. "What was that?"
"That's just the signal that it's going to start soon." Gladstone leaned back comfortably. "You know, 'get to your seat!' and all that."
"Look!" Lucas said suddenly, voice hushed, pointing.
"Don't point!" Lena scolded, pushing his hand down. "What?"
"That's—"
The music started up.
"That's the king!" Lucas said.
"Shhh!" Gladstone admonished. "Stop being so obvious! The show is starting!"
They settled back to watch.
The bagpipes were awful.
Lucas had to resist the very strong urge to cover his ears. In fact, the urge was so strong that more than once he found his hands creeping up towards the sides of his head. He tried to busy his hands by tearing the program he'd been given by the usher into tiny pieces, but Lena kept shooting him dirty looks and Gladstone kept putting her hand over his to keep them still. Which was not helpful.
"Don't worry. You'll do fine," Lena whispered.
Which was also not helpful.
And then the bagpipes would quiet, the audience would applaud…and then they would start right up again.
It was torture.
Finally, the bagpipers stopped playing, the audience applauded, and instead of starting up another song, the curtain went down. Lucas breathed a sigh of relief.
The lights came back on and the room filled with the murmur of fancy rich people no doubt telling each other about how marvelous the bagpipers were.
"It's time," Gladstone said into Lucas' ear.
Lucas gulped.
His knees felt weak as he followed Gladstone out the back of the theater box. It was easy to figure out which box was King Scrooge's—there was a guard standing out in front of it. Lucas glanced at Gladstone, who wore a cryptic look. Lucas wondered if the royal family had all had guards like that before the Revolution.
Gladstone took a deep breath, put on his usual, confident expression, and said, "Wait here." Then, he marched over to the guard.
"Hello, my good man," he said. "Please announce the Duke of Albany and company to see King Scrooge."
The man grunted.
"Gladstone Gander?"
The King's voice was so loud that Lucas could hear it from his spot twenty feet away. His blood ran cold and all of his muscles turned to jelly. Lucas put a hand on the wall to steady himself.
"Do my ears deceive me?"
The door to the box opened, and there he was.
King Scrooge.
He was…short.
Lucas wasn't quite sure what he had expected—he'd seen portraits, after all—but it wasn't exactly this. The fierce expression that he'd worn in all of those paintings was gone, replaced with a weariness that didn't look like it would go away with just a good night's sleep. The aura of power, the confidence, the cutthroat business sense, all nowhere to be seen. He just looked like…like a little old man.
"Bless me bagpipes," he said. "Gladstone! I didn't think I'd ever see you again!"
Lucas swallowed hard.
Scrooge took Gladstone into his arms, and Lucas saw some of the tension in Gladstone's shoulders melt away. "You haven't changed a bit!"
"You're looking mighty fine yourself, Uncle Scrooge," Gladstone said.
"Come in, come in," King Scrooge said. "We've got a few minutes until the performance starts back up."
"Actually, Uncle Scrooge, there's another reason we're here," Gladstone said.
Lucas hadn't thought he could get any more nervous, but somehow, he did.
"And what's that?" King Scrooge asked, suddenly suspicious. "You aren't here to ask me for money, are you?"
"No, of course not. Something much better than that," Gladstone assured him.
"Then out with it, boy! I haven't got all day!"
Gladstone cleared his throat, sort of like a drum roll.
Lucas kind of felt like he might throw up, which he decided was a level of nervousness he really didn't like.
"Uncle Scrooge, I am excited to announce to you that my associate and I have found the lost Prince Louie."
Lucas held his breath.
King Scrooge didn't say anything, at least not right away. He looked at Gladstone. Gladstone looked back at him.
"No," King Scrooge finally said.
"But Uncle Scrooge—"
"No. Louie died that night six years ago." His voice cracked. "He's gone."
"If you just meet him—"
"Absolutely not." King Scrooge turned back to the entrance to his box.
"But with my luck—"
The king spun to face him.
"With your luck, you've just found the lad you're most likely to fool me with!" he snapped.
Lucas felt like he'd been shot straight through the heart.
"But he has—"
"I've heard rumors of the scams you've run back in Edinburgh!" King Scrooge said.
"But—"
"You and that witch's apprentice, no less!"
"She's not—"
"You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you? Couldn't be satisfied with winning every contest you enter? You had to go after my money, and break an old man's heart while doing it."
Lucas' vision swam with tears.
"But Uncle Scrooge—"
"Well, you're not going to win this contest!" The King turned back to the door to his box. "I never should have offered that reward."
"But—"
"Louie's dead."
If Lucas hadn't already been holding onto the wall, he was pretty sure he would have collapsed.
He was vaguely aware of the King disappearing into his box. Lucas found himself doubled over, breathing heavily, trying desperately to hold back sobs.
And then Gladstone was there.
"Lucas—" he began, reaching out to him.
"Don't touch me!" Lucas gasped out.
Gladstone pulled his hand back, and for once, he didn't say anything.
"You—you used me!" Lucas said. "You used me, and I believed you!"
"Lucas—"
"You just wanted his money! How could you even do that to your own uncle?"
"It's not what it looks like. I may have used my luck to find you, but—"
"I can't believe I didn't see right through your con. Stupid, stupid."
"But the dime…!"
"I don't care about the stupid dime! It was probably just some shiny trinket I found in the snow!"
"But—"
"And 'witch's apprentice'? What did he mean by that? Never mind; I don't want to know!"
Lucas pushed past Gladstone, but Gladstone grabbed him by the wrist.
"Come on, Lucas. Be reasonable."
Lucas turned.
And slapped him across the face.
Gladstone yelped—Lucas didn't care if it was in pain or surprise—and let go. Lucas rushed through the crowd and ran from the building, ignoring Gladstone calling his name as people filled in the empty space that separated them. He finally slowed once he got outside, hunching over to shield himself from the drizzling rain that soon blended in with his tears as he made his way back to the hotel.