“Though perhaps someone a little older and more sedate would serve better,” mused Tanitha.
Ardent immediately stopped barking, sat down, and assumed the position of Intently Listening Dog he’d learned at school. Paws straight in front, ears up, and head tilted slightly to the side. Anya bent down and hugged him, even letting him surreptitiously lick her ear.
“I would love Ardent to come with me,” she said. “Wherever we’re going. Oh, hello, Bounder, Jackanapes, and Flowersniffer. Thank you for bringing me … er … whatever you have brought.”
The three dogs dropped their burdens, which were revealed to be silk handkerchiefs they’d carefully grabbed by the corners to make bundles. Opening them, Anya discovered three marrowbones stolen from the kitchen; six small and very tarnished silver coins from some forgotten hoard; a dented gold-and-blue enamel snuffbox set with diamonds that Anya vaguely remembered as belonging to a duchess who had visited when Anya was small, who’d made a terrible fuss about it going missing; her own slightly torn second-best kirtle; a scrunched-up linen undershirt; a pair of woolen tights that were Morven’s and hence too big; a small sheath knife, which Anya recognized as belonging to one of last year’s visiting princes; and a leather water bottle with a black iron screw-thread stopper.
Anya put the coins and the snuffbox in her belt purse, tied on the sheath knife, and gathered up everything else except the marrowbones and put them into a bundle made with the three scarves tied together. The bones she gave to Bounder, Jackanapes, and Flowersniffer, despite Ardent’s hungry look.
Tanitha, of course, was above accepting bones in public. She took Ardent aside and talked quietly to him. Whatever she said, it took the young dog’s mind off bones. He sat completely still and listened carefully, with his tongue hanging out the corner of his mouth, indicating total concentration.
When Tanitha was finished talking to Ardent, she slowly walked over to where Anya was checking that her newly made bundle wouldn’t come apart.
“Good luck in your Quest, Princess,” said Tanitha. “We had best return to the castle.”
The old dog lumbered forward and lifted her head. Anya hugged her. Tanitha nipped her ear gently and turned away. The other dogs bowed to the princess and followed the matriarch. Ardent forgot what he was meant to be doing for a few seconds and went along with them, before suddenly remembering and whipping back to Anya’s heels.
“I suppose we’d better be off, then,” said Anya. She found it hard to look away from the dogs and the castle. She’d never really been anywhere before, certainly not beyond the borders of her small kingdom. And while she was grateful to the dogs for bringing her some things, her practical mind thought that more money and fewer bones would have been better.
“Where are we going?” asked Ardent.
Anya wrinkled her forehead and looked down at Prince Denholm in his little wicker cage.
“I think first things first. Which means returning Denholm to human shape. But as Tanitha advised, I can do several things at once. So I suppose that we might as well head towards his kingdom to start with. His parents will presumably be grateful to have him back, and might aid me against Duke Rikard. Gornish is supposed to be a bigger kingdom than Trallonia.”
Gornish was a bigger kingdom than Trallonia, but that was not saying much. Trallonia itself boasted only the royal castle, the castle village below it (known as Trallonia the Village), the fields around that, and two large expanses of forest with several small hamlets inhabited by woodcutters, foresters, and hunters.
That was it.
From what Anya could remember from Denholm’s boasts, Gornish had a bigger castle and two villages, one of them with a small fishing harbor.
Anywhere else, neither Trallonia nor Gornish would be a kingdom. They’d barely rate as baronies. But long ago the High Kingdom of Yarrow had fallen apart when Yarrow the City was inundated by a tidal wave, and the entire royal family and government drowned. The wave was the consequence of evil magic, sadly the fault of the last High King, who had been dabbling inexpertly in very dark sorcery indeed. After the wave, all the nobles of Yarrow had declared themselves to be independent. There were now scores of kingdoms in what used to be the High Kingdom of Yarrow. Most of them could be crossed on foot in less than a day.
“How … how … howl!” called out Ardent. He stopped himself and asked, “How will you turn him back? With new lip balm?”
“I guess so,” said Anya. She flipped open Gotfried’s book and read the first few pages.
“Hmmm. It’s not going to be easy,” she said. Following the text with her finger, she read out the recipe for the Fairly Reliable Transmogrification Reversal Lip Balm.
“ ‘To a pot or vessel of brass over a medium fire, add a pint of witches’ tears, two feathers fresh-pulled from a cockatrice’s tail, six pea-size stones of three-day-old hail from a mountaintop, four drops of blood from a retired druid … stir with a stirring rod made from the branch of a lightning-struck oak for four hours to reduce the mixture. After four hours, and preferably at dawn, put in lumps of beeswax until the mixture has the consistency of moat-monster snot, remove from fire, add pawpaw for flavor, continue mixing until smooth, put in a clean, dry tin lined with waxed paper, and keep out of direct sunlight. Makes sufficient for a dozen dozen applications (one gross).’ ”
Anya closed the book and frowned.
“A pint of witches’ tears sounds an awful lot. None of these things will be easy to get.”
“Moat-monster snot won’t be too difficult,” Ardent pointed out.
“We don’t need any moat-monster snot,” said Anya. “It just has to be mixed to that consistency.”
She looked at Denholm in his little wicker cage.
“Why did you have to get yourself transformed?” she asked crossly. “If I didn’t have to turn you back, this would be a much easier Quest.”