called out, looking up from the ball. “I think we ought to wait here.”
With a great heave of his shoulders, Robin turned around. “Why should we wait here? I suggest we turn off at the bend up there,” he said, pointing up the road. “Here, there’s no water, no food, and—” Robin stopped in mid-sentence. “Marianne! Someone’s coming this way!”
Behind Marianne a cyclone of dust was approaching quickly. As it bore down upon them, Marianne could make out a plump man driving a large cart. An immense team of horses was pounding the dirt. Robin ran to the middle of the road, waving his arms to hail a ride. “Hey! We need you to stop!” Robin yelled.
The horses halted their progress under great restraint by the driver. Holding the reins and brandishing a cudgel, the man hollered, “Move yerself from my path before yew find yerself under me horses’ hooves, yew scoundrel!”
“Wait!” cried Marianne, running onto the path and placing herself in front of Robin. “We don’t want to rob you. We just need a ride to the next town. We’ve been walking all morning. Please help us,” pleaded Marianne, in her most desperate voice. Her eyes stared beseechingly at the driver.
The man mellowed, and he put down his stick. “Och. All right, git in the back. All tak yew to the next town. Me name’s Fargus.”
“Well, at least his big cart makes up for his awful character judgment,” said Robin, reclining comfortably as they watched the bright meadows pass by.
“Don’t be so ungrateful,” Marianne admonished as she fashioned a pillow from Robin’s cloak and opened her ears to Robin’s one-way conversation.
Hours later, the cart slowed its agitation upon arrival at a town. Robin leapt off the cart. “Well, thanks for the ride,” he called offhandedly. Marianne gave a very audible “Ahem!” which prompted Robin to help her down as well. “Actually, I didn’t need any assistance, but thank you, Robin. I really wanted you to express our appreciation to the driver more appropriately.”
With an air of shocked vanity, Robin moved to the front of the cart where Fargus cast an imposing shadow on him. “Most grateful,” Robin said, turning a dull expression to Fargus.
“What my brother means,” said Marianne, stepping forward, “is that we surely would have perished in the heat out there. You did us a great service, and we are forever indebted to you. We will never forget your extraordinary kindness.”
“Well, ’ere yew are then,” said Fargus, pulling a crown from his bulging stash and holding it forth to Marianne, “to aid yew in yewr travels.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but we cannot accept thi—” Marianne began, but Robin reached forward and snatched it. “Oh, yes, we can. I, for one, do not have an aversion to being comfortable.”
“Give it boch to yewr sester!” the man roared, standing up to his full, imposing height.
“Hereyougo, Marianne,” said Robin, with a gulp.
“Good. I wish yew the best of luck,” said the man, seating himself again and giving the reins a shake.
“Thank yew! I mean you!” cried Marianne, as Fargus’s cart resumed its pace.
“Hmm. Great choice of towns to stop in,” said Robin sarcastically, as they surveyed the dilapidated buildings ahead of them. “I get depressed just looking at them.”
The sign outside of the town originally read “Rainbow City,” but it had been graffitied over, in a melancholy color, to read “Sadness City.” Marianne noticed that the grit on the road they kicked up was a dreary ash hue. I didn’t even know there were that many shades of gray, thought Marianne as her eyes passed from one collapsing building to another.
“Does anyone even live here?” she asked, staring at the jaggedly broken windows and tattered awnings that seemed mortified to be viewed in such a squalid state. Behind them, a hanging sign in the shape of a bear announced, in faded letters, “The Black Bear Inn & Tavern.” While they looked at it, the sign abruptly caught a draft of air and fell with a clatter to the ground, startling Marianne. Robin hunkered down, preparing for a possible onslaught. The door to the tavern burst open and a corpulent, middle-aged woman waddled out and unleashed a stream of foul words directed at the fallen sign. Robin remained crouching, a flabbergasted look on his face, while Marianne’s jaw dropped at the epithets. “So there!” the woman finished, crossing her arms and spitting on the sign. She’s insane, thought Marianne. Just then, the sign came to life and climbed the pole leading up to its former spot, exactly as a bear would scale a tree, replacing itself with a shamed look upon its painted face.
“It’s a piece of junk, that’s what it is. Some goblin came hawkin’ these signs, promisin’ they’d never need washin’ nor repairin’! Well, that’s what you get for listenin’ to somethin’ that’s knee-high to a goose,” the woman said, completing her final harangue before genially asking, “What can I do for you folks?”
“Uh . . . well, for starters, where’s everybody else?” asked Robin. He was also about to ask why the town was such a dump, when Marianne, anticipating such a rude query, jabbed him sharply in the ribs.
“Well, it didn’ used to be like this. We once had folks runnin’ all about, conductin’ all sorts o’ business. But then Princess Penelope, she went and got all magicked up and all these suitors came from all over and tried to cure her, but it twasn’t no good ’cause Penelope stayed all dead-like. An every mornin’ each prince or pauper that was supposed to be guardin’ her,” the woman leaned forward and paused dramatically, “was nowhere to be seen!”
“Really?” asked Marianne, her eyes growing wide at the thought of something so tremendously mysterious and romantic.
“Sure as a goblin is a thief,” said the woman, her tabby orange curls bouncing up and down as she nodded. “So after a bit, the word got ’round that Rainbow City was no place to be livin’. Now it’s Sadness City.”
“Where can I get something to eat?” interrupted Robin. Marianne and the old woman shot furious glances at him for intruding on so enthralling a tale. “In here,” said the proprietor, nodding her head at the door to the tavern. As they went inside, the bear sign growled crossly.
Partaking in the welcome meal, Marianne listened with eager ears to how the kingdom’s princess had broken the heart of a witch’s son, thereby incurring the wrath of the witch, who had cast a spell on Penelope, sending the princess into a deep sleep.
“That is so amazing,” Marianne said, clearing her plate after her meal, “But what prompted so many suitors to risk their lives?”
“Well, I’m sure the ten thousand gold pieces helped and th—” the woman began.
“Ten THOUSAND gold pieces!” sputtered Robin, nearly choking. “Which way to the castle?”
“Well, it’s down that road and to the left. But as I was sayin’—” she tried to continue, but Robin had already thrown the crown onto the table and ushered Marianne outside.
Chapter the Ninth
“We can’t just head down to the nearest castle and try our luck at princess reviving!” complained Marianne, tagging after Robin as he strode down the street. “You’re the one who says we need a plan!”
“Exactly.
