remarked, tossing his head toward Robin.
“My brother’s disappointed that we’ve missed our opportunity tonight,” explained Marianne. “We’ve been traveling all day and are really in need of money.”
“Well, didn’t I say you could have a go tonight?” said the dwarf, clapping his hands once. Immediately, the sky became light again and the sun was again beginning its descent.
“How on earth did you—” Marianne began, but the dwarf cut her off.
“It’s not of this earth,” he said with a slight smile. “Now, as I was saying, tonight this mannerless young man will spend a vigil by Penelope’s side in an appointed chair. Something will happen—I don’t know what—but it will ensure that Robin will never see daylight again.” Robin threw up his arms at the unwelcome prediction. “However, I knew the witch who enchanted Penelope and once overheard her say that the only way to break the spell was to stay in the same chair until dawn breaks,” the dwarf finished.
“What about me?” asked Marianne. “Don’t think that I’ll be able to wait outside the door to see if Robin’s going to live or not!”
“Well, I have a special task for you,” said the dwarf, drawing Marianne close. “I personally don’t think your brother will be able to make it through the night without, shall we say, some sisterly guidance.” The dwarf glanced back at Robin, who was examining his sword once again. “There is a tunnel going by Penelope’s room. It was designed for cats to solve the castle’s rat problem.” Marianne blanched, but the dwarf continued urgently, “I advise you to crawl through there until you reach Penelope’s chambers. There is a grate that looks into the room, and you’ll be able to monitor what’s going on. I must admit that even I have never been daring enough to spend the night in that tunnel, but if you want to help your brother, though I have no idea why,” mumbled the dwarf, “it is your only chance.”
Rats, rats, thought Marianne. “Thank you for all your assistance,” she said. “How do I get into the tunnel?” she asked nonchalantly as if she shimmied through rodent-infested passageways as a weekend hobby.
“After you see your brother into the room, go down the stairway to your left. Take a right at the picture of the maidens dancing. Go down that hallway until it reaches the picture of a fairy procession. A fern under that picture conceals the doorway to the burrow. Crawl to the left until you see light from Penelope’s room. Then wait. Luck be with you,” ended the dwarf, giving Marianne’s arm a sympathetic pat.
Chapter the Tenth
The castle was perched atop a steep hill, and in the last speck of light Marianne could tell that it had looked upon finer days. On further inspection, Marianne saw that what had originally appeared to be a grand gateway was actually a tarnished and dilapidated heap of junk. After ringing the bell at the gate several times, Robin became impatient and, with a single kick, broke open the rusted lock. Inside the fortress walls, unkempt hedges blurred the once-neat rows of a shrubbery maze, heliotrope sagged from cracked urns, and weeds devoured the deformed and overgrown topiary. Swarms of ants were quarrying morsels from the neglected apple trees, heavy with rotting fruit.
“Robin, I’m dizzy,” she began.
“No, I’ve stopped for you once already,” he said, still searching for the castle’s entrance. “Ahh! There it is!” he cried, pointing to a door almost hidden by a wall of branches. Performing a small jig over the anthills, Robin knocked assertively on the door. A panel of wood rocked back and forth, until, with a crack, it slid back to frame a sunken face matted with wiry, gray hair. “You the last one?”
“Beg your pardon?” asked Robin.
“Are you the one they rounded up today for the watch?” she gurgled.
“Well, I came on my own to revive the princess,” replied Robin.
“And to receive the sizable reward,” interjected Marianne, sidling up to Robin. The housekeeper’s eyes raked over Marianne in her torn dress, still splattered with goblin juice. Well, you’re no paragon of beauty yourself, thought Marianne.
“Tonight will be the final test. After this night, Princess Penelope will die. Come in,” said the crone in a monotone voice, opening the door with surprising ease. “Her chambers are down that hall. You will not be allowed to leave them until the sun rises. No one may accompany you. You will be given the reward if you are found in the chambers at daybreak. . . . alive!” she added, before hobbling away.
Marianne shivered. “Robin, maybe we should rethink this.”
“Hmmm,” said Robin, touching a finger to his chin, “Starve to death or be able to dive through piles of money. Death, richness, death, wealth, death, pro—”
“Fine! I choose silence!” said Marianne, covering her ears. The sun had almost set, and she needed to get to the tunnel. “But Robin, do be careful,” choked out Marianne, facing Robin and trying to conceal the worry in her voice.
“What could happen?” asked Robin facetiously. He laughed as Marianne enumerated the dreadful possibilities. “I like to say that because I feel it undoes the hex. Now Fate knows that I have a sense of humor about these things.”
“You’ll be chuckling all the way to—”
“I need to go. Good-bye for now, Marianne. I swear I’ll see you in the morning.” Robin touched Marianne’s shoulder before entering the room, the door shutting behind him.
I’ll see you sooner than that, thought Marianne, descending the creaky staircase. Wait, I can’t stay up all night without something to pass the time. Instinctively, Marianne turned to her right and beheld “Royal Library” painted on a door. It was unlocked. Marianne glanced around like a child about to steal a cookie. Nobody was coming, so she dashed through the summoning entrance. A large book lay open on the table. Its curvaceous golden writing proclaimed Fairy Flings: Romances Gone Wrong Among the Most Magical of Magical! Marianne blushed as she picked it up. Well, I don’t have time to choose anything else, she rationalized, placing the book under one arm and sprinting from the room as though every book held a pair of disapproving eyes.
Moreover, when she passed the picture of the maidens dancing, she could have sworn she heard a giggle. Locating the fern beneath the painting of the fairy procession (in which all the fairies seemed to be frowning at her book choice), Marianne bent over and yanked open the gate to the tunnel entrance. Indistinguishable furry forms skittered away. Fairy Flings dropped from her hands and fell on her foot. “Ow!” cried Marianne, hopping about. It seemed that one of the fairies raised a hand and pretended to cough, disguising a buttery laugh. Glaring at the picture, Marianne picked up the book and ducked into the tunnel.
The passageway was smaller than she had expected, and Marianne was forced to inch along on her hands and knees. Noises of scurrying ahead of her nearly made Marianne wish she were Robin lounging in a posh chair; edging along, however, clinging to her ungainly book, Marianne did not encounter any four-legged frights. Her dress unraveled where she had torn the bandage for the goblin, and her knees ached. The walls seemed to be pressing in on her while the rats’ chitterings felt like they were screeching beside her ear. The tunnel began to sweat at her presence as she groped along. The dirt from the ground pushed itself under her nails. Marianne’s breathing accelerated, and her hair stuck to her clammy face. As Marianne put a perspiring hand to her pained forehead, she tried to will the walls to move back. The tunnel was endless; it slithered along the castle’s underbelly like an elongated insect. Why can’t it end? Marianne despaired.
