Training took place in the Belfry, a dreary open-air cloister atop Malice tower that required a thirty-flight ascent up a staircase so narrow the students were squeezed into single file.
“So . . . nauseous,” Dot panted like an overheated camel.
“If she pukes near me, I’m throwing her off the tower,” Hester crabbed.
As she climbed, Sophie tried not to think about pustules, puke, or putrid Hort, who was trying to cram beside her. “I know you hate me,” he pressed. She lurched to the right to block him. Hort tried the left. “But it was the challenge and I didn’t want you to fail and—”
Sophie thwarted him with her elbow and raced up the last few steps, desperate to prove to her new teacher she was in the wrong place. Unfortunately that teacher was Castor.
“’COURSE I GET THE READER IN MY GROUP.”
Even worse, his assistant, Beezle, was the red-skinned dwarf that Sophie had slapped on the ladder the day before. Upon seeing her blistered face, he giggled like a hyena. “Ugly witch!”
Head off center on his massive dog’s body, Castor wasn’t as amused. “You’re all revolting enough as is,” he groused, and sent Beezle to fetch honeysuckle, which promptly restored the villains’ faces. While they groaned in disappointment, Sophie heaved with relief.
“Whether you win or lose your battles depends on the competence and loyalty of your henchmen!” Castor said. “Of course some of you will end up henchmen yourselves, with your own lives depending on the strength of your Leader. Better pay attention then, if you want to stay alive!”
Sophie gritted her teeth. Agatha was probably singing to doves somewhere and here she was about to wrangle bloodthirsty goons.
“And now for your first challenge. How to train . . .” Castor stepped aside. “A Golden Goose.”
Sophie gaped at an elegant gold-feathered bird behind him, sleeping serenely in its nest.
“But Golden Geese hate villains,” Anadil frowned.
“Which means if you can train one, then taming a mountain troll will be easy,” Castor said.
The Goose opened its pearly blue eyes, took in its villainous audience, and smiled.
“Why is it smiling?” Dot said.
“Because it knows we’re wasting our time,” Hester said. “Golden Geese only listen to Evers.”
“Excuses, excuses,” Castor yawned. “Your job is to make that pathetic creature lay one of its prized eggs. The bigger the egg, the higher your rank.”
Sophie’s heart raced. If the bird only listened to the Good, she could prove here and now she didn’t belong with these monsters! All she had to do was make the Goose lay the biggest egg!
On the Belfry wall, Castor carved five strategies for training henchmen:
1. COMMAND
2. TAUNT
3. TRICK
4. BRIBE
5. BULLY
“Now don’t go bullying the blasted bird unless you’ve gone through the other four,” Castor warned. “Ain’t nothin’ stopping a henchman from bullying back.”
Sophie made sure she was last in line and watched the first five kids have zero luck, including Vex, who went as far as grabbing its throat, only to see the Golden Goose smile in return.
Miraculously, Hort was the first to succeed. He had tried barking “Lay egg,” calling it a “prat,” and tempting it with worms, before giving up and kicking its nest. Wrong thing to kick. In a flash, the Goose yanked his tunic over his head and Hort yelped about blindly, banging into walls. (Sophie vowed if she had to see this boy one more time without clothes, she’d gouge out her eyes.) But the Goose seemed delighted. It flapped its wings and sniggered and squawked so raucously that it lost control and excreted a golden egg the size of a coin.
Hort held it up in stunned triumph. “I won!”
“Right, because in the heat of battle, you’ll have time to run around naked and make your Goose crap,” Castor snarled.
Still, the dog had said whoever made the biggest egg won, so the other Nevers mimicked Hort’s tactic. Dot made faces, Ravan made shadow puppets, Anadil tickled it with a feather, and bald, doughy Brone sat on Beezle, much to the bird’s delight. (“Smelly witch!” the dwarf howled.)
Scowling at all this, Hester walked up and punched the Goose in the stomach. It dropped an egg the size of a fist. “Amateurs,” she sneered.
Then it was Sophie’s turn.
She approached the Golden Goose, which seemed exhausted from laughing and laying. But when the Goose met Sophie’s gaze, it stopped blinking and sat still as a statue, studying every inch of her. For a moment, Sophie felt an eerie chill float through her body, as if she’d let a stranger into her soul. But then she looked into the bird’s warm, wise eyes and swelled with hope. Surely it saw she was different from the rest.
Yes, you certainly are different.
Sophie backed up. She peeked around to see if anyone else had heard the bird’s thoughts. But the rest of the Nevers just glowered impatiently, since she had to finish before they got their ranks.
Sophie turned to the Goose. You can hear my thoughts?
They’re quite loud, replied the Goose.
What about the others?
No. Just you.
Because I’m Good? Sophie smiled.
I can give you what you want, said the Goose. I can make them see you’re a princess. One perfect egg and they’ll put you with your prince.
Sophie dropped to her knees. Please! I’ll do anything you want. Just help me.
The bird smiled. Close your eyes and make a wish.
Overcome with relief, Sophie closed her eyes. In that shining moment, she wished for Tedros, her beautiful, perfect prince who could make her happy . . .
She suddenly wondered if Agatha told him they were friends. She hoped not.
Gasps flew around her. Sophie opened her eyes and saw the Goose’s gold feathers finish turning gray. Its eyes darkened from blue to black. Its warm smile went dead.
And there was definitely no egg.
“What happened!” Sophie twirled. “What’s it mean?”
Castor looked petrified. “It means she’d rather give up her power than help you.”
A “1” exploded in red flames over Sophie’s head like a diabolical crown.
“It’s the most evil thing I’ve ever seen,” Castor said softly.
