All That Jazz
But when the guard went away, William started up his shoes-on-the-bed rhythms again. His fairy godparents played a lot of gigs, and this was the only way he knew to reach them. When his arms got tired, he jumped on the bed until he accidentally fell off.
Of course, they showed up right after he’d dropped off to sleep. The sax player played a painfully high riff right into his ear.
“Argh!” William rolled away from the piercing sound, then sat up, carefully, in the dark. “Uh, thanks for the serenade. Is it over? I have a gig for you.”
His cell was dim and he sensed his fairy godparents flying around, more than he saw them. Fortunately, they hummed or sang or played and that helped, but William sat motionless in his bed, for their safety. While he had them here, he might as well ask a question he’d had as long as he could remember.
“Can you guys give me any tips with my fairy godparent gift? How is ‘Jack Frost’ supposed to help?” William had only used his ability to make ice flowers on the windowpanes or on cake plates for family birthdays.
“We thought it was cool,” the bass player said, wings beating to match the slow rhythm of the bass.
“Chill.” The other trio members high-fived each other, and the lead singer started up a tune, “It’s chill, Will, chill—”
William was exasperated. “Yeah, but how do I get a battle to chill?”
The bass player kept on plucking and the other two musicians did a lot of mournful vowels and sax notes.
William cleared his throat. He didn’t have the patience for this right now. “‘Jack Frost’ is nice for desserts in the restaurant, but it’s not much as a leadership gift, is it? Am I missing something? I mean, I’m in the dungeon, the Seven Kingdoms is on the battlefield, Queen Ash is attacking Mr. G’s grandma, and my family doesn’t even know what’s about to hit them.”
The trio wound up their number and the bass player said, still accompanying himself, “Battle’s not our scene, Prince Will, not our number—”
It wasn’t good news that he had no weapon or defense in battle, but it wasn’t a surprise. It confirmed what William had always thought about his fairy godparent gift.
“Okay.” William let out a deep breath of frustration. “How about a gig for you?”
“A new gig’s always a sweet sound, Prince William, hit us with it.” The notes of the fairy bass wound around the bass player’s words.
“Can you all go to the Royal Marigold Restaurant and play some peaceful tunes?” William asked. “There’s a Mock Battle exercise happening there and some people might . . . get upset. And can you tell my family to make enough chapati dough for the entire Seven Kingdoms?”
“Peace and dough,” crooned the sax player. “We’ve got your number.”
“That’s chill, man,” the lead singer said.
“Thank you so much,” William said, glad that they were willing to help and wishing that they had better help to offer than a song and a message. “Hope you get lots of tips!”
They all high-fived his forehead and flew off.
Fairy music was cool, but was any music cool enough to chill Queen Ash?
William wished there was something more he could do for his family, for Reggie’s grandma, or for the Seven Kingdoms tomorrow. But he was truly stuck.
The well-guarded dungeon was built into a cliff and protected by a massive fortress full of Magenta archers. His family couldn’t pay bail. Fifteen thousand gold coins was enough to buy the entire Marigold Kingdom and free chapati for life.
Even if an escape were possible, the price on his head—also fifteen thousand—meant he would be at the mercy of anyone who wanted to “cash him in”. He’d be back in the dungeon before he left the fortress. Hopeless.
At first, when the shaking started, William thought it might be an earthquake. He called out to the guards and pounded on the door, but no one came.
Crushed in the dungeon—what a way to leave the world!
The tremors calmed, then stopped, and William shamefacedly wondered if it hadn’t been an earthquake at all. Reggie might have recovered and be out there looking for William.
A heartbeat later, a giant’s booming voice called, “Are you in there, William?” but it wasn’t Reggie.
“Bite? Is that you?” William backed up against the furthest wall of his reverberating dungeon cell. He wanted to give Bite—and whoever else was out there—as much space as possible.
The last time he’d seen the giants, he’d been climbing down a beanstalk and they were shouting Jack-the-Giant-Killer insults.
A huge eye filled up the window.
The cell didn’t shake, but William’s heart raced like he was in another earthquake. “Are all of you . . . awake?”
“Yep.” That was Gneiss’s voice. “Seven giants here and accounted for.”
“Psyche? Is she here too?” William asked, disoriented. “Do you mean the comic, uh, actually worked?”
Something buzzed through the window and Psyche flew up to his ear and said, in her supersonic whisper, “You see those seven giants out there?”
“Yeah,” William waited for her to say more, but she made loops around him and dissolved into giggles. “How’d you get them awake? How’d you get them out of the library?”
She stopped right in front of his nose, making him cross-eyed. “Can’t say,” she said, and shrugged.
The Fairy Kingdom’s Lip Sealant was so annoying.
“Come on,” William said. “You gotta tell me something.”
“I spread your comic strip around,” Psyche’s flying around the cell matched her words.
“Everybody loved it,” she said. “They all wanted to be friends with the giants. The whole school came outside and those”—Psyche made a bow-drawing motion that meant Fairy Rangers”—woke up the giants.”
William still didn’t get a clear picture of what had happened. “How did the cupids convince the Fairy Rangers?”
“They showed them your comic.” Psyche flew over to his bed, plumped down onto his pillow, and straightened out her Official Cupid Ambassador sash. “After the giants woke up, all the cupids got them to sign the comics. That’s all I can tell you. Oh, the giants want you to make more.” She stood up and flew out the window.
“But I don’t make comic strips—” He’d only made one because it was for the Fairy Kingdom. But her words left a glow behind.
Everybody loved it, she’d said.
That sore spot in his mind that was connected to his sketchbook, ever since the day Reggie fell ill, felt like it might stop festering. As if the Fairy Kingdom comic made up for some of the trouble the Reggie funeral comic strip had caused. Somehow, because of his comic strip, the giants and the cupids had made friends. William’s work had helped. The giants were all here.
Oh, no! Brynhildr! A wave of guilt hit him and his face burned. He’d gotten sidetracked by his comics and forgotten Reggie’s grandma.
“Hey guys,” he called out to the giants, “someone has to warn Brynhildr, before the beanstalk gets chopped down. You guys walk so fast, you can get her down before the battle if you hurry.”
He held up the harp as high as he could, but it was too big to fit through the cell window. “And can you take her harp back too? Tell her thanks very much!”
“Bring it yourself,” Traver said from somewhere up there.
“I. Can’t. Leave. This. Dungeon,” William said. He wished the giants would listen better.
Moth grumbled, “Reggie said he likes to do things the hard way.”
“Reggie? Is he out there too?” William was dying to hear his voice again.
“No,” said a voice that sounded like Traver. “He’s taking a nap—a regular one—at his house. That sleeping sickness wore him out.”
“Was his grandma with him?” William would love to hear that Reggie had her safe. Then he’d only have to worry about returning her harp, how the magic beans had gotten into Reggie’s delivery to the restaurant, a treason charge, and the fifteen thousand gold coins.
“Uh, Moth talked to him.” Rocks backed away from the window and William could see a few giant elbows and somebody’s shirt buttons. Giant voices rumbled, but William couldn’t make out what they were saying.
Moth came to the window and waved. “Hi, William, Reggie said his grandma was at the HAG.”
“The what?”
“The Home for Aged Giants,” Moth said.
“Is that what you call the house at the top of the beanstalk?” William asked. “Because that’s where I saw her.”
Moth looked back over his shoulder. “Guys! Grandma’s not at the HAG. Plan B. Red Alert, it’s Plan B!”
“What’s Plan B?” William asked. He had a suspicious feeling about the B.
“B is for Beanstalk,” Bite said. “If your Queen Ash chops down the beanstalk, Brynhildr’s house will fall onto the battlefield—” Bite’s giant hands came together in a deafening clap. “Smackerooni! That’s going to take out your people. The ones on the battlefield and the ones in the dinky little gliders.”
William’s eyebrows shot up. Brynhildr’s house was in the cloud, so he’d thought it would just stay up there, even when the beanstalk came down. The whole time he’d been thinking of Reggie’s grandma climbing down the beanstalk and falling.
But if the beanstalk pulled down her house, those massive wooden beams, the stone walls—the rocking chair alone would take out a group of archers. Bite was right. It would make a crater.
All the princes and princesses would be on the battlefield, probably tightly clustered together, aiming at the same targets, and none of them knew there was a giant house in the cloud. The beanstalk and the giant’s house together could take out a whole generation.
“You have to stop her,” William said, horrified.
“We talked it over on the way here,” Gneiss said. “You are the only one who can speak up for us.”
William opened his mouth to object.
“No—let me finish.” Gneiss waited until William shut his mouth. “Everyone thinks we were attacking the Marigold Kingdom—”
“Or the Magenta Kingdom—” Rocks broke in.
“Or the Cochem Kingdom,” put in Bite.
“Or even the Fairy Kingdom,” Psyche added.
Gneiss said, “Your Seven Kingdoms think we’re invaders. They’re not going to listen to us. As soon as we show up in the Marigold Kingdom, they’ll loose volleys of arrows at us until we go away. We need you.”
They weren’t wrong. William barely stopped himself from kicking the bed frame. “I can’t speak up for you. I can’t even leave the dungeon. I gave my word I wouldn’t try to escape, and there’s a price of fifteen thousand gold coins on my head, because I’m supposed to be the supreme commander of an imaginary giant invasion. Can you be serious?”
Abrupt silence.
“Can you?” Rocks asked in a voice full of reproach. “We came all the way from the Giant Mountains, because a friend of ours was sick and no one knew how to help him. It’s easy to laugh at us, because we don’t say things and we don’t do things the same way you do. We know you aren’t supposed to leave this dungeon, but we thought you would want to speak up for Reggie’s grandma. Why do you think we’re kidnapping you? So we can take you to the Giant Mountains or something? Yeesh.”