How to Rescue a Dead Princess (17 page)

“Oh, uh, yeah,” said the guard. “I was dead humorous.”

All the other guards let loose with a series of hearty chuckles to prove to Roderick that the statement had been nothing more than a silly little gag.

“See?” asked Randall. “With all the stress in a guard's life, there's no way they could chuckle like that unless it had truly been a joke.”

“Very well,” said Roderick. “So, what happens to me if I surrender, then?”

The guard with his hand still in the air started to speak, but was knocked unconscious by one of his co-workers just in time. “Let's see,” said Randall. “They'd have a huge feast in your honor, complete with the devouring of a dead animal that still looks like the animal it used to be while alive. Then you'd be given a gold bracelet worth millions of dvorkins, with your initials scratched into it.”

“I don't have initials. My full name is Roderick.”

“Then it would just use ‘Rod.’ Or ‘Ick.’ Anyway, after the feast ended, you'd be escorted by ten awesomely nubile women to the bathing room, where they would join you in a pool with water set to a temperature of your choosing, then pair off and slowly but thoroughly bathe your appendages.”

“Hmmmm ... that sounds okay,” said Roderick, “but how do I know you're not lying?”

Alan burst into the room. “Sorry to disturb you gentlemen, but I detected a minor vocal tremor that guarantees there's some lying going on in this very room!” He surveyed the current situation and realized his tactical error. “Of course, I'm probably wrong.”

“Oh, yeah?” said Roderick. “Look me in the eye and tell me you were wrong about Randall lying.”

Alan stifled a sob. “I can't. Sorry.”

A guard burst into the room. “It
was
a horse, right?”

“Yes!” said King Irving.

The guard cursed and left the room.

“Forget this!” said Roderick. “The king dies now!”

“You keep saying that, and yet the king sure looks alive to me,” Jack pointed out.

“Here goes!” announced Roderick.

Then Randall glanced up at the huge chandelier. He flung his dagger skyward, severing the rope that had formerly prevented the chandelier from falling onto the edge of the bed. The chandelier fell onto the edge of the bed. The force of its impact caused the other end of the mattress to flip upward, hurtling Roderick and King Irving through the air and onto the floor. The guards immediately subdued Roderick.

“He's saved the king!” Alan exclaimed.

“He's a hero!” said one of the guards.

“Hey, I deserve a little credit, too,” said Roderick. “It's not like I killed the king when I had a chance.”

King Irving got to his feet. “Get him out of here!” he ordered. The guards dragged Roderick out, kicking and screaming. Roderick was kicking and screaming as well.

“That was quick thinking,” King Irving told Randall. “I guess I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

“Me too,” said Jack. “After all, I pointed out the chandelier in the first place.”

“To show my great appreciation for what you've done, I
won't
send you to the guillotine to die a horrible death as planned. How's that sound?”

“Works for me,” said Randall.

“I love everyone,” said Bug.

RANDALL AND Jack walked over the main drawbridge, as Bug flew behind them. It was still nighttime, but the air was magically lit.

“It was nice of the king to give us these first-place ribbons,” said Randall. “I mean, he didn't have to do that.”

“Big whoop-de-loop-de-doo. Heck, Roderick would have gotten this great feast, and all he had to do was not kill anybody.”

“I was lying about the feast, Jack.”

“Really? Well, now I don't feel so bad about the ribbon.”

“What are we going to do next?” asked Bug.

“I need to get the reagents for the resurrection spell,” said Randall. “I might have a lead on the Necklace of Power, but I'd have to go back to the forest for that anyway, so I'm going to hold off. In the meantime, I need breath from a sleeping maiden, the toenail of Jenstina the Ogre, and the legendary berserker Shreddriff himself.”

“I guess we should start with the easiest one,” said Jack. “I wonder where Shreddriff lives?”

“Look, guy and it, I welcome your help. But the quest may be dangerous, so I don't want you to feel like you have to come with me.”

“Okay, bye,” said Jack, walking off, never to be seen again, until he turned around and came back. “Changed my mind.”

“I'm with you,” said Bug. “You're my best friend.”

“Then we're off,” Randall announced. They walked around the kingdom walls, until they came to the broken drawbridge.

“Looks like some moron tried to walk across that thing,” Jack noted.

“I wonder what that is?” Bug flew over to the gap in the bridge, where a piece of paper was floating. It picked it up with its back legs, then flew over to Randall and dropped it in his hand.

Randall unfolded the paper. “
Dearest Pooky Moocher Lovey Frumps
—oh, yeah, it's the note that I took from this lady named Scar. You'd probably like her, Bug. I forgot I'd put it in my shoe several chapters, er, a couple days ago.”

“Well, let's hear it,” said Jack.

“
Dearest P.M.L.F., I love you so much it hurts. Ow ow ow! That's the sound of my love for you. Do you love me just as much? (circle one) Yes, No. I think you're swell. Best regards, Grysh
.” Randall looked up from the note. “What the...?”

“Heck?” prompted Jack, helpfully.

“Yeah, what the heck is going on here? Why would Scar have a love letter from Grysh? Unless ... she stole it from Romeoo! Which means she knows where he is! Which means we might be able to find him! Which means I'll be spared another seduction attempt!” He put the letter in his pocket. “That's definitely something to check out later.”

“Hey!” a guard's voice screamed. “Where's my pony?”

“Run!” Randall shouted.

TWO HOURS later, their journey took them to a small town. A sign read “
Welcome to Manget Town. Population: 37 nice people, 4 jerks, 2 major jerks, 6 people ugly enough to melt mirrors, and one guy who sits around all day counting his arms to be sure they're both there.
”

“How nice,” said Bug. “They welcomed us.”

They proceeded down the main/only street, which contained a few small houses. But the primary attraction, taking up more space than all of the houses combined, was Madame Taylor's Hall of Supreme Exotic Dancers. A sign out front read “All private! All nekkid! All
right
!”

“I don't think the maidens run fast and free in these parts,” said Jack.

“Nor do I,” agreed Randall. “I guess we should ask around, though.” He gestured to a pug-nosed, middle-aged man seated on a rocking chair up on his front porch. “Let me do the talking so we don't accidentally start Armageddon.”

They crossed over to the house. Randall stepped up onto the first of two stairs.

“That stair ain't for walking on,” said the man.

“Oh, sorry.” Randall stepped down.

“That ground ain't, either.”

“Look,” said Randall, “we are two men and one bug questing for a virtuous woman to worship. Who in this town might serve our purpose?”

“Oh, that's easy. Try Yvonne over at the dance hall.”

“No, no, obviously your standards of virtue are demented. What we're looking for is—”

“Her name is Yvonne the Pure,” said the man. “She's just the hostess. She's less than brilliant, if you're into that kind of thing.”

“Is she working now?” Randall asked.

“For another half hour. Then she'll go to bed, so she can fall asleep and breathe deeply.”

“Convenient. Thanks for your help.”

“I love you,” Bug told the man.

“Yeah, well, that and two thousand dvorkins will get me a rushed nose job.”

They began walking towards the brothel. “Bug, I think you'd better wait outside,” said Randall. “I have a feeling this place may take your ‘I love everyone’ philosophy in a whole new direction.”

“Okay, I'll go bring happiness to somebody who's feeling a touch of sorrow,” said Bug, flying away.

“That is one upbeat insect,” said Jack.

They approached the front door. “Have you ever been in a place like this?” Randall asked.

“No. What about you?”

“Never. But, I mean, it's not like we're going in to watch the dancing. We have a very serious mission here. It's a matter of life or death. It's not our fault there's going to be nakedness, is it?”

“It certainly isn't,” Jack agreed.

“We'll just have a nice conversation with Yvonne the Pure, and ... uh ... I guess see if she'll let us come into her room while she's asleep and fill a small jar with her breath.”

“Do we have a jar?”

“No. Guess I should've saved the one Bug was in. But they'll have jars in an exotic dance hall, won't they?”

“I don't know. What would they store in them?”

“Let's not think about it.”

Randall opened the door, and they both stepped into the hall. The walls of the waiting room were covered with clown faces, and brightly-colored balloons and ribbons dangled from the ceiling. There were several striped couches upon which sat potential audience members, all wearing party hats.

“Welcome!” said a young woman in an extremely enthusiastic voice, walking toward them with a hat in each hand. She was in her late twenties, with curly black hair and a sequined white dress.

“Uh, thanks,” said Randall. “Is it always like this?”

“Of course it is! Because this is the
happiest
place in town!” She placed a hat on each of their heads. “Would you gentlemen care to see a dance menu?”

“Actually, no,” said Randall. “To be completely honest, I find this place degrading to women. It sends the message to society that the female of the species is nothing more than a slab of meat.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” said the woman.

A voice called out: “Number fifty-seven, your dancer is ready. Number fifty-seven, your dancer is ready.” A party of four got up and walked through a curtained doorway together.

“If you're not going to place an order, I want the hats back,” said the woman. Jack clung to his protectively.

“We're looking for somebody,” said Randall. “Are you Yvonne?”

The woman shook her head.

“Do you know where we could find her?”

“Her? Oh, you said
Yvonne
. I thought you said Ferdinand. Yes, that's me.”

“Ferdinand?”

“No, Yvonne.”

“Is there somewhere we could talk? This is very important.”

“Yeah, okay, but your friend will have to cover for me.” She pointed to a dresser against the wall. “The hats, menus, fireworks, and kazoos are in there. Seat the customers, and offer them a glass of wine. It tastes like whoever stomped on the grapes had Athlete's Foot, but it's complimentary. If a customer has any questions, give them one of the Madame Taylor's Q&A pamphlets from the dresser, or just make something up. Oh, yeah, one more thing.” She removed the
If I don't greet you with a smile, your visit is free
button from her dress and pinned it on Jack. “You're all set.”

A loud buzzer sounded. “Special announcement! Jerome the Meek, over in cubicle eight, has just set a new Madame Taylor's Hall of Supreme Exotic Dancers drool record! Let's all give him a big hand!”

Yvonne led Randall past the applauding guests, through a polka-dot curtained doorway, and down a hallway filled with the sounds of tap-dancing feet and squeak toys. She opened the last door on the end, and led Randall inside a bedroom decorated entirely in white, with ruffles everywhere.

There was a moan from the next room. “Oh, baby, take it off! Take it off! Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, take it off! That's right! Oooooh yeah! Now throw that fake mustache over here!”

Yvonne shut the door. “Have a seat,” she said, motioning toward the bed. Randall sat down upon it, and Yvonne sat down next to him. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

“This may be kind of embarrassing. Especially for me.”

“I work in an exotic dance hall. I think I can handle embarrassing.”

“I understand you're known as Yvonne the Pure.”

“Yes. I believe the body is a temple, one to be protected from invaders. And I really like the color white.”

“Okay, well, I have a very unusual request. Would it be possible, when you're asleep tonight, for my friend and I to catch some of your breath in a jar?”

“I know this isn't the most wholesome place in the Generic Fantasy Land, but that's a little—”

“No, I have an honorable purpose.” He proceeded to tell her the entire story, except for the accidental omission of the part where Sir William shouted “Check it! Check it!”

“That's awful!” Yvonne exclaimed.

“I know.”

“I mean, you can't tell a story to save your life! Ramble a little more, why don't you?”

“The point is, we need your sleeping breath.”

“You actually think I'll be able to sleep with two freakozoids in my room waiting to take my breath away?”

“We're not freakozoids. We're desperate. If I don't get the princess back, I'll be hunted down like a dog. A dog that's done something really bad, of course.”

Yvonne shook her head. “I'm not interested.”

“You hold my life and the future of an entire kingdom in your mouth. Please, don't turn me away.”

Some really awful male singing began to emanate from an adjoining room. “Magical Karaoke is an extra fifty dvorkins,” Yvonne explained.

“Dandy.”

“Listen, maybe I've been dropped on my head too many times this week, but I'm going to trust you. I'll leave my door unlocked after I go to sleep, and one hour from now you and your friend can come in and do what you need to do.”

“Thank you!” said Randall. “You're a true heroine.”

They returned to the waiting room, where Jack was encouraging the dance hall's mascot seal to balance a ball on its nose to the delight of the patrons. “We're all set,” Randall told him.

“I could get used to a life like this,” Jack said. “Watch, he can even bounce the ball up and down! Hee-hee!”

“Maybe I should arrange a chaperone for you guys,” said Yvonne, uneasily.