How To Rescue A Dead Princess Part 11

Randall took six more steps.

"I'm sorry," said the bug. "I meant miles."

Time pa.s.sed....

"I HATE everybody," said Randall.

Time pa.s.sed....

"HOW MUCH further?" asked Randall. Or he thought he asked it. His thoughts and his voice were getting confused.

"Six more steps."

"I'd hate to have to splat you, bug."

"I mean it. Six more steps."

Randall stopped. "Bug, I can see that there's nothing around for at least a thousand more steps. And I'm not talking d.i.n.ky little crippled baby steps, I'm talking huge there's-a-big-dragon-ready-to-torch-my-tail steps."

"No, no, six more steps, I promise."

"Bug, apparently you have some distorted view of what exactly is entailed in taking a step." He took one step forward. "That there, what I just did, is a step. Six of those will place me in a location that looks suspiciously like it contains more of the sand that I've been walking on for three days. Now, perhaps where you come from the definition of step has been altered in such a way that six of them would result in my being transported to a location that contains something besides the aforementioned sand, but in the world that I have grown to call home, six steps aren't going to do squat!"

"You don't trust me?"

"I trust that you've entered the magical Wonder World where the concept of steps has been drastically mutated into this freakish distortion of the laws of reality, where the alien life forms that possess legs stretching across two hundred of what any non-misshapen human would refer to as a 'step' roam freely across the desert without worrying about shriveling up into a withered corpse because there's nothing to drink but sand!"

"I still love you, you know."

Randall dropped to his knees. "I quit. You hear me? No more steps. No more."

"Please don't die. Please? Please, please, please? Just a little bit further. That's all I ask."

"What is it with you? Are you on the Population Increase Committee or something?"

"I just want my friend to live."

Randall forced himself to stand up again and begin walking. "Five more steps. One. Two. Three. Hmmmm, still lots of sand around here, isn't there? Four. The sand hasn't noticeably decreased. Five. That's it, I'm dooooooooooooooone..."

While he rarely stretched out his vowel sounds in normal conversation, in this instance his speech pattern was altered by the fact that the sand beneath him had given way, dropping him into a tunnel. He slid down the twisting tunnel for several seconds, then dropped painfully onto a stone floor right next to a nice fluffy cushion.

"See, I told you it wasn't in the right place," said a man dressed in a lavender robe. There were four of them, seated around a table. Randall was in a small stone chamber, containing little besides the table and walls lined with books.

"It's a spy!" shouted one of the men, standing up and pointing accusingly.

"Kill him!"

The other three men stood up and pulled daggers out of their robes. One of them took out two daggers and looked smugly at the others.

Oh, thank you so much, bug, thought Randall.

At that moment, the bug flew down the tunnel into the chamber. "Don't hurt him! He's my friend!"

The men looked at the bug, mouths agape. "I don't know about the rest of you," said one of them, "but when a talking bug asks me not to hurt somebody, I listen."

The other men nodded their agreement and replaced their daggers. The man with two daggers was more reluctant than the others, and made a big show out of putting both of them away.

"Please," said the bug, "my friend needs food and water."

"But water is precious around here," said one of the men. He wore a name tag on his cloak that said Frederick. "If he wants us to share ours, he'll have to do without the lemon flavoring and and the ice." the ice."

"That's right," said Roderick of the two daggers. "Do you want to fight about it?" he asked, reaching hopefully into his robe.

"Any water is fine," said Randall.

Maverick picked a canteen up from the table and brought it over to Randall. Randall unscrewed the top and drank vigorously.

"Food is precious, too," said Frederick. "If you want us to share, I'm going to have to sneeze on it first."

"No problem," said Randall, finishing off the contents of the canteen. The fourth man, Rick, got up, went over to one of the walls and began searching through the books. He pulled out one volume, t.i.tled The Book That Opens the Secret Pa.s.sage The Book That Opens the Secret Pa.s.sage, and a secret pa.s.sage did not open.

"Wrong book," said Roderick.

"Oh, yeah." Rick pulled out This Book Does Nothing Whatsoever This Book Does Nothing Whatsoever. The bookshelf rotated, spilling out most of the books in a clatter that shook the room.

"We need to figure out a way to keep them from doing that," said Maverick. "Who has clean-up duty today?"

The shelf finished rotating, revealing a secret tunnel. It was lined with shelves containing all manner of food products, from bread to Hugo's Happy Ham. The tunnel continued further into darkness.

"Where does that tunnel lead?" asked Randall.

"Into darkness," Roderick replied, with more than a hint of "duh" in his voice.

"It's a secret," said Frederick. "A secret we are not prepared to reveal at this time, unless you should join us in our mission to a.s.sa.s.sinate the King of Rainey by crawling through a tunnel..."

"Not necessarily this one," added Roderick, giving him a warning glare.

"Oh, right. Not necessarily this one, but a certain tunnel that leads right underneath the royal bedroom, enabling us to sneak up there in the middle of the night and slay the beast who has victimized our people for so long."

"Which people?" asked Randall.

"Us four. The king has kept us in poverty for too long!"

"What do you mean, poverty? Look at all that food!"

"Look more closely," said Maverick. "Maybe it's just my eyes, but I only see one one variety of b.u.t.ter." variety of b.u.t.ter."

"The king is an evil presence," said Roderick. "He must be destroyed. Will you help us?"

"I have sort of a conflict of interest here," Randall admitted. "The King of Rainey was expecting me to arrive yesterday."

"He knows you?" asked Frederick.

"Well, sort of. Mostly he knows the knight I squire for."

"Does he trust you?" asked Roderick.

"I would think so, although I am kind of arriving without my knight and the princess we were supposed to be bringing. That might cut down on the trust factor a bit."

"Can you gain his confidence?" asked Maverick.

"What's all this about?" Randall asked. "I thought you were just going to sneak into his room at night and kill him."

"Ah, but that was the simplified version," said Frederick. "With you here, we can use the complex version, which is much more rewarding."

"I'm a squire," said Randall. "I'm employed by the king of Mosiman, who is on good terms with the king of Rainey, them being charades partners and all. I can't help you."

Roderick looked into the secret tunnel. "What are you doing?" he demanded of Rick.

"Adding mustard to his sandwich."

"He refuses to help us in our mission, and you give the man condiments condiments?"

"My gosh, Roderick, we're not animals!" Rick insisted.

"Very well. But I don't want you making the mustard into a smiley face like you do for the rest of us."

Rick nodded and rubbed out the artwork with his palm.

"You know," said Maverick, "I'm not sure it's a good idea keeping this squire alive. He knows of our plan. What's to stop him from warning the king?"

"We'll keep him here until our mission is complete," said Frederick.

"But then what's to stop him from telling on us later?"

"Who cares?" asked Frederick. "We were going to take full credit for the a.s.sa.s.sination anyway."

"No we weren't," Roderick corrected. "That was only in the 'stupid' version of our plan. We're going with the 'smart' one."

"Oh, that's right. I guess we should kill him."

"You have a choice," Roderick told Randall. "You join us, or you die."

A great sense of duty came upon Randall. He tried to shoo it away, but it stuck. "I will not join you," he said, his voice taking on the manly tone that years of practice had previously been unable to produce. "I will die before I do so."

"Fine," said Roderick, taking out his daggers.

Randall waited for the bug to speak up. But a quick survey of the room revealed that the bug was nowhere to be found.

"Looking for...this?" asked Frederick, holding up a jar.

"Uh, no," said Randall.

"Then what about...this?" asked Frederick, holding up another jar. This one contained the bug, flying around, desperately trying to escape.

"You wretch!" shouted Randall. "Let the bug go!"

"The bug goes nowhere. If you don't help us, I promise you I will squash it like a rabbit!"

"Please don't let the bad man hurt me!" said the bug, its voice m.u.f.fled by the gla.s.s.

"So," sneered Roderick, "you have all of ten seconds to decide your plan of action. Starting now."

"I'll join you," said Randall. "Just don't hurt it."

"Excellent. Rick, bring him his sandwich, and then open the other secret pa.s.sage. Our new partner needs his rest before the mission tomorrow morning."

He began to laugh maniacally, then decided that the situation wasn't so much ha-ha funny as it was filled with glee, so he settled for wringing his hands with joy.

And, as the books tumbled to the floor, Randall knew he was about to face the greatest dilemma of his life so far.

Chapter 10.

A Completely Serious Chapter AS RANDALL lay on the cot in the hidden room, he wondered what was going to happen next.

Chapter 11.

If This Were Chapter Twenty-Eight, The Book Would Be Over "WAKE UP," said Frederick, prodding Randall with a turnip.

"Why exactly are you prodding me with a turnip?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't know," admitted Frederick, staring at the turnip in his hand as if he'd never seen it before. "I guess it was available, and I needed something to prod you with, and the two factors sort of merged."