Horns & Wrinkles (11 page)

"Look," Duke threatened, shaking a fist in my face, "we both know you brush your teeth twenty times a day and keep your room neat as a box of fancy chocolates, except for all the toads and turtles and stuff. So let's not pretend you actually want to be a troll. Okay? We both know that what you're really up to is finding out what Jim Dandy's promised me. Right?"

"True enough," I cheerfully admitted.

"All right, then." Duke checked over his shoulder to make sure we were alone, then spoke out the side of his mouth. "Jim Dandy says he can get me a second horn."

"That's all?" I knew there had to be more because Duke still wasn't looking me in the eye.

"And a tail."

"Whoopee."

"And maybe some hooves," Duke snapped, finally looking me square in the eye. "But not for sure on those."

"What do you want with all that?"

"If I'm going to run with river trolls," Duke said, "I'll need them."

I never got a chance to ask where he came up with that brilliant idea. Just then Stump came rushing up with his toy-size poodle in one hand and a burning stick in the other. A guilty look was slipping off his face.

"Jim Dandy wants you," Stump relayed to Duke. "Over that way."

The troll waved toward the back side of the island, and Duke took off at a full gallop, no questions asked.

As soon as Duke was gone, Stump turned shy, but not so shy that he left me standing atop that sandbar all alone. He stood there petting the toy poodle and sneaking peeks at me.

"I suppose you're wondering about my brother?" Stump said at last, cranky and defiant at once.

"The one Jim Dandy mentioned?" I asked, feeling my way.

"That's right." Stump nodded slowly. "Duckwad was his name, and you can call him a fool, if you want. I don't mind that. But all that other bad stuff that trolls say, that don't belong on him. That's not called for. Uh-uh."

"What other stuff?"

"What other? Like his cutting little trolls' hair off when they sleep. Duckwad only got caught at that once. Said he'd never do it again. See? Far as I know, he kept that promise, except for maybe once or twice. Twice, maybe. And they said he tied fish tails together with string. Never did. I did that. He took the credit is all. See? And all that stuff about cheating at riddles? So what if he wasn't any good at 'em? Not every troll is. And so what if he liked to brush his teeth? Is that some kind of crime?"

"I see your point," I said.

By then Stump had forgotten all about being shy and was crowding me.

"Duckwad wasn't anywhere near so bad." Stump thumped a foot down. "He just never had any luck with them calendars. He got his months wrong. That's all. See? That's why he didn't go looking for our fathers in time. See what I'm saying? He thought March. It was April. See? He wasn't any coward."

"Are you saying he got turned into a human?" I asked, picking my words carefully.

"Yes," Stump sobbed. "That. It might work out for you, but it's worse than lightning bugs up the nose for us. And the stain don't ever leave the family. Ever. Burned right in. But it's not fair for everybody to go around looking down their snouts at us 'cause of some calendar Duckwad didn't have any luck with. Uh-uh. Call that fair? Huh?"

"Sounds like you miss him," I guessed.

With that, Stump stopped talking altogether and turned his back to me, acting as if a poodle hair had landed in his eye. Even his poodle saw through that and gave his big ugly snout a lick to cheer him up.

"I don't miss him at all," Stump sniveled, "not with all the dirty tricks he played on me. I just wish he'd known how to read a calendar, that's all."

"What if he stood up to this Bodacious Deepthink?" I said. "Isn't that supposed to bring him back?"

"So they say." Stump shrugged hopelessly. "But that will never happen. He's a human now and doesn't even know he needs to stand up to her. No, he's gone for good, but I didn't come here to boo-sa-hoo about Duckwad."

That sounded like two or three lies rolled into one. While he was delivering them, he stretched his neck up as high as he could and checked all around us, making sure we were alone. Lowering his voice, he whispered, "I came to say that you better take your cousin home."

He must have thought I was going to argue with him, because he wouldn't let me answer.

"Yes, home," he went on. "That's what I came for. To tell you that."

"You mean Jim Dandy doesn't need Duke anymore?"

"Jim Dandy can use all the Duke he can get," Stump warned. "But your cousin might want to keep all the Duke he can. He might need it. Things around here might not be so safe for any Dukes, so make him go. He don't belong here, that's all. Bodacious Deepthink takes one sniff of your cousin and ... huh! I don't want to be thinking about that."

"I'm surprised you're telling me all this."

"Me too," Stump glumly admitted. "Helping out's a weakness of mine. My own sweet Mrs. is always saying it's so, but nobody bothered to tell my brother what was right. He was all the time hunting up shortcuts. Nobody said, 'Don't do that. Or that. Or that.' Maybe if somebody had, he might not be in the fix he's in. See? So you got to make your cousin go home. Working in Bodacious Deepthink's mines is worse than anything."

Didn't I feel small then? For even thinking I couldn't trust Stump, I mean. I was trying to figure out some way to thank him and also ask for their stone feather when a cannon blast stopped me cold. All of a sudden Stump could hardly catch a breath, and when he did manage to say something, his voice was raspy and low.

"Don't say nothing on me," he begged. "Please."

Of course the blasts hadn't been from a cannon but from Biz, sneezing. Clomping up to us, he planted his torch in the sand and said to Stump in a rushed squeak, "Jim Dandy wants you and that star hound of yours. He thinks he's on to something. Off that way."

And Biz pointed toward the back side of the sandbar, the same place Stump had just sent Duke.

"What are you looking at?" Biz grunt-squeaked.

There wasn't much I could say, since I was staring straight at him. My loss of voice suited Biz fine, though, for he was in a mood to talk.

"I'll tell you what you're looking at," Biz said airily. Straightening up, he placed one foot slightly forward and tucked a hand behind his back. "You're looking at the future king of the river trolls, King Biz Mossbottom, the First." He lifted his chin in a noble pose. "I suppose that surprises you."

"Not at all," I answered, quick as I could manage.

"You're lying," Biz squeaked. "I've never met a one of you things from Blue Wing that's any good at lying."

If he was trying to pick a fight, he was on his own. In my politest voice, I said, "Sounds right. How are you going to become king?"

"Simple. By bringing back our fathers. All of them."

I nodded to show that I was keeping up with him so far.

"Step one is getting rid of your cousin," Biz squeaked. "Once he's gone, Jim Dandy will get serious about raiding his mother's purse for a silver dollar. There's still time to do things the way they're supposed to be done."

"Makes sense to me," I agreed. "How you going to shake Duke?"

"I'm not. You are. If I send him packing, Jim Dandy will get sulky and won't be worth anything. He learned all about the sulks from that wife of his, Fancy Leechlicker. Real muckety-mucks, those Leechlickers. But much as I hate to say it, I may need Jim Dandy's big mouth to do some talking before this is all done."

"What makes you think my cousin will listen to me?"

"Easy," Biz predicted. "Tell him that I said I will turn him into stone the first chance I get."

"That ought to help," I granted. Clearing my throat, I managed to add, "If you don't mind my asking, what about the people you've already turned to stone? When are you planning to undo them?"

"After we get our lucky crickets," he said, "there'll be plenty of time for that."

"How do I know that you'll do it?"

"I'm giving you the word of a soon-to-be king," Biz squeaked, outraged.

"Not enough," I bluffed.

"All right," Biz grumble-squeaked, backing off. "I'll give you something that will prove I mean business."

Turning to the stuff that Duke and I had lugged to the top of the sandbar, Biz dug out his alligator bag and rummaged around inside it. A greenish glow seeped out of the bag, and there may have been some singing inside the bag too, although it was faint and could have been coins or necklaces jangling against each other. Try as I might, I couldn't manage a peek over Biz's shoulder to see if there was a stone feather in there.

Whatever that bag held, there was a lot of it. None of it was packed too neatly either, not the way Biz was rooting around and gibbering, "It's got to be in here" and "Who threw that in?" and "No, not you." And all the time the squeak of his voice got higher, and higher yet, and tighter and tighter, until at last he found what he wanted and cried out in an extra-high, relieved voice, "Here!"

With both hands, he lifted out a crown, which he gently sat atop his head.

"I had this made for my coronation," he trumpeted.

"It's something," I acknowledged.

And it was. Three frog skins stood up on its front, covered in mold and slime that made my nose wrinkle. Dripping Spanish moss was draped over their shoulders like royal robes. They were standing on a headband made from skin that had once been cozy with a diamondback rattlesnake. The snake's rattles hung down between Biz's orange eyes, which were blazing.

"You can hold on to this," Biz decreed, "as collateral. Deal?"

"Deal," I echoed.

Lifting the crown off, Biz pushed down on its middle tine and said something that sounded sort of like a sneeze and sort of like saying "chicken noodle soup" real fast. In a twinkling, the crown shrank down to ring size.

"Put out your hand," Biz ordered.

I did and he slid the crown-ring on the middle finger of my left hand. It fit snugly and felt alive, turning this way and that as if the frogs were trying to see what was going on.

"You do your part," Biz squeak-pledged, "and I'll do mine."

"What if I can't convince Duke?" I asked, squeaking a bit myself. "He can be awfully stubborn."

"Then I'll want my crown back." He made it sound as though he'd take my finger too.

With that, Biz shoved me toward where he'd last seen Duke. I didn't get far, though, barely over the first dune. Someone hiding on the back side of it tripped me. When I looked up, I came face-to-face with a grinning Jim Dandy.

"Gave you his crown, did he?"

I didn't squeal in surprise—couldn't, not with Jim Dandy's hand covering my mouth. His palm was surprisingly soft, though clammy.

"I wanted a word in private," Jim Dandy breathed in my ear.

When I nodded that I understood, he lifted his hand away and dropped an arm over my shoulder to let me know I wasn't going anywhere.

"I suppose Biz wants you to take Duke home," Jim Dandy said. "He's afraid your cousin will help me be the hero of this expedition, and truth be told, you probably wouldn't mind getting him out of here either. River trolls aren't the best of company for a boy and all that, even if he does have a horn and the start of a tail."