Chapter 20 #2
“This is most unexpected. I believed I had many more legal fights ahead of me here,” he said slowly, regarding them levelly each in turn. “How did you get them to agree to this?”
Mrs. Chrysler cleared her throat. “We’re very experienced in these sorts of matters,” she told Mr. Quintus loftily.
“Negotiations, we mean,” Katherine added hastily.
“I see…” The centaur scrutinized Sister Agatha, but her eyes, once again, were closed.
“We’ve been around the block a bit, is what I’m saying,” Mrs. Chrysler said. “Know a thing or two. About how to get things done.”
“No disrespect intended to the legal profession,” Katherine added, watching his frown deepen. “Our skills are just… different.”
“Well,” the centaur said, stowing both his magnifying lens and the contract in his messenger bag.
“How lucky of Sister Agatha to have such talented associates.” He turned again to his client.
This time her eyes were open, and his expression melted slightly.
“This certainly is a welcome development, isn’t it, Sister?
I’m sorry we will be losing you as a client.
But I will file this with the clerks today.
A new land title should be yours tonight. ”
“Wonderful!” said Katherine, relieved at last that something had gone right. “The property is Sister Agatha’s again, then, yes?”
“Everything appears to be in order,” said Mr. Quintus, adjusting his small spectacles. “And, er—” He looked past them at the gate. “According to the stipulations here, you should have no problems with possession…”
“Yes, yes,” said Mrs. Chrysler airily. “Not a problem, really. All above board here. Just some miscommunication with the sentry company. We’ll get it sorted.”
“Very well, then.” Mr. Quintus gave the nun another nod. “I’ll be in touch, Sister.” And with that, he galloped away.
Potts resurfaced from behind his pillar. “All above board?” he said. “You’re an easy liar, aren’t you?”
“Be quiet,” said Mrs. Chrysler. “I told you we’re coming in there.” She waved Katherine over and thrust her scissors through the bars again. “Now get out of the way while my friend here picks the lock.”
“This is a special gate, lady,” Potts said. “No locks on the outside. I’m the lock on this gate.” He sneered, and Mrs. Chrysler reached for her knitting needles.
“All right. It’s all right,” said Katherine, restraining her friend and feeling quite fed up with Potts at this point. “Don’t worry. Let’s go. I have another idea.”
Mrs. Chrysler gave one more jab with her scissors, then turned away from the gate and followed Katherine, who was ushering everyone back to the wagon. “What now, Katty? What do you have in mind?”
“What about Gary and everyone?” Ruben broke in.
“We can still break that charm before sundown,” Katherine said. “All we need to do is get back to the convent and get a little backup.”
“Backup?” Sister Agatha regarded her sharply as she took her seat again behind Todd, and Ember clambered up next to her.
“Yes. Imogene and I used to storm fortresses all the time. Compared to those, this is nothing.”
“Caterina,” Ruben said skeptically, “that was more than forty years ago.”
“Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. Bottom line is, all you need is the right kind of muscle.”
“You want to storm the gate with a pack of nuns?” Mrs. Chrysler asked.
“No, not the nuns.” She looked at Ember.
Sister Agatha said, “Those are therapy animals.”
“What I’m proposing is therapy… of a sort.”
Todd urged the mule back to the convent as quickly as he could, and the cobblestones soon gave way to the overgrown earthen track leading to the abbey, a ribbon of brown amid the golden leaves of the surrounding bracken.
The “Watch for Dragon Droppings” sign had just appeared when Mrs. Chrysler suddenly held up a hand for silence.
“Do you remember all these boulders being here before, Katty?”
Katherine’s nerves jolted, and she scrutinized the roadside. Here and there along their route amid the undergrowth were studded a mismatched set of massive stones, unweathered and glinting in sharp contrast with the mossy ground and leaf litter. “Sister Agatha?” she asked.
“Todd, have you been adding some stonescaping to the property?” the nun asked.
The drooping whistle indicated no, he hadn’t. For a better view, Ruben craned to look over the tree nymph’s shoulder. Three colossal boulders suddenly rolled into their path and unfolded into imposing figures.
“Oh, no! Todd, pull up! Pull up!” Ruben shouted.
Todd hauled on the reins and the mule reared in alarm.
The wagon reared right along with it, and Katherine thought for a moment that they were all going to be thrown out onto the hard, unforgiving ground.
But the wagon jolted to stillness, tilted against the bracing grip of a stony hand.
Its owner easily balanced the wagon back on its front wheels, and the troll it belonged to gave them an impassive stare.
Ahead of the wagon, one of the three trolls that had blocked their way now strode confidently over.
He looked down on the vehicle’s occupants with restrained amusement.
Scanning swiftly around her, Katherine noticed that of the total five, four trolls had clean-cut jawlines bare of mossy stubble; their lichen-free arms, thick as tree trunks, flexed menacingly.
But the one who loomed over them now had clearly seen his youth come and go, and signs of age showed in the pockmarks scarring his granite bulk and the thick, cleanly trimmed moss that lined his chin and the crown of his head.
“As I live and breathe,” the elder troll said, running his twinkling eyes over them. “If you’ll pardon the expression. We have indeed found Ms. Angela’s ‘troublemakers.’”
Mrs. Chrysler jutted out her chin, but Katherine could feel her friend quaking next to her. She wondered grimly whether it was from rage or from fear.
“We were just on our way to see Ms. Angela,” the troll continued.
“Thought we’d pay you a visit first, get the lay of the land.
Let’s see who we have here.” He rubbed his hands together with the grinding sound of a millstone, then pointed to each in turn.
“The nymph. The nun. The nobody. And the two best thieves this side of the Stinky Mountains.”
Katherine and Mrs. Chrysler’s eyes met in a mirror of surprise and dismay.
Oh dear, Ember groaned quietly.
“Yes, of course. You two, out of the wagon. The rest of you, drive on. I have no use for you.” He motioned for his entourage to help them.
Todd’s whistle blared in alarm.
“You can’t just—” Ruben began, trying to rise shakily to his feet in the wagon.
“Sir,” Sister Agatha said, “my ministry has taken these people under its care. I will not see any harm come to them—”
“What harm?” The troll raised his massive hands in a blameless display.
He snapped his fingers, and one of his entourage flicked the mule’s rear, sending it flying down the lane just as Mrs. Chrysler and Katherine were lifted to the ground.
Katherine’s pets leapt from the out-of-control wagon to dive under her skirts.
Mrs. Chrysler defiantly pushed away the hands of the troll who had grabbed her and adjusted the knitting needles in her hair. “I don’t have time for this!” she blustered angrily. “Who are you? You may know us, but I don’t know you. And I’ve been to the Stinky Mountains many times.”
“Oh, I know,” the troll replied with repressed delight. “Call me Mr. Gneiss.”
Katherine dusted off her skirt and ran a hand through her curls, casting an eye ahead to the sinking sun. “Well, what now, Mr. Gneiss?”
“First off,” he said, polishing a fingertip on his enormous torso, “I want it known that you’re lucky to be dealing with me.
Some of my colleagues hold pretty long grudges.
” He eyed Mrs. Chrysler a beat and tapped one of his arms knowingly.
“I, myself, am a troll of business. I live in the present. But,” he said, marking his gravity with a pause, “if something interferes with my business, I’ve got to take notice.
And Ms. Angela’s message made me take notice. ”
One of the younger trolls cracked his knuckles. The sound reverberated through the trees like giant dice in a tumbler.
“Two old human ladies,” Mr. Gneiss went on with a measured tone, “keep breaking into her establishment, she says. Making threats, she says. I wondered, somehow, if it was you. Maybe I even hoped it was. I am not a gambler, but I would have bet everything against it.”
Katherine gave Mrs. Chrysler an uncertain glance.
“So, congratulations for impressing me,” Mr. Gneiss said; then continued more coolly, “Now I have a proposal for you.” He leaned down to bring his giant face more level with theirs, and his voice was as hard as the stone that produced it. “Stop.”
Mrs. Chrysler grimaced at Katherine. Katherine smiled encouragingly, but inwardly she cringed. How could even her friend’s golden tongue possibly save them this time?
“For someone who doesn’t like a gamble,” Mrs. Chrysler began slowly, “I’m surprised to find you in business with someone like Ms. Angela.
She’s playing fast and loose with the law, you know—flaunting the International Magical Accords in that rest home she runs.
When’s the last time you checked out her operation?
You’d know it if you did. The chandelier.
Mind-controlling magical object. Can’t miss it. ”
Mr. Gneiss paused a moment. Then he turned to his entourage.
“I really don’t like it when people give me problems,” he boomed wearily. His comrades nodded resignedly. “I’m a troll who likes solutions. But these people have just given me a new problem.” He turned to the humans. “You’ve taken away my plausible deniability.”
Katherine shrank away. For once, her friend had forsaken glib lies for honesty, and the truth had backfired.
Tilly stirred under Katherine’s skirt. Oh, this is bad. This is very bad. What’ll we do? Mr. Scruffles and Ember shook their heads, eyes wide.