Princess Floralinda and the Forty-Flight Tower - Tamsyn Muir Page 0,49

were against you.”

They lapsed into silence, until the fairy said—

“You must listen to me.”

And Floralinda raised her head to listen.

“The dragon will be different,” said the fairy. “You’re handy with that spear now, and a mild paralytic helps. You’re fit and quick, too; and you have practiced thinking the only thoughts that are worthwhile in a battle. But you are not a prince. I don’t really know what you are now, but it’s princes who battle dragons; even then, most of the princes have been crunched up. There is every chance that you are going to get crunched up tomorrow too, which will be very disappointing, but I hope you think, ‘Oh, well, I did my best’ before you are eaten all the way.”

“I don’t think I will be able to think that,” said Floralinda honestly. “I think I would be cross instead, and hope that I choked the dragon, and give it a good few kicks going down its tubes; I was thinking about filling my pockets with the rest of the poison, just in case.”

“That’s wonderfully vindictive,” said Cobweb.

“Yes, it makes me feel horrid; but you see, Cobweb, I truly mean to beat it; I know the princes all died, but I’m different.”

“How?” said the fairy.

Floralinda puzzled this over, and in the end said—

“Don’t you see that I want it much more than they do; they didn’t want anything except me, and they didn’t even know me. Or the golden sword, which sounds like it would only be good for melting down.”

There was not much even Cobweb could say to that, but Cobweb had not quite made her point, and she said again—

“Well, wanting something is all well and good, but I think you’re going to die tomorrow.”

“It’s not fair to die right before Christmas,” said Floralinda, “it ruins it for everybody, and most of all yourself.”

Cobweb said, “Let me go.”

And it was very silent at the top of that tower, inamongst all the dried fishes (nearly gone) and the hearth with the cauldron, and Floralinda’s rat-hide cloak sitting horribly on the bed, looking uneven and alive, and the wash-stand, and the ruined curtains, and the enormous collection of pith, and the wheaten loaf and the white, and the flask of milk, and the flask of water, and the f---ing orange.

“You can think for yourself,” said Cobweb. “You can fight for yourself. I’ve no idea what advice I would give about the dragon; I think you ought to make a run for the exit and get out that way.”

“I’d call that cheating,” said Floralinda.

“No, listen to me; it’s a dragon, and you are a—whatever you are, I’m sure I don’t know. I have come this far with you, and I don’t want to go any farther. Take the chain off my neck, and perhaps I’ll even stay with you.”

“No, you won’t,” said Floralinda.

“No, I won’t,” agreed Cobweb, “I will fly out of here the first thing, just in case you try to catch me in a net, and if I ever see you again I’ll kill you. But you should let me go, unless you mean to kill me with you. Also, if I have these rings on for much longer I’ll get scoliosis.”

Big tears filled those blue eyes. They dripped down Floralinda’s cheeks, and made her look a little bit like the girl that Cobweb had first seen lying back in the bed, ashen-faced, and not clever enough to know that she was going to die. That was Floralinda’s main fault, thought Cobweb; she was so silly that she did not even know when to give up.

“I know,” she said falteringly, “only—only—”

“I’ve done what I said I would do; I’ve gotten you down here with all the cleverness you needed; I was even a girl for you, though frankly, I don’t think there’s much to recommend it, and I worry that the whole experience has given me a complex,” said Cobweb.

“Yes, I know, dear, it does that; only—”

“Let me go, Floralinda!” cried Cobweb.

It was the first time that Cobweb had ever said her name.

Floralinda screwed her eyes shut and gave a low, choky cry. She reached over, and all at once she furiously thumbed the awful stuck latch on her golden chain; and it went flick, and suddenly the weight was removed from Cobweb’s neck. Both the fairy and the girl looked at each other; Cobweb’s hands flew up to her throat, wonderingly, and her wings beat hard like hummingbird’s wings, and she took to the air.

“Oh,”