"We don't want to go through Sylvanglade," he announced, and tsked several times.
"Whyever not?" Merrigan's heart gave a couple rapid thumps.
"Such a sad story. The heir brought home a princess under a sleeping curse before her crucial seventeenth birthday."
"And?" she prompted, when the book stopped there.
"Well, curses like that can't be outrun. It unfolded just like the angry witch decreed, and most of the kingdom is sleeping now."
"Not just the palace? Not just the capitol city, but the kingdom?" Merrigan shuddered, imagining the terror washing over people the moment they crossed the border into Sylvanglade and they found themselves falling asleep. What did it look like from the other side of the border? Piles of people lying along the road, even their horses asleep in the harness?
"I don't have all the details, but yes, it's expanded beyond ... ah, here come the details." Bib sounded somewhat uncomfortable. "It seems the crown prince and the princess had an awful argument the day of her birthday. She wanted to get married before her birthday, for true love's kiss to ward off the evil spell. He resented how her parents bullied him into taking her to Sylvanglade. He had rather looked forward to riding through the barrier of thorns and perhaps fighting a dragon and being a hero. She declared she hated him and he responded that he was glad, because he wouldn't marry her to save her entire kingdom from an entire flight of dragons."
"Now that's a great, ignorant ninny. Didn't anyone ever tell him that you shouldn't make oaths like that when evil spells are about to awaken?" She shuddered and imagined all the green fields and lush forests of Sylvanglade, wrapped in the unnaturally quiet, constant twilight that accompanied a sleeping spell.
Bryan had told her all about his home. He had given her drawings of the places he loved, and books about his kingdom's history. Before everything turned sad and cool between them, they had made plans for her to visit Sylvanglade. Odd, that after all these years, she still remembered those conversations and books and pictures so clearly.
"Because of the vehemence of their argument," Bib continued, "the sleeping spell is growing. All that anger sort of gave it a boost. It only took over the palace when it unfolded, but as time passed, the tendency to fall asleep for no reason crept outward into the capital, then the countryside. It's been going on for three years now and has completely swallowed eight towns, and portions of six more. At the rate it's going, the entire kingdom should be swallowed up in sleep in eight more years."
"Was everyone caught in it?" Merrigan's hand shook slightly as she lifted the pot off the fire, and dipped up some tea. She needed something hot and bracing right now. "The entire royal family?"
"Hmm ... it says most of the younger princes were out on adventures or on diplomatic missions. It doesn't say which ones. Not that it matters, when you really think about it. Being a prince without a kingdom is powerful magic. Whatever they do, as long as they remember to act like princes, they will succeed and become heroes. It's sad for their family and kingdom, but when you think about it, they are much better off now than they would be as the third and fourth and fifth sons."
"Bib ... sometimes you can be quite mercenary," she murmured, and stared unseeing into the fire as she sipped her tea.
Five nights later, Merrigan climbed down from the cart at the end of the day in another stretch of woods with no inns or friendly farmers. She unharnessed the donkey and tethered her in the middle of a thick patch of sweet grass, and paused a moment to stroke the donkey's nose. The sweet creature nuzzled her once and snorted. Merrigan was sure it was her way of saying thanks. She walked around to the back of the cart to unload the magic box and take out the sticks for her fire. The shadows clustered in the trees overhead turned into six men who leaped down at her.
One snatched up the harness from the seat of the cart. Another yanked the donkey away from her grazing. Two pulled the cart toward the road while Merrigan let out a shriek. The last two leaped on her, swinging cudgels at her knees and head.
The cudgels snapped against the magic cloak. The two leaped on her, punching and kicking, but howled in pain and came away with bloody knuckles. One tried to pull the magic box from her hands. The cloak's protection enclosed it, so the bandit couldn't keep a grip on it. His partner tripped Merrigan. She didn't let go of the box, however.
Meanwhile, the other four harnessed the donkey to the cart and shouted for their comrades to come. Two drove the cart and the other two ran alongside. The two attackers flung handfuls of pebbles and forest trash in her face, then ran after their comrades. In moments, the evening forest shadows closed in around Merrigan as she gasped and struggled to sit up without letting go of the box. Soon even the sounds of running feet and the angry, protesting brays of the donkey faded into the distance.
Chapter Eleven
Her cart, her donkey, her food, her inventory of cloth and sewing notions, all gone.
"Bib!" she shrieked.
The satchel with the magic book was still sitting on the cart seat.
Her only friend in the entire cruel, unfair world—gone.
Merrigan let go of the magic box and fell over it with a wail. She cried her eyes swollen and sticky. Cried her voice hoarse. Cried until she could hardly breathe and the front of her dress was damp and she thought she might be sick. Cried until she thought she might just be
