The Trouble with Weasels Read online

  As most of you have heard by now, Notswin’s Beloved King Cheznott—along with a small hunting party of our kingdom’s finest men—has gone missing. All attempts at contacting the men have gone unanswered, and frankly, the Castle Administration fears the worst.

  For that reason, they have released the following Royal Statement:

  Citizens of Notswin—

  It is with the Heaviest of Hearts that we tell you all that our Bravest of the Brave King Cheznott has gone missing. Yesterday morn, with his Mighty Sword “Exfoliar” in hand, he set out with three fine men to track and vanquish the dreadful Snuffweasel beasts. That is the last we have heard from them, which is weird, as they are not answering their phones and they usually have good reception, so that really shouldn’t be an issue anyway.

  At this point, a few heads turned and gave me the stink eye, just in case I wasn’t feeling bad enough already.

  We are appointing a new king, until such time as King Cheznott might return. It should come as no surprise that the king shall be none other than the Ruggedly Handsome and Thoroughly Awesome Heir to the Throne, Prince Roquefort. We are certain that with his Razor-Sharp Wits and Animal-like Cunning, he will be a perfect replacement for King Cheznott.

  I felt my heart slide down into my stomach. All of the blood drained out of my face. And if I were a lesser troll, I’m fairly certain I would have wet myself, right there. In a nutshell, MY knuckles were STILL SORE from POUNDING ON THE NEW KING OF OUR KINGDOM!

  Every student in my class was turned around gaping at me now. Even Mr. Hirsch was standing there staring at me with his mouth hanging open. His teacher’s notes fell out of his hoof and landed noisily on the floor. They all knew it . . . I was one dead troll.

  Several people jumped as there was another loud squawk of static from the PA box.

  That is the end of the official announcement, but I would just ask that you keep King Cheznott in your thoughts. And long live King Roquefort.

  There were a few moments of silence before Principal Haggard spoke up one more time.

  And, um . . . On a completely unrelated note, I need to see Zarf Belford in my office immediately.

  · 15 ·

  OUT OF OFFICE

  I stood outside of the school office for a few moments, trying to gather my thoughts. What was about to happen here? Was I going to get yelled at? Detention? A week of detention?? A vision of endless boring afternoons in the tower spread out before me.

  I let out a long slow breath, braced myself, and opened the office door. The secretary, Mrs. Gellar, seemed to jump a bit when she saw me.

  “You’re here. Yes. Good. I’ll tell the principal.”

  She buzzed him on the intercom, and Principal Haggard appeared almost immediately in the arched doorway to his office.

  “Did I have a choice?” I asked as he motioned me into his office with a quick gesture.

  “Ha-ha. Yes. Very good. A good point.” I wasn’t sure what was wrong with him, but the principal seemed both jumpy and really tired as he closed the door and settled in behind his desk.

  “Zarf,” he started, “I know about the pushing incident in the hall. I know about the joust. And I know you sent the prince, er, the king home with a fat lip and a busted crown.” He leaned back in his chair like he wasn’t sure what to say next. “And I should punish you . . . I wish I could tell you I was going to give you detention.”

  Okay. That seemed like a weird thing for him to say. I started to speak, but he cut me off.

  “But I can’t.” He looked away, out of the window, as the rear door to his office slammed open. Standing there grinning were the new king’s ogre bodyguards, now dressed head to toe in the ridiculous-looking official uniform of the Royal Castle Guard.

  “Zarf, I’ve been ordered to release you from school . . . indefinitely.”

  One ogre (I think it was Buddy. Honestly, they’re really hard to tell apart) yanked me out of my chair while the other grabbed my wrists and cuffed them behind my back.

  “You’re to be taken directly to Notswin Castle, where a punishment will be doled out for Crimes Against the Kingdom. I have the official orders here, signed by King Roquefort.” When both ogres were turned away, the principal looked up at me and quickly mouthed the words “I’m sorry, Zarf.”

  Everything went black as a burlap sack was thrown over my head. Then they grabbed me under the armpits and dragged me out of the office. Really not a good day so far.

  · 16 ·

  SUITED AND BO OT ED

  I was thrown roughly into the back of one of the royal flatbed wagons. The road to the castle was paved with cobblestones, and I can tell you I felt every single bump and jostle. With my hands cuffed behind me and a bag over my head, I was tossed around like a floppet gnome in a twister. By the time we crossed the moat, I’d been thoroughly tenderized.

  Once we were within the castle walls, I was hauled from the wagon and swept into a room that absolutely reeked of expensive perfume and scented soaps. I smelled serious notes of lavender, grundlewash, and poo-poo berry. It was too much for my troll nose, and I thought for a minute I was going to hurl.

  My hood was pulled off (I still don’t understand the hood—I mean, I knew where I was going, right?) and I found myself surrounded by three short women dressed like color-blind clowns. They might have been witches—I wasn’t sure. As soon as they saw me, the one with the beehive hairdo let out a disgusted noise.

  “Seriously? A troll. My mother, a fine lady, always told me to never touch a troll. Said you’ll never get the troll-stink off a’ ya, she did.” She let out a long shaky breath.

  With that, she held up a garden hose and blasted me in the face. The woman with the curls came at me with a soapy cloth. She scrubbed my face and ears like she was trying to mold them into a different shape.

  When she was done, I was blasted again with the water. Then the third woman started in on me with a hair dryer so strong, it made my eyelids flap.

  Beehive worked me over with a hairbrush while Curls dried out my ears, shoving a rag in them so deep, I think she poked my brain.

  “Can’t have just anyone struttin’ in to have a meetin’ with the king, we can’t.” Beehive was now smacking me in the face with a big poofy thing loaded with some sort of powder. “Least of all some mangy troll.” She took a handful of another white powder and started rubbing it into my head. “Stand still. This delousin’ talc’ll take care of any critters ya got on ya.”

  “Hey!” I said as my sweatshirt was pulled off of me. My shirt was replaced by one with a ruffled collar and a ridiculously ornate jacket. It had so many sequins and baubles, it made my eyes hurt.

  Beehive cackled like this was the funniest thing she’d ever heard as she wedged a really stupid-looking wig down on my head. She tried to tuck my ears up under it, but they kept flopping out.

  “One must be presentable when seein’ the king. And frankly, you weren’t even close.”

  The door smashed opened, and my two favorite ogres stepped in.

  · 17 ·

  HIS SPLENDIFEROUSNESS

  The ogres pushed me down the hallway and into one of the biggest rooms I’ve ever seen. The ceilings were so high a hill giant could have walked around upright without coming close to bumping his head.

  I was so overwhelmed that it took me a moment to spot Prince . . . sorry, KING Roquefort sitting at the far end of the room in an oversized throne.

  “Hello, Troll.”

  His feet were sticking straight out like a little kid in his dad’s recliner. He was sporting a new, fancier crown and a smug, superior look. I tried to swallow, but my throat had gone as dry as a Twig Witch.

  “Come closer, Zoof.”

  He had a crooked grin slowly spreading
across his face.

  “My name is Zarf. You know that.”

  “Yes, yes. That’s right. Zarf.” He tented his fingers together and let out a long, slow breath. It was clear he was savoring this moment. I had the thought that he didn’t seem all that torn up about his dad being gone. Seemed to be pretty well pleased with the whole situation. Could he have . . . ?

  “Aren’t you forgetting something, Zarf?”

  I wasn’t sure what he was getting at, so I just continued to glare at him. I have a pretty solid glare. I’ve practiced it in the bathroom mirror a lot.

  “I think it’s still customary for one to bow to their king, yes? Or have all the laws of decency simply flown out the window?”

  I gave him a few more seconds of my glare before I slowly bowed, never taking my eyes off of his.

  “Thank you. I think I’ve earned that, don’t you?” he asked. I thought the exact opposite, but held my tongue. “So. Zeef . . . I called you here so you could be the first to hear of some of my new plans as king.”

  He leaned forward and smiled. This was going to be bad.

  “I feel like the time has come to crack down on some of the . . . vermin . . . in this kingdom. The pests.” His smile got so wide, I thought it might split his head in half. “I’m talking, of course . . . of trolls.”

  I felt a kick of anger that almost buckled my knees. Thinking of my gramps’s advice about controlling my troll blood, I took a deep breath and let it out as slowly as I could.

  “I’ll be imposing a series of anti-troll laws in our kingdom. They will be harsh. My real hope is to make things so difficult for trolls that they eventually pack up and leave Notswin altogether.”

  I reached up and started rubbing my ears and stomach like crazy, trying to stop the troll blood that was bubbling up in my chest and neck.

  “First,” he went on, “I’ll cut all troll wages in half. You are ‘lesser creatures,’ after all.” My face was flushing now. I could feel the heat starting to take over.

  “Then . . . there will be limits on how much food trolls can buy. Meat, in particular. Especially mutton, ’cause I hear you all practically live on that stuff.” I could feel my pulse pounding in my ears, so I started quietly counting to myself.

  “Oh, and this is my absolute favorite . . . Under no circumstances will any troll in this kingdom be allowed to fish. We don’t need you all wading in and filthying up our waters, now, do we?”

  That did it. I didn’t make it past six. Mount Zarfius erupted once again.

  It was like a veil of steam dropped over my vision. I was suddenly spitting, fuming, drooling mad, and I must have looked like a well-dressed lunatic. I charged the prince, who just sat there giggling.

  I reached the throne, but just as I got my hands around Roquefort’s sinister little neck, I was grabbed from behind and jerked backward so hard, I thought my teeth might go flying out of my head.

  It was Buddy, and before I knew it, he had me in a full nelson.

  “Ha-ha! Yes!” Roquefort was clapping and kicking his feet in delight. “Thank you!! Thank you so much for losing your stupid troll temper!! I feel like I just got the most wonderful present!” He could not have looked happier. “It’s like Christmas, my birthday, and Punch-A-Troll Day all rolled up in one.”

  I fought against them as the ogres once again cuffed me.

  “You just attacked the king of the kingdom in his quarters! I can throw you in prison for as long as I please!”

  My heart sank into my stupid furry feet, and the fight drained out of me. Once again, I felt that hot burn of shame as it flooded into my face. Did I seriously have zero self-control?

  “You, Zarf Belford, are under arrest in the name of ME!” (See—I knew he knew my name.)

  “I sentence you to as much time in our stinkiest dungeon as I see fit. Guards? Throw this garbage into the worst hole we have.”

  I was dragged roughly across the stone floor, but before we left the room, the royal twerp had one more comment.

  “I’d get as comfortable as you can in that cell, Troll. It might be a few years before I decide how long you should stay in there.”

  As I was pulled away, King Roquefort’s laughter followed us down the hallway—strange behavior for a kid whose dad was currently on the missing persons list.

  · 18 ·

  COOL-HAND ZARF

  Now, I’m a troll, but I’m a polite troll, so I won’t tell you what awful things the dungeon smelled like as we came upon it.

  I started to hold my breath, but realized I was going to be there a while, so I’d better get used to it. The first eighty or ninety breaths were the worst.

  A squat little goat was standing guard next to the closely set iron bars of the cell. He pulled a tiny key from his pocket and set to work on an enormous lock. When the door creaked open, I was tossed down a small flight of stairs, where I landed painfully on my butt. The door slammed shut and the room was almost completely dark.

  I lay on the damp stone floor and stared at the low ceiling as my eyes adjusted to the dim light. I may have groaned a little. I’m pretty sure I did.

  After a bit, I sat up with a loud sigh and turned to take in the rest of the dungeon. I tore off the stupid powdered wig and jacket and threw them in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.

  There wasn’t much to see because of the gloom.

  I got up to walk around the small room. What little light there was came from a few cracks between the rocks of the wall. I was startled to find a few skulls in one corner, but when I accidentally kicked one, it was made of hard plastic—like the cheap ones you’d get at a Halloween store.

  These were probably Roquefort’s idea to strike fear in my heart. Near the skulls there was a scarecrow figure hanging from chains on the wall. It had long straw-like hair and realistic-looking ribs showing through its skin. It seemed like the king had gone all out with the set dressing.

  I’ll admit, I was kind of freaking out at this point. I sat down against the back wall and gnawed at my claws for a bit. Paws and feet, both. It was a bad habit I’d kicked a while back, but now seemed like as good a time as any to get started again.

  I started racking my brain coming up with ways to get out of there. Or I should say I tried to come up with an idea. Eventually my overworked brain gave out and I slept.

  That night was one of the longest of my life. I was cold and hungry and miserable.

  Finally, the morning came, and I heard voices on the stairs. It was Chester and Ms. Locks. I wasn’t surprised to see Chester, as his family lives in the castle servants’ quarters, but Ms. Locks was a shock. Especially as she had a Tupperware container full of biscuits under her arm. I’m not proud of it, but I may have drooled a bit when I saw them.

  Chester told me Kevin had wanted to see me too, but was turned away at the drawbridge. He’d seen my family, and had messages from each of them. Gramps’s message had been simply “This is some Grade A horse pucky.” Goldie Locks was only allowed in because she was doing her daily delivery of baked goods and the Royal Meatloaf.

  When the guard wasn’t looking, Chester slipped me a handful of comic books. “I figured you’re probably bored in here.” Before I stuck them in my back pocket, I saw they were the latest four issues of the Knoble Knight. I’d been asking to borrow these for a while, but he’d kept “forgetting” to bring them to school. Parting with these was like donating a kidney for him.

  Ms. Locks stepped up and opened the Tupperware container.

  She took out four biscuits and put them in my hands. “I sweet-talked the guards upstairs into letting me give you a few of these.” I thanked her as I shoved two biscuits into my mouth, crumbs flying. I jammed the other two into my pockets.

  “Now listen up,” she said as she took my paws in her hands. “I’ll come
back and see you when I can.” She kept looking over nervously at the guard—a different goat now, as there must have been a shift change. Then she took the last biscuit out of the container and placed it in my hands, wrapping my fingers around it.

  “Zarf,” she said, lowering her voice and looking me directly in the eye. “I hope that in this biscuit, you’ll find a little TASTE of FREEDOM.”

  She was slowly nodding at me in a way that was kind of creeping me out.

  “Do you hear what I’m saying?” She squeezed my paws. “I hope this biscuit will UNLOCK your memories of being FREE.”

  Okay, now she was just acting weird. I thanked her again, but had to sort of tug my hands away with the biscuit. The guard told them it was time to leave. They each gave me a through-the-bars-hug and left. But not before Ms. Locks gave me another creepy bug-eyed stare—looking from me to the biscuit and back again.

  I wasn’t sure what was wrong with her. I thought it might be indigestion or something.

  · 19 ·

  RIDING THE RAP

  I took my biscuits and went to the back wall. I decided that tunneling out was my only real option, and there was no time like the present. I was just starting to scrape away at the mortar with my big toe claw when a creaky voice spoke up from just to my left.