The cook complied, and the iron room began to grow warm. At first the men took little notice, placing the blame on the blazing summer sun striking the castle walls and the spiciness of the food upon their plates—
“Yes, because both of those things are likely to make the floor heat up.”
“I generally don’t assume that people have a murder room installed above the kitchen,” Sam replied. “Who does that?”
“I would guess not very many,” I admitted. To be fair, the murder room in my stepmother’s palace was underneath the catacombs, nowhere near the kitchen at all. It didn’t see a lot of use; no one dared to make assassination attempts on her anymore.
After a short time, the room was hot indeed. Becoming uncomfortable, the men tried to get out, only to find the doors locked and windows bolted shut. They soon realized that the duchess had concocted an evil plan and meant to do them harm.
“What can we do?” moaned Harry. “I cannot run through a locked door.”
“An’ ah cannae shoot aff an iron snib wi’ an arrow,” confessed Clem.
“Nor will a strong wind cool the room nearly enough,” lamented Kit, for by that time the heat was unbearable, and it was clear they would not survive much longer.
“But I can cause a frost so deep the fire itself will freeze!” And with that declaration, Max whipped off his hat.
“Wait,” I said. “If you have the strength to carry six trees, couldn’t you have just broken down the door instead?”
“I let Max have his moment; I’m generous that way. Also, I was still eating.”
The temperature dropped as frost fought flame. But soon it was clear the fire was losing the battle. Within five minutes,the air had cooled from broiling to roasting. Within ten minutes, it was merely sultry. Within twenty, it had become brisk. After half an hour, the room was so cold that the soup on the table froze solid in the bowls, rather to the dismay of the one among them who hadn’t finished his meal yet.
At this point, the duchess flung open the door, only for her jaw to drop when she saw that her unwelcome guests had failed to perish.
“I must say your hospitality is appalling,” Max complained, jamming his hat back down over his ear. “It’s freezing in here! You might at least have warmed the place up.”
By this time, the duchess wanted nothing more than to get rid of them. “You’ve had your meal,” she grumbled. “Now be on your way!”
“Ah, but what of our reward? You promised as much as the strongest among us could carry,” Jack reminded her.
“Fine!” the duchess snarled. “Take what you wish and be gone!”
And once she had said that, Sam strode toward the duchess’s brothers, who had been observing the proceedings from the hallway. He scooped them up, three under each arm, enacting the final part of the plan Jack had conceived that morning. And our heroes walked out the castle gate with a chorus of cheerful farewells.
“And what did the six brothers have to say about that?”
“Believe me, they were only too glad to get out from under the thumb of the murder duchess.”
The duchess was outraged, and in her fury she gathered together her troops in the courtyard. “Bring me my brothers!” she commanded. “And the thieves!”
The travelers had not gone far when they were overtaken by two regiments of cavalry. “You can have no chance against us,” their commander observed. “Give over the brothers of the duchess, and surrender.”
“Surrender?” bellowed Kit. “Never! Instead, you shall dance about in the air!”
He put his hand to his nose, closed one nostril, and blew a long breath out through the other. The horses were tossed neighing to the sky; the soldiers were blown through the air like dandelion seeds. They were flung hither and yon, some to the mountains, some to the valleys, and some to the plains. A sergeant, suffering from nine wounds, begged for mercy—
“The sergeant received nine wounds from the wind?”
“There might have been a running pitched battle across the whole of Ecossia before the final stand, but I’m cutting things short. It’s nearly dawn; the hunt will be starting soon.”
The sergeant begged for mercy. As he seemed like a reasonable fellow who did not deserve death merely for obeying his mistress, Kit let him land without further injury.
“Now return to your duchess,” Jack ordered, “and inform her that her brothers are quite content to wear masks, and dress alike, and follow me around all the time for deeply mysterious reasons which I shall not divulge.”
I stuck out my lower lip in what I hoped was an appealing pout. “You still won’t tell me?”
“Maybe another time,” Sam said. “When we’re not about to be interrupted.”
