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I hoped we would reach Moersbad before the Red Empire army. If not, we might have to chase after them into a war in progress. How fast would Dr. Pipt’s radish-harvesting spell make the troops? How quickly would they reach Tailliz?

What chance did we have of catching up to them before the worst happened?

No matter what, we had to get there in time to help Yudit. She’d come to my rescue when I’d been the troll king’s prisoner. She’d been saving my life nightly for ten years. I wouldn’t let her down now. I certainly wasn’t going to let the last words I spoke to her be “Fuck your poetry, and fuck you.”

Which meant I couldn’t afford to stand around dawdling.

“All right,” I said. “Let’s go.”

Part VI

You Say You Want a Resolution

Interlude

The Strange Little Man

I never finished the story of my abduction by the troll king of the western isles. Mostly because Yudit features rather heavily in the next part, and I was extremely pissed off at her the last time I brought it up. That seems rather petty now.

Here’s what happened.

Once upon a time, a troll king commanded Jules to spin straw into gold, threatening them with death if they didn’t complete the task by the break of dawn.

A horde of diminutive trolls dragged Jules into a side cave where a spinning wheel waited next to a bale of straw. Not only did execution await them if they failed, but falling asleep would mean death as well. As time crept by, the yellow star flowers of stonecrop began to push through cracks in the rock, fairy magic overcoming the harsh conditions and lack of sunlight. The blind white cave toads the trolls kept as pets called to each other in deep, rolling croaks as they hopped among the blossoms.

After hours of anxious pacing, Jules was in despair. Morning could not possibly be far off.

But then, a strange little man appeared out of nowhere.

The top of his head only came up to Jules’s waist. He had thumbs and forefingers the size of cucumbers, a pendulous lower lip that hung below his chin, and feet that were as wide and flat as walrus flippers.

“Tom-tit-tot and fiddle-dee-dee!” he cackled. “You must spin gold to be set free! I’ll do it for you…for a fee.”

“Oh, thank goodness!” Jules exclaimed. “Do you want gemstones? I can do gemstones.”

The man scoffed. “I can spin straw into gold. What need have I for jewels? I’ll take one of the fine red hairs off your pretty young head.”

That sounded like an excellent bargain, so Jules plucked out a single hair and handed it to the strange little man.

The man immediately leapt to the spinning wheel and set to work. He wet the straw against his pendulous lower lip, then twisted the strands together with his enormous thumbs and forefingers. Once that was done, he worked the treadle at blinding speed with his broad flat feet. In no time at all, the entire bale had been spun and the bobbins were laden with threads of solid gold. As soon as the task was complete, the little man vanished.

“You’ve done wonderful work!” the troll king acknowledged when presented with the gold. “I like your spinning technique. A nice double knitting weight of golden thread, not too fuzzy. Tonight, you shall spin ten times as much.”

Jules was cast back into the cave, where a spinning wheel waited for them next to ten bales of straw. After another night of sleepless pacing, candytufts and gentians emerged from the stony floor, adding their blues and whites to the floral garden.

When morning was almost nigh, the strange little man once more appeared. “Tom-tit-tot and fiddle—”

“Yes, yes.” After two nights with no sleep, Jules was feeling a bit snappish. “What do you want this time?”

“I’ll take the fancy shoes off your slender white feet.”

“This is starting to get kind of creepy, but all right.”

As soon as the man was given the shoes, he leapt to the spinning wheel and set to work. In no time at all, ten bales of straw were spun into gold, and the little man vanished.

“You’ve done fabulous work!” the troll king affirmed. “I see you’ve gone for more of a sport weight this time. Useful if I decide to weave it into golden socks. Tonight, you shall spin ten times as much!”

Jules was cast back into the cave, where a spinning wheel waited for them next to a hundred bales of straw. By the end of another sleepless night, the poor youth was clumsily stumbling around, the blind white toads leaping out of the way lest they get stepped on. Flowers grew everywhere, white clusters of saxifrage and purple rosemary blossoms stretching up from the bare rock, scratching at Jules’s shoeless feet. In much of the cave, the plants had risen waist-high. Even a brief nap in such a riot of flowers would be deadly.