see what we’re up against.”
The curved walls of the pit surrounded us just a yard or two beyond the iron bars of the cage. It was cold and—even with Gax’s torch burning its brightest—very dark. There was a faint dripping noise somewhere nearby, but otherwise it was silent.
“I wonder what they intend to do to us down here,” Mr. Beeba said, staring gloomily at the stone walls.
“I figure they aim t’ keep us down here till we starve to death,” Spuckler answered, sounding oddly upbeat about the idea.
“I sincerely doubt it, Spuckler,” Mr. Beeba answered. “Starvation is such a tedious form of execution. I expect these two will have come up with something a good bit more
dramatic.
”
I sat there with my knees pulled up against my chest, staring first at Spuckler, then at Mr. Beeba, then back at Spuckler again. I don’t know what happened at that moment, but something inside me—something way deep down inside me—something just snapped.
“You guys aren’t my friends,” I heard myself say, startled by the blunt sound of the words. “You guys aren’t my friends at
all
.”
“Why, Akiko—” Mr. Beeba began.
“If you
were
my friends,” I interrupted, “you
wouldn’t have lied to me about Alia Rellapor. You would have told me the truth way back when this mission started instead of treating me like some kind of dumb little kid!”
I was vaguely aware that tears were running down my face.
“’Kiko,” Spuckler said, stretching an arm out toward me.
“Don’t touch me!” I shouted, pulling back and rubbing the tears out of my eyes. Though my vision was blurry, I could see Poog staring at me with a look of great concern.
“And you’re no better!” I cried hoarsely, pointing a finger at a very astonished-looking Poog. “You’ve known what was going on this whole time, and you told me nothing.
Nothing!
”
“Akiko, you mustn’t speak to Poog this way,” Mr. Beeba said urgently, sounding genuinely alarmed.
“I don’t care!” I said, thrusting my face into my
folded arms. I wanted so badly to be back home, miles and miles away from this awful mess. . . .
There was a very long pause. I could hear nothing but the tiny dripping sound and Gax’s torch occasionally sputtering as it burned. I kept my face covered with my arms, as if by not allowing myself to see anything I might somehow magically disappear.
“You’re right, ’Kiko,” said Spuckler finally, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. “Right about one thing, anyway. We shoulda told ya ’bout Alia. Orders or no orders. We shoulda told ya.”
“Yes,” Mr. Beeba agreed, sighing deeply. “King Froptoppit thought that the mission would seem less . . . well, less
complicated
if you weren’t told the truth about Alia.
“He was wrong about that, though,” he continued after a pause, “and so were we. I can only hope that you will find it in your heart to forgive us, Akiko. For we are sorry. Terribly, terribly sorry.”
There was another long pause as I sat there, taking all this in. Part of me wanted to just forgive them and forget about it. Another part of me, though, was still very angry.
“Less complicated?” I asked, sniffling.
Silence. Then:
“Yes, Akiko,” said Mr. Beeba. “The truth is, King Froptoppit and Alia Rellapor were once a very happy couple. Their marriage was the envy of the galaxy. When Prince Froptoppit was born, their joy only intensified. Smoo’s royal family was the picture of contentment.”
I raised my head to look at Mr. Beeba. He had a distant look in his eyes as he recalled those happier times.
“Then, strangely enough, Alia began to change. No one is quite sure why. She became bitter. Greedy. She began to berate King Froptoppit, making many of the claims you heard just a moment ago—that he was too weak. That a good king must dominate his subjects mercilessly. Needless to say, the changes in Alia began to put a strain upon their marriage. We all hoped it
The curved walls of the pit surrounded us just a yard or two beyond the iron bars of the cage. It was cold and—even with Gax’s torch burning its brightest—very dark. There was a faint dripping noise somewhere nearby, but otherwise it was silent.
“I wonder what they intend to do to us down here,” Mr. Beeba said, staring gloomily at the stone walls.
“I figure they aim t’ keep us down here till we starve to death,” Spuckler answered, sounding oddly upbeat about the idea.
“I sincerely doubt it, Spuckler,” Mr. Beeba answered. “Starvation is such a tedious form of execution. I expect these two will have come up with something a good bit more
dramatic.
”
I sat there with my knees pulled up against my chest, staring first at Spuckler, then at Mr. Beeba, then back at Spuckler again. I don’t know what happened at that moment, but something inside me—something way deep down inside me—something just snapped.
“You guys aren’t my friends,” I heard myself say, startled by the blunt sound of the words. “You guys aren’t my friends at
all
.”
“Why, Akiko—” Mr. Beeba began.
“If you
were
my friends,” I interrupted, “you
wouldn’t have lied to me about Alia Rellapor. You would have told me the truth way back when this mission started instead of treating me like some kind of dumb little kid!”
I was vaguely aware that tears were running down my face.
“’Kiko,” Spuckler said, stretching an arm out toward me.
“Don’t touch me!” I shouted, pulling back and rubbing the tears out of my eyes. Though my vision was blurry, I could see Poog staring at me with a look of great concern.
“And you’re no better!” I cried hoarsely, pointing a finger at a very astonished-looking Poog. “You’ve known what was going on this whole time, and you told me nothing.
Nothing!
”
“Akiko, you mustn’t speak to Poog this way,” Mr. Beeba said urgently, sounding genuinely alarmed.
“I don’t care!” I said, thrusting my face into my
folded arms. I wanted so badly to be back home, miles and miles away from this awful mess. . . .
There was a very long pause. I could hear nothing but the tiny dripping sound and Gax’s torch occasionally sputtering as it burned. I kept my face covered with my arms, as if by not allowing myself to see anything I might somehow magically disappear.
“You’re right, ’Kiko,” said Spuckler finally, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. “Right about one thing, anyway. We shoulda told ya ’bout Alia. Orders or no orders. We shoulda told ya.”
“Yes,” Mr. Beeba agreed, sighing deeply. “King Froptoppit thought that the mission would seem less . . . well, less
complicated
if you weren’t told the truth about Alia.
“He was wrong about that, though,” he continued after a pause, “and so were we. I can only hope that you will find it in your heart to forgive us, Akiko. For we are sorry. Terribly, terribly sorry.”
There was another long pause as I sat there, taking all this in. Part of me wanted to just forgive them and forget about it. Another part of me, though, was still very angry.
“Less complicated?” I asked, sniffling.
Silence. Then:
“Yes, Akiko,” said Mr. Beeba. “The truth is, King Froptoppit and Alia Rellapor were once a very happy couple. Their marriage was the envy of the galaxy. When Prince Froptoppit was born, their joy only intensified. Smoo’s royal family was the picture of contentment.”
I raised my head to look at Mr. Beeba. He had a distant look in his eyes as he recalled those happier times.
“Then, strangely enough, Alia began to change. No one is quite sure why. She became bitter. Greedy. She began to berate King Froptoppit, making many of the claims you heard just a moment ago—that he was too weak. That a good king must dominate his subjects mercilessly. Needless to say, the changes in Alia began to put a strain upon their marriage. We all hoped it
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