In A Glass Grimmly Part 24

Mirror, mirror, tell us true, To be the greatest, what should we do?

There was a long silence. In the bone chamber, the only sound was the dripping of blood from the body bags overhead and the Others' frantic, ragged breathing.

Finally, the mirror answered: Jack and Jill braved terrors en ma.s.se To find, and recover, this sacred Gla.s.s.

Ye three have lived a life of sin.

To prove your worth, turn yourselves in.

Go to the guards of the royal throne.

Show them your victims. Show them their bones.

If you can face justice without fear, Then soon, your own names from this Gla.s.s you'll hear.

The Gla.s.s fell silent again. The Others stared at it, frozen.

"Turn ourselves in?" the oil salesman muttered.

Jack and Jill watched the Others' faces tensely.

"Face justice?" said the silk merchant. "But surely, they'll put us to death."

But the old woman raised her voice.

Mirror, mirror, master of fate, If we do this, will we be great?

And the mirror answered, Face the punishment, standing tall, And ye shall indeed be the greatest of all.

"We will be!" the old woman crowed. "We will be!" And then she barked at her two siblings, "Come on!"

She ran from the room. For a moment, the two men continued to gaze at the Gla.s.s. Then, slowly, resolutely, they turned and followed their sister.

For nearly twenty minutes, neither Jack nor Jill said a word. They merely stood, stock-still, listening to the pounding of their hearts, praying that indeed the Others were gone.

Finally, the Gla.s.s intoned, "Well, that must have been the greatest performance in the history of Marchen." The frog crawled out of a hole between two rib bones at the base of the altar. He was beaming.

"It was pretty good," Jack grinned.

"Pretty good? It was great! It was genius! I am a dramatic genius!"

Jack laughed. "You may indeed be a dramatic genius."

"I am indeed," the frog agreed. But then he paused. "Still, I can't believe they fell for it! Why did they fall for it?"

Jill replied, "Didn't you see how they wors.h.i.+pped the Gla.s.s, even before it spoke? Didn't you recognize that from somewhere?"

Jack said, "I know I did."

"They are con-fused," said Jill.

"With the Gla.s.s," said Jack.

The children stared at the Seeing Gla.s.s.

"Maybe," said the frog. "Or maybe I am just a dramatic genius."

CHAPTER TWELVE.

Face to Face Once upon a time, two children walked down a long, dusty road.

Jack fingered the Gla.s.s from time to time. He shook his head at it. Its secrets remained locked away.

Jill wondered about the Others. She wondered where they were, and if they were following the mirror's advice. She watched the road warily.

The children's stomachs were all tied up in knots, and their throats had lumps that made it hard to breathe. But not just because of the Others. Nor solely because of the Gla.s.s.

Their stomachs were in knots and their throats were thick with lumps because, at long last, they were returning to the places they had fled, the people they had run from. They were, at long last, going home.

They came to a fork in the road.

"I go this way," said Jack.

Jill nodded. "I go this way."

They embraced.

"Oh," said Jack. "Do you want the Gla.s.s? I don't know what to do with it."

Jill shook her head. "You keep it. We don't need another mirror in my house."

Jack grinned sideways. "Sure," he said. And then he whispered, "Good luck."

"Good luck," Jill whispered back.

Then they parted.

As Jack made his way over the small country roads that led to his father's house, he saw a group of boys playing blindman's bluff in a field. Marie was the blind man. His eyes were closed, and he stumbled around after the other boys as they dipped and dodged out of his way.

"Hi," said Jack. Some of the boys turned to him.

"Who's that?" Marie called, his eyes still tightly shut.

"It's me," said Jack. "Jack."

Marie's eyes flew open. All the boys were staring now.

Marie asked, "What happened to you?"

Jack grinned. "A lot. Remember when I bought that bean? Well, then-"

"No," said Marie. "I mean, what happened to your skin? Did you fall in a toilet or something?" The boys exploded with laughter.

Jack looked down at his skin. It did look disgusting. He said, "I got this from going in the stomach of a fire-breathing beast!"

"That's funny. My toilet breathes water," said Marie, and the boys roared.

"I did!" Jack insisted. "I did!"

The boys laughed harder.

Jack stood, staring at them. A dim and distant wisdom tickled his brain. He shook it off and turned for his house. He came to the front door. He took a deep breath.

Before he could take the doork.n.o.b, the door opened itself. His father stood in the doorway.

A moment of silence.

And then, "Jack?"

Jack nodded.

Jack's father threw his arms around his son.

Jack's father made him some food, he helped him wash himself, and he told Jack to lie down. He needn't worry about ch.o.r.es for a little while. He looked like he'd had a rough time of it.

"I missed you," his father said. "I feel bad about how I acted."

Jack nodded. But he was already staring out the window, watching the boys play blindman's bluff.

The next day, he was outside with them, going with them down to the river, running with them across the fields.

Soon, that old song came back.

Marie had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb. Marie had a little lamb whose fleece was black as coal.

"Don't sing that," Jack would say. "It isn't funny." So the boys would sing it louder.

Everywhere that Marie went, Marie went, Marie went, everywhere that Marie went the lamb was sure to go.

"Please stop!"

It made the children laugh and play, laugh and play, laugh and play, it made the children laugh and play to see the lamb follow.

"STOP IT!" Jack would shout. And the boys would roar with laughter.

Jack tried to just be with the boys. Not follow them. Just be with them. He even tried to tell them of the places he'd been, the things he'd done. But they didn't believe him. Jack was a dreamer. And a follower. Always was, always would be.

They teased him mercilessly. And when they weren't teasing him, they were mocking each other. Jack hated it.

And the song. The song would not go away.

Marie had a little lamb, little lamb . . .

And then, one day, Jack had had enough.

Marie had been teasing him for hours, calling him "toilet" for his blisters and scabbing skin, and asking why he followed them around so much. The boys sang the lamb song again and again and again.

Jack stood there, taking it, trying to laugh-as his face turned red and he squinted his eyes against the tears.

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw three ravens fly past. He did not know if they were the talking ravens or not. They could have been regular ravens, for all he knew.

But when he saw them, he remembered something that the talking ravens had said. Something he had not understood at the time. When you do what you want, not what you wish . . .

And suddenly he realized, I wish I could be friends with these boys. But I do not want to be. I do not think I like them at all.

And without another word, he turned around and walked away.

It was one week earlier that Jill left the frog on the edge of the well and promised she'd come and visit him soon.

He looked unhappily into the mossy, smelly darkness. "You'd better . . ." he said. She smiled.

Jill headed for the front of the castle. She started walking very slowly, her stomach turning over and over. Then she walked faster. And faster. And faster. Soon, she was running. She came to the castle gate.

The guards took one look at her and said, "Princess?" Jill nodded, her eyes br.i.m.m.i.n.g, her throat too thick for words.

"The princess is home!" they shouted. "The princess is home!" The call was taken up all throughout the castle. Jill ran to the great door, and then through the grand hall, and finally up the steps that led to the throne room. And as she ran, she heard, "The princess is home! The princess is home!" echoing from the walls, and also laughter, and whooping, and even some weeping.

Jill burst into the throne room. Her father jumped nearly a foot at the sound of the door banging open. He cried, "Darling!" But Jill ran for her mother. Her mother had turned, and her eyes were wide like moons, and Jill catapulted herself into her arms. And, burying her face in her mother's neck, she said, "Mommy."