Akiko in the Castle of Alia Rellapor Page 4

  “You will be granted an audience with Alia Rellapor,” he announced, sounding considerably less imposing than he had only a few moments before. “She will decide what is to be done with you.

  “But make no mistake,” he added, staring directly at me. “You will not be permitted to take the Prince from this castle.”

  Chapter 11

  Throck led us back into the castle and down the vast main hallway. There were a bunch of Torgs in front of us and even more following behind. He led us up grand marble staircases and across great cavernous rooms with ceilings hundreds of feet high. He ushered us through many gateways, each one more spectacular than the last. It seemed we were being led to the very heart of the castle.

  I wrapped my arms around myself as I walked along with the others, wondering what it would be like to finally meet Alia Rellapor face to face. Would she be as scary-looking as Throck? Would she be even scarier? Would she punish us for attempting to rescue the Prince?

  The more questions I came up with, the less I really wanted to know the answers. Just then I pictured myself back in my bedroom. It had been so long since I’d even thought about home. The sudden vivid picture in my mind took me completely by surprise. I saw myself lying belly-down on the floor, my head resting on one hand, the other hand flipping lazily through a magazine. One of my favorite songs was playing on the radio. The sun was pouring in through the window, and the smell of my mom’s cooking was floating up from the kitchen. . . .

  I’d have given anything to be back there. Anything at all. I hate to say it, but I’d have said goodbye to everyone—Spuckler, Mr. Beeba, Poog, everyone—and just never looked back. I was so tired and cold and hungry, I just didn’t care about anything anymore. I stared gloomily at the gray polished-stone floor and kept walking.

  Throck and his robot troops eventually took us into a large room with dark stone walls. At one end there was an enormous blackish-red curtain that stretched from floor to ceiling and wall to wall, preventing us from seeing even a glimpse of what lay beyond it. The room was lit by small flickering torches on the walls, held behind transparent domes of red-tinted glass. Against one wall stood a long wooden bench. Throck instructed us to sit down and wait. The Torgs formed a row on the other side of the room, their weaponry still carefully trained on us. Throck then disappeared behind the thick red curtain and left us there in a silence that was interrupted only by the low, steady buzzing of the Torgs.

  Whatever Throck was doing, it was taking him a long time. I glanced around and saw that everyone was looking more dejected than they had during the entire mission. Mr. Beeba had his head in his hands and was staring at his feet with an expression of utter despair. Spuckler was twiddling his thumbs and staring bitterly at the Torgs across the room. Gax was rocking very slowly from side to side, and the Prince had a strange glassy look in his eyes, as if he were wishing that he could be magically whisked off to his own sunny room somewhere. Only Poog remained unfazed. He looked very strong and stoic, as if he were preparing himself for something he’d seen coming for a very long time.

  I decided to start a conversation, thinking it might take everyone’s minds off the misery of our current circumstances. Well, it was worth a try, anyway.

  “Prince Froptoppit,” I asked, “how was it that you got kidnapped? Did Alia Rellapor break into your bedroom and capture you or something?”

  “No . . . uh, not exactly,” the Prince replied hesitantly. “I was out in the palace gardens. Have you ever seen the palace gardens, Akiko?”

  “No,” I answered. “I never got the chance.”

  “That’s a shame,” said the Prince. “They’re really lovely. There are flowers there from nearly every planet in the galaxy—”

  “So, um,” I interrupted, “Alia Rellapor just sort of swooped down into the gardens and kidnapped you? Is that how it happened?”

  “Uh . . . ,” said the Prince, looking extremely uncomfortable, “. . . yeah. More or less.”

  There was a long pause. I glanced at Spuckler and Mr. Beeba. Each of them shifted his gaze elsewhere. I had a very strange feeling that I’d just started a conversation no one particularly wanted to have. Which for some reason just made me all the more anxious to have it.

  “So why does Alia Rellapor hate your father so much, Prince Froptoppit?” I asked. “What did he ever do to her?”

  The Prince stared at me with an expression of extreme agitation. He glanced pointedly at Mr. Beeba and Spuckler, as if my questions were signs that they had failed to explain something to me—something very, very important. Mr. Beeba and Spuckler looked taken aback.

  “Come on,” I said, now feeling extremely anxious to get some decent answers. “It’s a simple enough question. What is Alia Rellapor’s problem with King

  Froptoppit?”

  “Well . . . ,” the Prince began, now looking directly at Mr. Beeba, as if waiting for permission.

  “This red-tinted torchlight is really unpleasant, don’t you think?” Mr. Beeba asked, trying to sound casual and failing miserably at it. “I should think a nice warm shade of yellow would have shown this room off to much better effect. . . .”

  “Yeah, Beebs,” Spuckler added loudly, sounding even more unnatural than Mr. Beeba had. “Warm yellow. You’re, uh, right on the money there—”

  “What’s going on here?” I interrupted. “Why are you two trying to change the subject?”

  “Wh-who’s trying to ch-change the subject?” Mr. Beeba stammered.

  “You’re trying to change the subject,” I said. “And you’re doing a pretty lousy job of it too.”

  “I . . . ,” Mr. Beeba gasped, his eyes darting around and doing everything but meeting my gaze, “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Akiko.”

  “You’re hiding something from me, aren’t you?” I asked.

  “Hiding something?” Spuckler and Mr. Beeba said in unison. They looked so uptight I could have popped them both like balloons.

  “There’s something you’re trying to keep me from finding out,” I said angrily. “Something about Alia Rellapor.”

  “No, no, no, Akiko,” Mr. Beeba protested, his eyes finally looking directly into mine. “I mean . . . ,” he continued, swallowing hard and seeming almost to shrink a little right there in front of me, “. . . yes.”

  Chapter 12

  “I knew it!” I cried, jumping to my feet, my voice sounding much louder than I intended. “You’ve been lying to me! I can’t believe this!”

  I was shivering like crazy. I felt hot and cold at the same time. It seemed as if everything I’d been depending on for the past five days was suddenly collapsing and falling apart.

  “’Kiko, ’Kiko!” Spuckler said, rising to grab me by the shoulders. “Calm down, now, it ain’t like that. We would never lie to you jus’ to be mean,” he added, a sad and apologetic look in his eyes. “We were under orders.”

  “Orders?” I asked, tears welling up in my eyes. “Whose orders?”

  “My father’s,” answered a quiet voice. It was Prince Froptoppit. He was staring gravely at Spuckler and Mr. Beeba, suddenly looking much older than his years. “He ordered you not to tell her, didn’t he?”

  They both nodded solemnly. My heart sank and my stomach felt very tight and slightly queasy. I turned to look at Poog. He had a calm, resigned look in his eyes, as if something he’d known was unavoidable was finally coming to pass.

  “He ordered you not to tell me what?” I asked, choking back tears.

  The heavy red curtain flew open and Throck stepped back into the room, his polished armor gleaming in the red glow of the torches. The Torgs whirred and buzzed some sort of electronic salute. Throck turned to face us.

  “Rise!” he said gruffly. “Empress Rellapor will see you now.”

  “Empress?” Spuckler sneered. “Pretty ambitious, ain’t she?”

  “Oh yes, little man,” Throck answered, a strangely happy gleam in his eyes. “She is ambitious in ways you can barely comprehend.” />
  My head was spinning. I still couldn’t believe that Mr. Beeba and Spuckler were hiding something from me. I thought they were my friends. And now we were being taken to meet Alia Rellapor, at the very moment I felt least prepared to face her. What would she look like? What would she be like?

  The Torgs stepped forward, parted the curtains, and held them back so that we could all pass through. Throck went first, followed by Spuckler and Gax, then by the Prince and me, and finally by Mr. Beeba and Poog. We stepped one by one into a room that was much larger but even more poorly lit than the one we’d just been in. The floor was a vast sheet of polished stone. The walls were covered with ornate decorations. The ceiling, somewhere high above, was hidden in shadows. At the far end of the room stood a large throne of gold lit by a semicircle of enormous candles.

  Sitting on the throne was a small woman dressed in a simple gray cloak. As we walked across the floor to where she sat, her dimly lit features became clearer and clearer. She had jet-black hair pulled back loosely from her face, with one or two curls hanging down at her neck. Her eyes were deep brown and very kind looking, her nose narrow and elegant. Her rose-colored lips were drawn ever so slightly back into a gentle smile.

  She was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. She looked like an ancient Greek goddess. Surely this wasn’t Alia Rellapor. There must be some mistake.

  “Don’t worry, friends,” she said to us, her voice soft and clear. “I won’t gobble you up like some sort of monster, though the tales you’ve heard about me may have led you to expect as much.”

  I glanced quickly at the others. Spuckler and Mr. Beeba both looked somewhat stunned, as if they had forgotten how beautiful Alia was. The Prince looked both frightened and, somehow, slightly excited. Poog’s expression was blank, as if Alia Rellapor were not even there before him. But strangest of all was Throck. He looked scrunched up and tense, like a man playing a tremendously important chess game. Perhaps he, too, was uncomfortable in the presence of Alia Rellapor?

  As for me, I must have looked a little starstruck. Alia Rellapor was so much lovelier than I had imagined her to be!

  “Now tell me,” she said with a smile. “Which of you is the leader of this little group?”

  There was a long pause. Mr. Beeba elbowed me sharply in the ribs.

  “I am,” I said, lurching forward awkwardly. “M-my name is Akiko.”

  “You’re a very brave girl, Akiko,” she said, “and clever, too. Leading this group past so many obstacles, and for so many miles, doing without proper food or a roof over your head . . . It’s all very impressive. I could use a girl like you on my side. You should forget about old King Froptoppit and just stay here with me.”

  She spoke so naturally and sweetly that part of me actually wanted to be on her side. Was this what they hadn’t told me about Alia Rellapor? That she was a very nice person, that her horrible reputation was

  undeserved?

  “But . . . ,” I said, my voice quivering, unsure of how to reply, “. . . but I can’t stay here with you. I’m here to rescue the Prince.”

  “Rescue?” she repeated with an astonished smile. “Is that what King Froptoppit told you? That the Prince needed rescuing? You have been lied to, Akiko.”

  “Come here,” she said, turning to Prince Froptoppit. “Come and stand beside me.”

  The Prince stepped forward, hesitantly at first, his eyes searching Alia Rellapor as if he were not quite sure of his own feelings toward her. Finally, though, he walked quickly to her side and put his hand in hers.

  “How could I have kidnapped the Prince?” Alia

  Rellapor asked, stroking his hand gently with her own. “A mother cannot kidnap her own son.”

  Chapter 13

  It was silent. The room was still. But inside me the whole world seemed to be caving in, swallowing me up into a black fog.

  Her son? Her son? How could Prince Froptoppit be Alia Rellapor’s son? It was impossible. Or was it? I felt so terribly dizzy all of a sudden, I didn’t know what to think. With what little energy I had left, I stared intently at Prince Froptoppit, hoping to see some sign that this was all a dirty trick, that Alia Rellapor was no more related to him than I was. But I saw no such sign. The Prince leaned toward Alia Rellapor, allowing her to pull him onto her lap. He dropped his head onto her shoulder and closed his eyes peacefully. There could be no doubt about it. Alia Rellapor was the Prince’s mother, and King Froptoppit—for some reason—had ordered Mr. Beeba and Spuckler not to tell me about it.

  “So you see, Akiko,” Alia Rellapor said with a smile, “King Froptoppit has deceived you. The Prince is here where he belongs. If you don’t believe me, I invite you to return to your dear King and ask him to explain his lies to you. I’m sure he will have invented some very interesting explanations by now. . . .”

  “But—” I began. Something had just occurred to me, something that didn’t fit.

  “But what, dear child?”

  “But if you’re the Prince’s mother,” I went on, “then why are you keeping him locked up in a dirty little room? Why aren’t you treating him better?”

  For the first time Alia Rellapor’s peacefully smiling face went blank. She looked stunned and terribly confused. Her mouth opened but no words came out.

  Throck let out a strange sort of cough, like a man who’d been underwater coming up for air. His eyes remained unwaveringly focused on Alia Rellapor, though.

  “Maybe King Froptoppit hasn’t been completely truthful,” I continued, “but one thing’s for sure. He’d never keep the Prince locked up in a room like that. If you really were the Prince’s mother, you wouldn’t have to act like he’s a prisoner.”

  “I will treat my son as I see fit!” she snapped, an angry frown sweeping over her face, her beautiful features suddenly not so beautiful anymore. The Prince’s eyes fluttered open. He tried to move, but Alia held him fast with one arm.

  “Why . . . ,” I began, unsure of how she would react to another question.

  Alia relaxed her face into a smile. Throck exhaled noisily through his breathing apparatus.

  “Please, Akiko,” she said. “Ask me any question you like.”

  “Why are you so angry at King Froptoppit?” I asked. “What did he do to make you want to hurt him so badly?”

  Again Alia’s face went blank. This time, though, she regained her self-control quickly and answered my question in a calm, quiet voice.

  “I cannot abide King Froptoppit,” she said, “because he is weak. He lacks the strength to run this planet

  properly.”

  Mr. Beeba’s face tightened indignantly, but he held his tongue. Spuckler squinted suspiciously at Alia, but he also remained silent.

  “The people of Smoo need a strong hand to guide them,” she continued, her voice sounding harder, colder. “They need a ruler who won’t hesitate to use harsh discipline whenever necessary. Just as the Prince needs a mother who refuses to pamper him with luxury and doting servants. The people of Smoo,” she added, “need a ruler like me.”

  I shot another glance at Throck. This time he pivoted his head to meet my gaze, a triumphant look in his eyes. A single droplet of sweat ran down his forehead and fell off his cheek. I swallowed hard and turned back to Alia Rellapor.

  “Couldn’t you, um, talk this over with King Froptoppit?” I asked. “I’m sure he’d understand if you told him how you feel.”

  “No!” she answered, raising her voice angrily. “I will not allow myself to be further contaminated by that cowardly little man!”

  “But King Froptoppit’s not so bad,” I replied. “He—”

  “Froptoppit is a fool!” she bellowed.

  Her voice echoed loudly around the room. Mr. Beeba leaped back, quivering pathetically in Spuckler’s shadow. Gax’s spindly little neck was extended as far as it would go, his mechanical eyes opened wide. Prince Froptoppit tensed but dared not move. Even Throck looked a little startled, but also pleased, as if he thoroughly approved of A
lia’s performance. Only Poog remained unimpressed, his face as blank as it had been when we first entered the room.

  “The King and his ilk will not survive, I tell you,” Alia continued, her voice trembling with anger, her pretty face twisted into an ugly scowl. “It is the natural order of things that weak rulers be cast aside by strong ones.”

  There was a pause as Alia allowed the full implication of her words to sink in.

  “So make your choice now, Akiko,” she added, staring into my eyes, “for when I seize power, I will show no mercy to Froptoppit and his deluded followers. I will uproot them like weeds, I will exterminate them like the pests they are!”

  The gentle, kind Alia Rellapor of a moment before had utterly disappeared, replaced by a woman every bit as frightening as Throck himself.

  “But—” I began.

  “Enough!” Alia snapped. “I am weary of this fruitless conversation. You have trespassed upon my property. You have attempted to steal my son away from me. You must be punished.”

  She turned to face Throck, who watched her every move with great concentration.

  “Tell me, my friend,” Alia said, “what would you say to the idea of putting these intruders into the hole?”

  “An excellent choice, Empress Rellapor,” Throck answered, sounding slightly winded.

  “Very well, then,” Alia said. “Escort them there at once. We’ll see if they won’t reconsider their loyalty to old Froptoppit.”

  A half dozen Torgs emerged from the shadows, encircling us like a snare. Spuckler looked as though he wanted to fight them but for once could see that this was a battle he could not win. Throck raised an arm, barked a few orders, and led us, Torgs and all, back out of the room.

  I turned around and caught one last glimpse of the Prince as we left. He still sat there on Alia Rellapor’s lap, his face anxious, his body looking too tired to move. I wondered if it was the last I’d ever see of him. I certainly hoped it was the last I’d see of Alia Rellapor.