The Heart of Glass Read Online Free

—’”
    “Pretty!” interrupted the king without opening his eyes.
    “So sorry, Your Majesty. I was about to add that requirement. ‘One PRETTY princess, to keep His Most Royal Majesty company.’”
    Bestius stood first on one foot, then on the other, as Spittle went on writing. He was one of the older dwarves and a leading member of the Underworld Council, but he was, for once, at a loss. How could he promise a princess in return for a troll? The dwarves had as little contact as possible with the aboveground inhabitants of the Five Kingdoms; long experience had taught them that humans became unreliable, if not downright untrustworthy, when large quantities of gold were involved. “Your Majesty,” he began, “there . . . there might be a bit of a problem.”
    The king of the trolls frowned. “No problem. No. No pretty, no troll.”
    “Ah.” Bestius pulled at his beard. Judging by King Thab’s expression, the matter was best left alone for the moment. He made a decision. Master Amplethumb had asked for a troll; Master Amplethumb could solve any ensuing difficulties. Bowing, he said, “Agreed.”
    The king grunted. Mullius rumbled. Spittle finished writing with a flourish and handed the slate to his master. “If you could just sign here, Your Majesty, our friend can take it to Master Amplethumb. I presume you’ll be sending the troll today? It’s early enough for him to do a full day’s work, and I’ve indicated as much in the letter.”
    King Thab laboriously inscribed a cross at the bottom of the slate, then turned back to the goblin. “Clod,” he ordered. “Fetch Clod.”
    “Certainly, Your Majesty,” said Spittle. Springing to his feet, he handed the slate to the dwarf. “Here. You’d better wait.” And then he was gone.
    Bestius waited, very aware of Mullius’s looming and unfriendly bulk. King Thab took no notice of either of them; he was gazing into space, a faint smile on his face.
    Time ticked on, until at last there was the sound of heavy footsteps echoing from the other side of the cavernous apartment. Bestius glanced up and blinked. Clod, following obediently behind the goblin, was easily as large as Mullius but had four arms. In each hand, he clutched a heavy iron spade, and he was encrusted with mud.
    Spittle tittered as he saw the expression of astonishment on the dwarf’s face. “He’s a digging machine,” he explained. “Solve all your problems in a couple of hours, I’d say. Good luck, and don’t forget to bring him back when you’ve finished with him.” He gave Bestius a sideways look. “And remember to bring the pretty princess back with you. Not a good idea to mess with trolls, you know. But you’d better get going!” He slapped the monster’s leg and pointed at Bestius. “Follow him, Clod. Follow . . . and do as you’re told.”
    “Yug,” Clod said.
    “Oh. Well. Thank you very much.” Bestius was still in a state of shock. “It — I mean, he — will be perfect. We’ll see you again soon. Very soon.” He bowed, then turned and marched out of the room toward the wide, stone-floored tunnel that led away from the royal palace, Clod stomping meekly after him.

G ubble was carefully measuring out the ingredients for the chocolate cake when Marlon came flitting through the open window.
    Elsie, otherwise known as the Oldest Crone, looked up in surprise. “I thought you were showing Gracie and Marcus the way to the Unreliable Forest,” she said.
    Marlon swung himself onto the curtain rail and hung upside down while he got his breath back. “Bit of a snag,” he reported.
    “Really?” Elsie’s eyebrows rose. “Nothing serious, I hope?”
    “Nope. Maybe. Yes.” Marlon shuffled along the rail. “It’s Gracie.”
    Gubble gave an anxious grunt, and Elsie went pale. “Gracie? What’s happened? Surely the dwarves wouldn’t hurt a Trueheart!”
    “Not the dwarves,” Marlon told her. “A tree. Gracie leaned against it.” He waved a wing. “Next minute