Page 163 of The Discount Damsel

“I freed you from that wretched thing.” Bradley heaved the luck dragon back into the air where he belonged. “Which just so happened to wake the toad, finally.” He stepped up to the gigantic amphibian on its cracked pedestal. “Good afternoon, toad. You owe me a wish and I would see it granted now.”

The Tianzi Toad laughed, a deep, resonant sound like an avalanche. Then its fat lips twisted into a sneer. “Feed.”

“That wretched warhammer was bigger than I was,” Dirk said crossly. “There’s no way you’re still hungry.”

“Feed!” The toad launched off its pedestal, claws outstretched for the apprentice.

“Shit,” the little dragon shouted.

CHAPTER 67

CANNIBALS, CAST IRON SKILLETS, AND MUSIC MAKE FOR A RAMBUNCTIOUS EVENING

Bradley dove out of the way of the attacking toad and rolled back up onto his feet.

The amphibian immediately homed in on a closer target, striking after Dirk with its tongue. The luck dragon swerved, the stone tongue sticking to the very same pedestal that had served as a perch to the toad. It splintered in the toad’s jaws as if marble was as brittle as balsa wood, and it spat rubble to the ground.

“The hells with this!” The little dragon spun and blasted the toad across the workroom with a gust of wind from his tail.

Millie had just enough time to look up from her translation, snatch up Small Magicks, and throw herself out of the way before the desk shattered under the toad’s weight. It kicked web feet, digging gouges into the hardwood floor as it fought to right itself.

“You mistranslated this passage, Bradley!” She picked herself up off the floor and limped out of the way. “It’s not just any magical object you can feed the toad. It has to be enchanted, not cursed. Otherwise you get this.”

The toad sprang into the air, swiping after Dirk. “Feed.”

“Not today, bucko!” He evaded with an artful corkscrew that would’ve earned him an approving nod from Sir Roger, then manifested a wind that lobbed the toad into the sorcerous clutter.

“Anything in there on how to kill it?” Pocket demanded.

“Reading right now,” Millie said testily, which was quite a difficult task when she had to lift her eyes every three characters to make sure she didn’t need to run away from a murderous toad.

The pickpocket screamed and whacked the striking tongue aside with the cast iron skillet. The toad erupted from the clutter and pinned Pocket to the ground. She bashed it repeatedly on its fat lips as it tried to stuff her into its mouth, but the cast iron skillet was no match for living stone.

Bradley rammed into it, knocking the toad onto its side and sending it sliding across the floor. He howled in pain as his shoulder cracked like a tree unlucky enough to receive the business end of a lightning bolt. With that arm hanging limp, he used his good hand to haul Pocket away from the frog.

“Music,” Millie screeched. “We can turn it back to stone with music. Prince Henri! Quick, sing something. Anything!”

The frog prince was flattened against the bars of his cage, eyes bulging and little chest heaving. “But I don’t sing well under pressure.”

The toad whipped around, sensing new prey less capable of defending itself. “Feed.”

“Gah!” Prince Henri flung himself against the cage, knocking it off its pedestal.

It bounced once before lodging in the gap between a cedar chest and a life-sized Matryoshka doll. With a few more shoves, he got it rolling again. The toad’s wicked tongue caught the birdcage and hauled it back into its jaws. The enchanted phoenix cage wouldn’t bend or break, so the toad just tried to swallow it whole.

“You fucking cannibal,” Prince Henri screeched.

Millie snatched up a spear from the clutter and jammed the butt of it into the toad’s carbuncle eye. The garnet cracked, and the toad spat out the birdcage with a snarl.

“Sing, Henri,” she implored. “Please sing!”

The toad struck her in the shoulder. Millie flew back into the very suit of armor that had caught Pocket her first night in the tower.

Dirk snatched up the birdcage and lifted it into the air out of reach of the toad. “Sing or I’ll eat you myself. Unlike that toad, I can get into this cage.”

“‘A-a wink for the rogue and a grin for the b-bard,’” Henri sputtered. “‘A swish of her skirts for the knight on guard!’”

Pocket thwacked the toad with her skillet, but when it turned to give chase, Bradley walloped it with the spear Millie had dropped. The princess herself was riffling through a cardboard box labeled “Definitely Not Safe.”