by Jeff Rosen
“Back to your studies,” ordered Aramund. “Concentrate on experiencing the environment through your baest’s senses.”
The class headed back into the jungle, transforming into animals again (or plants, in Lucas’s case).
Aramund took Caley’s arm and began to lead her through the jungle, talking quietly to her as if reciting a bedtime story. Caley had the feeling this story didn’t have a happy ending.
“There are many hidden paths in the baest realm. Some quite dangerous … even deadly for the uninitiated. When it is time to receive your baest, you must come to me and I shall guide you. There is the way out.” He gestured to a tall group of ferns. “Take care, Your Highness. This can be a wild kingdom.”
Caley watched Aramund melt back into the jungle. She walked through the ferns and found herself once again in the academy.
WHEN the final bell rang, the only thing Caley was sure of was that she knew less at the end of the day than she did at the beginning.
She was also pretty sure she was failing grade eight in two entirely different worlds.
CHAPTER SIX
The Cat’s-Eye Crystal
Caley hoped Kip could help her find her way back to her rooms again after class, but he had the duchess’s detention, so she waited for him in the courtyard. She didn’t want to open the wrong door and end up floating in eternity with a stretched-out chicken. She spotted Neive dragging a sack of laundry across the lawn and went to help her.
“You shouldn’t.” Neive shook her head. “Someone got me in trouble with the duchess. They said I was insolent. Now I have laundry on top of my other chores.”
“Ithica Blight. I bet it was her.”
Caley didn’t think it was possible to dislike someone so completely and so quickly, but Ithica made it easy. She saw the duchess float-fluttering her way soundlessly across the courtyard.
“I’m the highest-ranking royal, right?” Caley asked, turning to Neive.
Neive gave her a nervous nod.
“Duchess Odeli,” Caley called in a clear voice, “I require Neive … er … that servant there—to tidy up my rooms immediately. They are most unsuitably … untidy.”
The duchess’s eyes narrowed a notch; then she flattened her feathery dress and bowed sharply, shooting Neive a suspicious look as she fluffed off again.
“Did you see her face? I thought she would burst a blood vessel.” Neive grinned as she escorted Caley back to her rooms. “I bet no one’s ever ordered the duchess to do anything before.”
“It reminded me a bit of the Gunch,” said Caley. “Except her face always looked like that.”
“The person who took care of you? The duchess told me about her.”
“If by ‘took care’ you mean ‘once used my arm as a pin cushion when she couldn’t find hers.’” A curious thought came to Caley. “How does the duchess know about the Gunch?”
“Duchess Odeli knows all,” Neive said dramatically.
“Kip says she’s part hawk. I bet that’s her baest.”
“No one knows.”
“So, Kip is a dog. And poor Lucas …”
“The story I heard was that Lucas went to get his baest and he fell asleep under a tree, and when he woke up he was a shrub. He can turn into any kind of plant. Pretty amazing, really.”
“Ithica’s a snake. Perfect. The O’Toole twins are Siamese cats, also perfect. I think I keep calling them by the wrong names.”
“You can usually tell them apart because Taran always wears her hair in a ponytail. Or is that Tessa …?”
“Is that why some people here look like animals?”
“The more you identify with your baest, the more you can begin to look like it. Some people practically turn into theirs.”
It kind of made sense. Caley always saw pets who looked like their owners—this was just the other way around.
“So, this baest thing,” started Caley, “I think they’re kind of like spirit animals on Earth. But how does it work? How do you get one?”
“The Wandering Woods.”
“The Wandering Woods?”’
“It’s where you form the Unbreakable Bond with your baest.”
“Sounds painful.”
“It’s more scary than painful,” said Neive. “You’re not allowed in the Wandering Woods unless you’re seeking your baest, and not without Master Aramund’s permission. Once you go in, you can never leave, unless you form the bond. You wander in there forever.”
“I wonder what my baest would be.”
“It depends on your personality. It’s the animal part of your nature. And once you get your baest, you start to take on its power,” explained Neive.
“Like Kip always sniffing things out.” Caley nodded. “Baests are awesome. I can’t wait to get one.”
“Some people don’t like them. They think it makes you less human. They call people who look like their baests ‘boggers.’ There was a war long ago where baests turned on people or something. There’s supposedly all these baest attacks now, and everyone’s afraid. There’s even people talking about getting rid of baests altogether, but I don’t know how they could do that.”
“I’d much rather be an animal,” Caley said with a frown, “considering most of the humans I’ve met. What’s yours?”
“My what?”
“Your baest.”
Neive quickly got the wooden box with the little floating rose blossoms and opened it for Caley.
“You better get dressed for dinner. It’s Friday, so you can wear weekend clothes.”
It didn’t seem like Neive wanted to say anything more about baests. Caley picked a green rose (her favorite color). She blew on it, and the blossom twinkled and the light washed over her. Her school uniform faded and fell to dust and was replaced by an emerald tunic made of soft, woven leaves interlaced with tiny yellow buds that bloomed, held magically in the fabric like flies caught in a web.
Neive frowned. “It’s a bit out of fashion.”
“It’s beautiful.” Caley admired herself in a mirror (which was officially the first time she had ever done that). “I never want to take it off.” She picked up the row of blossoms in the box. “Where did you get these?”
“They belonged to Queen Catherine.”
“No one seems to know what happened to her.” Caley turned to the portrait of her mother over the fireplace. “Or they won’t tell me.”
Neive stared at her thoughtfully a moment. “I need to show you something.” She pulled the bed skirt away, revealing a hidden drawer, and retrieved a small black velvet bag from it. “This must have belonged to your mother too. I found it when I was getting the room ready for your arrival.”
She emptied the contents of the bag into her hand. Inside was a crystal about the size of an egg with a dark crescent in the middle.
“It’s a cat’s-eye crystal,” explained Neive. “You see things with it.”
“Like what?”
“Things that are happening in other places. Even in the past. Maybe it can help you see your mother.”
Caley felt her pulse quicken. “Let’s try it.”
Neive rubbed the crystal. Nothing happened.
“I’ve never actually used one before. I’m not sure how it works. Maybe it’s broken—”
There was a loud knock on the door.
“The duchess!” Neive hid the crystal behind her back, but before she could open the door, Kip barged in and bumped into her. The crystal went flying, and Neive almost fell over.
“Hey,” Kip said, waving to Caley. “Couldn’t find you after class. Just wanted to make sure you were OK.”
“I’m OK,” Caley assured him.
“I’m fine too,” said Neive as she straightened her uniform. “And please just walk right in. Whoever you are.”
“That’s Kip,” said Caley. “Kip, this is Neive.”
Kip cocked his head curiously at Neive, his hair bristling. Neive stared back at Kip, her nose twitching suspiciously. Kip snapped out of it, s
potting the cat’s-eye crystal.
“Is that a cat’s-eye? I’ve only ever heard about them. Incredibly rare. Mind if I try?”
“I think it’s broken,” Caley explained.
Kip scooped the crystal up. “Probably just needs to be activated. ‘A cat’s-eye is blind until you take one of its lives.’”
“Take one of its lives?” Neive asked.
“It’s a riddle. I have a nose for mysteries. Pretty much able to solve anything.”
“Humble too,” said Neive.
Kip hurled the crystal at the wall as hard as he could, and it shattered into a million pieces.
“You broke it!” Neive glared at Kip.
“Look!” implored Caley.
The shattered pieces of the crystal were floating across the floor and magically forming back together. In a moment, the cat’s-eye was as good as new.
“Just as I thought.” Kip nodded, looking relieved. “You only get one look for each of its nine lives.” He handed Caley the crystal. “Hold it tightly and think about something you want to see.”
Caley held the crystal. Again, nothing happened.
“I forgot,” said Kip. “You have to have something from the person or place you want to see.”
“I don’t have anything from anywhere,” said Caley.
They heard a chirp, and everyone turned to the cricket in the wooden cage.
“There is that. It came from where I used to live.”
“Give it a try,” urged Kip, handing her the cage.
Caley held the cage in one hand and the cat’s-eye in the other. The crystal began to glow. She stared into in, and to her amazement she saw the Gunch’s house. The Gunch was having a yard sale of all the hideous animal creations she had made Caley sew. There was a sign that read “PET-CESSORIES,” promising the latest in high-fashion contemporary accessories that doubled as household pets. The Gunch carried on a one-sided conversation with some anaconda cargo pants that lay there, immobile. She began to shake them and scream, “Say something! Do something! I know you can hear me!”
Neighbors looked on nervously as a wagon pulled up from the local hospital and men in white suits began chasing around after the Gunch, who was clutching a salamander sun hat and howling, “It’s alive! IT’S ALIIIIIIIVE!”
Caley grinned faintly to herself. “I guess there are happy endings …”
The scene in the crystal shifted to her basement cold storage/dungeon.
“What’s that place?” Kip asked, looking slightly horrified.
“My bedroom.”
“Looks like a haunted house.”
“I wish.” Caley sighed. “Would’ve loved to live in a nice place like that.”
“There’s someone in there.” Neive pointed at a shadow floating across the floor. The image was blurry, like they were looking at it through too-thick glasses.
“Try turning the cat’s-eye,” suggested Kip. “Maybe we can see a different angle.”
Caley repositioned the crystal. They saw a hooded silhouette overturning everything in the room, hunting for something. Caley recognized him right away. He began to turn toward her. She gasped and dropped the cat’s-eye. The image vanished.
“Who was that?” asked Kip. “Did he live with you?”
Caley shook her head. She felt cold despite the warm afternoon.
Neive and Kip stared at her questioningly.
“When I first got here, I overheard this meeting,” Caley began slowly. “They were talking about him. I’ve seen before. In my dreams. I think it’s him.”
“Who?” said Neive.
“Olpheist.”
Neive and Kip exchanged a look.
“He’s supposed to be in some sort of prison you can never escape from,” said Kip.
“Are you sure it’s him?” Neive asked.
Caley nodded. “Pretty sure. And I think he’s looking for me.”
“But … why?” said Kip.
Caley had no answer for that.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Neive’s Secret
In the days that followed, Caley tried to find answers to the questions blowing up in her brain like little lead balloons, making her feel like she would sink under the weight of endless mysteries. Why was she in Erinath? What had happened to her mother? And what did Olpheist want with her? Most of the time, it was hard enough just finding her class (and sometimes the entire academy). Whole parts of the castle would be there one minute and gone the next. The dining hall was mostly reliable, except for lunch one day when it was replaced by a section of the royal gardens (apparently restricted) where naked shrub-nymphs frolicked in a fountain. The duchess immediately herded the students away, declaring the castle needed “a good time-out.” The castle also shuddered and shook, seemingly more with each passing day, and various parts of it were always threatening to fall apart. A squad had been dispatched to deal with the situation, led by Colonel Chip Chesterton. Caley decided they must all have had beavers for baests because although she caught glimpses of them fixing the castle, mostly they gnawed on the wooden beams they were supposed to be using to repair it.
“Seems like a serious conflict of interest,” Kip observed. “Beavers repairing a wooden castle.”
Classes continued to be about as predictable as the castle floor plan. In Things and Nothings, the teacher (an ordinary-looking man with a large mustache) informed the students that the observable universe depended on how it was observed. To demonstrate, he put on a pair of “imagine-glasses,” which looked like a pair of eyeglasses made for a giant housefly or something because each glass had about a million facets. The glasses seemed to have a life of their own and kept blinking and staring around at everything. The teacher looked at the class through the glasses, and everyone appeared as variations of the O’Toole twins. There were O’Tooles with two legs and O’Tooles with hundreds of legs, like centipedes. Some O’Tooles seemed to be made of slime; others were just mustaches in school uniforms. At that point, one of the actual O’Tooles got fed up with the whole thing and untied her ponytail. This was apparently the only way the universe (not to mention the class) could tell them apart because the universe seemed to get confused and everyone turned into the person they were looking at. This was even worse than it sounded because it turns out the one thing teenagers hate even more than being turned into slime is being turned into each other. Eventually, the teacher managed to restore order and everyone got back to being themselves—except the O’-Tooles now had faint moustaches.
“We’re meant to be learning that anything can become anything else, I guess,” Kip told Caley on their way to their next class, “but I’d just as soon not know. Being thirteen is hard enough. Got my first pimple yesterday. Plenty more of those to look forward to, I expect.”
After class, Caley and Neive always hung out in the common room. The airy, window-lined room was full of comfortable old couches and tables centered around an enormous fireplace full of glowing stones. Neive explained they were bazkûl-breath gems (a bazkûl was apparently some kind of extinct monster, like a dragon). They also powered everything in Erinath. Kids usually sat in front of spiders’ webs suspended between what looked like a tennis racket on a stand. This was known as “the Web”—kind of like the Internet on Earth, except … spiders. You touched the web, said whatever you wanted to search, and little electrified-looking spiders instantly spun out the information.
“We need to set you up on Bee-Me,” Neive told Caley one day as they settled into a couch.
“Be what?”
Neive smiled. “Hey, Bee!”
A glowing bee streaked in front of them.
“Show Bee-Me,” Neive told the bee, and it projected a social media site in the air in front of them, like a floating smartphone screen.
“Wow!” said Caley. “Where do these come from?”
“Machines and creatures can be combined in Erinath. If the creatures are OK with it. I think trash toads are kind of upset about what happened …”
Neiv
e swiped her finger across the screen, and various profiles scrolled past with people’s interests and hobbies, goals for the year, achievements, family background, and their baests. Caley noticed Ithica Blight’s profile. Her photo made her tiara look a lot bigger, her braces were gone altogether, and her eyes were much bluer and shinier—not the typical dead-shark sheen.
Neive frowned. “She probably used the Perfect Princess filter.”
Ithica’s goal for the school year was to continue being “#1 ROYAL!!” Her interests were “SHOPPING, STYLE, AND PARTIES,” and she disliked “FURRY THINGS.” Caley noticed that all the i’s were dotted with ridiculous little tiaras. There was a photo of Ithica standing next to a handsome dark-haired boy named Ferren Quik. It said they were “in a relationship,” and the picture was surrounded by more tiaras and hearts.
“Can we look at someone else’s profile?” Caley asked (that was more than enough Ithica Blight for one day). “How about yours?”
Neive brought her page up, and Caley read it.
“‘Interests: Being in nature. Climbing trees.’” Caley scanned the mostly blank page. “There’s nothing about your family, or your baest, or anything.”
“I’ve been so busy I haven’t gotten around to it,” Neive said, sounding a bit defensive.
“What are you guys doing?”
Kip loomed behind them, chomping noisily on a carrot.
“Bee-Me.” He nodded. “Check mine out. Hey, Bee, show Kipley Gorsebrooke.”
Neive’s profile was replaced by Kip’s.
“Please just totally interrupt us,” Neive told Kip.
Kip’s profile picture showed him proudly holding the Equidium Cup. Caley remembered him saying something about the Equidium—whatever that was. The cup looked like it had been pasted into the picture. Underneath it read, “FUTURE EQUIDIUM CHAMPION!”
Neive stifled a smirk.
“What?” Kip said testily.
“Equidium Champion?”
“It says ‘future.’”
Kip stared at Neive, his head cocked, his hair bristling. Neive stared back at Kip, her nose twitching.