by Jeff Rosen
“Olpheist.”
The duchess nodded. “I have something to remind me of him too.”
She raised the sleeve of her feathery dress to reveal her arm, scarred and withered from Olpheist’s sword.
“The rest of it you know.” The duchess covered her arm again. “I took you to that orphanage. I could not risk bringing you back here. I did my best to protect you. I left you with my cousin Albert, meaning to return for you as soon as it was safe. But it never was.”
“But … if you’re not the metal-winged crow, who is?”
“That I do not know. But if he is here, his master will not be far behind.”
“And he wants whatever this is.” Caley showed the duchess her amulet.
“There is only one person who might know the answer to that.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Frogger
It was a dull gray morning, and Caley was on her way to the stable with Neive and Kip. She made sure they were out of earshot of the mailbox-men who were following her, as usual.
“I have to see Master Pim.” Caley’s hand went to her amulet.
“Good luck, with them watching.” Neive scowled at the mailboxes.
Kip began gobbling bananas from his backpack. “Follow me.”
Caley and Neive race-walked after Kip, with the mailboxes clanging after them. When they reached the tunnel leading down to the Equidium, Kip motioned for Caley and Neive to go on ahead. He tossed his banana peels on the floor, then emptied the rest of his backpack out and chased after them. The mailbox-men rattled into the tunnel entrance and proceeded to slip on the peels, mixed nuts, and baked goods Kip had dropped. The tunnel echoed with the sound of the mailboxes tumbling down the steep steps. It was like a kitchen had been turned upside-down. A few clangs and crashes could still be heard as Kip led Caley to Fearfew’s stall.
“The best way out is up.”
Caley hugged Kip and he instantly blushed. She fed Fearfew an animal cracker and began to lead him out of the stable.
Neive turned to Kip. “Your face is all red.”
“From the running,” replied Kip, turning even redder.
CALEY flew Fearfew up out of the Equidium arena, landing outside Pim’s cottage. She frowned at the flower with the red button and gave the door a firm knock instead. Pim opened the door.
“Buzzer not working?”
He pressed the button, and Caley got a squirt of water in her face.
“You did that on purpose,” said Caley.
“I do most things on purpose.” Pim smiled, leading her inside. “But the results are often surprising.”
“Never mind about the weird doorbells. Master Pim, I need to tell you something—”
“Frogger!”
Pim stood at the controls of an old-fashioned video arcade game hooked up to a bazkûl-breath gem-powered motor that sparked and sputtered. He gave the console a shake.
“Usually, if you jiggle it … ah … here we go …”
The word “FROGGER” lit up on the console, and the video screen came to life.
“Major Fogg brought this back from Earth, years ago. He made a few adjustments to get it working here.”
Pim began to move a frog around the screen using the joystick.
“You have to get your frog home, past these obstacles …” He maneuvered his frog past a few cars. “Each push of this knob gets the frog to jump. See?” He turned to Caley, then back to the game. “Woah … almost got hit there! Better stay focused. Uh-oh, there’s one of those … what do you call that?”
“Lawnmower.”
“Mustn’t get hit by that. Good jump, froggy! Thirty points already! Every safe step gets points. Here comes the river. Now it gets tricky …” Pim toggled the joystick, the fir tips on his fox ears quivering with concentration. “You have to land on the lily pads. You can jump on logs … and the backs of turtles … here’s one … jump, froggy! You can jump on the alligators, too, but watch out for the jaws. Stay completely away from snakes. They’re deadly! Sometimes you’ll see another frog hanging onto a log, or in trouble. If you help it, you get bonus points. Jump … YES! My frog is safely home.”
Pim turned to Caley with a smile that was almost as wide as the frog’s.
“I got 310,000 points. Your turn.”
Caley groaned, then reluctantly took the joystick and began to hop her frog toward the top of the screen.
“Don’t be nervous.” Pim hovered behind Caley. “Concentrate. Feel the frog …”
After a few minutes, Caley turned to Pim. “Is it finished?”
Pim read her score. “A total of 397,000. Impressive.”
“I think I got bonus points for helping another frog.”
“Just so. You might be a natural, like your mother.”
“She played this?” Caley’s fingers lingered on the joystick as if she might somehow feel her mother’s hand on it too.
“Beat me every time,” replied Pim. “Still holds the record. See? At the top of the leaderboard there.”
Caley saw the initials “C.C.” and the score: 860,630.
“But you have something to tell me,” said Pim. “I mustn’t distract you.”
“You told me Olpheist was looking for something. I think I have it.”
Caley took out her amulet and showed it to Pim.
“My mother gave me this before he killed her.”
“The Hadeon Drop,” Pim said. As usual, he didn’t seem surprised by anything Caley said or did.
“What is it?”
“The Hadeon Drop is the seed of life, carried throughout the universe, waiting for a hospitable place to land.”
“So, it’s like … creation?”
“And destruction. For one does not exist without the other. Whoever commands the Hadeon Drop commands life and death.”
Caley turned the amulet over in her fingers. “Is this why I can raise the dead?”
“And why you die a little each time you use it.” Pim nodded. “A great and terrible price must be paid by the one who bears the Drop. It’s why it has always been protected by the Watchers. They alone have the ability to use it wisely. But one of them was seduced by its power.”
“Olpheist.”
Pim’s expression darkened. “He stole the Hadeon Drop and very nearly succeeding in destroying our world. After he was defeated, it eventually found its way to your mother, just as it has now found its way to you.”
“I don’t want it.”
Caley removed the amulet from around her neck and held it out to Pim. He raised his hands defensively and backed away from her, his eyes suddenly wide with alarm.
“I cannot take it from you, even if I wanted to! Only the Watcher destined to bear it can wield its power … and resist it as well. To all others, it brings only madness and destruction.”
“But I’m not a Watcher. I’m not even a good person. I have an athrucruth inside me. Like Olpheist!” Her hand holding the amulet was shaking now. “What if I destroy everything?”
Pim closed his eyes a moment and spoke quietly. “‘Worlds turn or worlds burn.’” He regarded Caley thoughtfully. “Come to think of it, yes, you might destroy everything.”
“Well … this … just … totally … sucks.”
Caley slowly shook her head, tucking the amulet back inside her shirt.
“Not quite as bad as always losing to your mother in Frogger,” said Pim. “She knew the secret.”
“The secret?”
Pim began to lead Caley out of the cottage, pulling on a scarf against the chilly morning.
“I always get so caught up in getting my froggy home, not getting killed by—what did you call them?—lawnmowers and whatnot, that I forget the secret is to help other frogs along the way.”
“Bonus points …” Caley said faintly. Her head was swimming, and the amulet around her neck was buzzing against her chest, almost painfully.
They had reached a gate at the end of the path leading from the cottage. Pim turned to her.
“Sometimes, when faced with an impossible task, helping friends allows us to find our strength. Choosing to walk alone in the darkness is one path. Choosing instead to walk with others, even when you’re afraid—especially when you are afraid—can bring light even in the darkest of places.”
“What if I’m not the light? What if I’m the darkness?”
“Ah, is this Fearfew?”
Pim gave Fearfew’s muzzle a pat. The oroc gave an impatient snort, looking like he’d had enough of waiting in the cold.
“He’s a handsome fellow.”
“He behaves much better thanks to your magic crackers,” Caley told him, holding out an animal cracker for Fearfew to gobble.
“Whatever you think, Caley Cross.”
Pim bent to observe a withered blossom in an empty flower bed by the fence.
“Alas, the frosts are getting heavier, and the phantom flower has not bloomed. I’m afraid it never will before winter. A very long winter perhaps …”
He studied the reddening horizon a moment, then turned to Caley, a curious look on his face.
“The crow you mentioned last time we spoke. Do you recall how it found you?”
“I first saw it when I made some frogs come to life, back on Earth.”
“Indeed.” Pim frowned. “Raising the dead can raise a few eyebrows. Do you remember anything else?”
“Kids were teasing me. I guess I was angry. And then, you know … zombies. It happened before. A lot.”
Pim’s fox nose wrinkled in displeasure.
“Your anger draws Olpheist to you. He feasts upon it.” He turned toward the castle in the distance. “Whatever you decide, I hope you’ll at least stay for your investiture. I do love a ball. So long as they have decent music.”
Pim patted Fearfew again and walked back to his cottage.
Caley swung up on Fearfew and flew above the forest, but it felt as if the weight of the whole world was hanging around her neck, about to drag her down forever.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Tiara Troubles
“So … this Hideous Drop—” Kip began.
“Hadeon,” corrected Neive.
Caley had managed to slip back into the castle without being seen. She had dropped her armor off at the stable and sent a bee for Neive and Kip, who’d joined her on the way to the dining hall for lunch.
“It’s like … powerful,” Kip went on.
“It’s what brings life or death to the universe.” Neive side-eyed Kip. “So, yeah.”
Kip shook his head, chuckling darkly.
“What’s funny?” asked Neive.
“All I have to worry about is homework, too many brothers, and hand-me-downs. Caley’s got, like, the evilest person ever after her, and she has to defeat him or the universe or wherever will be destroyed. Epic!”
“Not helpful,” said Neive.
Caley shook her head hopelessly. “What am I going to do?”
“Don’t get upset at anyone, that’s for sure.” Kip eyed Caley uneasily. “Because, you know, zombies and Olpheist being drawn to you. Oh, and we should have the ball. We still don’t know who the metal-winged crow is, but it’s a safe bet it doesn’t know Caley has the Hideous Drop—”
“Hadeon,” corrected Neive.
“Otherwise, the Scabbard or someone would have tried to get it. Plus, the castle’s the only safe place. Maybe whatever Doctor Lemenecky was doing helped it. I vote we go along with things and try not to raise any suspicions—at least until we find out Olpheist’s plan.”
“Actually, that kind of makes sense,” said Neive.
All Caley could do was shrug. So many people had said so many things to her that day, her brain felt like a newspaper left out in the rain: all the words ran together in a big black blob, and nothing made any sense. Not one thing she had ever done in her life had ever mattered one bit to anyone, and now everything she did—or didn’t do—seemed like the most important thing in the universe, or wherever.
CALEY was picking at her lunch in the dining hall, still thinking about Olpheist and drops that started (or ended) all life, and what would happen if she ever lost her temper again, and she finally put her fork down because her appetite definitely was lost (maybe forever).
“You eating that?” Kip slid Caley’s plate in front of himself without waiting for an answer.
“Princess Caley!”
They turned to see Ithica Blight making her way toward them with the Pingintees plodding behind.
“What does she want?” said Kip.
To Caley’s complete amazement, Ithica curtsied to her.
“May I have a word with you after lunch in my rooms?” asked Ithica.
“What …? Why …? What …?” Caley stammered.
“I thought it might be good for us to chat as you prepare for your ball. Perhaps I can give you some helpful advice, princess-to-princess.”
“Princess-to-princess,” echoed Pansy and Petunia so woodenly you could practically see sawdust coming out of their mouths.
Caley’s head was spinning.
“Splendid,” Ithica said flatly.
Everyone watched, speechless, as Ithica strode out of the dining hall with the Pingintees.
“Scariest thing I ever saw.” Kip shook his head. “Ithica Blight acting nice. And her two mindless Pingintee parrots.”
“Parrots are not mindless,” said Lidia Vowell. “They have an outer layer of their brain that allows them to mimic speech for unknown reasons, although likely connected with socialization.”
Kip turned to Caley, lowering his voice. “If you’re going to her place alone, I suggest you go as an athrucruth.”
“SUGAR?”
Ithica held out a golden sugar bowl for Caley. Ithica’s rooms were way fancier than hers. Everything was trimmed with gold and had her initials, “I.B.,” plastered all over it. Caley remembered the Gunch had a chronic case of irritable bowel syndrome she called her “I.B.’s.” She realized she had just discovered the perfect nickname for Ithica (I.B.), even better than “A Bit Glitchhi,” and she smiled to herself. Ithica smiled back. It didn’t even look completely fake for once.
“Don’t let your tea get cold, Princess Caley.”
Caley stared into her teacup. It was probably poisoned. “I’ve been drinking too much tea lately,” she said, setting the cup down. “It’s making me jittery.”
“I feel you and I may have gotten off on the wrong foot.”
You mean the one you keep trying to kick me down the stairs with? (Caley wanted to say that, but she just sat there staring suspiciously at her tea.)
“I’m afraid I’ve been a frightful bore.”
“That’s … one word for it.”
“It’s a great responsibility, being in my position. One I try to bear with grace and humility.”
“That’s two words.”
“And I realized I haven’t had a moment’s thought about you since you arrived.”
Other than when you tried to kill me in the Equidium? (said the voice inside Caley’s head).
“Despite our differences—I’m from Erinath, you’re from some barbaric backward world—we have something in common—the most important thing of all: we’re princesses. Of course, an investiture is terribly tedious. They put a tiara on one’s head, and then one is supposed to be even more important than before.”
“How’s that even possible?”
Ithica shrugged in solidarity. “But a ball can be amusing. Do you have a date, by the way?”
“No.”
“You must go with someone suitable. Our subjects expect it. We are the blank canvases upon which they project their tiny hopes and dreams.”
Caley held a napkin up to her face. She’d never thrown up in her mouth until now (the downside, she supposed, of finally eating regular meals).
“I know!” It almost sounded like Ithica had a pulse (or at least a beating heart). “Let’s find you someone to go to the ball with. Bee-Me …”
A bee appeared and
displayed an image of a pasty, puke-faced prince with an upturned nose and braces. He looked like a boy version of Ithica.
“Prince Blens Blandon,” said Ithica. “His father owns huge tracts of land. And he certainly has it in the looks department, don’t you agree?”
“You said it …”
“Of course, it’s expected the two highest-ranking royals will attend the ball together, so there is really only one person who could possibly go with you: Ferren Quik.”
An image of Ferren appeared.
“Prince Ferren’s been begging me to go to the ball with him, but it wouldn’t be appropriate. You must go with him. I’m sure he will agree. I’ll have him contact you.”
“I must …? He will …? You will …?”
“SHE’S up to something.”
Neive met Caley in her rooms after she returned from Ithica’s.
“Ithica Blight would never do something nice for anyone besides herself,” Neive continued. “Plus, she always claims she’s seeing Ferren Quik.”
“So … he’s not going to ask me?” said Caley.
There was a knock on the door and Neive answered it, returning with a tall package wrapped in gold paper.
“What’s this?” asked Caley as Neive handed it to her.
She opened the package. Inside was a bouquet of blue buds.
“Bet they’ll be pretty when they blossom,” said Neive.
“Who sent them?”
“There’s a card …”
Neive gave Caley the glowing leaf-note that was dangling from the bouquet. Caley read it. Then she read it again … and again … her eyes growing wider each time.
“Who’s it from?” asked Neive.
Caley read it out loud.
Princess Caley Cross,
Please allow me the honor of escorting you to the Royal Ball.
Sincerely,
Prince Ferren Quik
The girls regarded each other … then hugged and screamed and jumped up and down. Caley’s guards burst into the room to see if someone was being murdered or something, and Neive ushered them out.