“They want to take us to the king,” she whispered. “We need to see him, remember?”
Ben nodded. It would have been so much nicer to arrive at the palace as visitors, rather than prisoners. “Okay.”
Vlad took the lead, his hooves stomping the ground as he marched. “Go on,” Vic told Ben and Pearl. But Ben hesitated.
“If I turn my back, you’re not going to head-butt me, are you?”
“Just because I’m a satyr, you think I head-butt?” Vic asked. “That’s offensive.”
“Just wondering,” Ben said. Then, with Vic’s spear pointed at their backs, he and Pearl headed down the path. Ben glanced over his shoulder, hoping to glimpse a flash of reddish-orange fur.
But Mr. Tabby was nowhere to be seen.
14
As the satyr soldiers ushered Ben and Pearl through the hedge maze, Ben considered the situation. The good news was, they were heading to the griffin’s palace. They didn’t need Mr. Tabby to lead the way after all. The bad news was, Mr. Tabby was missing.
Before leaving the Portal, Mr. Tabby had told Ben and Pearl to never let him off the leash. This is Pearl’s fault, Ben thought with a sour expression. Pearl was always, always, always getting them into trouble. She’d let the leprechaun out of the hospital, she’d dumped dragon droppings off the roof, and now she’d dropped the leash and lost Mr. Tabby!
“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” Pearl called, her hands cupped around her mouth.
“You’d better not say that in front of the king,” Vic warned with a grunt.
Ben had to think about that for a moment. It made sense that a lion—even a half lion—wouldn’t want to be called “kitty.” “Did you hear that?” he whispered to Pearl. “Don’t say, ‘here, kitty, kitty, kitty’ in front of the king. Or you’ll get us into more trouble.”
“Yeah, okay,” Pearl said. “You don’t have to be so snippy.”
They turned left, then right, then left again, passing another WANTED sign.
“How much longer before we can talk to the king?” Ben asked the soldiers. “We’ve got to find Mr. Tabby and get back by three o’clock. That’s when we’re expected home.” And that’s when they’d start to help cure everyone of Troll Tonsillitis. Hopefully.
“Talk to the king?” Vlad snorted. “You hear that, Vic? They want to taaaaalk to the king.”
“What’s the matter with you two?” Vic asked. “Don’t you know it’s a bad-mood day?” He pointed to the sky. Storm clouds continued to brew.
“What’s a bad-mood day?” Ben asked.
“If the king’s in a good mood, it’s sunny and warm at the palace. If he’s in a sad mood, it rains. If he’s in a bad mood, well, it’s miiiiiserable.” Thunder sounded and a lightning bolt seared a nearby hedge.
“Whoa!” Ben said, nearly jumping out of his dress shoes. “That was close!”
“Why’s the king in a bad mood?” Pearl asked as the smoke cleared.
“The riddles have run out,” Vlad said.
Pearl laughed. “That doesn’t make sense. You can run out of milk and bread, but how can you run out of riddles?”
“The king’s heard them aaaaall,” Vic told her. “And no one’s been able to find any new ones.”
“Well, I bet Ben can help. He’s super good at making things up.” Pearl smiled at Ben. Ben didn’t smile back. Mr. Tabby had said that the best way to make a griffin happy was to engage in a battle of riddles. Ben hoped this wouldn’t come to pass. It was one thing to make up a story for Pearl or Grandpa Abe, but for the king of the entire Imaginary World? Talk about serious pressure!
“Here we aaaaare,” Vlad announced.
They’d reached the end of the maze. A massive golden gate stood before them, gleaming despite the lack of sunlight. A pair of golden lion paws held the gate closed, while a pair of golden wings rose above it. Tall hedges flanked the gate, and a flag waved from atop a pole. The gray flag bore the image of a griffin. “That’s the bad-mood flaaaaag,” Vlad said.
“Maybe you should get one,” Pearl whispered to Ben. “Then I’d know when you’re going to be cranky.”
“Cranky?” Ben exclaimed. “I’m only cranky because you dropped the leash.” He would never have dropped the leash. At least, that was what he told himself. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter what kind of mood I’m in,” Ben pointed out. “You should be worried about the king. If he’s in a bad mood, he might not give us a feather. And don’t forget that his rating on the danger scale depends on his mood.”
The storm clouds rumbled.
Vlad reached up and unhooked one of the golden paws. The gate swung open. Ben steadied himself, preparing to be awed. Surely the king of the Imaginary World lived in a palace more magnificent than anything he’d read about in storybooks. Or anything he could create in one of his own stories.
But what he saw was a tree.
Sure, it was a pretty big tree, with a trunk as broad as a house. The branches reached so wide, they blocked out the angry gray sky. A narrow wooden staircase wound up the tree, disappearing into the dense foliage.
Pearl looked around and said the exact same thing that Ben was thinking. “Where’s the palace?”
“You’re loooooking at it.” Vlad pointed to the base of the tree, which had been hollowed out like a cave.
“It’s a den,” Ben realized. This made total sense. He’d been expecting a traditional castle, with turrets, a moat, and a drawbridge. But the king was half lion, and lions lived in dens.
Ben and Pearl followed Vlad across a lush grass carpet. A group of satyr soldiers were sitting together, eating brown-bag lunches. They waved at Vlad and Vic.
“I’m so excited,” Pearl said as she grabbed Ben’s arm. “I don’t care that I had to wear a skirt, and I don’t care that we’ve been arrested. We get to meet another king!” As she smiled, her steps became extra bouncy.
Ben returned the smile, though his was more clenched. Pearl never seemed to focus on the bad or dangerous stuff. Ben wished he could be more like her. On the other hand, being cautious could help keep them safe. If the griffin king’s bad mood elevated him to a five-plus on the danger scale, Pearl and Ben would be in for a heap of trouble. So, while Pearl bounced around, giddy with anticipation, Ben was determined to stay focused and on alert.
“We’re going inside,” she said with a squeal as Vlad led them into the hollowed-out tree.
A throne, with lion’s feet at the base and wings sprouting from the top, had been carved from the tree itself. Ben’s gaze darted immediately to a pile of discarded bones that lay at the base of the throne. Clearly the griffin king was a carnivore. Fortunately, none of the bones belonged to anything larger than a rat.
“Where’s the king?” Pearl asked.
“He’s holding a meeting in his neeeeest.” Vlad pointed upward.
“A nest and a den,” Ben said. “That makes sense.”
Vic prodded Ben’s shoulder with his spear, pushing him toward a wooden pen that looked like a cage. “Since you’re both under arrest, you’ll await your trial in there.”
“Trial?” Uh-oh. Maybe they needed a lawyer after all. “I’d like to make my one phone call,” Ben said. “I want to call Dr. Woo and let her know what’s going on.” While he’d never seen a phone in the Imaginary World, he knew that it was somehow possible to call the switchboard and report an emergency. The unicorn king had called when his foal went missing.
“No calls without authorization from the king.” Vlad pointed at the cage. “Inside, both of yooooou.”
“No way am I going in there,” Pearl said, folding her arms tightly. “Besides, you don’t need to put us on trial, because we’re not poachers. How many times do we have to tell you that?”
“Can’t we just talk to the king?” Ben asked. “We’ll make it real quick, and then he can get back to his meeting.” But a head-butt from Vic landed Ben in the cage. Vic was about to butt Pearl, too, but she waved her hands.
“Okay, okay, no need to get pushy.” She
stepped inside voluntarily. Vlad closed and locked the cage door.
“Let’s get some lunch,” Vlad said.
“Yeah, I’m practically staaarving.”
“Don’t forget to tell the king we’re here!” Pearl called as Vlad and Vic left the den.
Ben rattled the door. It held tight. “We’re in jail, Pearl. Jail.”
“It’s not jail,” she said. “It’s just a big birdcage. Besides, even if there is a trial, we’re innocent. This is a simple misunderstanding.” She hiked up her skirt and adjusted her basketball shorts. “Anyway, what we should be worried about is getting a griffin feather, so my parents will stop looking like Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head.”
“I wonder how long we’re going to have to wait,” Ben said. He started to think of ways to break out, just in case. They could dig a tunnel, or maybe Pearl was skinny enough to squeeze between the bars.
“Look!” Pearl exclaimed.
A reddish-orange cat pranced into the den, his nose held high as if he owned the place. A vial of yellow fairy dust sparkled at his neck. The leash, which was still attached to his harness, dragged behind him. The cat wasn’t lost after all. He’d been following them this whole time. What a relief! “Hi, Mr. Tabby,” Ben said.
The cat ignored him. He stood on his hind legs and proceeded to sharpen his claws on the side of the throne. “Does that seem like a rude thing to do?” Ben asked Pearl. After all, it was a king’s throne, not a scratching post.
“It does seem a bit rude.”
Ben was worried that Mr. Tabby’s behavior would put the king in an even worse mood. He snapped his fingers. “Hey, Mr. Tabby, stop doing that.”
Pearl patted her knee. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.”
Still ignoring them, the cat leaped onto the throne, then sharpened his claws on one of the carved wings. “Oh, that’s bad. Bad kitty,” Ben scolded. The cat flicked his tail, his claws digging into the wood. Then he raised his tail even higher and aimed his rear end at the corner of the throne.
“Oh no!” Ben cried. “He’s going to spray. We’ve got to stop him!”
“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty. Here, kitty, kitty, kitty!” Pearl yelled, her voice echoing throughout the den.
From far above came the sound of creaking branches.
Luckily, the cat didn’t spray. He lowered his tail and looked up at the ceiling. More branches creaked. The entire tree shuddered. Without a glance at the apprentices, the cat leaped off the throne and dashed away.
Before Pearl could ask any questions, and before Ben could do any worrying, a sharp wind blew across their faces. Then a huge bird flew into the den and landed on the dirt floor. It opened its hooked beak, but it didn’t tweet or chirp or caw.
It roared.
15
Ben’s heartbeat drummed in his ears and his legs trembled—for good reason. He was face-to-face with one of the most magnificent creatures he’d ever seen.
While the rain dragon had been grand in size, the griffin was grand in design. His back half was covered in sleek fur, golden and glossy. His long tail ended in a dark tuft, like a pom-pom. His front half was feathered, the plumage chocolate brown with a golden sheen around the neck. As he tucked his wings, he stared at Ben and Pearl with a piercing gaze. Then his beak opened.
“Who so dareth to disturbeth my meeting?” The voice was just as Ben had expected from such a noble creature—deep in tone, royal in diction. And grumpy. Definitely grumpy.
“I guess I did,” Pearl admitted.
“So did I,” Ben said. Pearl might have shouted the loudest, but she shouldn’t take all the blame. They’d both been trying to get Mr. Tabby’s attention.
The king reached up with one of his front legs, which ended in talons, and adjusted his jeweled crown. “I was meeting with my most trusted advisor. I do not liketh to be disturbed.” A clap of thunder sounded outside.
“We’re sorry,” Pearl said. Then she added, “Your Majesty.” She leaned forward. “Bow,” she whispered to Ben from the corner of her mouth. He bowed so quickly, his forehead clunked against the cage. Formal dress and formal manners were supposed to please the griffin king. But when Ben straightened, the king did not look any happier.
“Guards!” he bellowed. Vlad and Vic ran into the den. One carried a half-eaten branch, the other a handful of vines. They fell to their knees. The king glanced down at them. “Why have I foundeth two human children in my den?”
“We are obeying Your Majesty’s command,” Vlad reported. “To bring you any humans we find. The boy and the girl were in your maze.”
The feathers around the king’s ears bristled. “Did I heareth correctly? They were trespassing in my maze?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Vlad said.
“Do you want us to take them to the pit?” Vic asked. Stringy bits of vine hung from his beard.
“The pit?” Ben cried. If Vic had used the word hole Ben wouldn’t have reacted so fiercely. A hole didn’t sound too bad. Toads lived in holes. But vipers lived in pits. A hole was where you planted a rosebush or buried a pet hamster. But a pit conjured all sorts of ugly images, like bubbling lava and consuming darkness. “Okay, wait a minute. This is a huge mistake. We weren’t trespassing. We—” The griffin king took a quick step forward. He stood so close to the cage that Ben could see his own reflection in the king’s eagle eyes.
“Have we met beforeth?” the king asked.
“No,” Ben said with a gulp.
“Then it is cleareth that I did not giveth you permission to exploreth my maze. Therefore, thou art a trespasser.”
Ben didn’t like the sound of that statement. Trespassing was against the law back home. But the truth was, they hadn’t gotten permission to walk through the maze. “Dr. Woo sent us,” Ben said. He was about to explain, but Pearl was quicker. She pressed her face against the cage, aiming her words between the bars.
“Dr. Woo sent us because she has Troll Tonsillitis, and so do the sasquatch, Metalmouth, Violet, and my parents, and Victoria, and half the town by now. We need one of your feathers because it’s the only cure.”
“That’s right,” Ben said. “We’re not poachers. We’d never hurt anyone or anything.”
Pearl smiled. “It’s really nice to meet you, Your Majesty. I’ve only met one other king. I like your crown.”
While Vlad chewed on his branch as if it were a carrot stick, and Vic swallowed another mouthful of vines, the king continued to glare at Ben and Pearl, his tail flicking with annoyance. “How do I knoweth that you speaketh the truth?”
“Oh, we do speaketh, I mean, speak the truth,” Ben said.
“You gotta believe us,” Pearl pleaded. “If you call Dr. Woo, she’ll tell you that we’re her brand-new apprentices. This is Ben and my name’s—”
“Waiteth!” the king hollered. The word echoed throughout the den. “Do not speaketh your name. Riddle it instead.”
Pearl shuffled in place. “You want a riddle for my name?” She turned to Ben and whispered, “I don’t know a riddle for my name.”
“We’d better think of one,” Ben whispered back.
“And maketh sure that it be a good riddle,” the king said. “The riddles have runneth out, and I am in need of new ones.”
Ben closed his eyes and tried to clear his head. Don’t worry about Mr. Tabby, he told himself. Don’t worry about being put in a pit or being kept in the Imaginary World forever. Don’t worry about what will happen if you and Pearl can’t bring back a feather. Ben tried to remember what Mr. Tabby had told them. A joke had a punch line, but a riddle had an answer. And the answer to this riddle was Pearl.
Images flooded Ben’s mind. He saw an actual pearl. It was round and gleaming. It looked like a full moon. Then he saw his father buying a strand of pearls for his mother. Then he saw the oyster shell that sat on the jewelry store’s counter. Pearls grew in oysters. That was it! Ben’s eyes flew open.
“I have a riddle, Your Majesty.” Ben took a long breath. This was an important moment. If t
he riddle pleased the king, then he might let them out of the cage. Ben folded his hands behind his back. “Her name begins with a grain of sand.”
“Oooh, that’s good,” Pearl said with a smile.
The griffin king whipped his tail as if trying to swat a fly. Then he cleared his throat. “The answer doth be Pearl.”
“Yes!” Pearl cried.
Vlad and Vic applauded. The king walked over to his throne and sat with a loud “Hmmph.” He perched his feathered elbows on the armrests. “It doth be a good riddle, but I am stilleth in a beastly mood.”
Pearl gripped the cage bars. “Ben’s in a bad mood, too.”
“I am not,” Ben insisted.
Pearl rolled her eyes. “Yes, you are. You’re mad because I dropped Mr. Tabby’s leash. But that’s not the only reason. You were already in a bad mood when you came to work this morning.”
Ben didn’t say anything. He did not want to talk about that other reason.
“Speaketh,” the king ordered. “Why was thou in a bad mood on this morn?” Vlad and Vic stopped eating. Their goat ears pricked up.
Pearl whispered in Ben’s ear. “Talk to him. We need to gain his trust so we can get a feather.”
The king tapped his talons together. “I do not liketh to be kept waiting!”
Ben fidgeted. He knew he could make up a story. He could say he felt grumpy because he’d found a dead moth in his cereal. Or because a troupe of clowns had stolen his comfortable shoes. “Well,” he began, “you see, Your Majesty, I’m…” He was stalling. Pearl elbowed him. Gain his trust. Ben knew trust couldn’t be gained with a lie. That made no sense. Trust had to be gained with truth. His shoulders slumped. “I felt bad this morning because I found out that my mom and my dad are going to live in two different houses.”
Sometimes it felt better to let a secret fly free, but this time it felt worse.
“Oh, Ben, I’m so sorry,” Pearl said, patting his back.
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