"Wow," Nate said. "You have enough maps here to make a hundred Books of Beasts."
"Remember, Nate, Fludds have been making maps for the last five hundred years, if not more. We'll spread out here." She plunked the original Book of Beasts onto one of
the tables, then quickly cleared everything else away. "While I begin searching for maps we can use, why don't you scan the bookshelves and see if you can find a book with a binding that looks as much like The Book of Beasts as possible."
"Are the books in any sort of order?" he asked.
"Not so that you'd notice. Besides, it doesn't matter what is actually in the books—we're just looking for the closest match, cover-wise."
A few minutes later, Nate came over to the worktable and dumped a stack of four books onto it. "These were the closest I could find," he said. "None of them is exact, but they all are close. This one is the same color, but this one has the same kind of locking clasps—see?"
"Excellent. We'll take what we need from each of them. Here. You're a better artist than I am. Can you take this map and add an extra mountain range here? Then on this map, I need you to try to cover up this pass through the mountains, then redraw an incorrect one here. Can you do that?" She scooted a box of colored pencils and a pan of paints his way.
Nate studied the maps she'd handed him. No drawing of his had ever been this important. He tried not to think of his parents or the beasts whose lives depended on his being able to fool Obediah. "I think so," he said, then picked up a paintbrush and got to work.
And so they spent the rest of the day, furiously working at creating a perfect imperfect replica of The Book of Beasts. Nate redrew old maps, altering landscapes, erasing valleys, and creating rivers where there were none. While he was busy with that, Aunt Phil collected pictures of the beasts for Nate to paste into the book. Using some very old parchment and altering her handwriting, she wrote up descriptions of each of the beasts. Wherever possible, she downplayed their magical properties. They stopped only once to gulp down cheese sandwiches and lukewarm tea. Aunt Phil hadn't even waited long enough for the kettle to come to a proper boil.
By the time the clock struck midnight, they had a near perfect copy. "What do you think?" Aunt Phil asked, holding the two books side by side.
"Wow, I can't even tell which one is which," Nate said.
Cornelius waddled over and peered closely at the books. "They are remarkably similar. This plan just may work." Coming from the dodo, that was high praise indeed.
"Let's catch a few hours' shuteye," Aunt Phil said. "To - morrow is going to be a big day and we'll need every ounce of our wits about us." She put her arm companionably around Nate's shoulders, and together they went up the stairs. The warm weight of her arm on his back made him feel better, less exposed. He wasn't alone, no matter what happened. For a brief moment, he tried to imagine Aunt Phil and his parents together in the same room. He hastily shoved the image from his mind, afraid he might jinx things.
Aunt Phil stopped in front of his bedroom door. "Try to sleep, Nate. You won't be at your best unless you do, and I'll need your help if we're to pull this off." She ruffled his hair, then quickly leaned down and kissed the top of his head before hurrying down the hallway to her own bedroom.
Chapter Thirteen
THEY LEFT FOR BROCELIANDE FOREST AT DAYBREAK. They still hadn't heard back from any of Aunt Phil's contacts, but they couldn't wait any longer. Knowing that Obediah was safely in France, Cornelius decided to stay home this time. Nate's eyes widened in mock surprise. "What's the matter, Corny? Aren't you up for a little adventure?"
Even Aunt Phil hid a smile. "He's got you there, Cornelius."
The dodo said nothing, but he raised his beak into the air with great dignity and waddled back into the house.
***
They made it to Mr. Sylvan's cottage by midmorning. He came out to meet them, wringing his hands. "I'm so glad you're here," he said.
Aunt Phil hurried forward. "Why? What's wrong?"
Mr. Sylvan swallowed nervously. "I was allowed in early this morning to give Luminessa her vitamin tonic—"
"Does Obediah know she's foaling?"
The faun shook his head. "Not yet. But that's the problem. I think the baby is coming."
"Today?" Aunt Phil asked, a note of panic in her voice.
"Today."
The faun's warning lit a fire under Aunt Phil and she galloped out of the cottage. Before Nate had a chance to follow, Mr. Sylvan shoved three lumpy yellow pieces of fruit into his hand. "Here. The quince arrived. Luminessa might need a treat once this is all over."
Not wanting to lose sight of Aunt Phil, Nate shoved the strange fruit into his coat pockets, then ran to catch up.
This was the third time he'd hiked into the unicorn's bower, but the path had never seemed so long or so full of obstacles. Each time the trail switched back on itself, Nate thought of the precious minutes they were losing.
Neither he nor Aunt Phil spoke—they were too intent on getting to Obediah as quickly as they could. Even the forest itself seemed eerily quiet, as if it, too, was worried about its unicorn.
It was because of all that quiet that Nate was able to hear the muffled footstep behind him, a faint scrape against the forest floor. When he glanced over his shoulder, there was nothing there, but the leaves of the closest tree rustled slightly. Fear rippled along his arms and he quickened his pace. Whatever was following him, Nate didn't want to face it alone.
When they crossed the small stone bridge, Nate risked another glance over his shoulder. Still nothing. Just as he started to relax, he heard a very soft whuffling sound. He jerked his head back around.
There was still nothing to see, but he heard something pawing at the ground. Zeroing in on the sound, Nate's gaze fastened on two dark blue eyes peering at him from a thick bramble. One cloven hoof stuck out at the bottom.
Another unicorn? How could that be? Aunt Phil had said there was only one per forest.
The creature snorted again. It sounded angry to Nate. Remembering how ferociously Luminessa had greeted them, he itched to go hide behind Aunt Phil.
Then he remembered the quince in his pocket. A unicorn delicacy. Maybe if he left that behind, the unicorn would be happy with the treat and leave them alone. Nate plucked one of the pieces of lumpy yellow fruit from his pocket and let it drop to the ground. He hurried to catch up to Aunt Phil.
A short while later, they reached the edges of the meadow. Obediah had set up a small tent, and the uldra sat miserably in front of a campfire, roasting sausages. They could see Obediah's feet sticking out of the tent, as if he hadn't a care in the world and was taking a nap.
When they stepped out of the trees, the uldra leaped up and murmured something. The feet disappeared, and then Obediah himself came ducking out of the tent. His eyes lit up when he saw Aunt Phil and Nate. "You've brought it?" he asked.
"We have," Aunt Phil said shortly. "But before I hand over the book, I'll need to see the boy's parents."
"I told you—they're not here, but they are close by."
"How will we find them, then?"
"As soon as you hand me the book, I will release a carrier pigeon with instructions to have the boy's parents delivered to your house in Batting-at-the-Flies." He reached out for the book.
Aunt Phil set her pack down and fished out the fake Book of Beasts. Looking as if she'd swallowed something unpleasant, Aunt Phil handed Obediah the book.
He took it greedily, and as he rifled through the pages, he cackled with glee.
"The messenger?" Aunt Phil reminded him.
Without pulling his eyes away from the book, Obediah waved at the uldra. The little man went into the tent, then quickly returned with a small wooden cage holding a pigeon. Nate saw there was a note attached to its ankle.
"I'm sure you'll understand that we'll want to see the note before it leaves," Aunt Phil said.
Obediah inclined his head. The uldra opened the cage, removed the note from the bird
's foot, and gave it to Aunt Phil to read. She gave a brisk nod and handed it back. "Everything seems to be in order."
The uldra retied the note to the pigeon, then removed his hand from the cage, leaving the door open. The bird hesitated at first, as if not believing its good fortune, then, with a flutter of wings, took to the sky. Nate watched it soar, his hopes soaring with it.
"Well," Obediah said. "As much as I hate to say goodbye, I really must be on my way." He closed the book, slipped it inside his jacket, and patted his chest. "Can't afford to take any chances with this, now, can I? Oh, and one more thing. I've decided that I'll take that unicorn horn after all. What use will all these riches be if I don't live long enough to enjoy them?"
"But you gave your word!" Aunt Phil said.
Obediah ignored her and began walking across the meadow.
Behind Nate, a twig broke, just off to his left. An exotic, spicy smell drifted into the clearing, reminding him of cinnamon. The faint sound of snorting and pawing came through the trees. Nate froze. Had the second unicorn followed them after all? He shoved his hand into his pocket and wrapped it around a quince, ready to throw it at the unicorn if need be.
When Obediah reached the far side of the meadow, he turned and smirked triumphantly at Aunt Phil. She narrowed her eyes. "Stay here, Nate," she ordered. But before she could take a step, a sleek white and crimson shape burst out of the trees behind them. The unicorn's hooves churned up the grassy earth, sending clods flying in all directions, like small mortars. Its blood red head was lowered so that the tricolor horn pointed directly at Obediah.
The uldra gave a squeal of fear and dived for the tent. Aunt Phil gaped stupidly at the unicorn galloping across the meadow, clearly not believing her eyes. Nate jumped forward and grabbed her arm, pulling her down so that they both tumbled to the ground.
At the commotion, Obediah stopped walking and turned back around. His mouth formed a large O, and then the unicorn was upon him.
There was a sickening crunch as the horn connected with Obediah's chest. The next moment, he was flying through the air as the unicorn flung him toward the trees. A loud thud had Aunt Phil wincing as he connected with something solid.
Nate kept low in the grass and watched as the unicorn galloped around the edge of the clearing a few times, whinnying out either a warning or a victory cry. It pawed once more, then held perfectly still.
"An indicus!" Aunt Phil breathed. "They really do exist."
Silence descended on the meadow. A number of minutes passed before Aunt Phil and Nate slowly inched to a standing position. The Unicornis indicus watched them with his dark blue eyes but made no movement toward them. Once they were on their feet, Nate pulled a quince from his pocket and held it out. A peace offering.
The unicorn took a halting step toward him, then paused. Nate didn't move. He stared into the unicorn's eyes, willing him to see that Nate meant him no harm.
The unicorn took another step, then another, until Nate could feel the soft cinnamon-scented breath on his hand. "Should we try to exchange breath with it?" he asked Aunt Phil in a whisper.
"Absolutely. I'll go first in case he resists." Moving slowly so as not to startle the beast, Aunt Phil lowered her head and blew softly into the unicorn's nostrils. He whickered faintly and twitched its ears. "Now you try, Nate."
Keeping his eyes glued to the indicus, Nate leaned forward and blew. The unicorn's nostrils quivered and he seemed to relax. "Here." Nate held the quince out.
Moving cautiously, the unicorn took the fruit between his teeth but didn't bite down. Instead, he pranced over to the path that led to Luminessa's bower.
"I think he wants us to go to Luminessa," Aunt Phil whispered.
"But why?" Nate asked.
"I think he wants to see his foal safely born," she said, a touch of wonder in her voice.
"Oh!" Nate breathed.
Together, they followed the indicus toward the path. When they reached it, the unicorn turned and led the way to the bower.
By the time they reached the rocky cliff that hid the entrance to Luminessa's bower, the indicus had disappeared. Everything was eerily quiet, and then Nate heard something. A small, tiny voice.
"There's a nice horsy. You go ahead and lick him all you like. But you ain't never putting that tongue on me again. Ever."
They hurried forward and found Luminessa in her nest, lying on her side. A very small, very spindly baby unicorn was curled up next to her. Its head was bright crimson, and its little stub of a horn was tipped in red. Greasle lay on the ground, staring up at the sky, as if exhausted.
"Greasle?" Nate whispered.
She lifted her head from the ground. "Oh, now you gets here. When all the excitement is over."
"What excitement?" Aunt Phil asked.
"That dumb horse went and had her baby, that's what excitement."
"So I see," Nate said. "And you took care of it all by yourself?"
"I sure did," Greasle said with a sniff. She sat up and looked at Aunt Phil. "Now I can stay with Nate, right?"
"Yes, Greasle. You have gone far above the call of duty today. And you have done something no beastologist has ever managed to do—see a baby unicorn into this world."
Greasle folded her arms. "Hmph," she said, but Nate could tell she was quite pleased with herself.
There was a loud whinny from high above them. Nate jerked his head up and saw the Unicornis indicus standing on the rocky cliff overhead, outlined against the blue sky. The unicorn opened his mouth and dropped the quince so that it landed beside Luminessa. She looked up at her mate and whinnied back. He nodded his horn once, then turned and disappeared.
Nate wondered if any human would ever see him again.
Chapter Fourteen
THE SHORT PLANE RIDE BACK to Batting-at-the-Flies was the longest of Nate's life. He was so full of hope and excitement, he could barely sit still. Luckily, this time he didn't have to worry about Cornelius. Faster, his mind screamed at Aunt Phil. Fly faster. At last they left the blue gray ocean far behind, and the rolling green hills and small patches of forest near Batting-at-the-Flies came into view. Nate leaned over the side of the cockpit as far as he dared, keeping an eye out for the house. There it was! He squinted, hoping his parents would be waiting for him outside, looking up and waving at the plane.
But when they got close enough, Nate could see that the yard was empty. That didn't mean anything, he told himself. After all, his parents had no way of knowing he and Aunt Phil would be coming home right at this moment. Besides, they were probably exhausted from being held prisoner for so long.
When the plane finally landed, Nate didn't even wait for it to come to a complete stop before he scrambled out of the cockpit. It rolled along the last few yards with Nate standing on the wing, clinging to the side of the plane. Aunt Phil shouted something at him, but he couldn't make out the words over the put-put-put of the engine and the whop-whop of the propeller.
When he was sure he wouldn't end up killing himself, he jumped from the wing. He landed on soft, loamy ground with a surprisingly hard thud and clack of his teeth.
"Nate!" Aunt Phil called out. But he ignored her, pushed to his feet, and ran to the back door. He opened it so hard, it crashed into the wall behind it. "Mom! Dad!" he called out. "We're back!"
There was no answer but the hollow silence of an empty house. Asleep. They were probably asleep, upstairs in one of the bedrooms. "Mom! Dad!" Nate called again, heading for the stairs.
As he took them two at a time, he heard Aunt Phil behind him. "Nate! I don't think they're here—"
Nate stomped his feet harder on the stairs to drown out her words. When he reached the second-floor landing, he went to the first bedroom door and threw it open. Empty. He crossed the hall and opened the second bedroom door, his heart sinking when he saw the dusty, empty room.
They were probably in Aunt Phil's room, he realized. It was the nicest and had the biggest bed. He ran to the end of the hall and opened Aunt Phil's bedroo
m door. It was full of maps and equipment, packs and all sorts of things, but no parents.
Nate turned and walked to his bedroom door. Of course. They were probably waiting for him in his room. That's what he would have done. Just as he reached his bedroom door, Aunt Phil appeared on the top step. "Nate," she said, her voice thick with sorrow. He looked up at her and she shook her head.
No! They were home. They had to be. He turned back to the door and opened it.
His room was empty, just like all the others.
Numb, he took three steps into the room and stopped. Aunt Phil had been right. Obediah had planned on deceiving them all along.
He felt Aunt Phil come into the room behind him. "Nate, I'm so sorry," she said, and laid a hand on his shoulder.
He jerked away from her. "Maybe they just haven't gotten here yet."
"No, Nate." Aunt Phil's voice was full of understanding. "If they were truly only a matter of hours away, they would have been here by now. Obediah was bluffing the whole time."
Anger, hot and ugly, bubbled through him. "This is your fault," he said, turning around to face her. "If you'd done exactly what he said, Obediah would have returned them. He knew you were going to trick him."
"No, Nate. Think for a minute. How would he have known what we'd planned?"
"I don't know. Maybe someone told him. Maybe that dumb dodo told him." Nate pointed at Cornelius, who had finally made his way up the stairs and was standing in the doorway. He expected the dodo to fight back. To scold or protest. Something. Instead, he looked at Nate with sympathy.
That was the final straw. Nate's shoulders slumped and he threw himself on the bed. His eyes stung and he buried his face in his pillow.
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