Then Ozzie noticed the key. It was hanging around the lady’s neck and seemed to be a complicated device, the top consisting of a nest of gears and wheels.
Where did she even come from? Ozzie wondered as he gaped at the lady. Was she just hiding here in all these plants? Why didn’t I see her?
“Now, why is it that you’re meandering the station all alone?” the lady wondered.
“I was with Captain Cho and Tug,” Ozzie replied. “But we . . . er, got separated.”
The lady leaned down—way down—to contemplate Ozzie with her vibrant eyes. “I regret that I did not introduce myself properly last time, Oswald. I am Lady Zoone, the steward of this station. I would like it if you came to my study so that we might talk things over in private. How does that sound?”
Ozzie wasn’t used to adults asking for his opinion. All he managed to say by way of reply was “Most people call me Ozzie.”
“My apologies,” Lady Zoone said cordially. “I believe you told me that once before. Come along.”
“Wait a minute,” Ozzie said. “What about Tug? And Cho? We better find them first.”
“Ah,” Lady Zoone said. She held up a palm and one of the birds in her hair flitted down to it. “Would you mind, little friend? Find Tug and the captain and take them to the crew tower. I’ll deliver Ozzie there shortly.”
With a cheerful chirp, the bird fluttered away. Ozzie watched it disappear across the hub in fascination. “Can it speak?” he asked Lady Zoone. “How’s Cho supposed to understand the message?”
“Oh, he’ll understand,” Lady Zoone assured him. “Now, let’s get upstairs and talk about that collapsed door, and how you ended up here without Tempie.”
Ozzie’s jaw dropped. “How do you know the door collapsed?”
“I am the steward of the station,” she said. “Didn’t your aunt tell you anything about me?”
No, Ozzie thought with a hint of bitterness, which was quickly followed by a prickle of shame. He had been so swept away by the marvels of the station that he had completely forgotten about Aunt Temperance until Lady Zoone had mentioned her. But he didn’t want to feel guilty! He was finally having an adventure. How many hours had he spent staring up at his bedroom ceiling, pining for something exactly like this to happen? And now, here he was, except . . .
An image of Aunt Temperance crying on the sofa flashed in his mind.
Ozzie sighed. It was hard to enjoy the experience of a lifetime knowing she was back in Apartment 2B, all alone and sinking. Whether he liked it or not, he was going to have to find a way back home.
6
Lady Zoone and the Map of the Multiverse
“Listen,” Ozzie said to Lady Zoone, “I really appreciate, well . . . everything, but I think we better figure out a way to fix that door. Now.”
“Victuals first,” the lady replied, unclasping the key from the chain around her neck. “Why the grave expression? Victuals just means food and beverage.”
“I know what it means,” Ozzie said impatiently as Lady Zoone fiddled with the gears on her key. “I do live with Aunt Temperance, you know. What I’m trying to say is that—”
“Ah, got it!” Lady Zoone said cheerfully as the key made a loud clicking sound. She turned to the turquoise door, inserted the key, and led Ozzie through. They were inside what appeared to be Lady Zoone’s personal library. Clouds whisked past the many windows in the chamber.
“What?!” Ozzie exclaimed. He raced to the nearest window and stared out. Sprawling before him was the realm of Zoone. He could see countless doors and travelers on the platforms below and, beyond that, the Infinite Wood stretching into . . . well, infinity. The tops of the trees were shaped like mushrooms and were a lush greenish-blue color that reminded Ozzie of the Caribbean Sea. Not that he had ever visited the Caribbean, but he had seen it on a postcard from his mom. He turned back to Lady Zoone. “I don’t understand. How’d we get all the way up here?”
“We took a shortcut,” she explained as she returned the key to the chain around her neck. Then she pointed to her hair and added, “A nest of eggs is about to hatch. No need to jostle them by taking the stairs.”
Ozzie looked about the chamber. It was what Aunt Temperance would call a tidy clutter. The furniture was arranged so that it created narrow pathways branching through the room. Almost every surface was covered with books, maps, charts, and globes of worlds that Ozzie didn’t recognize. Then there were the creatures. There were dozens of them, mice and birds just like the ones in Lady Zoone’s hair, scuttling and fluttering over the furniture and along every available ledge.
“Are you a witch?” Ozzie asked.
“No,” Lady Zoone replied with a flowery laugh.
“Sorry,” Ozzie said, realizing his question might have been a little blunt. “Aunt Temperance says I have an overactive imagination.”
“Ah, yes. Why is it that no one is upset if you’re overly good at algebra? Or physics? But overly good at imagining . . . well, that seems to put a shake in everyone’s soda.” Chuckling at her own observation, she cleared an armchair for Ozzie, then contented herself by sitting on a short stack of books (she still towered over Ozzie). Then she hummed a cheerful tune, which prompted many of the little creatures to spring into activity. In a matter of seconds, a tray of refreshments appeared on the table between them.
“Your pets?” Ozzie asked, eyeing the nearest green-spotted mouse. He was pretty sure it was the same one that had pestered him in Apartment 2B.
“Not exactly. They are native to Arborell, my home world,” Lady Zoone explained. “We help each other.”
As she said this, the mouse nudged a tall glass of frothy brown liquid across the tray toward Ozzie.
“What is it?” Ozzie asked suspiciously. “I don’t like tea.”
“Not tea,” Lady Zoone assured him. “It’s more like . . . what do you call it in Eridea? Maple syrup, I believe.”
Ozzie snorted. “We don’t drink it!”
“Yes, just one of the many things your world has gotten wrong,” Lady Zoone declared. “You know, I brought some Arborellian nectar to your aunt once upon a time. She quite enjoyed it.”
Ozzie doubted that. “She likes tea and vitamin shakes,” he said. “Though we do drink hot chocolate on Sunday afternoons.” Except, he thought with a sudden pang of remorse, that won’t happen this week. “Look,” he told Lady Zoone, “I didn’t mean to get stuck here. I just meant to come for a visit. You know, take a quick look around, then go back.”
Lady Zoone smiled. “You’re not the first traveler to tell me that.”
“Aunt Temperance is sick,” Ozzie announced. “She just lies in bed and stares at the ceiling.”
Lady Zoone leaned forward, tapping her chin with one of her willowy fingers. Ozzie contemplated the lines on her face and wondered about her age. In some ways, she looked to be as old as Mrs. Yang in Apartment 2A. But he also had the feeling that she might be older—much older.
“I never intended for you to come here, Ozzie, at least not without your aunt,” Lady Zoone said eventually. “She is very dear to me, you know. I wish—well, you must believe me when I say that I’ll do everything in my power to open that door. I’m worried about her, too.”
“Then let’s go,” Ozzie said, setting down his cup.
“It’s not that simple.”
The guilt that had been bubbling in Ozzie’s stomach turned to frustration. “Why not? I thought this was a magical place! Portals just crumble and all we can do is sit here?”
“They don’t crumble—that’s just it,” Lady Zoone insisted. “A door might close, but collapsing? That’s something I’ve never seen. Tell me what happened, Ozzie. And please tell the truth—because Tug certainly will.”
“I guess skygers can’t lie,” Ozzie remarked.
“No, just Tug,” Lady Zoone said. “He isn’t much like others of his kind. But that’s Zoone for you.”
Ozzie looked at her and scratched the back of his neck. The way she talked
, it was like she expected him to have an understanding of this place. But he didn’t. He was the exact opposite of a worldly kid. His greatest adventure up to this point had been sneak-reading a manga during math class.
Lady Zoone rose to her feet. “I think I had better explain this place to you,” she said, as if reading his thoughts. “Come with me.”
Ozzie followed her through the jumble until they arrived at another door. Lady Zoone used her key again, and they stepped into a circular chamber with a ceiling so high that it disappeared into obscurity. Ozzie wasn’t even sure there was a ceiling; the only light was shining up through alcoves in the floor. The room was the opposite of Lady Zoone’s study: tidy, bare, and without a single piece of furniture. Only the single encircling wall was covered, and this with hundreds of keys, all neatly arranged and hanging on hooks.
A key for each world, Ozzie thought. Lady Zoone’s personal set.
Lady Zoone closed the door behind them. “Truth be told, I think the multiverse sometimes gets it wrong.”
She flicked a switch on the wall; the lights in the room automatically dimmed and Ozzie heard the whirring sound of machinery start up from beneath them. Then a trapdoor opened in the middle of the floor and a turquoise-colored globe ascended into the room, spinning and beaming lights in every direction.
“What the . . . ?” Ozzie murmured.
All around them were whirling, glowing orbs. Most were blue or green in color, though Ozzie spotted a few that were amber, and even some that were red. He tried to touch one of the glowing balls, but his hand just went straight through, as if he were snatching air.
“So many doors,” Lady Zoone continued, “so many places. If you ask me, not everyone is born in the right one.”
They were looking at a map, Ozzie realized, a three-dimensional projection that displayed the different worlds in the multiverse. He turned slowly with the orbs, trying to keep up, but he soon grew dizzy so he stopped and concentrated on the brightest shape: the turquoise globe at the very center of the map.
“Zoone?” he guessed.
Lady Zoone nodded.
“So . . . people come here looking for the right place?”
“Some,” the lady replied. “Or they just end up here. They’re drawn to the nexus, I suppose. For others, this is just a stop on the way to other realms. They have restless souls—they want to travel.” She was wandering through the map now, gesturing at different spheres in the map. “They want to see the worlds. Visit the fifty-seven multiversal wonders. The Empty Sea of Eraxi. The Great Gorge of Gresswyden. That sort of thing.”
“How did all this come to be?” Ozzie wondered.
“Zoone? It was always here,” Lady Zoone said, the light from the orbs dancing on her wizened face. “Well, the Infinite Wood and the magical tracks. It was my ancestor Zephyrus Zoone who first discovered the nexus, a very long time ago. There was only a forest back then—and the portals, though they were invisible. For the longest time, the tracks were used only by magic folk who knew how to access them, but Zephyrus began formalizing everything. He built doors for each of the tracks, to help travelers find them—and to regulate traffic. Zephyrus also built the first station house. It was smaller then, just a humble place, but over the centuries we’ve expanded. Now we offer all sorts of services to the multiverse. As neutral ground, we’ve become the desired site for many important events.”
“Like the Convention of Wizardry,” Ozzie remembered. “Do you think the wizards can fix the door to my world?”
“Possibly,” Lady Zoone said.
Her eyes were fixed on a blaring red orb, and it suddenly occurred to Ozzie that it represented his world. Red because it’s closed off, he thought. There were other red orbs floating on the map, but not many. Which was definitely not a good sign.
“It’s not my fault,” Ozzie said. “Mr. Crudge—this creepy old guy in our building—chased us. As soon as he entered the door, the track collapsed.”
“Because he didn’t have a key,” Lady Zoone deduced. “Tracks can be finicky if you don’t have one, but—well, I’ll have to discuss the matter with the wizards once they arrive. Poor Mr. Crudge! He might be trapped on the track between Eridea and Zoone.”
“It’s Aunt Temperance we need to worry about,” Ozzie said, kicking at the floor. “Maybe this is my fault. I wish I’d never found that door.”
“Now, that I find hard to believe,” Lady Zoone declared. “If you ask me, no one finds a door by accident. Don’t blame yourself, Ozzie. What’s happening with your aunt . . . well, if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine. It was clearly my visit that upset her.”
It was a relief that Lady Zoone wanted to take some responsibility for the situation—but it was also the truth, Ozzie realized. Lady Zoone showing up at the apartment had sparked Aunt Temperance’s downward spiral. “Why is that?” he wondered out loud.
“Because I remind her of her old life,” Lady Zoone said. “I once lived in your world, you know. Your aunt and I were good friends. That was long ago, after she had run away and joined the circus.”
“What are you talking about?!” Ozzie gasped. There was no way he could imagine Aunt Temperance in a circus. She was so . . . mundane (to steal one of her own words)—and about as opposite from a circus as you could get.
Lady Zoone laughed, her wrinkles punctuated by the bright glow of the map. “The one thing you need to understand about your aunt is that she’s not the person she used to be. She was much different back in those days, Ozzie. Alive and full of imagination. It’s why I sent Tug to fetch her; I thought he would awaken something inside her.”
Ozzie scowled. “So she did know about this place. And she kept it from me.”
Lady Zoone flashed a sad sliver of a smile. “The point, Ozzie, is that I think she kept it from herself.”
That didn’t really make sense to Ozzie. As far as he was concerned, it was pretty simple: If you found a door to a magic world, you went through it! “What about my parents?” he pressed irritably. “Don’t tell me they know about this place, too.”
“It’s your aunt who was entrusted with the key,” Lady Zoone informed him. “And the secret. Not your parents.”
At least there’s one place they haven’t been, Ozzie thought smugly. “Wait a minute. The secret? Of Zoone? Back home, you said the secret of Zoone was waiting for Aunt Temperance. That means there’s more to it. So . . . what is the secret?”
Lady Zoone fingered the peculiar key that hung at her chest. “I’m not sure I could explain it in a way that would make sense to you. It needs to be discovered, I suppose. Which is why I really wish your aunt would have just made the choice to open the door and step through to Zoone. Like you did.”
“Why didn’t you just bring her here?” Ozzie suggested.
“Against her will? Sounds like kidnapping to me.”
“What do you call sending Tug without a key?”
“Oh. That,” Lady Zoone said. “I call that encouraging. Listen, Ozzie, as I said before, I’m going to do everything in my power to see that the door is repaired and that you can see your aunt again. That means we need to enlist the aid of the wizards, to see if they can—and will—open the door.”
“Why wouldn’t they?” Ozzie asked nervously.
“Let’s just say they don’t share my fondness for Eridea,” Lady Zoone replied. “Especially Isidorus Nymm, the head of the council. You see, it’s the job of the wizards to govern the tracks, and they tend to worry about access to what they consider dead or dying worlds. Some of them might be just as happy that the portal collapsed.”
“What are you talking about?” Ozzie wondered. “My world’s not dying. Why would you say that?”
Lady Zoone flicked the switch on the wall, and the machine shut down. The colorful orbs faded away and Ozzie found himself disappointedly standing in the regular dim light of the room.
“There are many ways for a world to die,” Lady Zoone said. “And yours . . . well, let’s just say it’s important
that we convince the wizards to open the door to Eridea. Not only to return you, Ozzie, but to—well, not to sound too dramatic about it—save it.”
“Save it from what?” he demanded.
Lady Zoone seemed to momentarily lose herself in thought. “Itself,” she said eventually. “A closed door is a terrible thing to happen to a world. It’s like snipping the roots off a tree. Hard to blossom when that happens. In fact, hard to survive.”
Ozzie exhaled. This situation seemed to be getting more intense by the moment. All he had really wanted was to escape his dull life for a while, wander around, and have a bit of fun. Dealing with wizards and dying worlds hadn’t exactly featured in any travel brochure he had seen. Maybe, just maybe, Aunt Temperance had been the smart one, staying out of all this mess. But it was too late for regrets now.
“What do we do?” Ozzie asked. “How do we convince the wizards to help?”
“I have a plan,” Lady Zoone revealed. “The convention starts next week; it only happens once every eleven years, so you’ve arrived at just the right moment. I had actually hoped that your aunt would come so that I could present her to the council, but now you’re here, and perhaps that’s even better.”
“Uh . . . why?” Ozzie asked. “Better” wasn’t exactly a word that people normally associated with him.
“I believe there’s still worth in Eridea,” Lady Zoone explained. “Still . . . magic. But it’s not enough for me to simply stand before the council and tell them that. I need proof. And that proof can be you, Ozzie. You can go before the council. You can be the one to impress them.”
“Impress them?” Ozzie spluttered. “How am I supposed to do that?”
“Just by being yourself,” Lady Zoone said.
It sounded vaguely similar to Aunt Temperance’s “just-be-you” days. Unfortunately, Ozzie thought, when I’m myself, I usually bump into things.
The Secret of Zoone Page 5