Drosselmeyer: Curse of the Rat King

by Paul Thompson

  The room darkened, and the ticking clock slowed and thudded loudly.

  Boroda bared his teeth and slammed the table. The wood began to smoke under his red, glowing fists. “Don’t ever say that name again!”

  Fritz sat paralyzed with fear. He tried to nod, but his body wouldn’t move.

  The lights flashed back on, the clock ticked normally, and Boroda was gone.

  He finally managed to whisper to the empty room, “Yes, sir.”

  Chapter 8

  Fritz lay in bed, carving a face into a wooden doll. His attempt at a smile resembled more of a snarl. He tossed the doll aside and, scooping up all the wood shavings, floated them to the trash bin in the corner of his room.

  He yawned and stretched, then flinched from the soreness. It had been almost a month since Boroda had crushed him against the wall, but a few muscles in his ribcage still hurt.

  Fritz eyed the large, wingback chair near the window, whispered a word, and the exact spell that Boroda had used sent the chair shooting across the room. He stopped it right before it hit the wall.

  He’d traveled to his room that night, traced the spell from memory, and found it to be a much different kind of pushing spell. As he experimented with it, he realized that it pushed some but also co-opted gravitational pull to help. It took much less energy, and even though using it was like holding a ball against a wall with a broomstick handle, the amount you pushed increased the gravitational pull exponentially. In short, you could crush something, or someone, with very little energy.

  Ever since that night, Fritz had practiced the spell on his own. He let the chair down and traveled to the library.

  He grabbed The Wizard’s Compendium of Spells and Enchantments, Volume One from the shelf, cursing whatever spell reshelved all the books each night, before settling into the window nook.

  He flipped through the first three quarters of the book in his mind, making sure he could still visualize all the spells, and then set to work tracing the new spells. Around him, the scintillating wisps of magic tumbled in bilious clouds as he committed spell after spell to memory.

  When the mantle clock chimed midnight, he set the book down and traveled back to his bedroom.

  He pulled the covers up and was about to drift off when he noticed the doll’s snarl. The shiny, glass eyes reflected the moonlight from the windows, creating an unsettling effect.

  Fritz waved his finger, and the knee-high doll tumbled sideways and fell to the floor.

  “Stupid doll,” he mumbled and went to sleep.

  “Today is the day you choose your subject for final juries,” Ms. Wakimba announced.

  The class groaned.

  Marzi had a piece of paper on her desk with several options. Her hands were folded, and she sat upright, eyes fixed on Ms. Wakimba.

  Fritz craned his neck to see which animal she’d picked.

  Over the last month, they’d met every day in the library to study. Fritz had a harder time concentrating on the school subjects but managed to get some work finished.

  He looked down at his own list. It was about as random a list as you could get. Twelve animals: one for each of the letters in his name. He’d chosen them by blindly pointing in an alphabetized book of zoology.

  The previous afternoon he’d joked with Marzi, much to her horror, that he was going to make a list of animals that corresponded with the letters in his name and pick one at random when Ms. Wakimba asked for his selection.

  “But you have to tell her class, order, family, genus, and species,” she’d reminded him. “You can’t memorize that for all twelve.”

  “Want to bet?” he asked, drumming his fingers together.

  “You’re on!” she fired back. “A dozen homemade cookies says you can’t do it.”

  Fritz shook her outstretched hand. “I like chocolate chip,” he said. Keeping her hand held firmly in his, he added, “No raisins.”

  Marzi began to respond but Fritz cut her off. “And I want them to be at least this big.” He held up a circle formed by his thumbs and middle fingers.

  Marzi folded her arms and partially suppressed a smile. “As soon as Marion sits down, I’ll give you a number. That’s your animal for final juries.”

  “Deal.” Fritz clapped his textbook shut.

  “Thank you, Marion,” Ms. Wakimba said while scribbling in her notebook. Marion settled into his chair directly in front of Fritz and wiped his sweaty palms down his uniform pants. His neckline was glistening from nerves, and his sharp, beaked nose flared as he inhaled deep sighs of relief.

  Fritz looked over at Marzi. She held up three fingers.

  He looked down and counted. “D–R–O. O–Owl.”

  “Drosselmeyer?” Ms. Wakimba called.

  Fritz closed his eyes and pictured the page in the library.

  He stood and announced, “The barn owl.”

  “The barn owl? Would you care to be more specific?” She glanced up to make sure that he wasn’t reading from any notes.

  “Class: Aves. Order: Strigiformes. Family: Strigidae. Genus: Bubo. Species: B. Bubo.”

  “Thank you. You may have a seat.”

  He sat, then turned to Marzi, whose mouth gaped open, and held up his hands in a circle.

  “This big!” he mouthed.

  Her eyes narrowed, but the corners of her mouth turned upward.

  “No raisins,” Fritz mouthed again before he turned back around to face the front of the class.

  Fritz lay sprawled on the small couch in the library turret. He made a moaning sound as he chewed.

  “These are amazing!” he said to Marzi, who watched his feast of victory with annoyance and amusement.

  “I’m glad you like them,” she said, pouring on the sarcasm.

  Fritz put the package on a table beside him and pulled out a tactics book. “I was hoping phys ed would just be exercising,” he said. “Why are we reading about military tactics?”

  “Chances are good that several of our classmates will engage each other in some kind of war,” Marzi said flatly. She flipped a few pages in the same book.

  “You’re right, there,” Fritz laughed as he began the chapter on battlefield formations. “I guess we want them to kill each other faster and more efficiently.”

  “I’ve been thinking about the attacks on our homes.” Marzi suddenly closed her book with a pop.

  “Yeah? Did you figure something out?”

  “Maybe. What are the things you and I have in common?”

  Fritz thought for a moment. “I don’t know … we’re both wizards?”

  “Yes, but that’s probably the reason why we got attacked. We need to figure out how we got attacked so we can figure out who attacked us.” She walked to the window and leaned against the stone pane. “How we got attacked is the tough part. You said no one knows where your house is, and Hanja told me the same thing.”

  She paused. “I was wrong about that. Sort of.”

  “Ok. Who knows where we live?” Fritz asked.

  She began to pace. “There are people who know that we’re wizards. That’s not a huge secret. Not really. The Order is so diverse that we only have a few things in common. These things are so blatantly obvious that I overlooked them.”

  “Yeah, I can’t believe you missed the totally obvious … things,” Fritz joked.

  “I’m serious! What is it that all the members of The Order have in common?” She waited for his response.

  Fritz thought hard but gave up. “I don’t know. Just tell me.”

  “Food!” she said.

  “Food?” Fritz asked.

  “We all eat food.”

  “I’ve seen the snacks you bring to school.” Fritz wrinkled his nose. “We do not eat the same food.”

  “Of course not, but it all gets sent to the same place.” She sat on the couch and poked the small table between them.

  Fritz wrinkled his eyebrows. “Ok.”

  “I eat different food than you, as do Gelé, Faruk, and the rest. We
probably all get our food from local markets, but we all have to store it.”

  “And we all have the same storage area.” Fritz felt chillbumps rise on his arms. “But our storage rooms are locked. You can only get in if you know the right word.”

  Marzi bit her lip.

  “And what about our uniforms?” Fritz asked before she could answer. “Do you get your uniform from the same shop as me?” He added, “That’s another thing we have in common.”

  Marzi shook her head. “Only one shop makes the uniforms for St. Michael’s, but I don’t send my uniforms to storage.”

  “Oh,” Fritz sagged. “What about furniture and items like that?”

  “Hanja hasn’t purchased furniture in years,” Marzi said. “I think we just use the stuff her predecessors purchased.” She grimaced. “They were serious hoarders.”

  “Tell me about it!” Fritz agreed, envisioning the endless piles of paraphernalia in Boroda’s infinity room.

  He stood and walked to the opposite side of the room. “So food seems to be the only thing we all consistently buy and send to the same storage area?”

  “I can’t think of anything else.” Marzi shrugged.

  “Let’s say that’s the connection,” Fritz postulated. “That still doesn’t explain how the animal got in the storage area to begin with or how it traveled to where we were.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’d still have to know where you’re going if you want to travel there, right? And an ape and a dragon have no will—only instinct.”

  “Yes,” said Marzi, “you aren’t wrong, but there is a place in every storage area where you can travel in an item that you can’t see.”

  Fritz recalled the square area illuminated with a warm light. “Every storage area has that?”

  “Yes. The infinity rooms were all built by the same wizard a long time ago,” Marzi explained. “I’ve never been inside anyone else’s, but I can imagine they’re all pretty similar.”

  Fritz ran his fingers through his hair. “In that case, the animals wouldn’t have to TRAVEL in … They could have been TRAVELED in by one of the wizards.”

  Marzi nodded.

  “I don’t know.” Fritz sat back down. “Why wouldn’t the ape have appeared on the kitchen table with the rest of the food?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Marzi said with exasperation. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

  “It’s a good start,” Fritz said. “But Boroda doesn’t use the unknown travel spot for food, and I was the one who traveled in my school uniforms. Those didn’t come until after the attack anyway.”

  Marzi’s body deflated, and she flopped back onto the couch.

  “The only thing Boroda traveled in before the attack, that I’m aware of, was my apprentice uniform.”

  Marzi smiled and traced a vest on her shirt. “It was adorable.”

  Fritz ignored her. “He brought it to my room, and there was no ape. Just a moth.”

  “I hate insects,” she muttered.

  “Same,” Fritz grumbled in agreement.

  “I still think we’re onto something with the storage, though.” Marzi stood up. She began to pack her bag.

  “I agree,” Fritz said. “Maybe we could go there and check it out together sometime.”

  “Check it for what? What are we actually looking for? Footprints?”

  “There might be a clue. You don’t know!” Fritz flushed and hurried to pack his own books.

  “That seems like quite a stretch,” Marzi prodded.

  “Fine!” Fritz snapped. “Then meet me for lunch.”

  Marzi stopped packing and stared, wide-eyed, at Fritz. Fritz froze.

  “So we can talk about the attacks, I mean,” he recovered.

  Marzi continued to stare for several seconds. Her lips slowly curved into a coquettish smile, and she lowered her chin, now staring at Fritz from a sideways glance. “Sure. That would be fine.”

  Fritz’s cheeks turned red. “How about this Saturday, say, noon?”

  “Perfect.” Marzi swung her bag over her shoulder. “See you this weekend.”

  “See you this weekend,” Fritz said.

  His heartbeat quickened.

  “Fritz,” Marzi said as she walked toward the door. “You’re doing that stupid smile again.”

  He watched her leave then fell back onto the couch.

  He was grinning, and he didn’t care.

  Fritz wiped sweat from his face and hung the fencing foils on the wall rack. His fencing lesson had been one of the best he’d had, with three strikes in his favor against Boroda.

  Boroda had sweat stains under his arms and on his chest. He pushed several other weapons from the ground to their places on the wall.

  “I’ve spoken with Czar Nicholaus about your encounter with his son,” Boroda began.

  “That was over a month ago!” said Fritz.

  “Regardless. He mentioned it to me today and wants to speak with you directly.”

  “Do you know what he wants?”

  “I imagine he wants you to apologize for your behavior.”

  “My behavior?” Fritz said. “Nicholaus has been picking on Edward since their freshman year. And not just Edward. A lot of kids.”

  “That isn’t your concern.” Boroda traveled the last weapon to the wall. “You are responsible for your actions. Not those of others.”

  “So we just stand by and let him bully other kids?” Fritz asked.

  Boroda didn’t respond.

  “And why? Why does he get to treat people that way, but no one gets to treat him like that?” Fritz said. “I get it. Little people get stepped on all the time. I saw it in the orphanage every day. But one of the reasons I chose to be your apprentice was to stop people like Nicholaus. You said you’d train me to do that.”

  Boroda exhaled slowly, gathering his thoughts. “You aren’t going to understand this, but I need you to trust me. Whatever the Czar asks you to do, I want you to do it.”

  Fritz crossed his arms.

  “On a personal level, I agree with you. Young Nicholaus and his ilk should be held accountable for their actions, but we live in the real world where not all rules are applied equally.”

  Fritz began to protest, but Boroda held up a finger.

  “So when the Czar asks you to apologize to his son, or whatever it is that he wants, you will do it with no questions asked. Am I clear?”

  “I won’t mean it.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “Fine. I’ll apologize,” Fritz said. “But I still think it’s wrong.”

  “We will go there this Sunday. Wear your apprentice uniform.”

  “Yes, sir,” Fritz said with an air of sarcasm. He traveled back to his room before Boroda could respond.

  Later that night, Fritz worked on a few more pages of spells in the library, but he couldn’t focus. After a long walk back to his room, he took out the leather-bound knife set from his dresser and carved mindlessly on his doll.

  The smile still wasn’t right, and now there were gashes in the doll’s cheek from where he had cut too deeply. He threw the knife, and it stuck in the bedpost.

  He pictured the anatomy book from the library shelf and traveled it to his bedroom. He studied the muscles in the face and even flexed his own facial muscles in a handheld mirror.

  He threw down the book. “It’s impossible to get this right!”

  The doll stared at him blankly.

  “I can’t make the wood do what the muscles do, Doll.” He curled his knees to his chest. “Wood doesn’t stretch like muscle,” he said, slapping his fists on the bed.

  Fritz muttered a spell, and the wood shavings near the doll’s feet slid up his body and reattached themselves to the toy’s face. He climbed out of bed, angry and huffing. He traveled back to the library, snapped his fingers, and waited for his light to glow full power.

  As he perused the shelves looking for a book on musculature, he ran his fingers across the spines, reading partial title
s aloud as the rolling ladder slid across its track. “Markets. Martial. Melting. Mermaids. Mind control. Mining …”

  He stopped and rolled back a few inches.

  “Mind control?” He pulled the small book from its spot and flipped through the pages. Several passages were underlined and a few had question marks drawn beside them.

  He thumbed through the rest of the pages, and a note dropped from the back of the book. Fritz stopped it mid-flight and opened it.

  The note was written in scrolling calligraphy.

  Why?

  Plan?

  Good or Bad?

  Tell Boroda?

  Tell R?

  The mantle clock struck midnight, causing Fritz to jump and almost fall off the ladder. He tucked the book and the note in his pocket and jumped from the rungs to the floor.

  “Look what I found, Doll,” he said to the toy before his smoky trail had vanished. “It’s a book on mind control with a note inside.” He showed the note to the inanimate figurine then studied it more carefully.

  “Whoever wrote this knew Boroda,” he explained to the wooden doll and tapped Boroda’s name on the note. “They obviously had questions and wanted to tell Boroda or R, whoever that is.” He shrugged at the doll. “I don’t know what the rest of it means. Maybe there are clues in the book.”

  He yawned, placed the book on his bedside table and went to sleep.

  Chapter 9

  Marzi waved to Fritz from a small table in the back as soon as he stepped into the café. Her hair was pinned back with a plain clip, exposing her long neck and defined jaw.

  Fritz wiped his palms on his pants and sat down.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “I had an early training with Boroda.”

  She looked over his shoulder. The clock read noon on the dot.

  “I got here early to read,” she said and slid the book to the side of the table nearest the wall.

  The waiter took their order then left.

  “What’s the plan?” Marzi asked.

  “Well, I thought we could maybe go to the storage area and …” Fritz trailed off.

  “You don’t have a plan?” Marzi said, squinting at him.

  “Honestly, I have no idea where to even start,” Fritz confessed.