by Sheila Grau
Wanted: one secretary for a brilliant school headmaster. Must be efficient, willing to work long hours, and fluent in Troll and Banshee. No perfume!
—ADVERTISEMENT IN MINIONS TODAY
The next morning in the cafeteria, I piled my tray with a huge breakfast and sat with Darthin, Pismo, Frankie, and Syke. “I was thinking,” Darthin said, stating the obvious. He was always thinking. “These are some pretty huge stakes. Professor Zaida’s life depends on us getting her the antidote. The safety of all the world’s knowledge depends on us making sure Tankotto doesn’t find it first.”
“What’s your point?” Pismo asked.
“I think we should tell Dr. Critchlore,” Darthin said. “We’re just kids. It’s kind of silly to think we can go up against an evil overlord and his army.”
“But I promised Professor Zaida I wouldn’t tell,” I said.
“Everyone here already knows about it. Tankotto knows, his henchman knows,” Darthin said. “I think it’s safe to say the secret is out.”
“What do you guys think?” I asked, looking at Syke, Frankie, and Pismo in turn.
“I think Darthin’s right,” Syke said. “There’s too much at stake.”
Frankie nodded.
“As much as I hate to tell grown-ups secret stuff,” Pismo said, “you gotta do it here.”
“Okay, I’ll go see him after morning announcements. The rest of you get ready to go.”
The cafeteria grew noisy as kids came to breakfast. Boris and Eloni joined us. It wasn’t long before Dr. Critchlore’s face filled the screen and everyone quieted down.
“Students! Once again thank you for all your hard work this past week. It was a wonderful success, and I think you all deserve credit for that.” He clapped his hands at the camera.
“Right before the show, I went to the Evil Overlord Council to present my case against Dr. Pravus, who was petitioning to take over another minion school. I have video from the council meeting, which I will share now. You may find it interesting.”
Dr. Critchlore’s face was replaced on the video screen by a shot of the council chamber. The seven Evil Overlord representatives sat in their judges’ chairs on the right. On the left were two podiums for the petitioners. Dr. Pravus had no notes; he stood confidently behind his podium. Dr. Critchlore sat in a chair behind his podium, reading a book. It looked like a contest to see who was the least interested in the proceedings. Dr. Pravus spoke first.
“This hearing is just a formality, surely,” Dr. Pravus said, smiling his winning smile. “Obviously, the Evil Overlords know that something must be done about the failing school and the lack of quality minions graduating from it. Equally obvious is the fact that the Pravus Academy is up to the task. I see that Dr. Critchlore has come to present his case, which is a surprise, but if you really think he’s up to the job, let me take a minute to contrast our different styles.”
He cleared his throat and paced in front of the judges.
“Comparing the Pravus Academy to Dr. Critchlore’s School for Minions is like comparing a thoroughbred horse to a pony. An old pony, past his prime and perpetually confused. A pony that may have had a few lucky breaks, that manipulated others into believing he was a champion, that people are now seeing as the also-ran that he is.”
He looked apologetically at Dr. Critchlore, who turned a page of his book to show he wasn’t paying attention. Dr. Pravus sneered and went on. “Critchlore’s has been teetering on bankruptcy for a while now. Has Dr. Critchlore lost his touch? How can you lose something you never had?
“Pravus minions are superior in every way. They are stronger, faster, more intelligent, and better trained. Period. That is all that matters. You need look no further than our sports teams. Boulderball, stealthball, Mixed Monster Arts, tackle three-ball. We crush Critchlore’s teams in every competition. We play to win; we are trained to win. Who would want to recruit a loser? Who would want a loser training his minions?
“If you allow me my takeover, as you should, I will be able to meet demand for my exceptional minions. EOs won’t have to settle for the poor quality that Dr. Critchlore regularly provides.”
Dr. Pravus gave Dr. Critchlore one last glare, then sat down at the table behind his podium and began inspecting his fingernails.
“Dr. Critchlore?” the secretary said.
Dr. Critchlore looked up. “My turn? Wonderful.” He stood and took his place behind the podium. He looked at each council representative, as if he was memorizing the faces. Then he began.
“Steel sharpens steel,” he said. “You don’t become stronger without being tested by the strongest opponent. I have to thank Dr. Pravus for providing my minion trainees with the practice that has made them stronger. Dr. Pravus’s teams play to win, and for that, I thank him.”
He looked over at Dr. Pravus, who was still examining his nails, though with a confused expression now. Clearly, he was listening to Dr. Critchlore.
Dr. Critchlore sighed. “I’m sorry we were unable to return the favor. Not because my minions are less capable, or my coaches poor strategists. My sports teams lose because that’s what I instruct them to do.”
I looked at Eloni. He shook his head. He didn’t remember receiving these “instructions” either.
“You’d think that Dr. Pravus would have noticed this strategy, but as with all strategic thinking, Dr. Pravus is the last to catch on.”
He walked out from behind his podium. “Why would I help my business rival train his minions by trying to win? Why would I train his minions for him?
“If my sports teams played to win, then we would be teaching his minions the lessons that come from losing—and those are the most important lessons to learn.” He stopped walking and looked at the judges. “I repeat—losing teaches the most important lessons.
“Winning is easy. Everyone is happy and complacent when you win. Winners are overconfident, like Dr. Pravus here, who came to this hearing unprepared. He was so certain he had won before the competition even started. Is that what you want in a minion?
“Losing shows us where our weaknesses lie, where we need to improve. Losing teaches a minion to persevere, to be humble, to take chances, and to work harder. A minion should always strive to improve, and I teach my minions to be relentless learners. Even if you are the best, you can be better. You can work harder.
“My minions have been honed to the strongest, sharpest point because they are losers. They have suffered defeat, learned from it, and come out stronger, better minions. Dr. Pravus’s have not. Like he said, his teams win every competition. To this, I say, what a loser you are.”
Pravus stood up and shouted, “You aren’t buying this insane rationalization, are you?”
“ ‘Insane rationalization’?” Dr. Critchlore said. “Hmm, let’s put my theory to the test. Dr. Pravus, your best-trained minions are what? Your dragon militia? Your river trolls?”
“My giant gorillas, you fool.”
“Right. You’ve trained them to win, to destroy, to terrify a populace until they are cowed into submission. Let’s take a look, shall we, at the recently conquered town of Rampersly in Delpha. This video was taken yesterday.”
Dr. Critchlore pointed to a screen on the wall of the chamber. On it, a video feed showed a giant gorilla helping the townsfolk stack debris into a large pile by the side of a road. I thought I saw Janet standing by the road, directing the gorilla, but the camera quickly panned away from her.
“Is that a cowed populace? It looks like that man just asked the gorilla to pick up a broken flagpole, and, look, the gorilla is obeying him. Is that part of his special Pravus training?”
The representatives gasped. One pulled out a phone and started pushing buttons.
Pravus leaned forward, his face purpling. “This is some kind of trick.”
Dr. Critchlore ignored him. “And now the gorilla is playing with the village children. I wonder what could have defeated this Pravus-trained minion and turned him into such a peace-loving, hap
py creature? Oh, wait. I don’t need to wonder; I know. It was one of my very own minions.
“So, council members, if you want more minions trained in arrogance, who collapse as soon as they start to lose, go with Dr. Pravus. Allow him this takeover and he will flood the employment market with his subpar minions, while mine will enjoy the rich premiums they deserve.”
“Ha!” Pravus said. “I will destroy you! My minions will destroy your minions in any battle they engage in.”
“And my minions will continue to lose in insignificant sports competitions. They will develop a teachable personality that will have them always striving to do better. We shall see who comes out on top in the end.”
The Evil Overlord representatives were all smiles. They loved a good head-to-head competition.
The video went out after that, and Dr. Critchlore’s face refilled the screen.
“Ha! That was fun. In the end, they ruled in my favor, and here’s the funny part—Dr. Pravus wasn’t petitioning to take over my school. He was after the Kobold Retraining Center! He thought I was there to bid against him. The council rejected his proposal, and they’ve allowed me to pursue that school, should I wish. The Kobold Retraining Center!” He shook his head. The screen went out, but we heard him mutter, “What would I do with a bunch of kobolds?”
I could feel the color draining from my face.
“Wait a second—Dr. Pravus wasn’t after this school?” Frankie said. “He was after the KRC?”
“The KRC?” Pismo said. “Why? That place is so far away.”
“He doesn’t want the KRC,” I said, as it all clicked into place. “Pravus has been after the Great Library this whole time. ‘Knowledge is power,’ that’s what he said. He trained Tankotto’s henchman, who knows where the Great Library is. He bragged to Yipps about it. Pravus must know it’s in Mount Izta, but the mountain is huge and he wants to find the entrance. Come on. We have to get there first. You guys pack up. I’m going to tell Dr. Critchlore what’s happening.”
We retrain kobolds.
—THE KOBOLD RETRAINING CENTER’S RATHER UNINSPIRED MOTTO
Dr. Critchlore looked unnaturally stiff sitting behind his desk.
“Where’s Professor Vodum?” I asked, because his desk was not only vacant, but also spotlessly clean. I knew that Vodum hadn’t cleaned it, because he’s kind of a slob.
“I sent him back to his wife, my cousin, in Yancy,” he said. “He was scheming to undermine the school for his own gain.”
“What? How?”
“When he heard that Pravus wanted to take over another school, Vodum, like most of us, assumed he was after this school. He then contacted Dr. Pravus, my worst enemy, and offered to help him. He claims that I drove him to take such drastic measures because I refused to give him a job with enough prestige. Ha! Well, Pravus laughed at him and told him that he wasn’t after my school.
“But rather than inform me of this, Vodum decided to make it look like Pravus was interested in taking over, to trick me into giving him a better job. Vodum staged that visit by the man who wanted to change my hedge maze into a Gauntlet of Pain. He wanted to scare the students and the teachers and ultimately me so that I’d give him anything he wanted in exchange for his support with the family. The fool!”
While he talked, Dr. Critchlore hadn’t moved a single muscle, except his mouth.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I’m fairly certain Mistress Moira just hexed me,” he said. “I can’t move, and it’s getting worse.”
“You can’t move?”
“I can talk, apparently,” he said. “But I cannot move my head.”
“Good,” I said. “I need you to listen. I know why Dr. Pravus wanted to take over the Kobold Retraining Center. The Great Library is hidden in the mountains near there, and that’s what he’s after. And if he gets it, he’ll be able to translate The Top Secret Book of Minions. He’ll be able to create an undefeatable minion.”
I told him everything. How Professor Zaida had been poisoned, and how we stole the antidote and got Dr. Frankenhammer to make more. I told him about the old lady in the capital, and Professor Yipps. I told him that the Great Library, THE Great Library, was located in the mountains there, and the entrance was beneath the waterfall. And I told him it would be a catastrophe if Pravus got there first. He didn’t interrupt me once; he just sat there staring straight ahead.
“Dr. Critchlore?” I asked. “What do you think?”
“Hooper,” he said. “Could you please find Mistress Moira? I would like to speak to her.”
He stared at his bookshelf; a line of drool escaped from his mouth and slid down his chin. He didn’t seem to notice. “Moira,” he said again, and then he closed his eyes.
I ran out of his office, down the hall to the corner of the castle, and to the entrance to the tall tower. I looked up at all those stairs. Ugh, not again.
When I got to the top, I saw that Mistress Moira’s entry room was filled with packing boxes.
“Mistress Moira!” I shouted. “You’re not leaving?”
“Runt, I have had it with that man.” She barely looked at me. She just kept packing fabric samples into a box on her coffee table.
“Please, come with me,” I said. “He wants to talk to you.”
“Of course he does. He’s stuck. But as we know, he does everything around here, so I’m sure he’ll free himself soon.”
“You know he won’t.”
“I do,” she said. “And I don’t care. Runt.” She looked at me. “I worked day and night on those dresses. Look at my hands.” She held out her calloused red hands. “For him to take the credit . . .”
“I know,” I said. “But there’s a bigger problem now. I have to save Professor Zaida. She’s been poisoned, and I need Dr. Critchlore’s help. Please talk to him. You can rehex him after he helps me.”
She stopped packing and sighed. “Oh, all right,” she said. “Maybe I’ll think of a better hex.”
We started down the stairs.
“Don’t you get tired of all these stairs?” I asked.
“No, I find them quite helpful.”
“For fitness?”
“Yes, and my mental health too. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Runt, but I have a bit of a temper.”
“Haven’t noticed,” I lied.
“When I get angry, I go to my quarters. After that long walk up, I find my anger is as exhausted as my body, which lets my rational brain reassert control over my actions. Anger and good decision-making are not compatible, let me tell you. Very rarely am I still angry after climbing. Dr. Critchlore is the only exception to that rule.”
We made it back to Dr. Critchlore’s office, where he sat, stiff as a dead person, one who hadn’t been brought back to life.
“Mistress Moira?” I asked, prompting her to do something.
“Fine,” she said. “Klamica Karvolt Fingleton Rip.”
Dr. Critchlore turned his head.
“Moira,” he said. He looked so sad. “I’m sorry.”
“Derek, I told you the last time you took credit for my work that I wouldn’t stand for it again—”
“I had to,” he said.
“Why?” she asked. “Why take credit for everything? Is your ego so huge that you can’t allow anyone else a sliver of recognition?”
“No, of course not,” he said, rolling his shoulders as feeling returned to his body. “I don’t care what people think of me.”
“Then, why?”
“Moira,” he said, looking right at her. “I panicked. I knew that if everyone there found out what you can do . . . if people knew how great you are . . . if any EO knew you were even one-twentieth of the woman that you are . . . they’d offer you more than I could ever offer you. If I gave you credit, they’d know. And I’d lose you.” His voice cracked and his eyes began to water. “I’d lose you. And that I could not bear.”
The silence that filled the room was thick and uncomfortable, like wearing a scratchy wo
ol sweater in the summer.
“Oh, Derek,” Mistress Moira said at last. “You great, big fool.”
Dr. Critchlore got up slowly, the hex finally wearing itself out. He walked around the desk and took her hands. “Moira,” he said. “Beautiful Moira. I won’t do it again. Please. You can hex me once a week, to remind me. If that’s the price I have to pay to keep you, so be it.”
“I will, you know,” she said.
He hugged her. There was an awkward moment when they pulled apart, but didn’t quite let go, and they just stood there staring into each other’s eyes. It almost looked like they were going to kiss, and I tried to back out of the room without being noticed, but they noticed me.
Mistress Moira stepped away from Dr. Critchlore. “I’m a bit of a hypocrite,” she said.
Dr. Critchlore cleared his throat. “How so?”
“I got mad at you for taking credit for the dresses, when I did the same thing to Runt.”
“What?” I asked.
“Runt, when you asked me for a crush-proof jacket, that gave me the idea to enhance the girls’ dresses. I knew I couldn’t create dresses that would be considered high fashion. I’m just an amateur seamstress. Did I think I could compete with professional designers who’ve had years of training at design schools, who’ve worked in the field for decades? Of course not. I’m not that egotistical. Instead, I decided to create a new category—defensive fashion. Thanks to you, Runt.”
“Really?” I said. “Does that mean you’re gonna make me a crush-proof jacket?”
She laughed. “I’ll try. Well, I’ll leave you two to save my friend Professor Zaida. Do not disappoint me.” At the door she turned and looked at Dr. Critchlore. “I also wouldn’t be disappointed with an elevator of my own, for when I’m feeling fatigued and not angry.”
“Consider it done,” Dr. Critchlore said with a nod.
I looked to the sky and mouthed, Thank you, relieved that I wouldn’t have to walk up all those stairs to visit her. I didn’t need the exercise, and I was hardly ever angry.
I took a deep breath, expecting to have to tell my story all over again, because I didn’t think Dr. Critchlore had listened the first time. But before I could start, he put a hand on my shoulder.