The Cracks in the Kingdom

by Jaclyn Moriarty

  “What is it?” Sergio said eventually. “What are we fighting?”

  It was still deep night, but more people were moving around between the tents. Two kids passed by, deep in conversation, then stopped and watched them a moment. Their shapes moved close to the edge. They both made sounds like “huh.”

  “You’re trying for a monster spell?” said one.

  “No,” said Princess Ko, drawing in more of the pondweed. “It just thinks we are. We want a regular spell that’s snared down there.”

  The strangers were quiet, watching them.

  “Don’t let any officials catch you,” one said eventually, and they passed on, resuming their conversation.

  They carried on, nobody speaking.

  They’d draw in the pondweed; it’d slip away; they’d pull it in again. The cold had them all in its clamp. The ice-rain stopped and something soft and wet touched the skin of Elliot’s wrist, his neck. Snow. Ice was spangling the edges of the water, frost on the tips of grass.

  Eventually, Sergio spoke.

  “That is what we fight?” he said. “A monster spell?”

  “All it has to do is let go,” murmured the Princess. “It’s not supposed to be here anyway. Right at the edge of the Lake like this.”

  There was an odd whimper from Samuel.

  “As to a — I’m not sure the fact that it’s vacationing makes any difference….”

  Nobody responded, so Samuel kept working.

  Keira stood again, leaning forward, squinting at the water.

  “I can still see the Locator Spell,” she said. “We’re getting there. Pull harder.”

  She moved to resume her position, then paused, still gazing into the Lake.

  “Freakin’ hell,” she whispered. “I can see the monster spell too. It’s like the size of a — it’s the size of a train carriage.”

  Something yanked hard at the pondweed, and they were all flung forward. Keira shouted: “The Locator Spell! It’s right there! This time we have to really —”

  She grabbed at the pondweed again, and now they were all ferocious in their efforts, Keira chanting at them, over and over, like someone on a sports field. “This time we really — this time we really,” her voice setting the pace.

  Their chests ached, their arms hurt, their hands smarted, their thighs burned. They leaned and pulled, leaned and pulled. The pondweed slithered away from them, and they wrenched it back. Over and over. Harder and harder. The coils building up and unraveling again. Until Keira’s voice was stepping up an octave a word.

  “It’s right there! It’s right there!”

  The lantern got knocked over. Its firelight spell rolled away and disappeared. Sergio pulled a muscle in his neck and let loose a low stream of Maneeshian swearwords. Samuel’s elbow jabbed Elliot’s eye. Elliot thought his shoulder blades would split right out of his back. The snow fell and fell.

  And there it was.

  The Locator Spell.

  It slid up over the edge of the bank, and they all caught a glimpse of its casings glinting in the moonlight. It was the size of a whistle. Then, in that fraction of a moment while they looked at it, the pondweed was rushing away again, the spell slipping over the Lake edge.

  Now they were all shouting, pulling back on the weed so hard they were falling into one another.

  “Where’s the icebox?” Princess Ko was shouting. “Someone get the icebox ready!”

  The spell was back again, up over the edge and in the air.

  Ko let go with one hand, grabbed for the spell, and grabbed again.

  “Where’s the icebox?” she repeated.

  Elliot leaned over, used one hand to drag the icebox closer to them. It was lying on its side.

  “Open it!” Princess Ko shouted, falling sideways into the mud, and scrambling to her feet again. The spell was right in front of her. “Tip out one of my spells to make room!”

  “Which one?”

  “Who cares?”

  She was gouging at the side of the pondweed, and the Locator Spell was shifting sideways, wriggling away. “Oh, no, you don’t —” and the weed was rushing back toward the water again, out of her grasp.

  Elliot tipped a spell out of the icebox, and it rolled across the mud and vanished.

  They wrenched one more time, and this time the pondweed flew out, the spell passing Ko and stopping right there in front of Samuel’s hands.

  “GET IT!” they all shouted at once.

  Samuel fumbled, grabbed, seemed he had it — and dropped it.

  Elliot let the icebox crash. He threw himself onto the mud, flung out a hand, and the spell fell into his palm. He wrapped his fingers tight around it.

  “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Samuel was wailing.

  “Get the icebox!”

  Keira grabbed it and held it out to Elliot, who pushed the spell inside. Keira slammed the lid; Elliot reached over and snapped the clasps.

  They all collapsed into the mud, breathing hard and loud. Snow fell thick and fast. The tangles of pondweed slithered and slid into the Lake and disappeared. The shadow of the monster spell drifted like a cloud crossing the moon.

  7.

  Each spell at the Lake has a standard identification symbol, along with additional markings that serve as an instructional code.

  When Elliot woke the next morning, the Princess had already been to the Gatehouse to consult the Compendium and decode the additional markings on the Locator Spell. She had returned with breakfast for everyone, set up a new Seclusion Spell over her own tent, and called an immediate meeting.

  Outside it was bright with snow. The Lake had frozen and kids were already skating and ice-fishing for spells. The RYA stood rubbing their eyes, and blinking in the snow-light, but the Princess, exasperated, rushed them across to her tent.

  Her face was white.

  “It is not ideal,” she said, and her thoughts seemed to dart back and forth behind her eyes. She handed out coffees and pastries as she spoke. “This particular Locator Spell has precise instructions. The good news is, it can work for up to five missing people. After that it will fail — possibly even before that; it depends how strong and fresh it is. So it would be best to use it today if we can. But five! That’s marvelous, isn’t it? There being five missing members of my family?”

  Sergio passed a coffee to Elliot, watching Elliot’s face curiously as he did. Elliot sipped from the coffee, waiting.

  “However,” the Princess continued, and she straightened, raised a pastry to her mouth, then lowered it again and spoke rapidly, “to apply the spell, two steps must be taken. First, we must enter a single word — of no more than eight letters — that accurately describes the missing person, along with his or her age. Second, the spell should be placed on a map that shows the city where the missing person is located. That is to say, placed on the marker for that city. The spell will then provide an address.” She took a bite from her pastry.

  “Not ideal?” exclaimed Samuel. “Call yourself an impossible! As to a pine tree in a little tub of lip balm! How can we ever use such a spell? It has all been for naught! We grappled with a monster spell for naught! We don’t know what cities they are in!”

  The glint in the Princess’s eye sharpened. She lifted her chin slightly. “It presents a challenge,” she said defiantly. “It is not perhaps the best Locator Spell we could have caught. And it might have been helpful if we’d known the cities where my family arrived in the World. Of course, they might not still be in that city, but at least we could — at least then — but at least …”

  The defiance collapsed and the Princess began to cry.

  Sergio climbed right over Samuel, giving the younger boy an exasperated look. Samuel’s face fell.

  “I thought it would be all right now,” the Princess sobbed, burying her face in Sergio’s shoulder. “I thought, ‘Now we’ll find them!’ I was awake all night waiting for the Gatehouse to open! I was so excited! I was so, so — but what’s the point in a Locator Spell that can�
��t locate? Why did we fight and fight and fight for this stupid — useless — spell?” She raised her face from Sergio’s shoulder and glared ferociously at the icebox.

  Keira stood, grabbed a pastry, and pushed her way out of the tent.

  “And she thinks I’m a total loser now.” The Princess watched the tent flaps fall closed again, speaking through tears. “Which I am. And we’re supposed to be leaving today, and I’m thinking, can we stay longer? Can we try for a better Locator Spell? But what were the chances we’d even get that one? And what about the Kingdom I’m supposed to be running?” This last she added in a forlorn little voice, like someone remembering they also had to do the dishes.

  “Well.” Elliot scratched his eyebrow. “At least we could figure out step one in this spell. Maybe that’d be something. We’ll get it ready for when we — when we know more about what city they’re in.”

  “But the spell won’t stay fresh,” murmured Samuel. “We need it very fresh to work for five different missing people. Didn’t you hear the Princess say that? And how will we ever find out what city they’re in? Given the randomness of connections?”

  “You’re not all that helpful, Samuel,” Elliot remarked. “Iceboxes keep spells pretty fresh. That’s the point of them. Okay, tell us again, Princess Ko — we’ve got to think of a word to describe each person in your family?”

  The Princess wiped her eyes, and shook her head until a frown fell into place.

  “A word for each of them. Yes.”

  “Okay. So. What’s a word for your dad, then? One word to describe King Cetus?”

  The Princess’s eyes began to dart again, then they slowed. A small smile appeared.

  “He is lively,” she said. “He is animated. He can be angry — his temper can be ferocious. But mostly he is just a whirlshine of fun and charisma.” Her smile grew. “He’s the best.”

  “Well,” said Elliot.

  “Your description of your father is beautiful,” Sergio said, “in the sense of, it is accurate.” His arm was still around the Princess’s shoulder, and he squeezed it. “I am thinking though … if we put the spell on a city — and we say, ‘lively’ — will the spell give us the location of all the lively people in that city?”

  “Sergio has a point,” said Elliot.

  “But there’s the age too,” Samuel said. “We have to put in the King’s age.”

  “So we get all the lively fifty-two-year-olds in that city.” The Princess clamped her teeth on the edge of her to-go coffee cup. “We need a word that is unique to each member of my family.” She clamped again, biting off a piece of Styrofoam. She spat it out.

  “Their names?” suggested Sergio.

  “King Cetus. That’s more than seven letters. And if we just said Cetus, there might be others of that name.”

  “Madeleine said something about a whale named King Cetus,” Elliot remembered. “We might end up with a whale.”

  “The World,” said Sergio, bemused, “it is as strange as a chinning horse.”

  “Great scarlet!” cried Samuel, and they all looked at him hopefully, but he shook his head. “No. An idea of foolishness as that you would call me a dingbat.”

  “We might,” agreed the Princess. “But so what. Toughen up, Samuel. You can take it. What’s your idea?”

  “Foolish,” he said. “But I thought of the word Cello. That surely would distinguish the family from all others in the World!”

  The others stared at him.

  “Samuel,” said Sergio, “this is an idea that is beautiful!”

  The Princess raised a hand. “Wait,” she said. “Wait. Do they have the cello — the instrument — in the World?”

  Samuel’s face crumpled.

  “They do,” he said. “I believe they do. As to a — ah, such a foolish idea.”

  “We enter the word cello, we get every cellist in the city,” the Princess said.

  “Call me a dingbat,” Samuel offered.

  “Cellian!” Sergio’s eyes were suddenly wide and bright. “Cello players are cellists, yes? But people from Cello are Cellians!”

  Slow smiles lit their faces.

  “You’re not a dingbat, Samuel. You’re a genius!” the Princess cried.

  “It is Sergio who has truly formed the idea.”

  “But I springboarded from you, Samuel,” Sergio said.

  “Was this brainstorming?”

  “It was,” the Princess agreed, and Samuel glowed, but then immediately frowned: “Of course, we still don’t know the city they are in, so —”

  The tent opened again.

  Keira walked in, sat down, and held out a piece of paper. They looked at her and she shook the paper impatiently, so they leaned in closer, and read:

  KING CETUS Montreal, Canada

  QUEEN LYRA Taipei, Taiwan

  PRINCE CHYBA Boise, USA

  PRINCESS JUPITER Berlin, Germany

  PRINCE TIPPETT Avoca Beach, Australia

  “These are the places,” Keira said, “where they went through.”

  8.

  There were a strange few moments when it seemed that every person in the tent, other than Keira, was diving.

  Not synchronized diving, though, so there were bumped elbows, crushed thighs, and spilled coffee. At the same time, words swooped like dives, also colliding and crashing.

  The Princess was trying to unfold maps, spreading them out across sleeping bags and feet, and getting them wet in the spilled coffee. Keira was explaining that it was simple: She’d just scanned in the details from Samuel’s index cards, along with maps of Cello and the World. Sergio was reaching for the icebox and people were shouting at him to be careful. The Princess was demanding to know how you entered words and numbers into a spell? Elliot remembered reading that you wrote them on a slip of paper and fed it to the spell. Sergio and Samuel were disputing this, at the same time as demanding more information from Keira.

  “What do you mean scanned in?”

  “Into my computing machine. Then I wrote a program to find the pattern. I entered the crossover points so now I’ve got the exact street address where they came through. But you only need the cities now, right?”

  “I don’t understand. A program to find the pattern? There is no pattern.”

  “Sure there is. It’s a sort of series of crumpled spirals between here and the World. It’s like you have to roll up both maps and twist them, like this —” Keira demonstrated, twisting imaginary paper in the air.

  “But it’s impossible!” Samuel cried. “The links are —”

  “Trust me,” said Keira. “There’s no such thing as random.”

  The Princess was holding the Locator Spell on the palm of her hand. Its head was emerging, sluglike, from its casing. Sergio, his hand shaking, offered it a small scrap of paper on which he had written: Cellian, 52.

  The paper disappeared almost at once.

  “Now where’s the map! Get me the map!”

  Elliot slid the map her way, checked Keira’s list, then pointed out the large black dot alongside MONTREAL in Canada, the World.

  The Princess placed the spell on the map and nudged it a little until it was positioned directly on the dot.

  “On the dot or on the word?” she cried suddenly.

  “Wait,” said Sergio. “Your father, he is fifty-two? Have I got that right?”

  But something struck the air in the center of the tent like a punch of red light. They all reeled back.

  The red light formed itself into numbers and letters.

  Apartment 3, 181 Place d’Youville.

  The letters hovered in the air.

  The Princess’s whole body shook.

  “Is that it? Is that where he is?”

  And then as the red began to unravel and fade, she cried, “Write it down! Somebody write it down!”

  Sergio did.

  They went through the same process for each member of the royal family, with the same pitch of urgency.

  The Princess and Sergio did
most of the work, accompanied by Samuel’s cries of disbelief and encouragement.

  Elliot turned to Keira, and spoke behind the frenzy.

  “Is everyone in Jagged Edge as good at technology as you are?” he said.

  Keira tilted her head, then hesitated. It seemed as if she’d been about to say, of course, in her usual tone, but instead she shrugged.

  “Some.”

  “That’s Prince Chyba done!” Samuel hooted. “That’s Prince Chyba!” He swung around to face Elliot and thrust out his hand.

  “Great!” Elliot said, trying to figure out why the hand. Then he understood, and obliged Samuel by shaking it in the OQ celebratory style.

  Keira also obliged when Samuel turned to her. She looked better like this, Elliot was thinking. Less makeup. There were a couple of flare-ups of acne on her chin, but who cared, mostly her face was sunburned, windburned, real. Her short hair looked better tousled too, instead of slicked back under a net. She still had her pj’s on — a shirt with thin straps, trackpants, a big coat over it all with a soft, furred collar.

  Keira was watching the others work with the spell, but she spoke to Elliot. “Turns out you were right about how to catch the Locator Spell,” she said softly. She wrapped her arms around her legs. “I mean, your book worked.”

  “Ah.” Elliot shrugged. “Who knows if it was the book or just luck?”

  “That’s Princess Jupiter!” Samuel extracted additional handshakes.

  “You know,” Elliot said, low-voiced. “I kinda agreed with you about the book. I wouldn’t usually believe in that sort of thing. Only, I’m thinking, maybe the usual doesn’t apply here? ’Cause it’s — you know — magic.”

  Keira shivered a little, suddenly cold, and pushed her chin down so she could rub her face along the fur of her coat collar. That was sweet. Like a cat warming itself. She looked up again, and her eyes went straight into Elliot’s.

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking,” she said.

  “I can’t read it! I can’t see it!”

  They turned and saw that the others were leaning, squinting, pressing their faces at pale, pale lines in the air.

  “Shift over so I can see,” commanded Keira. Then she narrowed her eyes, leaned back, and read aloud: “52 Avoca Drive, Avoca Beach.”