“I,” said Rosemary, “would call it a warning.”
16
It didn’t take long for Kip to decide that the three of us were too much for one travel officer to handle. He went to find Celeste, taking the poisonous purple flowers with him and locking all three of us back in my bedroom for safekeeping. While Rosemary told Arthur what we’d found on the eighth floor of Interworld Travel, I knelt by the closet and tended to the bees. The ones who’d died must have come closest to the flowers; the rest were still doing poorly, but when I placed a little saucer of sugar water on the floor, they perked up enough to shuffle over and taste it. If any of the bees knew who’d placed the flowers on our windowsill, though, they were too exhausted to tell me about it.
“There were seven doors?” Arthur was practically bouncing with excitement. “And there are seven worlds besides this one, aren’t there? I’ll bet each door leads to a different world.” He sat down on the bed for half a second, then sprang right up again. “Does one of them lead to East?”
“We didn’t get a chance to check,” said Rosemary. “Lucy barely had time to put the padlock back on the door to Northeast after we got your messages. But I think you might be right. Seven doors, seven worlds.” She walked over to the window, where raindrops from the evening’s storm were still trailing down the glass. “Pa is going to lose his mind when he hears about this.”
“And Mrs. Bracknell knows about the worldgates?”
“I think she’s in charge of them,” I said. “That’s how the travel officers made it sound, at least. Anyway, no one’s going to build any doors to other worlds in this building without her permission.”
“I don’t trust Mrs. Bracknell,” Rosemary said darkly. “I don’t trust anyone here.”
Even I was starting to agree with her. What if no one at Interworld Travel had wanted our help in the first place? What if they’d only wanted to get us out of their way? They hadn’t told us about their secret doors to other worlds, they’d locked us up, and someone in the building was trying to hurt us—or at least to scare us badly. “The thrunt could have come through one of those new worldgates,” I said. “The poisonous flowers, too. Anyone who knows about the eighth floor could have brought them over.”
A key turned in the lock just then, and all of us went quiet. Kip stalked into the room, followed by Celeste and then, surprisingly, by Thomas. Thomas was the youngest and least imposing of the three, but Kip and Celeste wouldn’t quite meet his eyes as they stood back to make room for him.
“All still here?” Thomas said. “No more illegal dancing excursions?” He winked at me and made a show of counting our heads as though we were all back in school. “One, two, three. Well, that’s a relief.”
I was glad to see Thomas, of course, but I couldn’t help feeling wary. “You’re not here to hover over us, too, are you?”
Thomas didn’t answer my question. He was shifting from side to side again. “Kip came to me and explained what happened to your bees, Goose,” he said. “I’ve been concerned about your safety here since I heard about the otherworld creature that attacked you, and now I’m really worried. I don’t think the three of you should stay in this building any longer.”
“Finally!” said Rosemary. “Does this mean I can go home?”
Thomas looked apologetic. “Not exactly. There’s a place we can send the three of you—an Interworld Travel property up in the mountains. It’s very private; hardly anyone even knows it’s there, and there’s plenty of security. I’d like you to stay there.”
“You mean forever?” said Arthur.
“Of course not, Your Highness,” Thomas said hastily. “Just . . . for now.”
The thought of being locked up in the Interworld Travel building any longer made me want to scream, but so did the thought of being sent to the mountains. Right above us, there could be a door that would take me to the Gatekeeper, a door that would bring Rosemary’s sisters back to Southeast, and a door that would take Arthur home. Anyway, strange things were happening at Interworld Travel, and if no one would tell me what was really going on, I wanted to find out for myself.
“I don’t need protection,” I told Thomas. “None of us do. The safer you all try to make us, the more danger we end up running into. And I don’t appreciate being shipped halfway across the world like . . .” I thought back to the vast piles of stuff in Mr. Silos’s sitting room. “Like a crate of Florida grapefruit!” I finished triumphantly.
Thomas raised an eyebrow at me.
“Lucy’s right,” said Arthur. “We’ll stay here, thanks.”
“And I still want to go home,” Rosemary grumbled.
“I’m sorry,” said Thomas, “but I can’t give you a choice in the matter. You’d better collect your things. We’ll leave for the mountains in an hour.”
It didn’t take us long to pack. We hadn’t come to Interworld Travel with much, and a lot of what we’d brought with us had gone missing over the past few days. Thomas stood silently in the doorway as Arthur and I pulled our clothes from the closets; Rosemary took a blanket from the back of the couch and tossed it into her bag defiantly, but Thomas didn’t say a word about it. When I reached into my rucksack, my hand brushed against the long scarf the Gatekeeper had knitted for me, and my heart sank. It seemed like years ago that she’d passed through that worldgate, and I still hadn’t managed to bring her home. Now I wasn’t sure I’d ever get the chance.
When we’d finished packing our worldly possessions, we went back to Arthur’s room. Arthur had poked holes in the lid of a cardboard box he’d found somewhere, and I knelt down to help him guide the bees inside it. “I know you’re not feeling up to traveling right now,” I said to the bees, scooping them up by the wriggling handful, “but we’re being ordered to leave. There’s nothing we can do about it.” I lowered them into the shoebox and glanced over my shoulder. Behind us, Thomas was discussing something with Kip and Celeste; I couldn’t make out exactly what they were saying, but their voices were low and urgent. “At least, Thomas says there’s not.”
“He’ll say anything,” Rosemary grumbled. “He’s even less trustworthy than those other two.”
Arthur looked scandalized. “He’s Lucy’s brother!”
“Does it make a difference?” Rosemary sat down next to us. “He’s hurrying us out of the building where we’ve just found a mess of secret worldgates. If you ask me, he wants us gone before we can find out what else Interworld Travel is hiding.”
I put the lid on the box of bees and stood up. “All packed up, Goose?” Thomas called from across the room. “Good girl. I knew you wouldn’t give me any trouble.”
He’d known that when he’d arranged for me to work at the end of the world, too, hadn’t he? He’d promised Mrs. Bracknell that I wouldn’t make trouble, and so far, he’d been right. I filed and sorted and stamped; I tried to be helpful and I did as I was told. Why should he expect me to stop now? It was my job to shove my questions aside, follow orders, and pretend not to know that all the doors to all the worlds were blowing open just above my head.
I looked down at Arthur and Rosemary. The box of bees vibrated in my hands. “Grab your things,” I said quietly, “and get ready to run.”
17
Thomas must not have expected us to sprint out of the room: by the time he noticed us leaving, we were already out the door. Arthur slammed it behind us. Then I grabbed one of the chairs Kip and Celeste had been using and wedged it under the doorknob. It wasn’t anything a trio of travel officers couldn’t push out of the way with a little effort, but I hoped it would slow them down for a minute or two. On the other side of the door, someone jostled the knob.
“The eighth floor,” I said to Arthur and Rosemary. They nodded, and we all headed for the stairs.
As we left the Travelers’ Wing, I looked back over my shoulder. Mrs. Bracknell’s finest had been quicker than I’d expected: Celeste was already throwing a leg over the chair, and I was sure Kip and Thomas weren’t far behind. �
�Oh no,” said Arthur, following my gaze. “I think we might be in trouble.”
“Less talking,” snapped Rosemary. “More running.”
For the second time that night, we pulled apart the barricade blocking the stairs to the eighth floor. This time, though, we didn’t try to be neat or quiet; we tossed the pieces of plywood behind us and let them smack against the marble floor.
One piece almost hit Huggins, who was coming up the stairs. “Watch out!” Arthur shouted.
Huggins looked at the three of us. Then he looked at Thomas, Kip, and Celeste, who were barreling out the door of the Travelers’ Wing. “Is everything all right?” he asked us. “You look like you’re in a hurry.”
I tore down the last section of the barricade. “We are,” I said to Huggins, “but I think this would be an excellent time to ask those travel officers if they can help you with your cows.”
“Are you sure?” Huggins looked skeptical, but he waved Thomas down anyway. “Mr. Eberslee?” he called. “I’m glad I ran into you. I’ve been waiting to talk to someone for days. . . .”
Thomas grumbled something I couldn’t hear as we flew up the stairs. I wasn’t as fast as Rosemary, and Arthur was even slower than that, but when we reached the long row of otherworld doors, all three of us came to a dead stop. Rosemary shone her flashlight down the hallway, and Arthur, who hadn’t seen the place before, drew in his breath. “Where to now?” he asked.
I could hear footsteps on the stairs behind us; Thomas must have dispatched with Huggins by now, and there wasn’t time to think. “Not the cows,” I said, passing by the barn door. I passed the red door with the bronze knocker, too, and the door with marble columns, but I slowed down when I reached the sleek black door. I didn’t have any idea which world it led to, but that didn’t matter. As I grabbed the combination lock on the knob, the three travel officers reached the end of the hallway.
It didn’t take them long to guess what we were up to. “Stop!” Thomas shouted. “Don’t touch that door, Lucy!”
The dials on the lock clicked into place, and I pulled the door open.
“Thank the worlds!” said Rosemary. She dove through the doorway, dragging Arthur with her. I didn’t know where they’d gone, but I stumbled after them anyway and slammed the door leading back to my own world behind me.
18
It was nighttime in the other world, too. At first I couldn’t see because of the thick darkness all around me. A few moments after that, I couldn’t see because someone was shining a beam of light straight in my eyes. It was twice as bright as Rosemary’s flashlight, and from the way she was cursing, I guessed she wasn’t the one controlling it.
“Mrs. Bracknell?” The voice in the darkness sounded dubious, and the beam of light wavered. “You’re not Mrs. Bracknell. And you’re an hour early. Who are you?”
“Get that thing out of our faces and we’ll tell you,” Rosemary shot back.
She must have sounded ferocious enough, because the beam of light dimmed to a mere glow. The boy in front of us was dressed in a white jumpsuit like the ones the travel officers back in Southeast had worn when they’d chased Henry Tallard into the lobby of Interworld Travel. His visor was pushed back on top of his head, though, and he didn’t look any older than me. “Did Mrs. Bracknell send you?” he asked, looking at Arthur as though he were the one of us most likely to have something useful to say.
“Yes,” I said, jumping in before Arthur could open his mouth. “Mrs. Bracknell is busy, but she sent us in her place. We’re also from Interworld Travel. I’m Lucy Eberslee.”
As soon as I said my last name, the boy’s face relaxed. There was plenty I already didn’t like about him, but at least he was predictable. “You’d better get in the pod, then,” he said. “And hurry. It’s not safe out here.”
“You can say that again,” said Arthur, looking over his shoulder. I looked, too, but I couldn’t see the sleek black door in the darkness, and even though I hadn’t managed to lock it behind me, no one was running through the doorway after us. I wondered what was stopping them.
The boy was shining his light on something just beyond us now, a large, transparent orb with doors that stood open and cushioned seats inside. It reminded me of an illustration from a book of otherworld fairy tales I’d had growing up: in one story, a girl had gone to a masquerade ball in a magical carriage made of glass and drawn by four white horses. There weren’t any horses in sight here, though, and I didn’t think the boy was likely to take us to any sort of party. But the orb—the pod, he’d called it—seemed magical enough to me. Once we’d all taken our seats, the doors closed by themselves, and when the boy pressed a button, the pod started to roll forward, even while our seats stayed upright. “We’ll have to take the long way around,” the boy said apologetically. “It’s better if we’re not seen. But I’m sure Mrs. Bracknell briefed you already.”
“Of course she did,” I said, trying to act like I meant it. “She didn’t tell us who we’d be meeting, though. What’s your name?”
“Me?” He said the word as though the answer should have been obvious to anyone who mattered. “I’m Michael. I’m Mrs. Bracknell’s personal secretary.”
“I’ve never heard of you,” Rosemary said with relish.
Michael’s expression didn’t change, but I could tell he was bristling just under the surface. “I’ve been out here in West for the past few months,” he explained. (Arthur was visibly relieved to hear this; I was sure he’d been wondering which world we’d stumbled into. I hadn’t been quite sure myself, but only West had the technology to come up with a traveling contraption like the pod.) “Before that,” Michael continued, “I worked out of the Interworld Travel building. That must have been before your time. And before that,” he said importantly, “I was the Gatekeeper’s deputy at the Eastern end of the world.”
“Really!” I said. So that’s what had happened to the deputy before me: he’d been plucked up by Mrs. Bracknell. That was strange. From the way the Gatekeeper had spoken about my predecessor, I’d always assumed she’d eaten him whole and washed him down with a glass of milk. Then again, maybe being eaten was preferable to working as Mrs. Bracknell’s personal secretary. As we rolled through the darkness, with the claws and teeth of otherworld creatures scrabbling just outside our pod, I wondered what she was up to here in West. Why had she planned to come through a secret worldgate in the middle of the night? Why had she sent her secretary to another world? And what was she going to do when she showed up an hour from now and Michael wasn’t there to meet her? More likely, I realized, she’d be here sooner than that: Thomas had probably run off to find her as soon as we’d passed through the doorway.
At least the pod was making good time. The first inkling of dawn was lighting the sky, and I could see now that we were on the outskirts of a city. The vast black shapes of buildings rose up on the horizon. Lights—more lights than I’d ever seen in one place—twinkled in the windows and along the roads that twisted toward the city, running over and under one another like yarn in a knotted skein. But our pod kept to the far edge of civilization, and soon we plunged into a stand of trees, where everything was more or less dark again.
At the end of the world, I’d learned to keep certain things to myself, but if the Gatekeeper had tried to pass this lesson along to Michael as well, it hadn’t stuck. Maybe we hadn’t been as impressed with him as he’d hoped, because he wanted us to know all the daring and important things he’d been up to in West, and how he was the only one who could be trusted with Mrs. Bracknell’s most important projects. “She had me catch her a thistle-backed thrunt yesterday,” he said proudly. “I’m not sure if you know this, but those little creatures are nasty. Getting it into the thrunt-proof box wasn’t as easy as you’d think.” Michael looked around the pod a little anxiously. “Do you happen to know if everything went well? With the thrunt, I mean? She never said what she wanted it for.”
Rosemary almost stood up right there in the pod, but Arthur pulled
her down. Both of them were staring at Michael, and I suppose I was, too. Mrs. Bracknell had put the thrunt in the archives? When she’d been the one going on and on about how important it was to keep us safe? I knew there was plenty she hadn’t been telling us, but even I hadn’t expected that.
“It went wonderfully,” I said, forcing out a grin. “Didn’t it?” I asked the others.
“Oh, yes,” Arthur agreed. “We loved the thrunt. Very spiky.”
Rosemary gritted her teeth. “Does Mrs. Bracknell need to transport dangerous animals from other worlds very often?”
“Not from West,” said Michael. “At least, not lately. She’s been busy with her work, and of course she can’t come to West too often these days. Now that all the worldgates are supposed to be closed, it’d look awfully funny if anyone spotted her here.” He frowned. “Is that why she sent you three? And why you’re not in uniform?”
“Exactly.” I smoothed my rumpled sweater. “We’re in disguise. No one would ever suspect we worked for her.”
“Ah,” said Michael knowingly. “I was wondering why she didn’t come herself. It shouldn’t take three people to do, er . . . what needs to be done.”
“Yes! About that.” Arthur leaned forward. “I’m awfully forgetful, and when Mrs. Bracknell gave us our orders, I wasn’t quite paying attention.” He fiddled with his glasses. “Would you remind me what we’re here to do?”
He’d taken things too far; I could tell that in an instant. Michael sat up straight, and all his muscles looked stiff. I could practically hear the rusty gears creaking to life in the shallows of his mind. “Don’t be silly,” I said to Arthur. “I can remind you later. Michael is Mrs. Bracknell’s personal secretary. He’s extremely important, and he doesn’t have the time to explain our job to us all over again.”
The Door at the End of the World Page 11