The Children of Hamelin

by Danny Lasko

  “Looking for a crown,” says Linus, more to himself than anyone else, it seems.

  “Where do you keep a crown?” asks Annie.

  “A safe?” I ask. “Do hotels have safes?”

  “Hotels had safes. In every room.”

  “Right,” I say, “so we need to check the rooms.”

  “There are over six hundred rooms on seven floors.”

  “Ah. Any way to narrow it down?”

  “It won’t be in a safe,” says Linus. “Berebus Pock writes that it will be hidden in plain sight.”

  “Could have mentioned that first,” I say.

  “I did.”

  Having no idea where a crown might be hidden, we check the ground floor rooms first. Some of them are difficult for me, being completely submerged in water. Others, large halls, show nothing crownlike at all. Hours pass. Still nothing.

  “Let me take a minute,” says Annie, sitting on a pile of rubble in the corner of the lobby, rubbing her ankle. I watch Linus watching the piece of brown paper he has spread out in front of him, like he’s hoping the answer will jump out.

  “Any other thoughts?” I ask him.

  “Nope.”

  “What do you mean, nope?”

  “There’s nothing else.”

  “Come on, there has to be something. We just aren’t seeing it.”

  “If you think I’m too stupid or weak to figure it out, you’re welcome to look for yourself.”

  “Guys.”

  “Linus, you know, ever since the caves, your attitude has sucked.”

  “Guys.”

  “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you,” he slings back at me.

  “Guys!”

  I turn to Annie. She’s pointing to a sign near double wood doors.

  “The Crown Room,” she reads. “I think we found it.”

  We break through heavy double wood doors and into a great hall, as ornate as the lobby and probably twice its size. It looks like it was being set for a massive dinner when the floods hit. Of the dozens of circular tables set up, only half of them have a dish or glass sitting on them. I remember my granddad talking about the floods coming so quickly that most people on the coast didn’t even have time to get up from lunch, let alone run from them. It was a sad day, he said. One of many to follow. I’m just glad we haven’t run into any of the victims here.

  This room is only about half-drowned in ocean. Lots of air to breathe. Even the rays of the sun shine in pillars through the upper windows.

  “Ha!” cries Linus. I follow his pointed finger up to the ceiling, where we’ve hit the jackpot. Ten chandeliers, all in the shape of sovereign crowns, just as drawn on note six. Each has eight strong arms of the crown connected at its base and meeting in the top and middle, where a long chain connects it to the ceiling. Light bulbs, some whole, some broken or missing, line each arm and around each base. I can only imagine what they looked like fully lit.

  Between the arms are smaller decorative crowns, each bejeweled with a red gemstone. It’s the same for all of them.

  “Which one?” calls Annie. “Or is it something to do with all of them?”

  “One,” answers Linus, swimming back and forth, looking for the answer. “The emerald crown,” he says under his breath. If any one of them is different from the other, I can’t see it.

  “Maybe this isn’t it,” I suggest. “Maybe it’s in a different room—”

  “This is it!” yells Linus. He stops to compose himself. “It is, trust me. Hand me the flower, will you?”

  Annie hands him the red poppy, and he pushes his way to each one, tapping the poppy on them as he passes. At the third chandelier from the far wall on the right, a thing happens. As Linus taps the crown with the poppy, a clank, not beautiful or appealing, but a clank from a poppy, rings through the room. The red color of the gemstones flake off, revealing vibrant emeralds, nearly glowing. We’ve found it.

  We pile up tables until we have a place to stand above water and to lay out note six. Linus points out that Pock has marked points on the crown. I hoist Annie up and with a cringe she climbs through the ironwork and settles in among the arms on its base. So far, it seems to hold her weight. I wince as she moves her oversized ankle in and out of the metalwork.

  “You alright?”

  “Yeah. Just what do I do now?”

  “Okay,” directs Linus. “I’ll tell you where to hit, and then you hit, yes?”

  “With what?” she says, obviously in pain.

  “Right,” Linus says. “Here.” He hands her the poppy.

  “With the poppy?!” she cries out, glee replacing the agony in her face.

  “The first arm, third bulb down,” instructs Linus. “Hold your hand there and hit the frame.”

  Annie positions herself, grabs hold, and bangs the flower on the crown. And unbelievably, a round, wonderful tone fills the hall and lingers awhile before fading out. We all wait to see what happens, but it appears that the tone itself is all we get.

  “Second arm, first bulb down. Hold your hand there and hit.”

  Annie obeys, and a second, brilliant though lower tone than the first rings out. Linus shouts the third instruction, and immediately Annie hits the chandelier. Then, confusing both Linus and me, she moves her hand onto the next one, and the next, several more without instruction, shooting out full, engulfing notes, some higher, others lower, creating a brilliant melody.

  “Was that right?” she asks, beaming.

  “Exactly.”

  “Annie, how in the world—?” I ask.

  “I don’t know,” she answers, starting to pull herself out of the chandelier. “But it’s right, right?”

  “Shouldn’t something be happening?” I ask.

  “I’m not exactly sure.” Linus turns the page over, searching for any other information.

  “Play them again,” I say. She stops, gives me that look.

  “Please.”

  She does, by memory and wonderfully smooth.

  “I think we have to play it,” suggests Linus.

  “She just did.”

  “The pipe, Sooth,” shouts Annie, pulling herself completely off the chandelier and into my reaching arms. She immediately falls to the table and holds her ankle.

  “Sorry.”

  “Had to be done.”

  I reach over my left shoulder and slide the music pipe from its sheath. I regard Linus for a second before I hand over the pipe.

  “What are you doing?” he asks.

  “You’re the musician,” I tell him. “You really expect me to know how to pick out the notes on this?”

  That’s only half the reason I want him to do it. Truth is, if I try and play it, we’ll be here for at least nine days before I can find the first note. But I am hoping that by engaging Linus a little more, he can climb off whatever edge he’s on. The threat of death can do that to a guy. I get that. But I can’t have him moody. I don’t do moody.

  Linus takes the pipe without a word and puts his lips to the mouthpiece. He blows and runs his fingers down each of the nine holes, getting a feel for the sound each one of them makes. Then he plays the crown’s song as if he wrote it. The tones come through exactly as Annie had played them.

  He grabs a pencil from his coat and writes the music down on note six, just under the swirling script below the crown drawing.

  “Linus,” Annie says, splashing back into the water. “you’re a genius!”

  “It’s true, Linus,” I tell him. “Not in a million years would I have been able to figure this out.” I put out my hand for the music pipe, smiling. It may be my imagination, but I think Linus hesitates before slapping the pipe into my palm.

  “Thanks,” he says with a smile. “Thanks.”
r />   We decide to climb out one of the windows in the coned roof of the broad tower. I don’t even have both feet on the loose red tile when I hear the familiar screech from the sky. I look up and see the blue eagle circling above where we left the wizards. I don’t question why. The fact that my heart just dropped into my stomach tells me enough.

  I leap into the water without a word and close the distance between the castle and the shore in a matter of seconds. I push myself onto the sand, reaching for my sword when I see it—the three wizards, unbound and spread out, lying in the sand face down. Their clothes have been taken from their body, revealing the wizard’s mark of the eleven stars on their backs, just below the neck. One’s ear is missing. I scan the coast for any signs of anything but see nothing. I roll the nearest one to me over. It’s the old man. His throat has been slit. They’re all dead.

  11

  Nomad Territory

  I PACE THE SHORE IN THE MINUTES IT TAKES ANNIE AND LINUS TO MAKE IT BACK TO DRY LAND. I meet them before they step out of the water, holding them back.

  “What’s going on?” calls Linus.

  “Don’t go over there,” I say, hoisting a limping Annie into my arms.

  “What?”

  “Don’t go over there. I promise, you don’t want to.”

  “Why, what’s—”

  “They’re dead. The wizards.”

  “You killed them?!” Linus yells.

  “Of course not,” I say, taken aback. “They were dead when I got here.”

  “But you buried them, didn’t you? Making it easy for whoever—”

  “You’d better calm down, little man,” I warn.

  “Or what, you’ll kill me too!?”

  “Hey, Linus,” says Annie. “You have to calm down.”

  Linus huffs for a second, darting his eyes between me and Annie, and then shakes his head.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just … a little shaken.”

  “Yeah, well, you’d better get unshaken in a hurry. We gotta get out of here,” I say.

  I really don’t know if leaving the scene is the right thing to do or not, and it kills me. I can’t see that far ahead. A part of me thinks the bodies should be examined to find clues—not to who did this but maybe who sent them. Who did this is obvious. That’s what makes me think it’s better to get out of here now. We have what we came for.

  There’s another part that hurts, one that strikes me at the center of my chest and bubbles up into my throat, squeezing it. I’m sad and confused. Sad that the wizards—one not much older than I am, another the age of my granddad—are dead. Confused because they would have absolutely killed us, tried more than once if they could. Maybe it’s because Linus’s words still sting. I’m the one who made them completely vulnerable to the attack. Nomads never even crossed my mind. Maybe next time it won’t be wizards who are caught helpless. Maybe it will be me. Or Linus. Or Annie.

  I’ve never seen a dead man before. Not even a skeleton while passing through the destruction of the old coast. No watery graves inside the castle. All of this became a whole lot more real to me now. I didn’t see anyone die at the Garden, but the faces I knew streak through my mind, one at a time. I picture them with the same blank stare and slit throat as the old wizard. I see my friends and neighbors in Allen, Coach Mane, Maypole, Rudy Gaines, Gloria Sharp, and the other girls. I see Tommy Briggs and his big smile and numbers shorn into the back of his hair. I swallow hard enough for it to hurt.

  I don’t remember getting to the horses, packing up, or riding off. I don’t even know how long we rode except that it’s dusk by the time we reach a group of towering red rock buttes jutting out of the desert. Their strong, silent structures appeal to me, so I suggest we stop for the night here. After realizing we really don’t know where we’re going next, the others consent.

  We risk a small fire and settle into a secluded cave among the red rock. It’s only then that I realize I haven’t eaten in two days. Annie offers part of her rations to me. Another thing to feel guilty about.

  “I feel it, too,” she says, handing over a slice of the white ration.

  “Feel what?”

  “The something inside just grew a little darker, like hope slipping away?”

  “Oh, that.”

  “The wizards are PureHearts, too. The Soul connects us all. Each time a PureHeart dies, even those who oppose us, the sadness dims our own light. You felt it back at the Garden, right?”

  All I can do is nod.

  “We are dangerously close to feeling that sadness all the time,” says Linus, not even looking up from the fire. “Soon, all there will be is sadness.”

  It’s too much to just sit here indulging in self-pity, so I tell the others I’m going for a walk, ignoring Annie’s protests and insisting she stay with Linus.

  I know it’s stupid to head out into the open on my own, so I walk along the base of the great butte. After a few minutes, I gaze up at the fiery stars and full moon. I brush my fingertips along the red rock until they find a good hold. My other hand finds a ledge. I lift myself off the ground, and before I know it, I’m darting up the butte’s sheer wall. I feel the muscles in my arms and back flex and relax with every move. It feels good to strain. I crimp my toes to dig them onto edges that are thinner than a finger, but I’m comfortable. Always have been with heights.

  I reach the top sooner than I expected and breathe deeply. The air is so much more satisfying up high, especially when I’ve spent a lot of the last couple of days underground or in the water. I look out at the moonlit desert when it dawns on me why I enjoy the high point so much. The abandoned building in Allen, the Tower, the trees in the Garden. Now here. The world looks different. Calm. Open and inviting. Hopeful. The ugly details of the world are blurred and shadowed by its ignored potential. But best of all, even in the glow of the moonlight, I can see beyond fifteen seconds.

  But even from here, I can’t see a way out. I don’t even know where we’re going. Linus says the clues point us to Britain, and I don’t know how just the three of us are going to get across an ocean. Maybe Linus has some ideas, but he hasn’t been all that talkative lately. Plus, Annie’s ankle seems to be getting worse. She needs rest. And I’m running out of time. And resources. At this point, no one’s going to be saved. At least by me.

  I just about stand up when I notice the flutter of wings beside me. The blue eagle, impressive and noble, is perched on a rock about four feet away. It’s bigger up close. I’m guessing it stands higher than my knee in height and has a broader body than any bird I’ve ever seen. I stop moving at once and don’t dare take my eyes off of it. It shifts its head just enough for the moon to reflect off its dark eyes.

  TALKTOTHEEAGLE find direction.

  I shift my direction toward the eagle, hoping inspiration will hit with a better look. It doesn’t.

  Then it strikes me.

  “Can you understand me?” It may be the moonlight and the shadows, but I watch the eagle nod its head.

  “You can,” I say. The eagle nods again.

  “Wow.” I lean toward it. “Which, uh, which way do I go? How do I...?”

  The eagle tilts its head, but does not answer.

  “I have to go, and they can’t come. Annie. Linus, too. Will you watch them?”

  Still nothing from the bird.

  “I don’t know what a blank stare means.”

  “It is not yet time.”

  My eyes bulge and I swear I feel my heart stop as the birds low whisper fills my ears.

  “What...what did you say?”

  The bird tilts its head the other way and opens its beak.

  “Stay together.”

  The eagle unfolds its wings and lifts itself into the air. All I can do is watch it fly away with my jaw dropped onto my chest. Did that bird j
ust tell me to stay together?

  Why not? I think, climbing down the butte. After all I’ve seen, this should be easy to accept. And of all the things it could have told me, it says, “Stay together”? That’s the direction I find? Not where I should go, what I should do, how to get to Britain. Or maybe what happened to my mom and dad or the other Children. Any of that could have helped far more than “stay together.” Yes, I made a promise, but things have changed.

  I nearly open my mouth as I come around the corner of the camp before I notice the two dozen gray-clad men surrounding Linus and Annie. I guess the fire wasn’t small enough. The memory of the wizard’s slit throat hangs in my own, no matter how big I swallow.

  Nomads.

  I reach back for my sword and feel the guard wash me with warmth while I flash forward and find the right play. Three of them are on the ground before they even realize they’re being attacked. Their grimy faces hide any sense of emotion, as do their gray denim jackets and pants. Each one wears a wrap on his head that ties behind and falls down to the middle of his back. The options flash through my mind at a rate I’ve never seen. I don’t have time to go through them all, so I take the first one that gets me to the next one. And it’s working for me. I see their weapons before they’re swung or thrown. I dodge their fists and feet and return with massive blows thanks to the guard’s amplifying power. I kick one of them onto two others, bowling them down the small hill in front of the cave. Another swings at me, but I see it coming and easily duck and twirl and have my blade to his neck before he recovers. But I can’t kill him. Instead, I whip the broad side of the blade across his face, knocking him out. I yank another next to me by the tail of his head wrap, pulling him to the ground for a taste of my boot. I guess school was good for something.