Several members of the Council nodded their heads. “That’s a good point,” one of them said.
“He’s Olaf, all right,” Mrs. Morrow called from the far side of the room. “He has one eyebrow instead of two, and there’s a tattoo of an eye on his ankle.”
“But lots of people have only one eyebrow,” Jacques cried, “and I have this tattoo as part of my job.”
“And your job is villain!” Mr. Lesko called out triumphantly. “Rule #19,833 clearly states that no villains are allowed within the city limits, so we get to burn you at the stake!”
“Hear, hear!” called several voices in agreement.
“I’m not a villain!” Jacques said frantically. “I work for the volunteer—”
“Enough is enough!” said one of the youngest Elders. “Olaf, you have already been warned about Rule #920. You are not allowed to speak when you are on the platform. Do any more citizens wish to speak before we schedule the burning of Olaf at the stake?”
Violet stood up, which is not an easy thing to do if your head is still spinning, your legs are still wobbly, and your body is still buzzing with astonishment. “I wish to speak,” she said. “The town of V.F.D. is my guardian, and so I am a citizen.”
Klaus, who had Sunny in his arms, stood up and took his place beside his sister. “This man,” he said, pointing at Jacques, “is not Count Olaf. Officer Luciana has made a mistake in arresting him, and we don’t want to make things worse by burning an innocent man at the stake.”
Jacques gave the children a grateful smile, but Officer Luciana turned around and clunked over to where the Baudelaires were standing. The children could not see her eyes, because the visor on her helmet was still down, but her bright red lips curled into a tight smile. “It is you who are making things worse,” she said, and then turned to the Council of Elders. “Obviously, the shock of seeing Count Olaf has confused these children,” she said to them.
“Of course it has!” agreed an Elder. “Speaking as a member of the town serving as their legal guardian, I say that these children clearly need to be put to bed. Now, are there any adults who wish to speak?”
The Baudelaires looked over at Hector, in the hopes that he would overcome his nervousness and stand up to speak. Surely he didn’t believe that the three siblings were so confused that they didn’t know who Count Olaf was. But Hector did not rise to the occasion, a phrase which here means “continued to sit in his folding chair with his eyes cast downward,” and after a moment the Council of Elders closed the matter.
“I hereby close the matter,” an Elder said. “Hector, please take the Baudelaires home.”
“Yes!” called out a member of the Verhoogen family. “Put the orphans to bed and burn Olaf at the stake!”
“Hear, hear!” several voices cried.
One of the Council of Elders shook his head. “It’s too late to burn anyone at the stake today,” he said, and there was a mutter of disappointment from the townspeople. “We will burn Count Olaf at the stake right after breakfast,” he continued. “All uptown residents should bring flaming torches, and all downtown residents should bring wood for kindling and some sort of healthy snack. See you tomorrow.”
“And in the meantime,” Officer Luciana announced, “I will keep him in the uptown jail, across from Fowl Fountain.”
“But I’m innocent!” the man on the platform cried. “Please listen to me, I beg of you! I’m not Count Olaf! My name is Jacques!” He turned to the three siblings, who could see he had tears in his eyes. “Oh, Baudelaires,” he said, “I am so relieved to see that you are alive. Your parents—”
“That’s enough out of you,” Officer Luciana said, clasping her white-gloved hand over Jacques’s mouth.
“Pipit!” Sunny shrieked, which meant “Wait!” but Officer Luciana either didn’t listen or didn’t care, and she quickly dragged Jacques out the door before he could say another word. The townspeople rose up in their folding chairs to watch him go, and then began talking among themselves as the Council of Elders left the bench. The Baudelaires saw Mr. Lesko share a joke with the Verhoogen family, as if the entire evening had been a jolly party instead of a meeting sentencing an innocent man to death. “Pipit!” Sunny shrieked again, but nobody listened. His eyes still on the floor, Hector took Violet and Klaus by the hand and led them out of Town Hall. The handyman did not say a word, and the Baudelaires didn’t, either. Their stomachs felt too fluttery and their hearts too heavy to even open their mouths. As they left the council meeting without another glimpse of Jacques or Officer Luciana, they felt a pain even worse than that of jumping to conclusions. The children felt as if they had jumped off a cliff, or jumped in front of a moving train. As they stepped out of Town Hall into the still night air, the Baudelaire orphans felt as if they would never jump for joy again.
CHAPTER
Seven
In this large and fierce world of ours, there are many, many unpleasant places to be. You can be in a river swarming with angry electric eels, or in a supermarket filled with vicious long-distance runners. You can be in a hotel that has no room service, or you can be lost in a forest that is slowly filling up with water. You can be in a hornet’s nest or in an abandoned airport or in the office of a pediatric surgeon, but one of the most unpleasant things that can happen is to find yourself in a quandary, which is where the Baudelaire orphans found themselves that night. Finding yourself in a quandary means that everything seems confusing and dangerous and you don’t know what in the world to do about it, and it is one of the worst unpleasantries you can encounter. The three Baudelaires sat in Hector’s kitchen as the handyman prepared another Mexican dinner, and compared with the quandary they were in, all their other problems felt like the small potatoes he was chopping into thirds.
“Everything seems confusing,” Violet said glumly. “The Quagmire triplets are somewhere nearby, but we don’t know where, and the only clues we have are two confusing poems. And now, there’s a man who isn’t Count Olaf, but he has an eye tattooed on his ankle, and he wanted to tell us something about our parents.”
“It’s more than confusing,” Klaus said. “It’s dangerous. We need to rescue the Quagmires before Count Olaf does something dreadful, and we need to convince the Council of Elders that the man they arrested is really Jacques, otherwise they’ll burn him at the stake.”
“Quandary?” Sunny said, which meant something along the lines of “What in the world can we do about it?”
“I don’t know what we can do about it, Sunny,” Violet replied. “We spent all day trying to figure out what the poems meant, and we tried our best to convince the Council of Elders that Officer Luciana made a mistake.” She and her siblings looked at Hector, who had certainly not tried his best with the Council of Elders but instead had sat in his folding chair without saying a word.
Hector sighed and looked unhappily at the children. “I know I should have said something,” he told them, “but I was far too skittish. The Council of Elders is so imposing that I can never say a word in their presence. However, I can think of something that we can do to help.”
“What is it?” Klaus asked.
“We can enjoy these huevos rancheros,” he said. “Huevos rancheros are fried eggs and beans, served with tortillas and potatoes in a spicy tomato sauce.”
The siblings looked at one another, trying to imagine how a Mexican dish would get them out of their quandary. “How will that help?” Violet asked doubtfully.
“I don’t know,” Hector admitted. “But they’re almost ready, and my recipe is a delicious one, if I do say so myself. Come on, let’s eat. Maybe a good dinner will help you think of something.”
The children sighed, but nodded their heads in agreement and got up to set the table, and curiously enough, a good dinner did in fact help the Baudelaires think of something. As Violet took her first bite of beans, she felt the gears and levers of her inventing brain spring into action. As Klaus dipped his tortilla into the spicy tomato sauce, he began to thi
nk of books he had read that might be helpful. And as Sunny smeared egg yolks all over her face, she clicked her four sharp teeth together and tried to think of a way that they might be useful. By the time the Baudelaires were finishing the meal Hector had prepared for them, their ideas had grown and developed into full-fledged plans, just as Nevermore Tree had grown a long time ago from a tiny seed and Fowl Fountain had been built recently from someone’s hideous blueprint.
It was Sunny who spoke up first. “Plan!” she said.
“What is it, Sunny?” Klaus asked.
With a tiny finger covered in tomato sauce, Sunny pointed out the window at Nevermore Tree, which was covered in the V.F.D. crows as it was every evening. “Merganser!” she said firmly.
“My sister says that tomorrow morning there will probably be another poem from Isadora in the same spot,” Klaus explained to Hector. “She wants to spend the night underneath the tree. She’s so small that whoever is delivering the poems probably won’t spot her, and she’ll be able to find out how the couplets are getting to us.”
“And that should bring us closer to finding the Quagmires,” Violet said. “That’s a good plan, Sunny.”
“My goodness, Sunny,” Hector said. “Won’t you be frightened spending all night underneath a whole murder of crows?”
“Therill,” Sunny said, which meant “It won’t be any more frightening than the time I climbed up an elevator shaft with my teeth.”
“I think I have a good plan, too,” Klaus said. “Hector, yesterday you told us about the secret library you have in the barn.”
“Ssh!” Hector said, looking around the kitchen. “Not so loud! You know it’s against the rules to have all those books, and I don’t want to be burned at the stake.”
“I don’t want anyone to be burned at the stake,” Klaus said. “Now, does the secret library contain books about the rules of V.F.D.?”
“Absolutely,” Hector said. “Lots of them. Because the rule books describe people breaking the rules, they break Rule #108, which clearly states that the V.F.D. library cannot contain any books that break any of the rules.”
“Well, I’m going to read as many rule books as I can,” Klaus said. “There must be a way to save Jacques from being burned at the stake, and I bet I’ll find it in the pages of those books.”
“My word, Klaus,” Hector said. “Won’t you be bored reading all those rule books?”
“It won’t be any more boring than the time I had to read all about grammar, in order to save Aunt Josephine,” he replied.
“Sunny is working to save the Quagmires,” Violet said, “and Klaus is working to save Jacques. I’ve got to work to save us.”
“What do you mean?” Klaus asked.
“Well, I think Count Olaf must be behind all this trouble,” Violet said.
“Grebe!” Sunny said, which meant “As usual!”
“If the town of V.F.D. burns Jacques at the stake,” Violet continued, “then everyone will think Count Olaf is dead. I bet The Daily Punctilio will even have a story that says so. It will be very good news for Olaf—the real one, that is. If everyone thinks he’s dead, Olaf can be as treacherous as he likes, and the authorities won’t come looking for him.”
“That’s true,” Klaus said. “Count Olaf must have found Jacques—whoever he is—and brought him into town. He knew that Officer Luciana would think he was Olaf. But what does that have to do with saving us?”
“Well, if we rescue the Quagmires and prove that Jacques is innocent,” Violet said, “Count Olaf will come after us, and we can’t rely on the Council of Elders to protect us.”
“Poe!” Sunny said.
“Or Mr. Poe,” Violet agreed. “That’s why we’ll need a way to save ourselves.” She turned to Hector. “Yesterday, you also told us about your self-sustaining hot air mobile home.”
Hector looked around the kitchen again, to make sure no one was listening. “Yes,” he said, “but I think I’m going to stop work on it. If the Council of Elders learns that I’m breaking Rule #67, I could be burned at the stake. Anyway, I can’t seem to get the engine to work.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a look at it,” Violet said. “Maybe I could help finish it. You wanted to use the self-sustaining hot air mobile home to escape from V.F.D. and the Council of Elders and everything else that makes you skittish, but it would also make an excellent escape vehicle.”
“Maybe it could be both,” Hector said shyly, and reached across the table to pat Sunny on the shoulder. “I very much enjoy the company of you three children, and it would be delightful to share a mobile home with you. There’s plenty of room in the self-sustaining hot air mobile home, and once we get it to work we could launch it and never come down. Count Olaf and his associates would never be able to bother you again. What do you think?”
The three Baudelaires listened closely to Hector’s suggestion, but when they tried to tell him what they thought, it felt like they were in a quandary all over again. On one hand, it would be exciting to live in such an unusual way, and the thought of being safe forever from Count Olaf’s evil clutches was very appealing, to say the least. Violet looked at her baby sister and thought about the promise she had made, when Sunny was born, that she would always look after her younger siblings and make sure they wouldn’t get into trouble. Klaus looked at Hector, who was the only citizen in this vile village who really seemed to care about the children, as a guardian should. And Sunny looked out the window at the evening sky, and remembered the first time she and her siblings saw the V.F.D. crows fly in superlative circles and wished that they, too, could escape from all their worries. But on the other hand, the Baudelaires felt that flying away from all their trouble, and living forever up in the sky, didn’t seem to be a proper way to live one’s life. Sunny was a baby, Klaus was only twelve, and even Violet, the eldest, was fourteen, which is not really so old. The Baudelaires had many things they hoped to accomplish on the ground, and they weren’t sure that they could simply abandon all those hopes so early in their lives. The Baudelaires sat at the table and thought about Hector’s plan, and it seemed to the children that if they spent the rest of their lives floating around the heavens, they simply wouldn’t be in their element, a phrase which here means “in the sort of home the three siblings would prefer.”
“First things first,” Violet said finally, hoping that she wasn’t hurting Hector’s feelings. “Before we make a decision about the rest of our lives, let’s get Duncan and Isadora out of Olaf’s clutches.”
“And make sure Jacques won’t be burned at the stake,” Klaus said.
“Albico!” Sunny added, which meant something like, “And let’s solve the mystery of V.F.D. that the Quagmires told us about!”
Hector sighed. “You’re right,” he said. “Those things are more important, even if they do make me skittish. Well, let’s take Sunny to the tree and then it’s off to the barn, where the library and inventing studio are. It looks like it’s going to be another long night, but hopefully this time we won’t be barking up the wrong tree.”
The Baudelaires smiled at the handyman and followed him out into the night, which was cool and breezy and filled with the sounds of the murder of crows settling down for the night. They kept on smiling as they separated, with Sunny crawling toward Nevermore Tree and the two older Baudelaires following Hector to the barn, and they continued to smile as they began to put each of their plans into action. Violet smiled because Hector’s inventing studio was very well-equipped, with plenty of pliers and glue and wire and everything her inventing brain needed, and because Hector’s self-sustaining hot air mobile home was an enormous, fascinating mechanism—just the sort of challenging invention she loved to work on. Klaus smiled because Hector’s library was very comfortable, with some good sturdy tables and cushioned chairs just perfect for reading in, and because the books on the rules of V.F.D. were very thick and full of difficult words—just the sort of challenging reading he enjoyed. And Sunny smiled because
there were several dead branches of Nevermore Tree that had fallen to the ground, so she would have something to gnaw on as she hid and waited for the next couplet to arrive. The children were in their elements. Violet was in her element at the inventing studio, and Klaus was in his element at the library, and Sunny was in hers just from being low to the ground and near something she could bite. Violet tied her hair up in a ribbon to keep it out of her eyes, and Klaus polished his glasses, and Sunny stretched her mouth to get her teeth ready for the task ahead of her, and the three siblings smiled more than they had since their arrival in town. The Baudelaire orphans were in their elements, and they hoped that being in their elements would lead them out of their quandary.
CHAPTER
Eight
The next morning began with a colorful and lengthy sunrise, which Sunny saw from her hiding place at the bottom of Nevermore Tree. It continued with the sounds of awakening crows, which Klaus heard from the library in the barn, and followed with the sight of the birds making their familiar circle in the sky, which Violet saw just as she was leaving the inventing studio. By the time Klaus joined his sister outside the barn, and Sunny crawled across the flat landscape to reach them, the birds had stopped circling and were flying together uptown, and the morning was so pretty and peaceful that as I describe it I can almost forget that it was a very, very sad morning for me, a morning that I wish I could strike forever from the Snicket calendar. But I can’t erase this day, any more than I can write a happy ending to this book, for the simple reason that the story does not go that way. No matter how lovely the morning was, or how confident the Baudelaires felt about what they had discovered over the course of the night, there isn’t a happy ending on the horizon of this story, any more than there was an elephant on the horizon of V.F.D.
“Good morning,” Violet said to Klaus, and yawned.
“Good morning,” Klaus replied. He was holding two books in his arms, but nevertheless he managed to wave at Sunny, who was still crawling toward them. “How did everything go with Hector in the inventing studio?”
A Series of Unfortunate Events Collection: Books 1-13 with Bonus Material Page 67