CHAPTER
Two
If you were to hold this book up to a mirror, you would see at once how confusing it is to read In fact, the entire world looks confusing in a mirror, almost as if except backward. Life is perplexing enough without thinking about other worlds staring back at you from the mirror, which is why people who spend a great deal of time looking in the mirror tend to have trouble thinking about anything except
The Baudelaire orphans, of course, had not spent very much time looking in mirrors recently, as they’d been quite preoccupied, a word which here means “in desperate and mysterious circumstances brought about by Count Olaf.” But even if they had spent every waking moment staring at their own reflections, they would not have been prepared for the perplexing sight waiting for them at the end of the sloping lawn. When Violet, Klaus, and Sunny at last caught up with Kit Snicket, it felt as if they had stepped into the world on the opposite side of the mirror without even knowing it.
Impossible as it seemed, the lawn deposited the children at the roof of a building, but a building that lay flat on the ground instead of rising up toward the sky. The Baudelaires’ shoes were inches from the roof’s glittering shingles, where a large sign read HOTEL DENOUEMENT. Below the sign, farther from the orphans, was a row of windows with the number 9 emblazoned on each of their shutters. The row was very long, stretching out to the left and right of the Baudelaires, so far that they couldn’t see the end of it. Below this row of windows was another with the number 8 emblazoned on the shutters, and then another row with 7, and so on and so on, the numbers getting farther and farther away from the Baudelaires, all the way down to 0. Protruding from one of the 0 windows was a strange funnel, which was spewing a thick, white fog toward the siblings, covering a set of stairs leading to a large, curved archway one story above, marked ENTRANCE. The building was constructed from strange, shimmering bricks, and here and there on the building were large, strange flowers and patches of dark green moss, which all lay out on the ground in front of the children.
After a moment, one of the shutters opened, and in an instant the Baudelaires realized why the Hotel Denouement seemed so perplexing. They had not been staring at the building at all, but at its reflection in an enormous pond. The actual hotel stood at the far end of the pond, and was reflected onto the pond’s surface. Normally, of course, it is easy to tell a building from its reflection in a body of water, but whoever had designed the Hotel Denouement had added several features to confuse passersby. For one thing, the building did not stand up straight, but tilted toward the ground at a precise angle, so that the pond only reflected the hotel, and none of the surrounding landscape and sky. Also, all of the hotel’s signage—which is simply a fancy word meaning “signs”—was written backward, so the numbers on the windows could only be read correctly in the pond, and the words on the roof of the actual hotel read . Finally, some hardworking gardener had managed to grow lilies and moss on the bricks of the hotel—the same sort of lilies and moss that grow on the surface of ponds. The three siblings looked down at the pond, and then up at the hotel, back and forth several times, before they were able to get their bearings, a phrase which here means “stop staring at this perplexing sight and direct their attention to Kit Snicket.”
“Over here, Baudelaires!” the pregnant woman called, and the children saw that Kit had taken a seat on an enormous blanket laid out on the lawn. The blanket was heaped with enough food to feed an army, had an army decided that morning to invade a pond. There were three loaves of bread, each baked into a different shape, lined up in front of little bowls of butter, jam, and what looked like melted chocolate. Alongside the bread was an enormous basket containing all sorts of pastries, from muffins to donuts to custard eclairs, which happened to be a favorite of Klaus’s. There were two round tins containing quiche, which is a sort of pie made of eggs, cheese, and vegetables, and a large platter of smoked fish, and a wooden tray piled high with a pyramid of fruit. Three glass pitchers held three different kinds of juice, and there were silver pots containing coffee and tea, and laid out in a sort of fan was silverware with which to eat it all, and three napkins that were monogrammed, a word which here means “had the initials V. B., K. B., and S. B. embroidered on them.”
“Sit down, sit down,” Kit said, taking a bite of a pastry covered in powdered sugar. “As I said, we don’t have much time, but that’s no excuse for not eating well. Help yourselves to anything you like.”
“Where did all this food come from?” Klaus asked.
“One of our associates laid it out for us,” Kit said. “It is a policy of our organization that all picnics travel separately from the volunteers. If our enemies capture the picnic, they won’t get their clutches on us, and if our enemies capture us, they won’t get the picnic. That’s something to remember during the next couple of days, as you participate in what one of our enemies calls the ‘perpetual struggle for room and food.’ Please try the marmalade. It’s delicious.”
The Baudelaires felt dizzy, as if their heads were still spinning from the ride through the shrubbery, and Violet reached into her pocket to find a ribbon. The conversation was so bewildering that the eldest Baudelaire wanted to concentrate as hard as she did when she was dreaming up an invention. Tying her hair up helped Violet focus her inventing mind, but before she could find a ribbon, Kit smiled kindly at her, and produced a ribbon of her own. She gestured for the eldest Baudelaire to sit down, and with a gentle look in her eyes, the distraught and pregnant woman tied Violet’s hair up herself.
“You look just like your father.” Kit sighed. “He wore the same frown whenever he was confused, although he almost never tied his hair up in a ribbon when he solved a problem. Please, Baudelaires, eat your brunch, and I’ll try to catch you up on our current predicament. By the time you’re eating your second pastry I hope your questions will be answered.”
The Baudelaires sat down, spread their monogrammed napkins on their laps, and began to eat, surprised to find that they were just as hungry for brunch as they were curious for information. Violet took two slices of dark wheat bread and made herself a sandwich of smoked fish, deciding to try the chocolate spread afterward if she still had room. Klaus served himself some quiche and took a custard eclair, and Sunny rooted through the tray of fruit until she found a grapefruit, which she began to peel with her unusually sharp teeth. Kit smiled at the children, dabbed at her own mouth with a napkin embroidered with K. S., and began to speak.
“The building at the other end of the pond is the Hotel Denouement,” she began. “Have you ever stayed there?”
“No,” Violet said. “Our parents took us to the Hotel Preludio once for the weekend.”
“That’s right,” Klaus said. “I’d almost forgotten.”
“Carrots for breakfast,” Sunny said, remembering the weekend with a smile.
“Well, the Hotel Preludio is a lovely place,” Kit said, “but the Hotel Denouement is more than that. For years, it’s been a place where our volunteers can gather to exchange information, discuss plans to defeat our enemies, and return books we’ve borrowed from one another. Before the schism, there were countless places that served such purposes. Bookstores and banks, restaurants and stationery stores, cafés and laundromats, opium dens and geodesic domes—people of nobility and integrity could gather nearly everywhere.”
“Those must have been wonderful times,” Violet said.
“So I’m told,” Kit said. “I was four years old when everything changed. Our organization shattered, and it was as if the world shattered, too, and one by one the safe places were destroyed. There was a large scientific laboratory, but the volunteer who owned the place was murdered. There was an enormous cavern, but a treacherous team of realtors claimed it for themselves. And there was an immense headquarters high in the Mortmain Mountains, but—”
“It was destroyed,” Klaus said quietly. “We were there shortly after the fire.”
“Of course you were,” Kit said. “I’d forgo
tten. Well, the headquarters was the penultimate safe place.”
“Penulhoo?” Sunny asked.
“‘Penultimate’ means ‘next-to-last,’” Kit explained. “When the mountain headquarters was destroyed, only the Hotel Denouement was left. In every other place on Earth, nobility and integrity are vanishing quickly.” She sighed, and gazed out at the still, flat surface of the pond. “If we’re not careful, they’ll vanish completely. Can you imagine a world in which wickedness and deception were running rampant?”
“Yes,” Violet said quietly, and her siblings nodded in agreement. They knew that the word “rampant” meant “without anyone to stop it,” and they could imagine such a world very easily, because they had been living in one. Since their first encounter with Count Olaf, the villain’s wickedness and deception had run rampant all over the Baudelaires’ lives, and it had been very difficult for the children to keep from becoming villains themselves. In fact, when they considered all of their recent actions, they weren’t entirely sure they hadn’t performed a few acts of villainy, even if they’d had very good reasons for doing so.
“When we were in the mountains,” Klaus said, “we found a message one of the volunteers had written. It said that V.F.D. would be gathering at the Hotel Denouement on Thursday.”
Kit nodded, and reached to pour herself some more coffee. “Was the message addressed to J. S.?” she asked.
“Yes,” Violet said. “We assumed the initials stood for Jacques Snicket.”
“Brother?” Sunny asked.
Kit looked sadly down at her pastry. “Yes, Jacques was my brother. Because of the schism, I haven’t seen either of my brothers for years, and it was only recently that I learned of his murder.”
“We met Jacques very briefly,” Violet said, referring to the time the Baudelaires had spent in the care of an entire village. “You must have been shocked to receive the news.”
“Saddened,” Kit said, “but not shocked. So many good people have been slain by our enemies.” She reached across the blanket and patted the hands of all three Baudelaires in turn. “I know I don’t have to tell you how terrible it feels to lose a family member. I felt so terrible that I vowed I would never leave my bed.”
“What happened?” Klaus said.
Kit smiled. “I got hungry,” she said, “and when I opened the refrigerator, I found another message waiting for me.”
“Verbal Fridge Dialogue,” Violet said, “the same code as the message we found in the mountains.”
“Yes,” Kit said. “You three had been spotted by another volunteer. We knew, of course, that you children had nothing to do with my brother’s death, no matter what that ridiculous reporter wrote in The Daily Punctilio.”
The Baudelaires looked at one another. They had almost forgotten about Geraldine Julienne, a journalist who had caused them much inadvertent trouble, a phrase which here means “published in the newspaper that the Baudelaire orphans had murdered Jacques Snicket, whom she mistakenly identified as Count Olaf.” The siblings had found it necessary to disguise themselves several times so as not to be captured by the authorities. “Who spotted us?” Klaus asked.
“Quigley Quagmire, of course,” she said. “He found you in the Mortmain Mountains, and then managed to contact me when you were separated from him. He and I managed to meet each other in an abandoned bathrobe emporium, where we disguised ourselves as mannequins while we figured out what to do next. Finally, we managed to send a Volunteer Factual Dispatch to Captain Widdershins’s submarine.”
“Queequeg,” Sunny said, naming the underwater vehicle where she and her siblings had recently spent a dreadful few days.
“Our plan was to meet up with you at Briny Beach,” Kit said, “and proceed to the Hotel Denouement for the V.F.D. gathering.”
“But where is Quigley?” Violet asked.
Kit sighed, and took a sip of her coffee. “He was very eager to see you,” she said, “but he received word from his siblings.”
“Duncan and Isadora!” Klaus cried. “We haven’t seen them for quite some time. Are they safe?”
“I hope so,” Kit answered. “The message they sent was incomplete, but it sounded as if they were being attacked in midair while flying over the sea. Quigley went to help them immediately in a helicopter we stole from a nearby botanist. If all goes well, you’ll see all three Quagmire triplets on Thursday. That is, unless you cancel the gathering.”
“Cancel it?” Violet asked. “Why would we do a thing like that?”
“The last safe place may not be safe after all,” Kit said sadly. “If that’s the case, you Baudelaires will need to send V.F.D. a signal that Thursday’s gathering is canceled.”
“Why not safe?” Sunny asked.
Kit smiled at the youngest Baudelaire, opened the cardboard folder that the Baudelaires had retrieved from the taxicab, and began to page through the papers inside. “I’m sorry this is so disorganized,” she said. “I haven’t had time to update my commonplace book. My brother used to say that if only one had a little more time to do some important reading, all the secrets in the world would become clear. I’ve scarcely looked at these maps, poems, and blueprints that Charles sent me, or chosen wallpaper for the baby’s room. Wait one moment, Baudelaires. I’ll find it.”
The children helped themselves to more brunch, trying to be patient as Kit looked through her folder, pausing from time to time to smooth out the particularly crumpled papers. At last she held up a tiny piece of paper, no bigger than a caterpillar, which was rolled into a tiny scroll. “Here it is,” she said. “A waiter slipped this to me last night by hiding it inside a cookie.”
She handed it to Klaus, who unrolled the paper and squinted at it behind his glasses. “‘J. S. has checked in,’” he read out loud, “‘and requested tea with sugar. My brother sends his regards. Sincerely, Frank.’”
“Usually the messages inside the cookies are just superstitious nonsense,” Kit said, “but recently the restaurant has changed management. You can understand why this message made me so distraught, Baudelaires. Someone is posing as my brother, and has checked into the hotel shortly before our entire organization is scheduled to arrive.”
“Count Olaf,” Violet said.
“It could be Olaf,” Kit agreed, “but there are plenty of villains who are all too eager to be impostors. Those two villains in the mountains, for example.”
“Or Hugo, Colette, or Kevin,” Klaus said, naming three people the children had met at Caligari Carnival, who had since joined Olaf’s troupe and had agreed to meet him at the hotel.
“But this J. S. isn’t necessarily a wicked person,” Kit said. “Plenty of noble people would check into the Hotel Denoument and order sugar in their tea. Not to sweeten it, of course—tea should be as bitter as wormwood, my brother used to say, and as sharp as a two-edged sword—but as a signal. Our comrades and our enemies are all after the same thing—the Vessel For Disaccharides.”
“Sugar bowl,” Sunny said, sharing a look of dismay with her siblings. The Baudelaires knew that Kit was referring to a sugar bowl that was of great importance to V.F.D. and to Count Olaf, who was desperate to get his hands on it. The children had searched for this sugar bowl from the highest peak of the Mortmain Mountains to the underwater depths of the Gorgonian Grotto, but had neither found this sugar bowl nor learned why it was so important.
“Exactly,” Kit said. “The sugar bowl is on its way to the hotel even as we speak, and I’d hate to think what would happen if our enemies got ahold of it. I can’t imagine anything worse, except perhaps if our enemies somehow got ahold of the Medusoid Mycelium.”
The Baudelaires’ look of dismay augmented, a word which here means “increased dramatically as they realized they had some bad news for Kit Snicket.” “I’m afraid that Count Olaf has a small sample of the Medusoid Mycelium,” Violet said, referring to a deadly fungus the children had encountered while exploring the ocean. Its sinister spores had infected poor Sunny, who might not have survived
had her siblings not managed to dilute the poison in the nick of time. “We had a few spores locked tight in a diving helmet, but Olaf managed to steal it.”
Kit gasped. “Then we most certainly have no time to lose. The three of you must infiltrate the Hotel Denouement and observe J. S. If J. S. is a noble person, then you must make sure that the sugar bowl falls into his or her hands, but if J. S. is a villainous person, you must make sure it does not. And I’m sad to say that this won’t be as easy as it sounds.”
“It doesn’t sound easy at all,” Klaus said.
“That’s the spirit,” Kit said, popping a grape into her mouth. “Of course, you won’t be alone. Showing up early is one of the signs of a noble person, so there are other volunteers already at the hotel. You may even recognize some volunteers who have been observing you during your travels. But you also may recognize some of your enemies, as they will be posing as noble people by showing up early as well. While you try to observe the impostor, various impostors will undoubtedly be observing you.”
“But how can we tell the volunteers from the enemies?” Violet asked.
“The same way you always do,” Kit said. “When you first met Count Olaf, did you have any doubt he was a treacherous person? When you first met the Quagmire triplets, did you have any doubt that they were charming and resourceful? You’ll have to observe everyone you see, and make such judgements yourselves. You Baudelaires will become flaneurs.”
“Expound,” Sunny said, which meant something along the lines of, “I’m afraid I don’t know what that word means.”
“Flaneurs,” Kit explained, “are people who quietly observe their surroundings, intruding only when it is absolutely necessary. Children make excellent flaneurs, as so few people notice them. You’ll be able to pass unnoticed in the hotel.”
A Series of Unfortunate Events Collection: Books 1-13 with Bonus Material Page 133