“Excuse me, young man…” Henry started to say.
“Ward. My name’s Ward.”
“Wendell was trespassing,” Maggie explained. “How were we to know he would lead us here?”
“Well, you’re down here now,” Ward sneered. “Guess that’s unfortunate for you.”
He twisted back around and started flattening a metal scrap with a hammer.
“What’s he doing?” Maggie asked.
Lloyd glanced back at Ward.
“Oh, Ward doesn’t usually work down here. So when he does, he just plays around. Hitting this, twisting that.”
Maggie and Henry continued to watch Ward beating away on the table. The noise finally got Laszlo’s attention and the white-haired man swooped down from the platform to inspect.
“What is that you’re making so loudly, Ward?”
Ward proudly held up the dented metal square.
“It’s symbolic, Laszlo,” Ward explained. “It’s a reminder of the brutality we face if we’re not obedient to Castriot.”
Laszlo shook his head and walked away.
Ward stood up and tossed the metal on Maggie and Henry’s table. It rocked back and forth on top of the wooden soldier.
“Here you are, folks,” Ward said, patting Lloyd on the shoulder. “Now I’m off to Snop.” He pulled a cinnamon stick out of his pocket and stuck it in his mouth.
“You chew cinnamon sticks?” Maggie asked, suddenly feeling a strange connection to the unfriendly boy.
“It keeps my mouth clean,” Ward said, flashing his teeth. “And I need that for all the sweets I eat.” He spun about and jogged out of the workshop.
“Ward works at Snop―Myra Lane’s candy shop,” Lloyd explained.
Lloyd lifted up the metal square and pulled the soldier out from underneath.
“Now the paint will have to be redone. But let me show you what I did here…”
Lloyd started to pick up his knife and another wooden block, but Henry stopped him.
“Don’t waste your time showing us this.” Henry placed his hand on top of Lloyd’s. “We aren’t Foundlings. And it won’t be long until our families start looking for us.”
Lloyd eyed Henry strangely and then looked back down at the block. He pretended to be examining the wood for imperfections.
“What is it, Lloyd?” Maggie could see there was something they weren’t being told, but Lloyd didn’t respond. “Do you think they won’t search for us?”
Lloyd’s eyes peeked up. “I’m sure they will. It just might take longer than you anticipate.”
“What do you mean?”
Lloyd jerked his head side to side, nervously checking on the Garrisons.
“Didn’t they tell you? Time moves slower here.”
Maggie shook her head while Henry asked, “What do you mean time moves slower?”
Lloyd leaned forward. “Time… moves… slower.”
Maggie and Henry looked at each other and then back at Lloyd.
“How long would you say you’ve been here?” Lloyd asked.
Henry shrugged. “I don’t know, two… maybe three hours.”
Lloyd nodded. “Then to your family you’ve only been gone about an hour.”
“How is that possible?” Henry snapped as though Lloyd was trying to play a trick on them.
Lloyd blinked. “You’ve wandered down into an underground village that has the ability to enter any building in the entire city through a system of sleighs and fireplaces. And you ask how that is possible?”
“That’s all very different than claiming one can slow time,” Henry defended. “What you’re talking about is… is… magical.”
“Well, I suppose it is a bit,” Lloyd said. “How much do you know about Nikolaos of Myra?”
“We heard about how he brought the three sisters to Belgium and founded Poppel,” Maggie recounted. “And then later died helping the Martyrs of Gorkum.”
Lloyd looked back down at the table and bit his lip, clearly wanting to say something.
“What?” Maggie pressed.
Lloyd’s eyes began to dance with excitement as he whispered, “As the story goes, while sailing across the sea, Nikolaos of Myra received a great gift for saving the three sisters.”
“Gift?” Henry scoffed. “A gift from whom?”
Lloyd shrugged. “No one knows who gave it to him. Perhaps the sea. Or the wind. Maybe a fish. But the gift was unlimited time.”
“If that were so, then how could he be dead?” Maggie asked.
Lloyd scrunched his small nose once again. “Who said he was dead?”
“Well, he died, didn’t he? With the Martyrs of Gorkum?”
“That’s the legend. But there is no evidence of an actual death. He did, however, leave his unlimited time to the three sisters and Poppel. But the eldest sister Grace fell in love with a young man.”
“Yes, Jan Loockerman. And Jan and Grace had Annette who brought Poppel to America,” Maggie supplied hastily.
“So you have heard much of the story,” Lloyd said. “Yes, the sisters eventually gave up their unlimited time so Grace could marry Jan and live a mortal life. But while it may not be unlimited down here in Poppel, there is more time allotted to the day.”
“Is that why the Garrisons chose to work here?” Henry asked.
Lloyd nodded. “You will find when the benefits of a job include an abundance of time for drinking and playing cards; it does not attract the best kind of characters.”
“But why did the Garrisons mention that Nikolaos of Myra could come back?”
“Because he can. At least it’s said that his spirit can return.”
“Like a ghost?” Maggie asked.
“Ghosts aren’t real,” Lloyd said with a slight chuckle. “Nikolaos of Myra is very real.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Maggie spotted a tiny ball floating low to the ground, veering around the tables toward Lloyd’s feet.
“Ghosts aren’t real, huh?” Maggie remarked.
Lloyd didn’t know what Maggie meant at first, but then he saw the ball gliding under the table. He dipped down and scooped it up. The ball stayed hidden in his clenched fist while he looked at the Garrisons. None of them seemed to be paying close attention. Most had been in the Krog earlier and were now too drunk and sleepy to care about the Foundlings.
“What is that?” Henry asked.
Seeing that no one was watching, Lloyd slowly opened his hand. In the middle of his palm sat a purple sphere speckled in some kind of white coating.
“Sugarplum,” Lloyd whispered.
Maggie immediately thought of Grandfather Clement’s poem: The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugarplums danced in their heads.
With one last look to make sure the coast was clear, Lloyd popped the sugarplum in his mouth. His forehead creased in concentration as he chewed the gummy candy. After the sugarplum had been completely devoured, Lloyd’s eyes lit up and he looked worried.
“Castriot now wants you both locked away until Christmas is over. Maybe even longer.”
“What? Why?” Maggie asked.
“The Sister Wheel has vanished. And he thinks your arrival has something to do with it.”
“I don’t even know what that is,” Henry said. “And how do you know?”
“Sugarplum.” Lloyd pointed to his now empty mouth.
“What?” Henry stared at Lloyd’s mouth in disbelief.
“No time to explain. Unless you want to be locked up indefinitely on the lowest level of Poppel, you need to get out of here.”
Maggie looked at the Garrisons on the surrounding platform. “But how? There is no way to escape without being seen.”
And just as Maggie finished speaking, it sounded like a hailstorm had hit the workshop as sacks full of marbles were tossed into the room. Hundreds of little balls bounced loudly down the steps, clunking over the hard ground.
As the noise filled the air, the alarmed Garrisons sprang into action. But
as they stormed down the steps to the workshop floor, a shelf crammed with paint cans fell over onto the arriving men, drenching their black coats in bright reds, blues, greens, and yellows.
Garrisons coming from the opposite direction tried to assist, but the paint had created a slick ground, making standing nearly impossible. As the Garrisons slid and stumbled around, Maggie, Henry, and Lloyd slipped away unnoticed.
Henry grabbed Maggie’s hand as they chased after Lloyd. Footsteps sounded behind her and she worried it was a Garrison. But when she glanced back, Wendell was running after them―his burgundy jacket was splashed in white paint. He had clearly helped knock the paint cans over.
Upon entering Myra Lane, the four Foundlings ducked into an alleyway. The cobblestone road was crowded with other Foundlings, but there were no black coats in sight. It seemed the racket had momentarily pulled the Garrisons away.
As the group snuck into Snop, Ward was waiting at the counter, spinning a red and white-striped peppermint wafer next to the lollipop stand. Seeing the group enter, he flipped the wafer into his mouth and nodded toward a decorative door behind him.
“Through here.”
The door led to the kitchen. There was a wide fireplace and hearth while dozens of hanging pots and pans filled the walls. Ward directed them through another door and into a storage room where crates were stacked to the ceiling.
“I didn’t think you two would fancy being hauled off to the Kelder,” Ward said, sitting on a barrel and popping jellybeans into his mouth. “It’s the lowest level of Poppel―a dark nightmare. I’ve been kept down there as a punishment. It’s the waiting that gets you. Nothing to do except sit alone in the emptiness with your hopeless thoughts. I don’t like that you two got Wendell in trouble, but no one―except perhaps a Garrison―deserves to be stuck in the Kelder.”
“How did you know we were going to be put down there?” Henry asked.
Ward grinned, still chewing a wad of gummy jellybeans. “I have the best ears in Poppel. When I was walking from the workshop to Snop, some Garrisons were talking about how the Sister Wheel was missing and that Castriot had ordered for you two to be taken down to the Kelder.”
“I don’t even know what the Sister Wheel is,” Maggie said with a frustrated sigh.
Ward shrugged. “Of course, you don’t. Very few in Poppel even know where the Sister Wheel is hidden. The missing wheel story is probably a lie―just a reason to lock you two up. I’m actually surprised Castriot didn’t put you in the Kelder right away. Madame Welles probably had something to do with it. She looks out for the Foundlings. It’s just unfortunate you arrived at the time of year when Castriot is at his worst.”
Ward took a handful of peanut brittle out of his vest.
“I heard them talking about shutting you away in the Kelder until Christmas is over. But it’ll probably be even longer than that. So I sent sugarplums to Lloyd and Wendell. You can hide here until we figure out what to do next. The shop always slows down after the holiday. Houten’s a grump, but he won’t be around the next couple of days.”
“Houten is the old man who runs Snop,” Lloyd explained.
“He knows his sweets and has taught me loads,” Ward continued, loudly crunching on the jagged brittle bits. “But he sure wouldn’t approve of having stowaways in the backroom with all the ingredients.”
“I still don’t understand these sugarplums. What do you mean you sent them to Lloyd and Wendell?” Maggie asked. “How did they know to bring us here?”
“Oh, the sugarplums. Of course, you don’t know!” Lloyd slapped his forehead with his palm. “Since the Garrisons took over, the Foundlings use sugarplums to secretly communicate.”
“How?” Henry asked doubtfully. He crossed his arms over his chest.
Ward jumped down from the barrel and shuffled to the other side of the room. After sliding aside a crate, Ward removed a floorboard and pulled out a jar full of purple sugarplums.
“A special recipe,” Ward said with a sly grin as he unscrewed the lid and plucked one out.
Maggie watched Ward closely, waiting for something spectacular to happen. But Ward just pinched the sugarplum between a finger and thumb. He then released the candy and it astonishingly hovered above the ground before slowly drifting over to Maggie. But when it bumped into her knee, she was unsure what to do.
“Eat it,” Ward instructed.
Maggie arched an eyebrow and stared down at the floating confection.
“It’s quite safe,” Ward reassured with a chuckle.
Maggie reached down and hesitantly snatched the sugarplum. After turning it back and forth in her hand, Maggie slipped the candy into her mouth and began to chew carefully. It tasted surprisingly floral. But still nothing happened for a few moments until finally a warm sensation filled her mouth and the air became hazy. Suddenly, she heard Ward’s voice, but it wasn’t coming from where he sat on the other side of the room.
It was coming from inside her head.
“You are the only one who can hear this, Lizzie.”
Maggie could see a vision of Ward cooking sugarplums in the shop’s kitchen, coating the candy in sugar and other ingredients.
“Sugarplums have been used for hundreds of years,” Ward’s voice explained. “It was a way for Nikolaos of Myra to give children a gift without being caught. Even Nikolaos’ powers had limits, but he knew that sometimes the best gift you could give a child with nothing was a dream. He delivered dreams in the form of sugarplums to sleeping children. But they’re no longer used outside of Poppel. Just secretly between the Foundlings now.”
Ward’s voice faded as the room came back into focus.
Henry was intensely staring at Maggie with both concern and intrigue. “What happened?”
“I think we found our way out of here.” Maggie turned to Ward and added, “I will need a couple more of those.”
he shimmering outlines of three sugarplums popped up from the ash pit and glided across the Great Room of Chelsea Manor. But Louis didn’t see them from the sofa where he was soundly asleep. While a pair of faintly visible sugarplums disappeared into the hall and up the winding staircase to the second floor, one trace of purple dust floated along the sofa toward the napping boy.
When Louis let out a sluggish yawn, the sugarplum bits trickled into the gaping mouth. He smacked his lips a few times before letting out another yawn and then swallowing the specks completely. A few seconds later, Louis’ eyes snapped open and he sat up.
Feeling dazed, Louis slipped off the sofa and moved toward the fireplace. His mind was foggy as fragments of the vision began to fuzzily return.
Maggie.
Something about Maggie.
As the images began to piece together, Louis ran out of the Great Room and up the stairs. As he turned to go to the third floor, Catharine came drifting down the steps.
“Maggie’s not in her room,” she said as though reading Louis’ mind.
Before Louis could respond, Clemmie staggered from his bedroom at the end of the hallway. His eyes were barely open as he scratched his disheveled hair.
“I just had the strangest dream,” Clemmie said with a yawn and then shook his head. “About Maggie and that Livingston fellow.”
“And they disappeared down the fireplace,” Louis supplied.
Clemmie froze in place as his eyes snapped open. “How did you know?”
“And now they’re being held in an underground village,” Louis continued.
Clemmie took a step back with his hands out in front of him. “How are you doing this?”
“Maggie’s gone,” Catharine explained.
“Gone?” Clemmie blurted. “What do you mean she’s gone?”
“She’s not in her bedroom and all three of us had a dream about her and Henry Livingston.” Catharine threw up her hands. “He must have kidnapped her.”
“Or they both were taken away by someone,” Louis suggested, still not ready to confess what he’d witnessed in the Great Room earlier.
“Or we just… all had a dream,” Clemmie simply said, fluttering his fingers in the air.
“In my dream, Henry broke into Chelsea Manor,” Catharine said. “He has something to do with all of this. I just know it.”
“I don’t think we should make assumptions,” Clemmie said, folding his arms. “Maggie could very well be in the Manor right now. Probably reading a book in the library. And by chance we just all had similar dreams about that strange Livingston man.”
Ignoring her brother, Catharine turned and headed down to the main floor. Clemmie and Louis initially hesitated but then followed.
“I dreamed they escaped through the fireplace,” Catharine said, crossing the hall.
“That wasn’t a dream,” Louis quickly said.
Catharine and Clemmie both stopped and looked at their cousin.
Louis noted the inquisitive stares and sighed. “Around midnight I came downstairs to see if there was anything left to eat from dinner. That’s when I saw Maggie and Henry vanish through the fireplace in the Great Room. I fell asleep on the sofa waiting for them to come back. But then I had that dream where they were riding in a sleigh and being chased by men in black coats.”
“That’s what I saw!” Clemmie’s voice cracked. “Now you must tell me honestly. Was I talking in my sleep?”
Catharine marched over to the fireplace. Upon closer inspection, she caught something Louis had missed. “What’s this?”
Clemmie and Louis peered over Catharine’s shoulder. Her finger was pointing to the back of the fireplace.
“Where did that come from?” Louis squinted at the dull gleam embedded within the brick.
Catharine cautiously pressed the emblem and the ash pit opened.
“That’s where they went!” Louis exclaimed.
Catharine grabbed hold of her robe and scooted toward the edge of the hole.
“What are you doing?” Clemmie asked. “You’re not actually going down there?”
“Of course, I am,” snapped Catharine. “Someone has our sister. And much to their future suffering, I am going after her.”
Krampus: The Three Sisters (The Krampus Chronicles Book 1) Page 9