by Marissa Burt
Una wrapped her hands around the mug and scanned the room. Every corner was crammed with squatty-looking furniture and soft lamps that gave the space a sleepy air. Tapestries spanned the cracking stone walls, and rugs in warm reds and golds covered the floor. She was sure that Thornhill was hiding something. And her instincts said it had something to do with the old Tales. After all, Thornhill had known how to break Elton’s enchantment on the books from the vault.
Three purring and meowing cats paced the floor between Una and the professor. “Hello there,” Una greeted the cats, glad to find she wouldn’t be alone with Professor Thornhill after all. “What are your names?”
The cats meowed in response.
Professor Thornhill said quietly, “They’re not the talking kind.”
The striped tabby jumped up and settled on one side of the professor’s couch, and a soft calico curled up in Una’s lap. Una focused very intently on her tea. How was she supposed to tell talking animals and regular animals apart anyway?
She could feel Professor Thornhill watching her, her own tea left untouched on the side table.
“Well,” Una finally broke the silence, “about tomorrow’s exam . . .”
“Yes,” Professor Thornhill said. “We’ll talk about that in a minute. I always like to see how my students are getting on at this point in the semester.” Her pale hands reached for her mug of tea, and Una couldn’t help but stare at the long, spidery fingers. “You are a transfer student,” Professor Thornhill was saying, “from D’Aulnoy’s, isn’t it?”
Una nodded, but stopped midnod when Professor Thornhill added, “I studied there as a girl, you know.”
Una’s mouth went dry. Peter had said D’Aulnoy’s was an all-girls school somewhere up in the mountains, but that was all she knew of it—certainly not enough to pass Thornhill’s scrutiny.
“Do you have more sugar?” Una managed. She waved at Thornhill. “Oh, don’t bother. I’ll get it.” She hopped up, spilling the calico from her lap, and headed for the side table and the little sugar jar. She almost made it. In one fluid movement, she stumbled over the edge of a rug, tripped over a chair leg, and somehow ended up in a heap on the floor. In that moment, everything changed. She was only on the floor a few seconds, but that was all it took for Una to see behind one of the tapestries. She couldn’t be sure how many were there, but she had no doubt that she had seen some books hidden behind the beautiful fabric.
Professor Thornhill jumped to her aid in a very motherly fashion and helped Una to her feet. Una stammered a flustered thank-you.
It was some time before Una was settled again with a fresh cup of tea. Her mind was whirring. Did Professor Thornhill know what Una had seen? Could any of them be Muse books? Stirring her tea with a tiny spoon, Una said in her most businesslike way, “This will be my second practical examination.”
“So I’ve heard,” Thornhill said dryly.
Una hurried on. “What exactly should I expect?”
“Well, you’ll need to get there early tomorrow morning so you can meet your traveling companions. The exam will last two days, so make sure to pack camping gear.”
A bell rang in the distance. Thornhill left the room, telling Una that she wouldn’t be long.
“Take your time,” Una said. Enough time for me to figure out what to do. She didn’t trust Thornhill, but she couldn’t shake a nagging impulse to tell her the truth. If the Talekeepers themselves went to the Villainy teacher as the expert on the old ways, surely she knew something about the Muses. Una wondered what Thornhill would make of Jedediah’s Tale. Besides all that, Una had the feeling that Thornhill wanted something from her. Information? Confirmation of her suspicions that Una was lying about something? A chat with her daughter’s roommate? She looked at the small framed picture on the table next to her. It was Snow and Professor Thornhill. Both stood stiffly, an awkward space between them. Their arms were linked, but neither was smiling. Two sets of clear, striking eyes gazed into the camera, one pair ice-blue and angry, the other a bewitching green and very sad.
Just then, Thornhill rushed into the room, grabbed a small handbag, and raced back out. “I must go,” she called over her shoulder. “You’ll do fine in the exam. Lock up when you leave.” And then she was gone.
Una waited until Thornhill’s footsteps faded. Finally! My luck pays off. She hurried over to the tapestry and ran her fingers along the intricate scrollwork around the frayed edges. The calico joined her and started frantically tugging on the loose threads that dangled to the floor. “Oh, I know something’s there, little kitty,” Una said, nudging the cat away. “I already know.”
Una pushed the heavy fabric aside, sending tiny particles of dust flying. Spitting and hissing, the frightened calico scampered off. Una paused in the doorway, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dimness.
And then she waited for her eyes to adjust to the shock. The hidden space seemed to run the whole length of Thornhill’s apartment. It didn’t have all the odds and ends that were crammed into the other rooms. There were no colorful fabrics draped here. And it didn’t have just the few books she had seen after her fall. Except for a small walkway, the compartment was filled with books, piles and piles of books of all shapes and sizes. Some were propped up against each other. Others sat in tottering stacks that looked near collapse.
Una found a candle on a small shelf just inside and lit it. Letting the tapestry fall behind her, she sat down on the floor and greedily grabbed for the nearest stack of books. She flipped open the cover of the first, expecting to see blank pages, but was momentarily surprised to see the now familiar tree. The same one that was on Jedediah’s Tale and Griselda’s notebook. She picked up another book. More words. Of course Thornhill would have used the fire trick to make the books reveal their secrets! She sorted through the nearest pile. Surely some of these books had to have clues about the Muses. Una’s heart sped up. Or maybe even the King. She gave a great sigh of contentment. Then Una did something she’d missed doing since she first arrived in Story. She began to read.
Snow was tidying up the dorm room when the pounding started. She hurried to answer the door. Her mother stood there, breathless, her face filled with panic. She grabbed Snow in her arms and stood, gently swaying back and forth, muttering, “You’re all right. You’re all right.”
Snow stiffened against her mother’s embrace. They had never hugged before; they barely even touched.
Her mother stood back and ran her hand over Snow’s hair. Her eyes shone with tears. “I was so worried.”
Snow stepped back and looked away. My mother? Crying? “I’m fine,” she said. “What’s going on?”
Professor Thornhill sat down on Una’s bed and looked hard at Snow. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. Why are you so worried?”
Her mother pulled a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to Snow. Snow sat down next to her and read, “‘Come immediately. Snow gravely injured.’”
She turned it over, but there was no writing on the other side. “That’s all? What does it mean?”
“I don’t know.” Her mother frowned down at the paper. “Especially since you’re all right.” She crumpled up the paper in her fist. “Why would—?” She froze, the paper forgotten in her hand. “Una. I was meeting with Una.”
Una sat with one of Thornhill’s books open in her lap. It was about a girl named Gretel Butterworth, and it didn’t take long for Una to guess that it told the Tale of Hansel and Gretel. It was a story Una had never had much patience with. Why had the children been so greedy? Couldn’t they have just paid better attention in the forest? But this version began earlier, when Hansel and Gretel were very small children, and Una had curiously read through their short history until she got to the chapter where they entered the forest. Sure enough, they came upon a candy-covered house, and the description of the marvelous treats made Una more sympathetic to the children’s lack of self-control than she ever had been before. But that was where the similarities en
ded. Una read through the whole segment several times, but nothing else happened. There was no witch. There was no kidnapping. No vengeful oven scene. They just ate all the candy, and then they went home.
Una wondered if they went back later, but the next chapters quickly moved through Gretel’s girlhood and on to her life as a baker and young woman. Gretel was just about to receive her first proposal of marriage when Una heard footfalls in the room outside. She froze and held her breath. Is Thornhill back? What would she do if she found Una in her secret room? The footsteps grew fainter. Una painstakingly got to her feet, crept to the tapestry door, and peered through the crack at the edge of the heavy fabric.
On the far side of the room Mr. Elton was opening drawers, pawing through their contents, and shutting them. When he finished with the sideboard, he felt the couch cushions. He’s looking for Alethia’s book. She stepped back from the tapestry. And Una thought she knew where it must be. Somewhere in Professor Thornhill’s secret book room.
Maybe Elton would just keep looking in the furniture. At that moment, the little calico darted into view. It went back to playing with the string. Una glared at it. It tumbled over onto its back and tossed the string up in its four paws. The tapestry jiggled. She fruitlessly shooed the air, as though the cat could see her through the thick fabric. Elton was looking at the stuffed armchair now. Beads of sweat shone on his forehead. He punched at the seat cushion. The cat froze at the movement and then bolted. The tapestry flapped open wider. Elton looked up. Had he seen? He peered closer. He was coming over. Una pressed back against a mound of books. Her shoulder knocked the top volume off. She twisted and caught it expertly, gripping it tightly in her shaking fingers. The tapestry began to move.
From somewhere in the direction of the kitchen, a voice shouted, “Someone’s coming.”
She heard Elton curse, and the tapestry flapped back into place.
It only took a moment for Una to decide what to do. She looked out into the apartment. Empty. She started pawing through the mounds of books. It didn’t matter if Thornhill realized someone had been digging through them. This might be her only chance to find the Muse book before Elton did. She worked her way through another stack. How could she tell which one might be Alethia’s book? She grabbed her satchel and began shoving books into it. She had to take as many as she could. The one Elton was looking for might be in there. Besides, any of the others might hold more clues. Thornhill was probably planning to burn them, or explode them, or whatever it was she did to them.
Her fingers hurt as she crammed more books into the corners of her bag. She didn’t have much time. She tipped over a low pile, and then she saw it. The faintest hint of blue. She climbed over the fallen books and snatched it off its little ledge. A dragon rimmed in blue. Alethia’s book. That was when she heard the footsteps on the stairs. She’d never make it. Una wedged Alethia’s book into her cloak pocket. Then she pulled the tapestry closed with shaking fingers and held it taut. It would have to do.
“Una?” Snow said. “Why were you meeting with her?”
Her mother put a hand up to her mouth. “Of course. How could I have been so blind? He’s after Una.”
Snow had never seen her mother so animated. “Why is everyone so interested in her, anyway?” Snow asked. “First Mr. Elton. And now you.”
Her mother gasped. She grabbed Snow by the shoulders. “Una is why Mr. Elton came to you? He wanted information about Una?”
Snow shrugged her mother’s hands off. She didn’t like how horrified her mother looked. “It’s not like I told him anything. Just stuff anyone would have known. He wanted to know about you, too, you know.”
Her mother let out a little choked cry. “We’ve got to get to her first. Come on, Snow!” Her mother whirled around and sped out of the dorm.
Snow grabbed her cloak and followed her mother. Students milled about, returning from their final class of the day. They stopped to gawk as their Villainy teacher tore through the quad. Snow glimpsed staring faces and open mouths as she sped by. They ran on, through the forest and down the path. She felt on the edge of a great discovery. Was her mother finally about to tell her something important? But why did she need Una? And what was Una doing in her mother’s flat, anyway?
They hurried over the little bridge. They were nearly there. Into the dark and musty Villainy classroom. Up the rickety stairs. The door to the flat was ajar.
Her mother quietly pushed it open. “Hello?” she called. “Una?”
There was no answer. Gingerly, Snow followed her mother into the flat. A tabby cat bounded around the corner, and Snow gasped, her heart pounding. Everything was quiet.
Snow followed the cat into the main sitting room and down the hallway. She didn’t see any sign of Una.
Her mother met her in the living room. “There’s only one place left to look,” she said. She walked over to the wall and pulled hard on a tapestry. It came up easily and there, in a hidden space in the wall, was Una Fairchild.
Chapter 24
Una saw Snow first. She was standing behind her mother, blue eyes filled with disbelief. “Una!” she exclaimed.
Professor Thornhill reached out a hand. “Come out of there, child.”
Una stepped backward. What could she say? Oh, hi, Professor. I’m just hanging out in your secret illegal book room. Don’t mind me. Oh, and by the way, what are you doing with all of these? Smuggling them? Hunting for Alethia’s book? Getting ready to bring one of the Muses back? None of those was a good option.
Professor Thornhill was looking at her with wide eyes. She didn’t seem angry, just determined somehow.
Snow moved forward a step. She reached out to touch Thornhill’s cloak but stopped just shy of it. “Professor?” she asked.
Professor Thornhill didn’t answer her. Instead, she grabbed Una’s hand and pulled her out. She looked Una up and down, studying her fingers, her face, her feet.
Why was Thornhill looking at her like that? She tugged her hand back.
“I know,” Thornhill said. “I know what you are.”
Una’s stomach leaped up into her throat. She knows. Her heart pounded. She backed up a step, and the side of the armchair pressed into her.
Thornhill moved toward her. Her face looked hungry, and she reached out her hand again. On the third finger of her left hand was a ring, a black pearl that looked like liquid smoke.
Una stared at the ring and sank over the arm into the chair sideways. She felt like a turtle scrambling about on its back. She flipped around and got to her feet. Now the chair was between her and Thornhill. She eyed the distance between the chair and the door. Not enough to make a run for it.
Snow stood looking back and forth between the two. “Can someone please tell me what’s going on?”
“Una can,” Thornhill said. “But I’m not sure she will.”
Thoughts of the Muses returning and the Tale Master’s lies swirled around in Una’s head. All that she had learned made her mind cloudy. She had to get somewhere where she could sit and think. Could she trust Thornhill or not? “I need to know about the books,” Una said. “What are you going to do with the books?” It all came down to the books. Was Thornhill hiding the books or destroying them? Was Thornhill part of the Merriweathers’ secret rebellion or something more sinister? Was she a Hero or a Villain? The air pressed close, and Una’s chest constricted. Her breathing was shallow, and she felt light-headed. She reached out a hand to steady herself, but it was too late. The room started to spin, and everything went black.
Snow held one of Una’s arms and legs as she and her mother shifted her up onto the bed in the spare room. Una moaned but didn’t wake.
Snow’s mother reached out and wiped a wet cloth over Una’s forehead. “Tea, perhaps, Snow, and something sweet.”
Snow went wordlessly to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Her mother hadn’t answered any of her questions. About Una. About the books. About the strange man in the cathedral. She tossed a tin of cookies onto the tray
and clattered the teacup down next to it. More secrets. She poured out a stream of hot water, and the soothing scent of peppermint wafted up.
There was no way to make that woman talk. Her mother would purse her lips and gently shake her head to each question. “I can’t answer that, Snow,” she would say in a patronizing tone. Snow banged the kettle back onto the stove.
Her mother appeared in the kitchen doorway. “She should be stirring by now.” She handed Snow the damp cloth. “I’m sending a pigeon for the Healer. Keep her face cool, and give her the tea when she wakes.”
Snow schooled her face to passivity. “Whatever you say, Professor.” It didn’t matter. Her mother was already gone.
Una’s eyes were still shut when Snow returned. Snow set the tray gently down on the nightstand. Una looked small and frail as she lay stretched out on the bed. Vulnerable. Snow hated her mother in that moment. Wasn’t it enough that she had ruined Snow’s life? Did she have to terrorize some other girl as well? She sat down carefully and pressed the cloth to Una’s face. “Una,” she whispered as she dabbed. “Don’t worry. It’ll be okay.”
Una’s eyes popped open. She reached up and grabbed Snow’s wrist. “Is she gone?” Her voice was a jagged whisper. “Snow,” she pleaded. “I’ve got to get out of here. Please. Help me.”
There was none of the old challenge in Una’s eyes. None of the mocking superiority. There was just fear. And tears.
Snow didn’t even have to think about it. “Do you think you can walk?” she asked.
Una nodded and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.
“Here,” Snow said as she shoved the tin of cookies into her hand. “Eat one of these.” Her mother kept the pigeons out on the back balcony. With any luck, they had a few more minutes. Snow peered out into the hall. No sign of her. She led Una back through the apartment. Just as they reached the front door, Una grabbed her arm. She held up one hand, but before Snow could stop her, she had disappeared back into the apartment. A moment later she returned with her bulging satchel.