The Wonderling

by Mira Bartók

  Ever since she had installed the Rat in his own private room in Hawk Hall as a reward for his help, he had made several impromptu appearances at very odd hours. This was highly unpleasant and, moreover, annoying. But Wire, for some inexplicable reason, had a powerful influence over her, despite the fact that he was a groundling and that he possessed a distinctly rodential nature.

  Miss Carbunkle opened her office door and ushered Wire upstairs. “This better be important, Rat.”

  “My deepest apologies, madam. But I saw your light upstairs, and I do believe this is an urgent matter.”

  “Can’t this wait till tomorrow?” said Miss Carbunkle, her thin eyebrows forming an angry V.

  “I fear it cannot,” said Wire. “It’s Sneezeweed. I’m afraid he’s a traitor. Not only that, he’s also spreading vicious rumors about you to the staff. Shall I go on?”

  “A traitor? What are you talking about? Sit down and tell me all you know. But be quick about it! I wish to go to bed.”

  THE DOOR TO THE WIDGET ROOM was locked, but Trinket opened it with ease. Arthur lit a candle. The light fell on the giant Monster in the middle of the room, casting a menacing shadow on the wall behind it.

  “To think,” whispered Arthur, “that we actually helped her with her evil plot by working in here. I can’t bear it.”

  “Don’t think about it, then,” said Trinket. “Let’s just get the job done and get out of here.”

  After nearly an hour of digging through piles of discarded beetles and looking under tables and conveyor belts, and even in Mr. Bonegrubber’s messy office — full of empty bottles, old cabbages, sacks of half-eaten pork rinds, and a pile of papers going all the way up to the ceiling — they couldn’t find a thing. They dashed back to the Grand Hall and slipped inside the cuckoo clock to tell Peevil that they were going to search in the cellar next.

  But Peevil wasn’t there. It was nearly three a.m. If he didn’t show up soon, they’d have to move on to Plan B: Go back to the courtyard and wait for him.

  “What was I thinking?” said Arthur. “As if we’d be able to find anything in an hour. I’m so stupid! Poor Peevil!”

  “Arthur, I’m sure he’s okay. No one will see him. I told you — we little ones can get into places others can’t.”

  “Trinket! I can hear someone coming this way, so forget Plan B right now. Let’s search the cellar.”

  “Okay. Let’s go. Which way?”

  “There’s just one problem,” whispered Arthur. “I don’t know how to get there.”

  “What?” said Trinket. “How are we supposed to find the Songcatcher, then?”

  But before he could answer, the clock chimed three.

  The sound was agonizingly loud to the two creatures hiding inside the clock. Trinket felt dizzy, and her whole body vibrated. She curled up in a quivering ball and rolled into a corner inside the clock. Arthur, who was completely stunned, staggered against a set of gears and fell right into the chimes.

  At that very moment, a certain sniveling man who happened to be limping by on his nocturnal rounds heard a commotion from inside the giant clock and went to investigate. His foot was still in a cast from the unfortunate donkey cart incident and made a clomping sound as he walked.

  “You!” snapped Sneezeweed, grabbing Arthur by the scruff of his neck. “Come back to torment me? Missed the Home, did you? We’ll see how you like your new digs now, Number Thirteen.” He spat out Arthur’s old name with disgust. “We don’t have far to go — the door’s right below my feet.”

  Sneezeweed took a step back and pressed a button on the wall to his right. A secret trapdoor sprang open where he had been standing moments before. He shoved a very dizzy Arthur down into the opening and followed him in.

  Arthur stumbled along as Sneezeweed pushed him down the steep, dark staircase leading from clock to cellar. Arthur could hear rats and mice scampering and chattering on the steps and behind the walls. If only they could help me! he thought.

  At the bottom, they turned to the right down a long narrow passageway. At the end was a rusty metal door that opened into a grim, cavernous room. It was an enormous factory, twenty times larger than the Widget Room upstairs.

  Unbeknownst to both of them, however, a small birdlike creature hopped along behind them at a short distance.

  The room was full of beetle machines even more monstrous than the original Monster upstairs. There was also a row of some other kind of machine, equally as monstrous, and piles and piles of brown wax cylinders next to it. All she needs now is to build the Songcatchers, using those plans, thought Arthur. As they passed through the factory to another room, Arthur caught a glimpse of a large brass bell.

  The Songcatcher!

  It was just sitting on a table in the middle of the room.

  Sneezeweed dragged Arthur through a door into a smaller room with a low ceiling, covered with rusty dripping pipes and cobwebs.

  The room was dimly lit by a single red grease lamp. The air smelled dank and foul, nearly as bad as Gloomintown. Arthur felt as if he were back in the underground city, heading to his cramped hole in the black rock wall.

  Sneezeweed shoved Arthur into a cell, locked it, and hung the key back on its hook. “You’ll pay for this, you foul little maggot,” he said. “For all the humiliation you caused me. You’ll pay for that wig. You’ll pay for the donkey and the dogs. You’ll pay for my broken foot, and the night I spent outside with the worms and bugs. When Miss Carbunkle finds out who I have waiting in the dungeon, she will turn you into bow-wow broth and feed you to the rats. Good night!”

  Hidden in a crack between the cold stone floor and the grimy factory wall, Trinket held her breath.

  AFTER A USELESS SEARCH OF Miss Carbunkle’s office, Peevil scampered up the spiral staircase and slipped under the door into the headmistress’s private chambers. He scurried silently along her bedroom wall toward the two closets across from her bed and dresser. He had to be very careful — for if his shield touched the floor and made a sound, that would be the end of him.

  While Wire and Miss Carbunkle were talking, Peevil slipped under the door of the closet on the left. But after a perfunctory search, it was clear that the only things in there were dozens of hats and ridiculous-looking wigs.

  He scampered right under their noses into the other closet.

  This one looked much more promising. Every shelf was packed with dusty memorabilia. It was as if the headmistress had taken an enormous box of photographs, letters, old toys, and other objects from the past, tossed them into the closet willy-nilly, and shut the door.

  Peevil had to be careful where he stepped, for on the floor was a broken frame and shattered glass. Next to the mess was a picture of two girls in bonnets, standing beneath an apple tree, but the face of one of the girls had been scratched out. Curious, thought the mouse. Curious indeed.

  Peevil leaped from shelf to shelf, moving swiftly over the stacked photographs of Miss Carbunkle and what appeared to be her twin sister — at the zoo, playing croquet, picking flowers in a garden, and waving from the bow of a great ship. Nothing useful here, thought Peevil. That is, until he scaled the very top shelf. There, wedged behind a row of antique china dolls, was a long scroll of parchment tied with a bright-blue ribbon. Scrawled on the outside of the scroll was one word: Songcatcher.

  Peevil couldn’t help himself. He did what he always did when he got excited: he rubbed his whiskers very fast, tugged on his ear, and let out a little squeak.

  “What’s that sound?” Miss Carbunkle said immediately. “That . . . that sounds like . . . like a mouse! In my closet!”

  “Have no fear, Madam! I shall look right away,” said Wire.

  Peevil heard the door creak open; there was no time to hide. He looked down at the watch face on his chest. Brilliant! he said to himself. He stood upright on his back two feet, one paw resting on the hilt of his sword, the other at his side, and tried very hard not to breathe.

  Wire surveyed the closet full of old memories —
“Interesting find, this,” he murmured to himself. More information to file away. For now, though, there was this mouse to find and kill. But all the Rat could see were old, dusty things and some stupid childhood toys.

  He shut the door and rejoined Miss Carbunkle. Sentimentality will be her downfall, he decided, and put on his most humble smile.

  Meanwhile, Peevil pondered the completely unrealistic, possibly insane idea of dragging the scroll out of the closet alone. The main problem he could see was opening the closet door, not to mention the door to Miss Carbunkle’s chambers. He sat back down on his haunches and considered the pros and cons of his harebrained plot.

  “Well, was there a mouse?” demanded Miss Carbunkle.

  “No, my lady. Not a real one. Just a silly little clockwork mouse — a treasured toy from childhood, perhaps?”

  “A what?”

  “Some kind of windup clockwork toy,” said Wire. “A mouse with a suit of armor. I suppose you could say it was a mouse knight.” He stifled a laugh.

  “I never, I repeat never, had a clockwork mouse! I despise all mice, even toy ones.”

  “Oh. I see,” said the Rat. “I’ll take care of it straightaway, Mistress.”

  When Wire opened the door again, Peevil struck another pose. Wire pushed a chair next to the shelves and climbed up so he could reach the top. The Rat narrowed his eyes at the mouse. He and the mouse were nearly nose to nose now. “Well, mousie,” said Wire, his mouth curled into a sharp-toothed grin. “The game is up.”

  In a flash, Peevil grabbed his sword, stabbed Wire right in the snout, and scrambled down the shelves. He scurried out of the closet and headed toward the door.

  “Kill it!” screamed Miss Carbunkle, who was now standing on her bed.

  Peevil was almost at the door when Wire stomped down hard on his tail. The mouse squealed in pain. Wire picked Peevil up by the tip of his rebroken tail and dangled him upside down (the most humiliating position in the world for a mouse, just so you know).

  “I shall dispose of this filthy thing, madam. Worry not. And my apologies for bothering you at this late hour. I bid you good-night.”

  “Make sure it’s dead! Good night!”

  As soon as Wire had left, Miss Carbunkle whispered for her manticore to come out. She had noticed that the hawk eyes on her cane had not stopped flickering for several minutes. Something felt wrong.

  As soon as the door had fully shut, Mardox leaped into Miss Carbunkle’s arms. He was growling and clearly disturbed.

  “What is it, my pet? Calm yourself. Tell me.”

  “Something is here,” said the manticore. “We must find it and kill it right away!”

  “What is here, my pet?”

  “Something from the world Below. One of the Ancient Ones. A creature with the old magic, like mine. We must destroy it. Now.”

  “Then we shall,” said Miss Carbunkle. “This could be your moment of glory, my pet! We shall kill it, I promise you! Where is it? Where shall we go?”

  “In the courtyard, mistress. Kestrel Courtyard. It is waiting there. It knows I am here. We must hurry.”

  WIRE LEFT Miss Carbunkle’s office, still holding Peevil by his tail. As he was musing on how best to torture and dispose of the mouse with the acorn on its head — just the sort of thing he enjoyed contemplating — he ran right into Sneezeweed, who was on his way to see the headmistress. Sneezeweed was stroking the downy patch below his nose in a most imperious fashion, and his face looked particularly smug.

  “Oh, if it isn’t the Rat,” said Sneezeweed. “I see you caught an intruder.” He looked at the mouse dangling from Wire’s bristly gray mitt and snickered. “What a coincidence. I caught one too. But I do believe that mine is worth quite a bit more than yours.”

  “What are you talking about, Snotweed?” asked Wire.

  “We’ll see who she favors now, after she finds out who I have locked up in the cellar,” said Sneezeweed. He whipped out his handkerchief, blew his nose, and continued. “Do you recall that deviant Fox groundling who escaped last month with his freaky little Bird friend? Well, I caught him single-handed! Found him right inside here.” He pointed to the cuckoo clock. “Locked him up in the dungeon. He was looking for something. Now, what do you suppose he was looking for? I’d bet a year’s salary it’s that machine she’s got down there. How did he find out about that? Hmmm. Let me see. Miss Carbunkle has been confiding in a rat groundling. And this intruder is a groundling too. I say that’s awfully suspicious, don’t you?”

  “How can you be so stupid?” said Wire. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about, and frankly, I don’t care. It’s late. I’m going to exterminate this mouse, then go straight to bed. You can think whatever you like. It doesn’t matter to me.”

  But it did matter to Wire. Not that Sneezeweed suspected him of conspiring with some idiot one-eared groundling, but the fact that there was something very funny going on: a mouse in armor that looked suspiciously like he was trying to snatch those plans, and now that puddlehead Fox snooping about. They’re up to something, he said to himself, and I’m going to find out what it is. This is just the kind of thing to win her total trust. Wire was going to have a little chat with that plonker Number Thirteen.

  Just then, the headmistress burst out of her office. “Haven’t you killed that thing yet?” she said to Wire, then she turned to Sneezeweed. “Why don’t you get out of the way and . . . and go do something useful for once?”

  Before Wire could say, “As you wish, madam,” Miss Carbunkle was running down the hall in the direction of Kestrel Courtyard. Mr. Sneezeweed hobbled slowly after her, while Wire slipped into the clock and headed to the cellar.

  Down below, Trinket emerged from the shadows, activated her flying suit, and fetched the key from the hook. She dropped it inside Arthur’s cell so he could let himself out.

  “Thanks, Trinket! Glad he didn’t catch you too! Trinket, listen. I saw it! The Songcatcher is here! It’s in the next room!”

  “I saw it too!” said Trinket. “Let’s grab it and get out of here. We don’t have time to look for the scroll. It’s going to get light soon, and I’m worried about Belisha. And Peevil. But first we need to help the others! There are a bunch of groundlings sleeping in those cells.” Trinket pointed her beak toward the row of cells along the wall.

  Arthur peered inside the cell next to him. “Oh, no! Trinket, you’re right. I thought I heard breathing,” said Arthur, “but I was scared. I can’t hear as well when I’m scared.”

  Inside the tiny dark cells, groundlings slept in corners, curled up on the damp ground. Arthur pointed to a reptile groundling whimpering in her sleep. He whispered, “I remember her! That’s the one who set Miss Carbunkle’s desk on fire last year.” He paused. “She had a name. It was . . . I think it was Nancy. It was Nancy.”

  In the next row of cells were all the Grumblers — the older groundlings they assumed had left the Home after they came of age. And then, in another cell, they saw their good friends Nesbit, Nigel, and Snook, their sleeping faces sad and looking older than their years.

  “We have to help them!” cried Trinket.

  “I know,” said Arthur. “Let’s let these three out, and they can help the others while we grab the Songcatcher. It’ll just take a second. There may be an exit nearby for Kestrel Hall. I saw Sneezeweed go back a different way, and Kestrel’s right above our heads.”

  Their friends woke up as their cell was being unlocked. “Arthur! Trinket!” cried the three prisoners, and everyone embraced.

  “Nurse Linette,” said Nigel. “She’s here too! Over there! Quick.”

  Across from Nigel’s cell were more cells, including Linette’s. Arthur looked inside. There, lying in a fetal position, was the nurse. She was barely recognizable. Her ginger hair was filthy and undone, and her face was white as a ghost’s. The cell was much too small for her, and it looked as if someone had just stuffed her in there and thrown away the key.

  “Linette!” said Arthur. “Wa
ke up!”

  Linette opened her eyes wide, smiled weakly, and in a barely audible voice whispered Arthur’s and Trinket’s names.

  Arthur unlocked her cell and Linette crawled out.

  Her voice was so faint, they could barely hear her. She told them how, late one night, she had spotted Wire and Sneezeweed carrying the Songcatcher down Kestrel Hall to the storage closet, then disappearing inside. She secretly followed them and discovered the factory, the cells, everything. When she confronted her aunt, Miss Carbunkle hit her over the head with her cane. “The next morning, I woke up inside this cell,” said Linette. “I’ve been here ever since. I’ll tell you more later, but we’ve got to get everyone out of here. Now.”

  “I think the exit is off the passageway just up through that other door,” said Arthur. “Go to Kestrel Courtyard. We’ll be there soon, then we’ll find a way out together. Don’t worry about the Crow. She’ll help us get out — I know she will.”

  Linette and the others freed the rest of the orphans, while Arthur and Trinket ran into the factory to get the Songcatcher.

  In the courtyard the Night Crow kept watch.

  She was perched on the Wall at the far end of the yard. In less than two hours, it would be dawn, and she was beginning to worry.

  When Miss Carbunkle ran out into the rain, shaking her cane at the Crow like a madwoman, Belisha shone her blazing eyes down at her and laughed: kek kek kek kek! “You must be the Carbunkle I have heard so much about. Well, Carbunkle, what can a little cane like that do to a big crow like me?”

  “I’ll show you exactly what it can do!”

  “I am not afraid of your silly stick.”

  The Crow was worried, however. There was some kind of dark magic afoot here, and she wasn’t sure what it was. When the woman with the orange hair had appeared, the magic rumbled all around her. Belisha could feel it in the Wall circling the place. She could feel it resonate throughout the ancient stone building and the earth below.