by C. J. Farley
“What runs but never walks, roars but never talks, has a head but never weeps, has a bed but never sleeps?” the Pharaoh had asked.
“A river!” Eli whispered to Dylan, Ines, and Nestuh. “That’s easy.”
The Wata Mama didn’t find it so easy, even though she should have been in her element, water pun totally intended. She gave the wrong answer and the Pharaoh opened his jaws wide. He gulped the Wata Mama down tail first, so the kids could see her face as she slid down his throat. Her wide fishy eyes were only mildly surprised, as if she had been fatalistically expecting this finale all along. The Pharaoh burped after he finished devouring her, and even from three hundred feet away, the kids could smell this last meal, along with his meal before that, which happened to be a Rolling Calf. It was a two-course burp. And the kids were in danger of becoming the third.
It was their turn now. They were also the last in line; everyone in front had been eaten or left and everyone behind had lost heart. They were inside the largest pyramid, in a huge hall covered in hieroglyphics. The Pharaoh of the Iron Lions loomed before them, seated on a great stone throne. He had an extravagant golden mane, a muscular lion’s body, and massive paws. His face was both human and catlike, with a broad, flat nose and long whiskers. His great black wings were folded against his sides. When he looked at the children, his gaze hit them like a jungle cat jumping on a wildebeest.
“So cool,” Eli gushed. “He looks just like his action figure.”
“Let me do the talking,” Dylan informed his companions. “When this was just a game I was good at riddles. And it’s my sister who’s missing.” Dylan also wanted to ask about the cheat code and why his powers weren’t working, but he kept that to himself.
“I should answer the riddles,” Ines declared. “It’s my dad that’s sick.”
“I should do the talking,” Eli said. “If we can answer these riddles, we can get these Iron Lions to bring us Nanni’s book. That’s what I came here for. To get my money.”
“What’s up with this money obsession?” Ines asked.
“Oh, shut up! Your family owns Mee Corp.!” Eli shot back.
“Money is not the most important thing—believe me, I know,” Ines said. “My family was just as happy when we were millionaires as when we were billionaires.”
“Did you just say that? Seriously?” Eli scoffed. “You are the friggin’ worst!”
“Why do you hate me so much?” Ines pouted.
“I don’t hate you,” Eli replied. “I hate what you stand for.”
“I don’t stand for anything!”
“Exactly,” Eli said.
“Seriously? You’re going to go there? My mom wrote music! My dad’s an inventor, a businessman, and a pretty great piano player! We’re makers and you’re just a taker—and a hater!”
“You don’t know even 1 percent of the story. This probably isn’t in your files, but did you know your dad and my dad have a connection? My dad invented Xamaica!”
“What?” Dylan exclaimed.
“That’s a lie!” Ines snapped.
“It’s true!” Eli insisted. “He designed the basic software. But your dad had better lawyers. My dad did win a piece of all future games Mee Corp. put out. The joke is, you guys never put out any hit games after Xamaica. So we got nothing.”
“I can’t believe you’re just telling me this now!” Dylan said.
“There was a confidentiality agreement—I only found this out a few weeks ago when I hacked into the Mee Corp. legal department! So that’s why I hate Mee Corp. Her family is a bunch of frauds. Now I’ve got a chance for payback. So I want to answer the riddles!”
Suddenly all three of the kids were squabbling and shouting. Everyone was talking and nobody was listening—until a booming sound interrupted them.
“What is your wish?” the Pharaoh inquired. His words sounded like half–lion’s roar, half–eagle’s screech, and half–TV news anchor, which added up to more than a single voice.
“I want to find my sister,” Dylan said. “I’ll bargain for any clue that will help.”
“Do you not realize that you are in Wholandra?” the Pharaoh boomed. “Has no one told you that all statements must be uttered in the form of questions?”
“Yes, they did—I think?” Dylan said.
“Can you state your wish now? And do you realize the consequence is death if you fail to answer my riddles?”
Ines pushed Dylan aside and stepped before the Pharaoh. “Will you grant me three wishes?” she asked in a clear voice.
The Pharaoh smiled and his teeth were like daggers.
The Pharaoh looked right at Ines, who was now the official wish asker.
“I may be a fraud, but I’m not selfish,” she said, turning to Eli and Dylan. “I’ll get a wish for each of us. Then our problems will be solved.”
Dylan, Eli, and Nestuh looked at her in horror. The Pharaoh cleared his throat and spat something out which landed plop on the ground.
“Gross!” Eli whispered to Dylan. “Hairball.”
“Do you realize that if you lose, I will eat your companions as well?” the Pharaoh asked.
“Actually, I-I-I didn’t know about that part,” Ines stammered. She turned to Dylan and Eli. “Do you hate me now?”
“Ask me that again in about three answers,” Eli muttered.
“Then, may we begin?” the Pharaoh asked. “Question one: What goes up the stairs without moving?”
“Oh—I know this,” Ines said. “Just thinking out loud here. I don’t think it’s anything that’s really alive, that would be too easy. And it’s probably something indoorsy because we’re talking about stairs.”
Eli started to mouth the answer but the Pharaoh shot him a look. “You do know if you help, you forfeit your lives?”
Eli zipped his lips.
Ines started dancing in a circle. “I’ve got it! Something that goes up stairs without moving! A rug! I mean, is it a rug?”
The Pharaoh’s left eye twitched. “Question two: What gets wetter as it dries?”
“Ohh—that’s another toughie,” Ines muttered. “Thinking out loud again. What gets wetter while it dries? I can’t think of any animal that fits that description. Hmmm. When I take a shower, I get wetter and then dry myself off. That’s it! I get it now. Is it a towel?”
The Pharaoh’s whole face was twitching now.
Ines smiled. “All the Iron Lion stuff from the game is coming back to me now—like riding a bike. If cats could ride bikes, that is.”
Something else was coming back to her. She was looking positively Iron Lion–like. Giant whiskers were growing on either side of her nose. Tufts of fur were suddenly sprouting on her skin. Her nails were lengthening into claws. Great gray wings were sprouting out of her back.
“Ines—you’re turning into a . . .” Eli began.
“I know, I know,” Ines said. “When you have a tail sprouting out of your bum, it’s not the kind of thing that just slips by unnoticed.”
“It’s your avatar!” Dylan exclaimed. “You set off some sort of trigger!”
The Pharaoh appeared to be taken aback asking riddles to an almost–Iron Lion. Many of the other Iron Lions had come out from around the pyramid to watch. Even some of the creatures who had left the line had returned, eager to see how this contest of wills would end.
Then the Pharaoh smiled. His teeth were stained with the blood of his previous meals. There was nothing smiley about his smile. “The third and final question: Why does the man who made it not want it? Why does the man who bought it not need it? And why does the man who uses it not know?”
The Pharaoh’s expression was the opposite of a Cheshire cat grin: his smile seemed to disappear, but the rest of him—his sleek muscles, his sharp claws, his piercing eyes—came into sharper focus. Ines met his gaze. A bright light shined around her, golden and shimmering, and encased her like a chrysalis. She seemed to levitate, and then the light vanished. Ines stretched her metal wings; she was completel
y an Iron Lion now.
The Pharaoh and Ines had a staring contest for what seemed like a week. Finally the Pharaoh blinked.
“Well, I guess this is what people usually need when they fail to answer your riddles,” Ines said. “Are you talking about a coffin?”
The Pharaoh let out a roar that shook the entire pyramid.
* * *
The children and Nestuh were hustled into a back room.
Iron Lion guards, armed with sabers and shields, stood around them.
“I want my wishes!” Ines demanded. “Where is Dylan’s sister? Where is the Root of Xamaica? And while you’re at it, give me Nanni’s book!”
The Pharaoh picked his teeth with a claw. “I ain’t granting you squat.”
“Wait—why didn’t you say that in the form of a question?” Eli asked.
“Cut the BS,” the Pharaoh spat. “There’s no protocol, it’s just us.”
“This is so not cool!” Ines complained. “Why won’t you give me my wishes?”
“Because I can’t. There’s not enough obeah. There hasn’t been for years.”
Magic, the Pharaoh explained, was a finite resource, and it was drying up. Magic emanated from the Great Web of the World, but Nanni was using obeah—that’s what they called magic around here—with such abandon she was leaving very little for anyone else. “Her reckless harvesting of the web is what caused one corner of it to drop. If she isn’t stopped, the whole web may collapse.”
“But why this charade? Why the line of people asking you for wishes you can’t grant?” Ines asked.
“We have to keep up appearances. We still have enough magic for the little things. Like locating lost keys, and repairing zippers. I can cast spells to fix zippers and find keys all the livelong day. But we haven’t granted a major wish in a long time. Mostly we issue wishcredits.”
“Yeah, we know—wishcoins,” Dylan said.
“What you don’t know is that wishcoins don’t really exist. Way back in Time Out of Mind they did, but when the magic started fading, we figured screw it, let’s just let ’em eat imagination—and people bought it. We told them wishcoins existed and they saw them, glittering in their palms. People bought houses with wishcoins, made loans with wishcoins. The whole Xamaican economy is based on them, and the hummingbirds pretend they have the most of ’em. If word ever gets out they’re not real—the system will collapse.”
“So basically your whole kingdom . . .” Eli started.
“Is a pyramid scheme, yes,” the Pharaoh said. “We Iron Lions can’t resist them. Hence the white-collar prison.”
Dylan wasn’t any closer to finding Emma. “So you can’t send us anywhere?”
“On the contrary,” the Pharaoh said.
With that, all the Iron Lions drew their sabers.
“What is this?” Ines asked, baring her teeth.
“We need magic—we’re magical creatures,” the Pharaoh said. “The Baron will do anything to save Xamaica from Nanni—and he thinks you’re her agents. If I return you to him, he’ll give me enough strands of the web to keep Wholandra operating. The sanitation in this city is magic-based—and the litter boxes haven’t been changed in months.”
“But everyone’s using too much obeah!” Eli said. “In two days the web will fall!”
“Actually, a few prophets differ on whether web collapse is man-made, natural, or another of Queen Nanni’s tricks. That’s what the hummingbirds tell us.”
“When real experts say the sky is falling, you should listen,” Eli said.
“Why not harvest the web yourselves?” Dylan asked.
“We can’t fly as high as hummingbirds. They’re able to launch themselves from the tops of the trees in the Golden Grove. Plus, Queen Nanni has transformed herself into some creature from Time Out of Mind who would attack us if we tried that.”
“That crimson feather . . .” Ines said.
“It must belong to this creature, whatever it is,” Eli said.
So it was Queen Nanni after all. She was the crimson beast.
“It gets better,” the Pharaoh continued. “The creature can steal shadows.”
“So who needs a shadow?” Eli asked.
“To lose one’s shadow is to be drained of dreams. It takes maybe three days before someone who loses a shadow fades away. Nanni has been recruiting freed shadows for her Confederacy of Shadows, and the Baron has been locking shadows up as fast as he can round them up. But none of this is your concern. I’ve got to send you back to the Baron.”
“What? We’re not going to be sent back,” Dylan said.
“Well, then, you’ll be lunch!”
The Pharaoh leapt at Dylan, but he was met in mid-air by Ines. The two giant felines collided and fell to the ground—both landing on all four feet, of course. And then the fight really started. In her new Iron Lion form, Ines was strong—and speedy. The Pharaoh was bigger, but less agile. The two went at it like, well, cats—clawing and biting and hissing. Ines flew all about the room before zipping out an exit with the Pharaoh in pursuit. Dylan and the others, followed by the Pharaoh’s bodyguards, went out to see what would happen.
Dozens of creatures from all around Wholandra gathered to watch the battle. Ines was fast, but the Pharaoh was ferocious. He caught her wing in his teeth and threw her to the ground near the pyramid. A crowd encircled them to see the leader of the city finish off the interloper.
Dylan ran up. “Ines—are you okay?”
“All part of my plan, kitten,” Ines panted, bleeding from her lip. “If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s get a little publicity.”
The crowd around them had grown bigger—the whole city was watching. The Pharaoh’s claws slid out. He raised his paw for a death blow.
“Hold on!” Eli shouted. “Dylan—say something! Anything!”
What could he say? If only he had his powers—what could he do without them? He felt words bouncing around his brain like basketballs. Focus. Focus. Focus.
Dylan put himself between Ines and the Pharaoh’s paw. “Everyone is watching!”
Eli took Dylan’s lead. “Pharaoh, if you hurt her, or take us to the Baron, everyone will know you didn’t send us home.”
“Every Xamaican will know something’s screwy with the wishes,” Dylan whispered. “They’ll know your magic is gone. All your wishcoins won’t be worth anything.”
The Pharaoh retracted his claws. “What do you propose?” he asked.
“We can get Nanni’s book for you. We’ll use it to find my sister and the Root of Xamaica. You can use it to replenish your obeah.”
The Pharaoh nodded slowly and his guards lowered their spears. “You’ll have to go to Robeen Bay.”
“Where’s that?” Eli asked.
“The Baron took Nanni’s book from her,” explained the Pharaoh. “He’s spent much of his wealth on a temple of magic and learning beneath the waves: the Castle of Wonders.”
“Cool!” said Eli. “We’re so there.”
Ines rose to her feet, bruised and battered. “I wish I had a better feeling about where we’re headed.”
One stretch of Hope Road ran along the sea at the foot of a white cliff. The stone formation cast shadows across the way. The smell of sea salt and the sound of the surf were all around, and the air was brilliant with the island light of the afternoon. “Have you ever heard of a Toljabee?” Ines asked, as she walked with the boys and the spider.
Eli and Dylan looked at each other and shrugged.
“It’s a Korean thing,” Ines told them. “Kids do it when they’re a year old. Dad was busy, so I didn’t have mine until I was three. My whole family came—even relatives from Seoul. They put all these objects on the table. I had to choose one—and that would foretell my future.”
“Oh yeah—I heard this once on NPR,” Eli said. “The string means long life. The pen means you’ll be a scholar, rice means riches. What did you pick?”
“I don’t recall picking anything,” Ines replied. “My dad g
ot called away on business. He said we’d finish the ceremony later. We never did. I fell asleep waiting.”
Dylan didn’t see how this conversation could help them in their search. “You brought this up because . . . ?”
“The shadows reminded me,” Ines murmured. “I used to stay up late, waiting for him, hoping I’d see his shadow beneath my bedroom door. It was never there.”
Eli frowned. “I totally didn’t get that story.”
Nestuh slapped him on the back. “But at least it had heart! Stick with me and someday you’ll all be master storytellers! It just takes practice. And an ending!”
* * *
Dozens of tiny houses were clustered around Robeen Bay like ants around a piece of pie. It had taken the kids about a day’s journey on Hope Road to get there. The shacks in Robeen Bay—mostly one-story, ramshackle affairs—were almost too haphazardly arranged to be properly called a town. It looked like instead of being planned and constructed, the community had sprouted up like a clump of weeds.
The kids and Nestuh walked, rolled, crawled, and in Ines’s case cat-walked down what now appeared to be Main Street. The town seemed empty, except for trees and shrubbery. “Where is everyone?” Dylan asked.
“Chuh—look again,” Nestuh advised.
The trees were moving, and the shrubs too. What at first appeared to be greenery was actually townsfolk. More like greenfolk, actually. They were the size and shape of humans, but their hair was like leaves, their bodies slim stalks, and their feet decidedly rootlike. But they were far from ugly—they had a kind of organic elegance, like a veggie dish at a five-star restaurant. All the plant people were gathering around to give what seemed to be an official town greeting. They moved in an odd swaying walk that resembled the wind moving through a field of sugarcane.
“What are these things?” Eli asked.
“Dem not things,” Nestuh answered. “Arrowaks, dem called.”
“We saw some of them back at the pyramid,” Ines said.