The Doldrums and the Helmsley Curse

by Nicholas Gannon

  “Very good. And piranhas are nothing like tigers, are they? You see, a tiger you can spot hunting you. You can’t do that with piranhas. With piranhas, you won’t know you’re being hunted. You won’t even know you’re in trouble. You’ll just be swimming merrily along until you unwittingly enter their territory.

  “You’ll feel a pinch on your toe, but you’ll try to think positive. Perhaps you struck it against a sunken branch? No. You’ll know something bit you. And in a panic, you’ll make for the shore, but that’s pointless. It’s already over.”

  Oliver and Adélaïde stared at each other.

  “Once that piranha discovers you’re edible, it’s going to want all of you—and not just that one piranha. The entire school will swarm you with such vigor that the water will look like it’s boiling. Then, bite by bite and piece by piece, they’ll greedily devour you until there’s nothing left. And they’ll do such a fine job of it that when they’re finished, it will be like you never existed in the first place.”

  They all took a few steps away from the crooked man.

  “That sounded like a threat,” Oliver whispered.

  “It was a threat,” Adélaïde replied.

  “You had something to do with the iceberg, too,” Archer said. “That’s why you were spying on my house. That’s why you made bets my grandparents were dead.”

  “Another accusation.” The crooked man left the mantel and circled the trio. “Let’s assume you’re right. Let’s say there was a plot. Let’s say someone wanted your grandparents to vanish. If all of that is true, do you really think it wise to get involved?”

  Adélaïde shivered. The crooked man stopped directly behind her and wrapped his long fingers around her shoulders. He lowered his head, and his voice became little more than a whisper. “Do you really want to swim into waters you know nothing about?”

  The crooked man yanked Adélaïde toward the fire.

  “Let her go!” Oliver shouted, taking hold of her arm. Archer lunged for her other one.

  Adélaïde kicked her wooden leg at the crooked man’s shin. “Get your hands off me!”

  “I didn’t think so,” the crooked man said, releasing her. “Now run along, children. The excitement has already begun. You don’t want to miss it.”

  They tore from the office and collided with Cornelius, who’d been running the opposite way.

  “There you are!” he cried, his one visible eye showing great relief. “Your grandparents were . . . What were you doing in the President’s Office?”

  “We got lost trying to find the Grand Hall,” Archer explained, breathing heavily.

  “That’s where I’m supposed to bring you. Hurry now. Follow me.”

  The trio had to take three steps for each of Cornelius’s great strides. As they neared the Grand Hall, Greenhorns were being led out by a tall woman in a taut, high-collared dress. Fledger grinned nastily, while Darby’s eyes seemed to say, “You do not want to go in there.”

  Cornelius nodded at the tall woman. “Evening, Malmurna.”

  “You’re not taking them into the Grand Hall, are you, Cornelius? It’s getting a bit rough. And have you seen Benjamin? He snuck away from the banquet, and I haven’t been able to find him.”

  “Can’t say I have. Sorry.”

  Cornelius paused at the doors to the hall. Hysterical shouting echoed from the other side. “Maybe Malmurna’s right. Perhaps it’s best we all wait in the commons.”

  “We have to go in,” Archer said, almost pleading.

  “Very well. But I’ll warn you, Archer, it might not be pleasant. Stay by my side. All of you.”

  ♦ THE THING WITH DIRTY HANDS ♦

  The banquet guests had turned into an angry mob. Most everyone was on their feet, shouting. Cornelius led them to the banquet table, where they stood with their backs to the wall. At the head of the room, before a roaring fire, stood a man with dark hair and a beard as thick as moss.

  “Is that Mr. Birthwhistle?” Archer asked.

  “That’s him, all right,” Cornelius replied, his lip curling. “The sleazy pelican.”

  Archer didn’t see much of a resemblance to Benjamin. Mr. Birthwhistle was a very proud-looking man. Or perhaps vain—like a peacock. He wore the finest suit Archer had ever seen. Benjamin was a bit sloppy and disheveled. His father was meticulous. Even with his emotions. Mr. Birthwhistle was the calmest person in the hall.

  “Now let’s not lose our heads,” he called from a podium, gazing down his sharp nose.

  The hall remained in chaos. Oliver was struck with a grasshopper rice ball. Beatrice Lune shot to her feet when someone lobbed a broiled elk tongue at her. Archer spotted his grandparents next to her, encircled by the crowd, his grandfather standing tall. When Grandpa Helmsley spoke, his voice rang with authority.

  “This is madness, Birthwhistle! We were promised a banquet. Not a trap!”

  “Forgive me, Ralph, but I do not believe you’re in any position to be calling others mad.” The hall shook with laughter. “And it’s President Birthwhistle, if you please.”

  “What’s going on?” Oliver asked Cornelius while shaking rice from his hair.

  Cornelius crouched so they could better hear him over the noise.

  “Birthwhistle wants a vote,” he explained, fetching a tattered book from his jumpsuit pocket. “He can’t banish your grandparents outright, but as president, he can have them ostracized. I’m no expert on the Society’s Code, but an Ostracization is rare—only taken up when a member is deemed a danger to others.”

  “Is that what’s happening now?” Adélaïde asked.

  Cornelius nodded and motioned to the mob. “But the vote won’t be fair. See those purple pins many are wearing? The few armbands and crests with Ms on them? Those are Birthwhistle’s flock—the Order of Magellan.”

  “That’s almost everyone,” Archer said.

  Cornelius flipped open his book and read to them.

  CODE AND CONDUCT

  162. ON SAFETY

  1.5. ANY MEMBER(S) WHO IS THOUGHT TO BE OF UNSOUND MIND AND A DANGER TO OTHERS CAN BE, AT THE DISCRETION OF THE PRESIDENT, TEMPORARILY BANISHED VIA AN OSTRACIZATION VOTE. OSTRACIZED MEMBERS ARE PROHIBITED FROM ANY AND ALL ACTIVITIES OF THE SOCIETY.

  “If I had to guess,” Cornelius said, “Birthwhistle doesn’t want Ralph and Rachel speaking to the other members. That will make what he wants to do next easier.”

  IF OSTRACIZATION PASSES, A FORMAL INQUIRY WILL BE ARRANGED, AND A SECOND VOTE WILL TAKE PLACE ON WHETHER OR NOT TO MAKE THE TEMPORARY BANISHMENT PERMANENT.

  Beatrice Lune’s voice rose above the others. “What proof do you have that the Helmsleys wanted to vanish?”

  Mr. Birthwhistle lifted a paper from the podium and dangled it a moment before responding. “Captain Lemurn will soon be in port, but he graciously provided written testimony.” He started to read. “‘The iceberg was thoroughly searched. The Helmsleys were not found. I’m certain they did not want to be found. My crew of five will attest to this.’”

  “That’s a lie,” Grandpa Helmsley insisted. “And you know it.”

  That statement caused a lot of murmuring.

  “How exactly would I know this is a lie?” Mr. Birthwhistle asked. “And please be clear, Ralph, because it almost sounds like you’re suggesting I knew something about the iceberg.” The murmurs turned to chuckles. “Are you saying you believe I had arranged for you to vanish?”

  “Ralph’s as paranoid as the day he disappeared!”

  Mr. Birthwhistle raised a hand to hush the shouter. Grandpa Helmsley was silent. Grandma Helmsley didn’t say anything either. She hadn’t spoken a word since Archer had entered the hall. But her expression, directed at Mr. Birthwhistle, said a great deal. If his grandmother had the ability to conjure objects out of thin air, Mr. Birthwhistle would, at that very moment, have had a rhinoceros fall on his head.

  “Why won’t they say anything?” Archer asked, turning back to Cornelius.

  “It wouldn’t matter wi
th this crowd, Archer,” Cornelius said. “Even if it did, they’re in a difficult position. Birthwhistle poisoned many minds against your grandparents—even before they vanished. Without proof, there’s not much they can do.”

  “I’ll assume your silence means you’ve misspoken?” Mr. Birthwhistle continued. “Not to worry. The mind does have a tendency to slip with age. Now, I strongly encourage anyone who disagrees with my assessment to vote against the Ostracization. I’m only doing what I feel is in the best interest of our Society. And with that, I give the floor to Mr. Suplard.”

  Mr. Suplard waddled up to the stage. Archer couldn’t believe it. “Is he with Mr. Birthwhistle?”

  “Suplard?” Cornelius asked. “I wouldn’t think so. He’s a bit stuffy—likes to triple starch that collar. But he’s just doing his job.”

  Mr. Suplard stepped behind the podium, but he wasn’t tall enough to see over it. “Oh for the love of . . . Where’s my stool?” A Society attendant rushed a wooden crate across the stage for him to stand on. When Mr. Suplard’s head finally emerged, his expression was perfectly blank.

  “What is his job exactly?” Adélaïde asked. “Why does the Society need an Inquiry Department?”

  “There’s a lot of foul play between the orders,” Cornelius explained. “Suplard and his Deputies investigate misconduct, enforce the Code, and oversee all official decisions and votes.”

  “Quiet, now—I’ll ask for quiet, please!” Mr. Suplard adjusted his glasses. “Thirty hands are required to initiate an Ostracization. Do we have thirty hands?”

  Far more than thirty hands went up, and among them was the crooked man, who Archer spotted lurking and grinning at the back of the hall.

  “Very well.” Mr. Suplard motioned, and his Deputies began handing out slips of paper. “Time did not allow for a formal motion to be provided. Mark yea if you believe the Helmsleys ought to be ostracized. Nay if you do not.”

  OSTRACIZATION

  ☐ YEA

  ☐ NAY

  “Should the vote pass, my department will immediately arrange for a formal Inquiry requiring the attendance of at least eighty percent of our members.”

  “Eighty percent?” Cornelius repeated, nearly shouting. “That’s going to be . . . Rosewood will be overrun!”

  “I asked for quiet,” Mr. Suplard insisted, squinting in their direction.

  Mr. Birthwhistle, seated at the side of the stage, also turned in their direction. He locked Archer in his gaze, and Archer went prickly all over. Did Mr. Birthwhistle know who he was? The man wasn’t smiling—his face was like a statue’s—but Archer had the distinct impression that inside, Mr. Birthwhistle was laughing like a madman. Archer shook himself and watched as members marked their ballots and brought them to a wooden box next to the podium.

  Archer was overcome with an urge to shout something in his grandparents’ defense. This wasn’t right. But what could he say? And who would listen? Archer had never felt more insignificant than he did at that moment.

  “Chin up, Archer,” Cornelius said. “Don’t hang your head unless you’ve done something wrong. Even if the vote passes, and it probably will, this isn’t the end.”

  When the final vote was cast, Mr. Suplard and the Deputies tallied them. After much bickering, the results were in. Mr. Suplard marched to the podium as a Deputy whispered in Mr. Birthwhistle’s ear. Mr. Birthwhistle allowed himself a very discreet smile. It vanished a second later, but Archer saw it. So did Cornelius.

  “Let’s not act surprised,” Cornelius said, ushering the trio through the silent crowd to Archer’s grandparents. “Don’t give that pelican the satisfaction.”

  “By one hundred and twenty-seven votes,” Mr. Suplard announced, “and effective immediately, Ralph and Rachel Helmsley are hereby ostracized from the Society.”

  The crowd erupted.

  “It sounds like fireworks,” Oliver said, shouting so Archer and Adélaïde could hear him.

  “As such,” Mr. Suplard continued, raising his nasal voice above the crowd, “the Helmsleys are to be excluded from any and all involvement with the Society, its members, and activities. As is stated, should anyone have contact with the Helmsleys after this evening, they too will face Ostracization. My department will begin notifying all members local and abroad and appoint a date for the Inquiry.” Mr. Suplard motioned to Society attendants and hesitated before saying, “Escort the Helmsleys out.”

  Beatrice Lune was fuming. “That Birthwhistle’s got a silver tongue. I’d love to slice . . . There they are!”

  Grandma and Grandpa Helmsley looked greatly relieved to see them with Cornelius. Grandpa Helmsley placed a firm hand on Archer’s shoulder and spoke as though no chaos was encircling them.

  “I do believe that’s enough excitement for one evening, yes? This was not quite the introduction to the Society I was hoping you’d have, Archer.”

  “We’ll see ourselves out, thank you very much!” Grandma Helmsley insisted, shooing the attendants away. She led the group through crowd, her head held high despite the jeers and cries and boos.

  ♦ THE TRUTH ABOUT THE ICEBERG ♦

  Outside, they crossed a footbridge and waited for Cornelius to retrieve the truck. Grandpa Helmsley leaned against the metal railing alongside the canal and gazed somberly at the glowing Society. Grandma Helmsley was more angry than anything.

  “We never should have brought them tonight,” she said, pacing the snowy cobblestones. “I knew it was a mistake.”

  “Birthwhistle wasn’t supposed to be here.” Grandpa Helmsley sighed.

  “Speaking of supposed to.” Grandma Helmsley turned her sharp eyes to Archer and his friends. “Where were you three? We told you to—” She stopped, seeing their sorry eyes, and put a hand to Archer’s cheek. “Forgive me, dear. I’m not angry at you.”

  “Why didn’t you tell them Mr. Birthwhistle was responsible?” Archer asked. “Why didn’t you say he wanted you dead? We figured it out. We were with Benjamin. He told us you tried to get rid of a botanist named Wigstan Spinler. He said you had lots of members you want to banish.”

  “You could start with whoever threw the rice ball grasshopper at me,” Oliver suggested.

  “Benjamin thinks you wanted to destroy the Society,” Archer continued, watching his grandfather, who didn’t turn around. “He doesn’t think his father had anything to do with the iceberg.”

  “I don’t think anyone in there would believe that,” Adélaïde said.

  “You should talk to my father,” Oliver suggested. “He wants to put your story in his paper. At least the readers of the Doldrums Press want to hear what you have to say.”

  “They want to hear a story,” Grandma Helmsley replied. “Not necessarily the true story. Remember, Oliver, these are the same people who think we brought a curse to Rosewood. That’s a difficult audience to work with.”

  Truck brakes squealed as Cornelius pulled up next to them. Oliver and Adélaïde climbed into the backseat. Grandma Helmsley climbed into the front. Grandpa Helmsley remained at the railing. Archer leaned next to him, feeling a pang of guilt, and stared down at the frozen canal. He didn’t want to look at the Society. The magic had all but vanished.

  “Come now, Archer,” Grandpa Helmsley said, placing an arm around him. “You mustn’t judge the Society based on what you witnessed inside the Grand Hall. I promise you, it’s a marvelous place.”

  “I should have said something,” Archer replied. “I wanted to. I almost did.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t,” Grandpa Helmsley said. “We must be careful, Archer. What Benjamin told you isn’t entirely true. We weren’t out to destroy the Society. We were trying to protect it.”

  “Protect it from what?”

  “I can’t tell you everything,” his grandfather replied. “But you should know there are many discoveries within the Society that are still unknown to the outside world. Wigstan Spinler’s work is one of them. We call such work ‘Society Restricted.’ And we have good reasons for doing
that. The problem was, for a long time, no one inside the Society knew about Wigstan Spinler’s research either—at least, no member outside the Order of Magellan. Mr. Birthwhistle wanted to keep it a secret. When I found out about it, I made Mr. Spinler’s work known to all. Mr. Birthwhistle hated me for that.”

  “Why would he want to keep it a secret?” Archer asked.

  “We feared Mr. Birthwhistle intended to use Mr. Spinler’s work to manipulate Society members. You remember what I told you about Doxical Powder? Making someone behave differently would have raised eyebrows, but no one would’ve known why it was happening.”

  “Why would he want to do that?”

  “We have a few guesses, but that’s a question we wanted Mr. Birthwhistle to answer. That’s why we arranged for Mr. Suplard to be ostracized. We hoped an Inquiry would shed light on the Order of Magellan. We hoped it would get Mr. Birthwhistle to talk. And he did talk. That’s when things got bad.”

  “He told everyone you were jealous of Wigstan Spinler,” Archer said. “He told everyone you had a list and were planning to purge the Society. He told everyone you were unfit to be president.”

  “That’s exactly it, Archer. He knew we couldn’t defend the decision. All we had were suspicions. And ostracizing Wigstan Spinler was tremendously unpopular. Members sneered at us wherever we went. Threats were even made. It was recommended that your grandmother and I make ourselves scarce until the Inquiry. We boarded a ship for Antarctica . . . and sailed right into Mr. Birthwhistle’s trap.”

  “But if ostracizing Mr. Spinler was so unpopular,” Archer said, “would the vote to banish him pass? Mr. Birthwhistle must have been worried it would. Why else would he make the iceberg happen?”

  “Mr. Birthwhistle wasn’t worried about Mr. Spinler, Archer. He was worried about having the Inquiry Department poking around his Order of Magellan. I’m not sure what else he’s hiding, but I am sure he’s too careful and meticulous to do something like he did with the iceberg without a good reason. His order is keeping many secrets. And while Mr. Spinler’s work is no longer one of them, Mr. Birthwhistle can still use it in subtle ways. He already has.”