by Sheila Grau
My whole body felt heavy with sadness. I would miss my home so much. I took a detour to visit one of my favorite places—the grotto behind the castle. (Yes, we were a two-grotto school. One above ground, one below.)
Between the back of the castle and the Aviary, there was a clump of hazelnut trees with a clearing in the middle for two benches. At the end, two trees had grown up next to a large memorial stone, their branches stretching around the monument as if they were hugging it. KARYA, the stone read. Syke’s mother.
Syke had often come to sit in the clearing when she was sad, touching the tree trunks and wondering about the mother she never knew.
Today, someone else was there. Dr. Critchlore.
This was the third time I’d found him sitting in the clearing. The first two times he’d pretended he was on his way to the Aviary and had just happened to stop and sit for a rest after walking for a minute and a half.
“Sorry,” I said, as he looked up at me. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, I just . . .”
“You miss your friend,” he said.
I nodded.
“I miss her too.”
I’d always suspected that his gruffness with people was an act. The iron-hearted headmaster—nobody could hurt him. But I knew he cared.
I sat on the bench opposite him. “Why don’t you tell her the truth about her mother? You could convince her to come back.”
“You’ve become much more direct lately,” he said. “I’m not sure I like it.”
I looked down.
“I could never tell her the truth.”
I looked up. Dr. Critchlore stood and placed a hand on one of the tree trunks. This was the first time he’d even hinted that there was a truth to be told.
“Why not?” I asked.
“It would hurt her,” he said. “I would rather she hate me than be hurt.”
“Did she start the fire?” I asked. Was he protecting her from her own guilt?
“Don’t be ridiculous—she was a baby,” Dr. Critchlore said.
Oh, right. I should have realized that. “Then what are you protecting her from?”
He didn’t seem to hear me. “We get so much of our identity from our parents,” he said, stroking the tree trunk. “Sometimes a child is injured more by attacks on his parents than on direct personal attacks. It’s funny but true. When I was younger, someone could call me names, and it wouldn’t bother me, because I knew they were wrong. But if someone said something hurtful about my mother or my father, I had no defense for that. ‘Critchlore, your mother hates you. That’s why she left.’ ‘Critchlore, your father’s insane. Does it run in the family?’ And even though I told myself that they were only trying to hurt me, that what they said wasn’t true, I wondered. I don’t want Syke to suffer like I did.”
“So you’re protecting her from knowing something bad about her parents?”
He stared at me for a moment, then shook his head. “I’d rather not say more, because I’ve been told you can’t keep a secret. But I’m asking you to respect my wishes, Prince Auberon.”
Dr. Critchlore knew I was the missing prince? I smiled, feeling kind of proud and important all of a sudden.
“Dr. Critchlore? Can I ask you another question?”
“You can ask,” he said.
“Why haven’t I been picked for any of your search teams? I mean, field trips?”
“You have been,” he said, sitting back down. “Professors Dunkirk, Travers, and Twilk all selected you, but Professor Murphy denied their requests. Said you needed more one-on-one tutoring.”
One-on-one tutoring? What a joke! Professor Murphy was doing everything in his power to kick me out of his class, including keeping me from being on any team that might find sudithium.
“Now I have a question for you,” he said. He looked around, to make sure nobody could overhear, then leaned forward. “Have you had any more ravens from Mistress Moira?”
I shook my head, still fuming about Professor Murphy. “Just the one she sent Professor Zaida about the witches in East Chambor,” I said.
“And did she . . . uh . . . she didn’t by any chance . . . mention me?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said, reaching into my pocket. I had a pile of scrunched-up pieces of paper. I unfolded them, looking for the note from Mistress Moira. I found my Cursed List (a list of bad things that had happened to me—I’d made it before I’d found out that I was, in fact, cursed). I found my To-Do List and my Good List. Then there was a note I’d written to Janet, even though I’d probably never give it to her, and finally, Moira’s tiny note. I passed it to Dr. Critchlore, who seemed to light up as he took it. He read it and smiled but then turned his head to the side.
“Hmm. That’s confusing,” he said.
“I know. Why would Pravus send people to East Chambor?”
“What? No, I mean the end here: ‘Tell Derek XOXO Moira.’ That could be read two ways. XOXO is shorthand for ‘love.’ She could mean ‘Tell Derek about the Pravus minions. Love, Moira.’” But there’s no period after Derek, so maybe it means, Tell Derek XOXO. Which is like saying, send my love to—”
“Probably the first one,” I said, maybe too quickly because he looked a little hurt. “But I could be wrong. I’m sure she’ll send you a raven soon.”
“She has,” he said, handing back the note. “With a terse message: ‘This is what you’re looking for.’ No greeting, no . . . XO. No indication as to when she’ll be back.”
“That’s it? ‘This is what you’re looking for’?”
“The raven was carrying a sample of sudithium,” he said. “Dr. Frankenhammer has it now.”
“That’s fantastic!” I said.
“Yes. Although I wondered about the message.”
“There’s not a lot of room to write,” I said.
“True. I hope she’s not in trouble. She’s a wonder, that Moira. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” He looked over at me. “I mean, the school. What the school would do without her.”
“She’s awesome,” I agreed.
“And I hope I’m not installing an elevator for nothing. Fantastically expensive. I do hope she returns. For the elevator’s sake.”
At lunch I sat with Frankie, Darthin, Boris, and Meztli, who was a regular at our table now. I told them what Critchlore had said about Professor Murphy keeping me off the search teams.
“That’s so unfair,” Frankie said.
“You should report him to Dean Everest,” Darthin said. “Dr. Critchlore holds professors to a high standard, and he’s falling short of it.”
I was about to agree when Drangulus, a tall lizard boy, slinked over to our table and stood over Darthin. I’d met Drangulus in detention. He wasn’t the best student, and I had mentioned to him recently that I thought Darthin might be able to help him with his science homework.
But Darthin, hunching down as low as he could get, looked ready to wet his pants. Drangulus was a frightening sight, and his breath was so raspy it made me think something was stuck in his throat. Like a large slice of pizza, or maybe a cat.
“Darthhhhin,” he said. Slobber leaked out the side of his mouth, but he didn’t wipe it away.
Darthin hunched even lower, looking at us for help.
“You know anythhhhhing about strength elixirs?” Drangulus asked.
“Y-y-yes?” Darthin answered.
“Do you know how to make lake serpent antivenom?”
“Uh-huh,” Darthin answered, nodding his head. “Well, that is, if someone else milks the lake serpent for its venom.”
“Could you tell me the steps?”
“Why don’t you sit down?” I said.
Drangulus sat across from Darthin. He pulled a piece of paper out of his backpack. “Sorry about the stains,” he said.
Darthin looked at the paper, and as soon as he started reading, he seemed to relax. “Oh, I see your problem. For the strength elixir, you don’t start with the hair of giant. First, you have to soak the hair in the strengt
h-extractor chemical bath. You’re going to want to do that for at least fifteen minutes. Then you . . .”
I nudged Frankie, who gave me a thumbs-up.
Please stop asking. The answer is no. Floats are absolutely forbidden from attacking each other during the parade.
—SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT FROM MRS. GOMES, HEAD OF SECURITY
The school emptied, as nearly every kid went off on an assignment again. Groups headed out for West Chambor, Riggen, Euripidam, and Bluetorch. I really wanted to be on one of those teams.
There was nothing do, so after feeding Kumi one morning, I decided to talk to Uncle Ludwig. I’d try one final time to get someone to tell me about Syke’s mother. I was past wanting to convince Syke to come back. I just wanted to know the truth. I knew people were lying, but I didn’t know why.
On my way I passed the boulderball field, where I saw a mummy sitting on a bench. Someone was kneeling before him, rewrapping the loose bandage on his leg. As I got closer, I smiled, because it was Darthin.
“—and if you use a waterproof adhesive,” he was saying, “your bandages won’t unwrap so easily when you get wet.”
The mummy nodded its head. I would have stopped to say hello, but I wanted to talk to Uncle Ludwig before I lost my nerve.
I found him in his secret library, updating his enormous spreadsheet that listed possible sites of the Great Library. I felt the usual stab of guilt that I had the knowledge he’d been searching for his whole life.
I sat down opposite him.
“I don’t have time for your nonsense, Runt. I’m busy,” he said. “I’ve missed days of work searching for sudithium in Corovilla.”
“Did you find any?”
“No,” he said. “It’s impossible. And then I get back and find out Critchlore already has some.”
“If he has some, then why are we still looking?”
“One little bit of the mineral is not enough to create an Undefeatable Minion. We need much, much more. Fortunately, it was enough for Dr. Frankenhammer to create a Sudithium Detector, which will help us in our search. He’s also trying to figure out what the mineral does. Now, please. I’m very busy.”
“Can I just ask you a couple questions?” I pleaded. “Please? I’ll reshelve all your books upstairs.”
“Deal,” he said very quickly. I should have asked him how many he had up there. I hit myself in the head. Rookie mistake.
“Did you know Syke’s father?” I asked.
“Anders?” Uncle Ludwig scowled. “Unfortunately, yes.”
All I knew about Syke’s dad was what Syke had told me (and I assumed it came from Dr. Critchlore)—that he had worked at the castle in the stables. He was strong and handsome. He loved Syke’s mom, and she loved him. He was away when the fire happened, looking at some foals that were for sale in Yancy. He’d been tragically killed when a bunch of harpies swooped down and carried him off to Skelterdam. He died before he learned of Syke’s mother’s death.
“Why do you say, ‘unfortunately’?” I asked.
“Did I? Hmm.” He focused on his notetaking, not looking up at me.
“You know more than you’re telling me,” I said.
“About everything, yes,” he said with a smirk. “You need to accept that some knowledge is only meant for certain people.”
“Really? What if I knew where the Great Library was, and I didn’t tell you because some knowledge is only meant for certain people? What if the reason I was away after the fashion show was that I’d found it?”
What was I doing? I’d said too much. But here’s the thing—I think Professor Zaida wanted him to figure out that she was the Archivist. She dropped clues all the time, but he was too dense to pick them up. At this point, it was almost like she was playing with him.
“Sure you did. You, a third-year, found the most secret place in the world. Right, and I’m the prima ballerina of the Stull ballet.” He chuckled, then refocused on his notes.
A part of me knew I should just walk away. But I was so tired of grown-ups treating me like I couldn’t do anything right. I couldn’t take it anymore. I really wanted to wipe that smug condescension off his face.
“It’s not in Hagritano,” I said, pointing to his notes. “The mountains there aren’t big enough to hold seven stories of books, plus the living quarters of the librarians, and the shrine to the Natherly family.”
He stopped writing. “How do you know about the shrine?”
“Because I’ve seen it.”
He scowled. “You’re not joking, are you?”
I shook my head slowly and emphatically. “The Archivist swore me to secrecy. But I hate secrets.”
He gasped, then leaned over and grabbed my arm. “Tell me.”
“First, I want you to tell me about Dr. Critchlore and Syke’s mother, Karya.”
“Derek was in love with her.”
I gasped. Of course he was! All those times I’d found him in the grotto by her memorial—he wasn’t resting. He was visiting a lost love.
“Your turn,” he said.
“The Great Library is in Stull,” I said. At least, it used to be. They’d probably moved it by now.
He gasped.
“If Dr. Critchlore loved her,” I asked, “why did he burn down the forest?”
“He didn’t. His mother did,” he said.
I gasped.
There was a lot of gasping going on.
“Who is the Archivist?” he asked.
“A teacher,” I replied. “Why did his mother burn down the forest?”
“She was tricked by Syke’s father, Anders. When Anders found out that Karya was in love with Dr. Critchlore, he became enraged. He was a scoundrel of the worst sort. He had other women in every corner of Stull, but he didn’t want to lose Karya to that ‘spoiled kid who grew up having everything.’ It’s Dr. Frankenhammer, isn’t it?”
“No. What did Anders do?”
“He convinced Dr. Critchlore’s mother that it was wrong of her son to break up a family. Anders and Karya had a baby, after all. He said Karya was just confused and angry and wanted to get back at him for his affairs. She was using Derek—that was all.”
“Was she?” I asked.
“No, she loved Derek. But Anders told Dr. Critchlore’s mother that he wanted to make things right with Karya, and the only way he could do that was for the family to leave the castle. Hamadryads aren’t bound to one single tree. They can move to a similar type anywhere, but they can’t be away from a tree for very long. It disorients them and can eventually lead to death.
“Anders told Dr. Critchlore’s mother that if she wanted to do the noble thing, she would burn the forest after they left, so Karya couldn’t return to Derek. And since Derek’s mother never approved of the relationship between her son and the hamadryad, she did it.
“It’s Coach Foley,” he said. “Right?”
“No. Then what happened?”
“Anders faked their departure. He never left. He watched as Dr. Critchlore’s mother killed the woman her son loved. Derek thought she’d killed all three, but Anders had Syke with him. And then Dr. Critchlore got a letter from Anders, who mocked him. ‘Anyone who tries to take what’s mine will pay, and pay big,’ Anders wrote.
“I wouldn’t put it past Dr. Critchlore, or his mother, to have sent those harpies to get him. They rescued Syke, but Anders was dropped into Skelterdam. And good riddance! He was, by far, the most despicable person I have ever met. Is it Professor Inglenook? Murphy? Caruthers? Nguyen?”
“It’s Professor Zaida,” I said, feeling grateful to finally have the story.
“I knew it!” Uncle Ludwig said.
I gave him my sarcastic “Sure you did” look.
“I should have, right?” he said. “I mean, she’s here all the time. Oh! What a fool she must take me for.”
“She doesn’t. She’s just worried you can’t keep a secret. And don’t you think it’s weird that all of your guesses were men?”
He looked slig
htly ashamed at that. And then we were silent. We stared at each other, both of us thrilled to know what we wanted to know, and both of us just realizing that we had broken a sacred trust.
“Um . . . ,” I said. “Professor Zaida is going to kill me dead, and then kill my ghost.”
“Right . . . ,” he said. “And Derek is going to kick me out of the castle.”
“We are both going to be in so much trouble,” I said.
“Unless . . .”
“What?”
“What if we pretend to discover these things on our own?” He rubbed his chin. “It will require cunning and subtlety and careful planning.”
He looked at me.
“We’re doomed,” I said, reading his expression.
‡‡‡
It all made sense now. Dr. Critchlore didn’t want to harm Syke’s memory of her father. He as much as told me so in the grotto. We get so much of our identity from our parents. If she knew that her father was the worst person in the world, how would that make her feel about herself?
Still, I couldn’t stand by while she turned her back on people like Tootles and Riga. People who loved her. Plus, what Uncle Ludwig said about hamadryads had me worried. Syke was part hamadryad. He’d said that hamadryads get disoriented when away from trees.
There were no trees at the Pravus Academy.
I had to save her. I knew if I could just get her away from that place, she’d return to normal.
Fine, I’ll allow T-shirt cannons. But if anything other than a T-shirt is fired from them, detentions will follow!
—ANOTHER SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT FROM MRS. GOMES
Over the next few days, search teams departed, came back, and departed again. I spent my time studying with Professor Zaida, playing with the toddler trees, practicing hoopsmash with Meztli, working on our float (the tar pit had a new fire feature!), and worrying that I was going to get kicked out of school as soon as someone came back with some sudithium.
I sat with Mez and Frankie at lunch. Darthin was over at the ogre-man table, with his yellow team. They were plotting a revenge operation on the green team after the green team had stolen their symbolic sword.