“It was like this in the beginning,” a woman’s voice came from the darkness. “There was just noise. No stories. No meaning. No wisdom. Just noise.”
Buzz and Mary both turned in a circle, but neither could tell where the voice had come from. It did not speak again.
Buzz stopped as he finally found his reflection in one of the mirrors. He looked tired and bruised. The Forsaken Territories had taken their toll. He was studying the purple bruises streaking his face when suddenly he saw someone standing behind him. It was a woman with deep-brown skin and a towering head scarf. She was wrapped in swaths of brightly colored fabric and held a large book in the crook of her arm.
Buzz whipped around, but there was no one behind him.
“What the—”
“What’s wrong?” Mary asked.
“I saw a woman,” Buzz said. “She was standing behind me in the mirror. I think it was the Keeper of Myths.”
He looked back at the glass, willing the woman to reappear, but all he saw was his reflection and its wide, anxious gaze.
Mary let out a gasp.
“What? Did you see her?” Buzz asked.
“No, something else.” Mary was still staring at the mirror in front of her. “I thought I saw Ayiyi. But I’m not sure.”
Buzz shoved a hand through his thick, curly hair, fingers snagging for a moment. It hurt, but he didn’t care. “Stop playing games,” he said to the room. “We answered your riddles. If you are the Keeper of Myths, show yourself.”
The glass in one of the mirrors shattered at his words, and the lady in the long, colorful robes stepped into the room.
She dusted some shards off her shoulders, and the glass tinkled as it hit the floor. “Hmm, interesting. Many of the people who seek me like the smoke-and-mirrors stuff.” She came and stood directly in front of them. “I guess you’re not one of them.”
“Are you the Keeper of Myths?” Buzz asked.
“I am,” the lady replied. “I have many other names besides. But you can call me Aunt Nancy.”
“Aunt Nancy,” Mary repeated. “Why does that sound familiar?”
The lady gave an elegant shrug. “Maybe my reputation precedes me.”
Buzz held out a hand. “I’m Buzz, and this is Mary.”
Aunt Nancy inclined her head but ignored the outstretched hand. “Welcome to the chamber of stories. My home.”
Mary was scanning the room with a puzzled look on her face. “I was kind of expecting more books,” she said.
Aunt Nancy smiled. “Young lady, did you fail to notice that my temple is built out of books?”
Mary looked sheepish. “I wasn’t criticizing. I just thought there’d be more books, especially if this is the chamber of stories.”
“Mary, does it really matter?” Buzz began.
Aunt Nancy held up a hand. “There is nothing wrong with being inquisitive,” she said. “It is one of the ways we acquire wisdom. Another is through stories.” Aunt Nancy readjusted the large book that lay in the crook of her arm. “We told those stories with our voices first of all and then we wrote our stories on stone. That is what this chamber preserves. Behind each mirror lives an early storyteller.”
A sharp tapping suddenly came from behind one of the mirrors.
Aunt Nancy tutted. “Please ignore the noise. Some storytellers also happen to be annoying little critters.” Aunt Nancy clicked her fingers and one of the darkened mirrors lit up, revealing a familiar spindly figure.
“Ayiyi!” Mary exclaimed.
The spider was tapping on the glass with all eight of his legs, but his little face looked strangely blank.
“Let him go,” Mary demanded.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Aunt Nancy swept across the room and placed the large book on the table. Its title, The Book of Wonders, was emblazoned in gold on the spine. “I’m the Keeper of Myths. I’m the guardian of stories. All stories. That spider has been telling tales for centuries, and they were never written down. His place is here in the chamber of stories, where he can be protected along with the others.” She clicked her fingers again and the rest of the darkened mirrors around the room lit up. Buzz could now clearly see other figures behind the panes of glass. A man with a harp sat alone, plucking the strings, his mouth open in song. An old woman wrapped in furs sat cross-legged in front of a fire, and her hands drew shapes in the air. Buzz saw another who wore a mask and told a story while dancing. “He and all the rest are my wards,” Aunt Nancy explained.
“Prisoners, you mean.” Mary’s fingers went to her belt and grazed the iron.
“Never,” Aunt Nancy replied. “Here, at least, they are safe and never forgotten. If we lose our stories, we lose ourselves.” She sighed. “Ayiyi’s place is with me—he knows that. He should never have left.”
Buzz looked at those behind the mirrors. All the other storytellers did look happy—not even aware that their world existed behind glass. All except Ayiyi. He continued to tap on his mirror.
He’s not my problem, Buzz thought. Don’t get distracted.
“We’ll buy his freedom,” Mary insisted. “There must be a price.”
Aunt Nancy gave a husky laugh. “Come now. You didn’t come here to buy this arachnid’s freedom. Forget about him and tell me why you are really here before I lose patience.”
“We’re not leaving without Ayiyi.” Mary whirled round to face Buzz. “Right?”
“We need to stay focused,” Buzz said. “We’re here to find Sam. Ayiyi isn’t our responsibility, and it’s not like he’s in danger.”
“But he doesn’t want to be here.” Mary was looking at him like he was a stranger, and Buzz hated it. “We need to do something.”
Aunt Nancy drummed her fingers on the table. “A story would do it. Perhaps. The better the story, the more currency you have to spend, but ultimately it is the book that will decide if you are worthy of help.” She opened the tome and began riffling through its gilt-edged leaves, until she came to some blank pages. She then took a long, black feather quill from the inkwell on the table.
“Buzz, we have to try,” Mary said. “Our story will be enough to save both of them.”
“But what if it isn’t?” Buzz shot back. “You’d endanger everything to save that spider? You didn’t even like him at first.” Buzz twisted one of his armlets. The skin beneath felt like it was on fire. “What about Sam? What about getting the runes back from El Tunchi and stopping him? What about defeating Berchta and the rest of the Pantheon before they try to take control again?”
“It’s okay,” Mary said. “The Book of Wonders will find our story worthy. Because it is.”
Aunt Nancy looked up. “So certain, Mary.” She tapped the quill gently on the edge of the inkwell. “The Book of Wonders will need more than just a retelling of your quest so far. It will need more than flowery descriptions of friends and foes. It has plenty of those. It has the best of those. Scheherazade, Hercules, and Gilgamesh. Beowulf and King Arthur. No, what the book needs from you is a story full of drama. It needs heart. It needs truth and a little bit of pain.”
“We understand,” Mary said.
“But first we need to know if you can help us,” Buzz said. “Help us find our friend Sam.”
Aunt Nancy inclined her head. “I know where they are keeping the new god. And I can get you both there. Right into the heart of the Jade Pavilion.”
Buzz expelled a deep breath. “Is he all right?” he asked. “Do you know if he’s safe?”
“Of course he is safe,” Aunt Nancy said. “He is the new god. They want him to start the revolution. He is precious.”
Precious. The word jabbed at Buzz’s insides. A stab of jealousy that he couldn’t ignore. Sam’s a god, Buzz thought. Mary has a sleeping goddess inside her. And I’m the guardian of the runes, with no runes to guard. A joke.
“Buzz.” Mary’s voice was coming from far away. “Buzz! Come on, we need to start.”
He blinked. “I’m sorry, start what?”
Buzz looked at Mary. “Let’s begin.”
So Buzz and Mary did. They told Aunt Nancy about Esther and the Pantheon. Buzz did his best to explain how he had felt when he saw Sam disappear through the arch and when the giant had him in his grasp. Mary described how it had felt to use the belt for the first time. The rush she experienced at seeing the very earth obey her command.
The whole time, the Keeper of Myths wrote down their words. Laughing at points and looking worried at others.
“And that’s the story so far,” Mary said at last. “Here we are in the chamber of stories, and we really hope the Book of Wonders will find our story worthy, because we need to save Sam.”
The Keeper of Myths placed both hands on the open book. She frowned.
“Oh dear. I’m afraid the book is not speaking to me.” She looked at them with pity. “It does not want to help you.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Other Side of the Mirror
“What?” Mary said. “Why?”
“I don’t know for sure. I wonder if you’ve given the book enough drama. If the heart of your story has been really revealed.”
“Of course it has,” Buzz said.
“Tell me, why are you saving Sam?” the Keeper of Myths asked.
“That’s obvious. Because he’s my friend.”
“But he didn’t tell you what was happening to him.” Aunt Nancy tipped her head to one side. “Surely a friend would share that?”
“I don’t know why he didn’t tell me,” Buzz confessed.
“Such a shame,” Aunt Nancy continued. “Because if he had told you, Berchta may have never got hold of him.”
“You’re not being fair,” Mary interjected. “Why are you attacking him?”
“And tell me, Mary, why are you looking for Sam? He’s not your friend.”
“No, he’s Buzz’s friend, but—”
“But if you find him, you get the Runes of Valhalla back, and you get to stop Berchta. Maybe even find out what happened to your great-uncle Benjamin all those years ago. Revenge would be sweet, no? You’re sick of all these gods taking control of mortals. Taking control of you.”
“Listen—” Buzz began.
Aunt Nancy turned in his direction and wagged a finger at him. “Admit it, Buzz. Sam was a friend once, but now you are searching for him because you want to get the runes back and stop this El Tunchi and the threat he holds over your mother.”
“No, that’s not true.” Buzz stopped for a moment. The book wants truth. “Okay, yes, we need him to get the runes back from El Tunchi, but that’s not the only—”
“I see.”
“No, you don’t,” Buzz said. “Because even if Sam wasn’t able to help us, I’d still be here. I’d still be trying to save him. Because he is my friend, and I don’t care what you think.”
Aunt Nancy put her quill down. “Okay, let’s say that is true. Aren’t you fed up? Don’t you wish you could do it all yourself? Stop Berchta, stop El Tunchi? Not have to ask for anyone’s help at all?”
“Of course not.” Mary scoffed. “Me and Buzz are a team. He wouldn’t want to do this on his own.”
The Keeper of Myths raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
Buzz opened his mouth, then closed it again, wishing that Aunt Nancy would stop asking her questions.
“Aren’t you going to answer her?” Mary asked. Her voice sounded as hard as Buzz’s armlets.
“Okay, fine.” Buzz scrubbed at his face. “Sometimes it feels like it would be easier to be doing this by myself, okay? There, I said it.” Buzz shook his head. “You always want to do things your way, Mary. Do this, don’t do that. Save the spider. It’s like you don’t realize we have a mission here.”
Mary’s face looked hurt and then angry. “I apologize. I didn’t realize saving the world with me was so annoying.” She crossed her arms. “No wonder Sam didn’t want to tell you what was happening to him. He probably knew you’d be upset that you weren’t the manifesting god.”
“Take that back.” Buzz could feel heat building up in his chest and exploding onto his neck and cheeks.
“I won’t.” Mary glared at him. “You wish you were the one with all the power. That’s why you keep trying to prove yourself and do stupid things.” She’d begun pacing backward and forward. “You hated listening to Ayiyi, and that’s why you got rid of him, and it’s why you keep on using those armlets even though Gu said you shouldn’t—”
She broke off as the book in front of Aunt Nancy began to vibrate and then spark with light.
The Keeper of Myths clapped her hands in delight. “Oh yes, very good! That will do. That will do nicely.”
“Do?” Buzz could still feel the heat on his neck and cheeks.
“Yes,” Aunt Nancy said. “I told you, the book needs truth. It needs heart. It needs drama and a little pain. You have given it enough of that now.”
But at what cost? Buzz wondered. My friendship with Mary? He shrugged off the thought. Maybe it’s for the best. Friendship just complicates things anyway.
“So what now?” he asked. “Will you get us to the Jade Pavilion?”
“Yes, the book will see to that,” Aunt Nancy said.
“And what about Ayiyi?” Mary said.
“Ayiyi will remain.” Aunt Nancy put a finger to her lips. “Shh, let’s not speak of him anymore.”
Buzz caught sight of a black tattoo on the outside of Aunt Nancy’s fingertip. It was very small, but it was clearly in the shape of a spider.
“You’re not listening.” Mary’s jaw was set. “He’s coming with us.” And then she was gone, sprinting over to the mirror where Ayiyi was still tapping on the glass. “Stand back,” she shouted and touched a link in her belt.
“Mary! No!” But Buzz’s words were drowned out as the ground beneath Ayiyi’s mirrored prison began to tremble. It sent fierce vibrations out into the rest of the chamber of stories, and Aunt Nancy gave a yelp of alarm as a couple of mirrors near her began to shudder.
Buzz heard a tearing sound and then saw six more arms shoot out from the Keeper’s robe. They grew longer and longer and stretched out to keep two mirrors in place and catch a few of the falling stone tablets.
She has eight arms, Buzz thought. Eight arms.
“Don’t just stare,” Aunt Nancy demanded. “Help me.”
Buzz ran over to hold another mirror in place. This one contained the old lady in furs. The storyteller looked away from her fire for a moment to peer at Buzz through the glass. And then Buzz was on the other side of the mirror. Standing by the fire.
“Search for the bear,” the old lady said. “And when you find him, say the prayer just like this.” Her lips moved but Buzz heard no sound. The old lady smiled, and Buzz saw that her teeth were black. “Good,” she said. “Good.”
She gazed at the flames once more even as the ground continued to shake, and then Buzz was back in the chamber, the smell of woodsmoke still in his nose. The mirror holding Ayiyi was almost a blur as it continued to vibrate in front of Mary. Then, with a cracking sound, the glass came away from the frame in a shower of shards.
Mary jumped back and the tremors stopped immediately. Ayiyi had slumped forward and lay motionless on the floor.
“No!” Mary cried. “No! What have I done?” She sat down and scooped up the spider, cradling him in her arms. “I was just trying to help.” She looked up at Buzz, tears streaming down her face. “He’s not moving. He’s not breathing. I think he’s dead.”
Buzz released the mirror he was holding and rushed over to his friend. He wanted to say or do something to make her feel better, but he didn’t know what that was. He could hear Ayiyi’s voice in his head. “Eh, brother, don’t be silly. Tell her how you feel. Tell her you’re sorry.”
Buzz twisted at his armlets, where his skin felt itchy and hot, and the words o
f comfort seemed to flee his brain.
Aunt Nancy released her mirrors and strode over to Mary. The Keeper of Myths loomed over her. “That was a very stupid and very dangerous thing to do, and all for that thing.” Aunt Nancy poked the spider with her toe.
“Don’t you dare.” Mary batted away the Keeper’s foot.
Aunt Nancy tutted. “Calm yourself, girl.” She knelt down and lifted the spider by one leg. “It’s not real, you know.”
“What?” Mary stared up at the spider.
“It’s a model. A decoy,” Aunt Nancy explained.
“So where is the real Ayiyi?” Mary was on her feet. “You’d better not have hurt him.”
“She hasn’t hurt him,” Buzz said, finally putting all the pieces together. All the clues had been there: the Keeper’s temple with its eight channels and domed middle, the thick white webbing that had surrounded it, the black tattoo of the spider, and Aunt Nancy’s eight arms. “Aunt Nancy is Ayiyi. Or rather, Ayiyi is her.”
Mary was looking at the Keeper of Myths in bemusement. “What? Because she has eight arms?” She peered over the top of her glasses. “Hang on. When did you get eight arms?”
“That doesn’t matter.” Aunt Nancy was grinning. “Buzz is right. Looks like he is starting to use his brain again and not just rely on his brawn. Mary, all is not lost.” As she said this, her robes started to fall away.
Buzz screwed his eyes shut. He really did not want to see a naked spider lady.
“Eh, brother, you’re okay to look.” Buzz tentatively lifted one eyelid to see Ayiyi standing there with a pool of bright cloth at his feet.
“What exactly is going on here?” Mary asked. She held the dummy of Ayiyi in her hand, and it flopped about as she gave it a shake.
“I’m the Keeper of Myths,” the spider said simply. “I’m Ayiyi. I’m Aunt Nancy. I am Anansi.”
“I know you.” Buzz breathed. His mother had told him tales of Anansi when he was much younger. Anansi, the trickster spider god from West Africa and the Caribbean. The god who had stolen all the stories and given wisdom to humanity.
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