by M. A. Larson
“Well . . .” He took a deep breath. “My father was killed.”
“Oh, Remington, I’m so sorry!” She grabbed him and pulled him close.
“A witch got him, quite unexpectedly. The whole kingdom was in mourning when I got back, so no one really noticed that I’d been discharged.”
Evie had no idea what to say, no words of comfort or wisdom. And now the giant’s snores were making her angrier and angrier.
“It was quite a shock, to be honest. Not something I could have prepared myself for. So . . . I left. I needed to do something, and there was nothing to be done there but weep, so I came back to see if I could help with the Vertreiben. By the time I got here, you were already off on your mad plan to the Drudenhaus. Then when they brought you back to the Infirmary . . .” He shook his head. “I’m only happy they’ve got such a cracking good medical staff here.”
“You were here?”
“Come now, the Infirmary is full of frogs. You never thought to look?”
She smiled and shook her head, astonished. “I suppose I didn’t.”
“You can be forgiven for that. There were other things on your mind, weren’t there?” Something fluttered past overhead. A bat, perhaps. “This is quite another mad plan, isn’t it? Hope we can escape these monsters with some underground tunnel and then hope we don’t pop up in a field of witches? It’s a bit like drowning in the bathtub of a sinking ship.”
A chill ran through Evie’s body. Drowning in the bathtub of a sinking ship. Though Rumpledshirtsleeves’s plan had given her a glimmer of hope, it was hard to disagree with Remington’s assessment. As unsettled as it all was, and whether she was ready for it or not, her first mission would begin before the sun rose the next morning.
But first, there was a chair that needed stealing.
• • •
“Remember, Evie,” said Maggie, her voice echoing into the vast expanse of Cumberland Hall, “Rumpledshirtsleeves said not to touch anything but the Bandit’s Chair. Everything in here is bewitched, and there’s no telling how it might behave.”
Evie nodded and held out her torch. Firelight danced across the sweeping limestone walls. Even in the dim light, she could see that the hall was immense and almost preternaturally beautiful. The floor was inlaid with a crisscross of different wood shades that formed a mesmerizing pattern stretching to the distant end of the hall. The walls were dominated by arching pillars of white stone that bloomed into the ceiling, forming a network of carved veins accented with the sculpted faces of beasts. The pillars served as entrances to various anterooms that flanked the wide central hallway.
“Where do we start?” said Evie. “It’s enormous.”
“I’ll take this side. Let’s do this quickly, all right? I don’t like it in here.”
Evie nodded again, her face solemn, and together they moved forward. Each step echoed like a hammer strike across the curves of stone. The air was musty and dusty and thick. As they reached the first set of archways, she stopped and faced Maggie. “What do we do if we find something that could help us on the mission?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, weapons? Navigation aids? Things like that?”
Maggie sighed, unsure. “I think we should just focus on the chair and get out of here as fast as we can.”
“All right.” They separated. Maggie disappeared beneath the first archway on the left as Evie went to the right. Her pulse began to race. It was darker inside the small side rooms. Above her, the pillars bloomed like waterspouts. The room was gray and cold and smelled of wet stone.
The far wall was carved to look like creeping ivy that climbed all the way to the ceiling. There were several stone pedestals placed around the room, some topped with glass domes. Wooden tables along the walls were also covered in glass. Each housed a magical item of some description. Others, like a series of enchanted woodcuttings, adorned the walls themselves. Each had a small placard that described the item. The first pedestal Evie passed held a simple wooden flute. The placard read
Flute of the Honest Miller
Oak and brass
When one who lies should hear this song
A milling stone he’ll be ’fore long
Evie read with skepticism. An enchanted flute that turns liars into millstones? That can’t possibly be true. Of course, according to Forbes, a cursed portrait had turned him into a pig, so perhaps some impossible things were true.
She moved on to the next pedestal, where a gray moth flitted about beneath the glass. It crawled upside down, the underside of its wings as brown and mottled as bark. An oversized iron lock held the dome shut.
Dusk Moth
When evening falls, this moth grows strong
Lifts newborns to witches who sing its song
A chill coursed through Evie’s body, and she quickly moved along. The Bandit’s Chair was clearly not in this room, so she headed for the passage to the next chamber. A portrait of a rather severe-looking woman in a green frock met her, glowering down from the wall. Next to her, the table held a spool of twine, a battered and chinked hammer, and a dried leaf in the shape of a skull. Still no chairs. The next chamber was filled wall-to-wall with items used for spinning. Wheels, bobbins and treadles, spindles and needles of all sizes, each of them cataloged and protected beneath the glass. Many of the needles were rusted, and a few were recognizable only by their general shape—
Maggie screamed. Her voice caromed through the hall, sending Evie into a panic. “Maggie!” She bolted out of the spinning room, nearly toppling a pedestal holding a small pile of flax. Maggie was waiting just across the hall, her eyes as wide as soup bowls. “Are you all right? What happened?”
“Evie,” she said, and then a smile crept across her face. “You’ll never believe what they’ve got in there.” She tilted her torch toward the chamber she’d just been searching. “See for yourself.”
“You can’t do that, Maggie!” said Evie, her hand going to her heart. “You nearly scared me to death.”
“Look!”
Evie walked over and peered inside. The chamber was empty except for a weathered rowboat made from gray and lifeless wood.
“A boat? So what?”
“It’s Stupid Hans’s boat!” said Maggie. “The real Stupid Hans!”
“Stupid Hans?”
“You’ve never heard of Stupid Hans? Evie, this boat can travel faster on land than on water. Do you know how useful this would be on our mission? We could row our way straight through to Rumpledshirtsleeves’s brother!”
Evie turned to her, incredulous. “Through a sea of witches.”
Maggie’s smile began to fade. “Oh . . . right.”
“Come on, Maggie, focus. All we’re looking for is the Bandit’s Chair.”
“Bandit’s Chair. Right.”
They went back to their respective sides of the hall. After the spinning room, Evie found a chamber that was a dazzle of sparkling rocks and gemstones. Each had a small card that described the stone’s power. And yet, still no sign of the chair. She was just about to pass through to the next room when something caught her eye. It was a single gray feather sitting atop a stone pedestal.
“‘Bewitched squab feather,’” read Evie. “‘When one becomes lost with no way to go / This feather leads true despite how the winds blow.’”
Leave it, Evie. Remember what Rumpledshirtsleeves said.
Her heart thumped. She took a furtive glance over her shoulder to be sure Maggie wasn’t watching, then carefully lifted the glass dome. It scraped a bit, but she managed to lift it enough to get her hand under and grab the feather. She felt a bit hypocritical, since she’d just chastised Maggie, but the feather sounded incredibly useful. She carefully replaced the dome and slipped the feather into the hidden interior pocket of her dress. As she turned to continue on, something else caught her eye, equally
as small and equally as intriguing:
Needle of the Poorest Maiden
Silver
When speak’d the words
“Needle, needle, sharp and fine”
This needle makes fabrics in
almost no time
“Needle, needle, sharp and fine,” she thought. Instant fabrics could be useful if the others get cold at night.
She held her breath and tried to work the glass free. It popped open, and she nearly dropped her torch. She carefully picked up the needle and inspected it. Nothing special about it at all. She joined it with the feather in her pocket, then began to replace the glass.
Stop taking things, Evie! she shouted in her mind. You’re here for the chair and the chair alone—
“Evie!” hissed Maggie from across the hall, and she nearly dropped the glass again. “They’ve got the actual ball of crystal here! From the Castle of the Golden Sun!”
“Come on, Maggie, the chair! The chair!” A flush of shame came over her. The feather and the needle felt like lead weights in her pocket, testaments to her hypocrisy.
She made quick work of the next few chambers. One contained only a tree made of bone. She forced herself to hurry past without reading what it could do. The next contained several displays that seemed empty but actually contained minuscule objects. One held only a single grain of sand. According to the sign, it could shine as brightly as the sun. Evie shook her head and moved on, keeping her focus where it belonged. Bandit’s Chair . . . Bandit’s Chair . . . Bandit’s Chair . . .
She peered through another piece of glass at a single flower, dull red with a short, thick, grayish-green stem. The placard so confused her that she had to take the flower out of its home and see it with her own eyes. She twirled it in her fingers. It gave off a sweet, earthy smell. According to what was written, the flower could turn all enemies in range to ravens simply by breaking the stem. She held her breath and slipped it into the pocket of her dress, cursing her own weakness.
“Ahh!” screamed Maggie. Evie jumped from guilt. “The hands of the Handless Maiden!”
“Maggie, please stop doing that!” She smoothed her dress over her stolen items and continued to the next chamber. There was a pewter stein. A horse’s shoe. A wig of white and gold—
Her eyes shot back to the stein. There, just behind the display, sat a small chair made of wood. The bark was still on the branches used to make the legs and back. It looked decidedly uncomfortable, yet as small and light as Rumpledshirtsleeves had said.
Bandit’s Chair
Pine
Sit close over here
Rise far over there
She approached the chair with caution. It was so unassuming, she had almost missed it. Yet all she’d have to do is sit in it for the chair to reveal its incredible power, flinging her off into the world somewhere. She gripped the edges of the seat and lifted. It was as light as driftwood.
She turned to look for Maggie but found herself once again drawn to another magical item. The pewter stein was just in front of her. There were images of people etched all around its dull silver surface. They were jumping over candles and thorny bushes and wolves and all manner of things. She set the chair down and lifted the glass—
The stein pounced off the table. Evie screamed and jumped back, the glass dome shattering on the floor. The stein soared across the room, clanged off the wall, and ricocheted back toward Evie. She dove away as it sailed past, only just missing her head. It smashed into another glass dome, then launched itself into the air. Her torch rolled across the floor, sending freakish shadows up the walls.
“Maggie! Help!” She skittered beneath a table as the stein clattered off the wall and shot straight toward her. It caromed off the floor and smashed through a table on its way to the ceiling.
Maggie appeared in the doorway, her eyes following the darting mug. “Hang on, I’ve got just the thing!” She vanished, leaving Evie to cower from the rampaging stein. A moment later, she was back. In her hand was a small white doily.
“What are you going to do, polish it?” shouted Evie.
Maggie stepped carefully into the room as the stein whizzed past. When it clanged against the wall and raced back toward her, she lunged at it with the doily, which unfurled like a fishing net to many times its own size. The stein sailed into it and clattered to the floor, captured.
Evie slunk out from under the table, watching the doily with wide eyes. “Thanks.”
“Mother Lempert’s Doily,” said Maggie. “Just reading about it over there.”
“Mother Lempert’s Doily,” said Evie, retrieving her torch. “Brilliant.” The delicate lace leapt and hopped like a frog was trapped underneath.
“Hey! You found the chair!” She picked it up. “Rumpled-shirtsleeves was right. It’s as light as a feather.” She turned to Evie, who was still staring at the trapped stein with shock. “Well? We’ve got the chair. Let’s go.”
“Do we just leave that thing there?”
“Yes. If we manage to save the Academy, we’ll confess. Until then, let’s get out of here.”
THE LEAVES IN THE PIT dripped from the showers that had passed through during the night. The air was crisp and piney. Evie and Demetra sat on a log while Maggie paced nearby. Basil stood on the far side of the fire pit. Hunks of charred wood and piles of ash, now sodden from the rain, were all that remained from their second year. This had been the place where Leatherwolf Company had gathered. A place to sing songs and complain about the Fairy Drillsergeant. Tonight, however, it was just the four of them waiting for their fifth.
“This is getting bloody tedious!” bellowed one of the giants rather suddenly, making them jump. Evie knew their voices well enough now to recognize it as Blunderbull. “Someone come out here and play!”
“Blast, they’re awake!” hissed Basil.
“Where’d you learn the word tedious, matey?” laughed Galligantusohn. “You sound like a wee schoolgirl!”
Blunderbull let out a frustrated growl. Scabby Potatoes followed with an irritated bellow of his own. The sun had just begun to lighten the dark skies.
“Where’s Remington?” said Demetra. “We’ve got to go before those fools wake everyone else.”
Evie looked out at the darkened forest. Her stomach began to flutter as an unpleasant thought entered her head. “Are we absolutely sure about this?”
All three looked at her in shock. “Of course,” said Maggie. “It’s the only way.”
“I just mean that if we all go, the four of us and Remington . . . what happens if the wall falls? It feels like we’re abandoning all these people.”
“What are we supposed to do about it?” said Maggie. “We can’t fight the witches ourselves.”
“She is right, though,” said Demetra. “We are sort of leaving these people to their own devices. If the wall falls, they’ll need a leader with clear eyes, and we all know that’s not Beatrice.” She took a deep breath and looked around at her friends. “Maybe one of us should stay.”
“Don’t look at me,” said Basil. “I’m not a leader. It should be Maggie if it’s anyone.”
“Me?” said Maggie, crinkling her face. “Why me?”
“Because you actually are a leader,” he said. “Look, if we’re really serious about this, you know the Academy better than anyone. You could theoretically help keep them alive. Take them down into the dwarf tunnels. Hide them in a secret passage somewhere. You’d know what to do and where to go.”
Maggie looked stunned, wavering somewhere between disbelief and disappointment. “Are you really telling me not to come?”
“It’s not that at all,” said Evie. “We need you desperately. It’s just that these people need someone even more. They’ll scatter like sheep if the wall falls and no one’s here to guide them.”
Maggie took a deep breath and shook her head, consid
ering. “Blimey. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I could do more good in here than out there. It’s just that I’ve been building up my courage to do the mission, and now—”
“Now you can share that courage with all of them,” said Evie.
“All right.” Maggie nodded, but there was pain in her eyes. “All right . . . I’ll stay. But I’m still part of this team.”
“Of course you are,” said Evie. She smiled, though the thought of leaving Maggie behind filled her with panic, both for herself and for her friend, who would have to face those giants on her own.
“Well then . . .” She took a deep, sniffling breath, trying to push back her emotions. “Go on, get over here, all of you. If I’m staying, this may well be the last time we see each other.”
“Don’t say that!” said Demetra, embracing her friend. “Of course we’ll see each other again.”
Basil hugged Maggie next, and then Evie joined them. A cold gust rattled the leaves above as the four of them stood and held one another.
“Blast, are we late for the hugs?” said Remington. The four friends startled and looked up. He was coming down the hill with a smile, and he wasn’t alone.
“What did you bring him for?” spat Evie.
“I’m an excellent hugger,” said Forbes. His humorless mouth and intense eyes gave the impression of a storm cloud threatening to produce a tornado.
“He’s deadly with a sword,” said Remington. “I’ve asked him to join us.”
“What?” said Evie. “You had no right to do that!”
“Well, he did it anyway,” said Forbes. “And believe it or not, I actually agree with what you’re doing. Staying here is suicide, and this magic harp idea is as good as any.”
“He can’t come,” Evie said to Remington.
“Ouch,” said Forbes with a smirk. “My feelings.”
“Evie, listen, we need him. Of course Forbes has an immensely bad attitude and a terribly quick temper and is his own particular brand of torture to be around, but the first two of those things might be quite valuable on this mission.”