by Juman Malouf
Charlotte felt as though it had been years since she had seen Uncle Tell, and even longer since she had seen Tatty. If only she would wake up and it would all turn out to be a dream.
Dear Jack Cross,
Remember when we spoke about leaving the Outskirts and our homes? Now I wish we could go back.
Best regards, Charlotte
“Stand behind me,” ordered Alexandria. She flagged down a half-empty boat.
The skipper, red faced and unshaven, slowed his motor. He wore three jackets, one on top of the other, and a blue woolen hat. A mottled dog barked as they reached the edge of the platform.
“We want to go to the old city library,” Alexandria called out to him.
“Nah, we never go there.” The man scratched his beard and motioned to the dog. “Barnaby don’t like it.”
Alexandria pulled out a coin from her pocket and dropped it into the man’s hand. The man stared at the coin blankly. Alexandria dropped in two more. The man grinned. His teeth were black from gin.
“My gracious lady,” he said, bowing, “please, do accept me humble apologies. I misunderstood you. It’ll be me pleasure to escort you to the ole library.”
Moritz helped the twins onto the boat. Rusted metal crates were stacked everywhere. Charlotte looked around, unsure where to sit.
“Make yourselves at home.” The skipper took a swig out of a bottle wrapped in a paper bag. “Just don’t all sit on one side. We don’t want to be fallin’ into this stinkin’ water.” He tapped a tin plug in his ear. “That’s how I lost half me hearin’. Blessed filth.”
The twins squeezed together between two crates. Alexandria sat a little distance away near the front of the boat. Charlotte wanted to ask her why they were going to the old city library and how it was going to bring them to the Land Where the Plants Reign, but she was too afraid to be yelled at or even worse—left behind. Barnaby sidled over to her, sniffing curiously. She scratched under his chin. He licked her hand appreciatively. His rough-cut metal dentures glinted in the light.
“What happened to his teeth?” Charlotte asked curiously.
“Sold ’em for coins,” replied the skipper as he steered the boat away from the platform. “Up in ’em factories.” Charlotte thought about the tooth they had found in Sonja’s ankle—a dog’s tooth. “Barnaby never forgave me. Even after I made ’im a new pair.” He took another swig of black gin and belched. “Saved ’is life, they did. Scrummagers tried to take ’im when we was asleep, but Barnaby bit one of their hands clean off.” He chuckled. “Glad I carved those jammers sharp.”
The dog barked as they glided past a pair of Scrummagers standing over the edge of a platform holding a net into the water.
“Surprised he ain’t taken a chunk out of you two,” the man said to the Changelings. “Doesn’t usually like boys. Thinks they’re all Scrummagers.”
“He knows we’re different,” said Wolf Boy, petting Barnaby. “He can smell it.”
“It’s unavoidable,” muttered Sonja. “We all can.”
Wolf Boy growled. Moritz sighed.
“What are they fishing for?” asked Charlotte, changing the subject.
“Some of our finest cuisine’s in these canals: four-legged pike, one-eyed newts, paddlin’ rats.”
Charlotte wrinkled her nose. “Sounds delicious.”
The skipper took another drink and squinted at the twins. Charlotte was used to people staring at them. She felt that it gave her the right to stare back. She studied his face: it was grizzled and ruddy with two sad blue eyes. Charlotte wondered what had happened in the skipper’s life that brought him to these canals with only Barnaby as company.
“I see you two been born lucky,” he said finally. “That’s what the old captain used to say: two born the same, born lucky.”
“I’m not sure we are very lucky,” Sonja returned unhappily.
Charlotte wrinkled her brow and said, “Old captain?”
“Used to sail the waters with ’im before the seas dried-up. Died of a broken heart, he did. Missed ’em blessed waves too much. Now alls I got is this stinkin’ boat and me ole pal Barnaby.” The skipper threw his empty bottle into the canal and rummaged for a full one in a box by his feet. “Sorry times, these.”
Charlotte agreed. She leaned her tired head on Sonja’s shoulder. It was hours past their bedtime. Her thoughts drifted to Jack Cross. She imagined him in a little cot next to a hundred little cots of sleeping factory children. She pictured Tatty alone and scared in a cell. And Monkey? Goodness knows where. If they made it out of this mess, Charlotte promised herself, she would sleep for a hundred years.
They turned into an adjoining waterway and saw an impressive old building standing before them. Letters engraved in the stone facade spelled the words MUNICIPAL LIBRARY. Massive columns lined the entrance, and a sculpted sphinx flanked each side.
“Everyone thinks it’s haunted.” The skipper nervously fiddled with his cap. “That’s why we stay clear away.”
Charlotte had seen a photograph of Uncle Tell as a young boy standing in front of this very building. He said the library had sunk into the canals because of the rain. The same thing had happened to many of the old buildings, but nobody who mattered lived below the thousandth floor, so nobody who mattered bothered to do anything about it.
The skipper brought the boat as close as he could to the submerged steps. Alexandria dropped another coin into his sweaty palm. “Get some dinner,” she urged as she stepped off the boat. The children followed her. “That stuff’ll kill you. I should know.”
The skipper took off his cap and bowed his head. “It already has, my gracious lady. It already has.”
Barnaby stuck his snout out the side of the boat and barked. Charlotte waved goodbye. Even after the boat disappeared around the corner, she could still hear Barnaby barking.
The library door was chained shut. A sign read DO NOT ENTER.
Alexandria clapped her hands together hard. The lock broke, and the chain unraveled into the water. The doors swung open. A gust of trapped air rushed out. It smelled of moldy books and dead animals.
Alexandria peeled the skin off a handful of lightning bugs. They flew into the library and lit the room. The stacks were wrapped in spiderwebs, and desks and chairs were overturned and broken. A large chandelier still hung from the ceiling, but all its crystal tears had smashed onto the ground. They glittered among animal droppings and half-eaten books.
Little creatures skittered in every corner as they walked to the end of the room. Alexandria shoved open a brass door with her shoulder. Inside was a small octagonal chamber lined with beautifully gilded leather almanacs.
“Look at all these books!” Charlotte exclaimed. She pulled one out, blew off the dust, and carefully turned the fragile pages. It was an old dictionary with words she did not recognize, such as jargogle and quockerwodger and slubberdegullion.
“Where do we go from here?” Wolf Boy asked.
Charlotte put away the book and looked where Alexandria was pointing. There was a large gold seal on the floor with images of numerous small, delicate, childlike people engraved into it.
“Those are Albans,” Charlotte said, approaching. “Does that mean we’re going to the Golden Underground?”
Alexandria nodded. “It’s the only other way to get to the Land Where the Plants Reign.” She swept her hand through the air with a forceful thrust. The seal slowly slid open to reveal a hole. The lightning bugs dove down into it.
Alexandria sighed, relieved. “At least this Pathway’s open.” She buttoned her pockets and tightened her cloak. “Protect your heads with your arms. It can be quite a tumble.”
Sonja peered into the hole. “I’m not going down there!”
Alexandria looked to Wolf Boy. Wolf Boy nodded. Alexandria stepped into the darkness and disappeared down the hole. Her hair unbuckled afte
r her.
Sonja turned to Charlotte with a frightened expression. Charlotte knew she was the braver of the two when it came to heights and speeds and . . . courage. She felt especially brave now. They had to save not only Tatty, but also hundreds of factory children. She was starting to feel ashamed of Sonja. She wished her sister was not such a coward. “Don’t be scared,” she said soothingly. “After all, you survived the trash chute.”
“That was just blind luck.”
“Look, Sonja,” said Moritz, side-stepping to the edge of the hole, “It’s easy!” He jumped in and yelled, “Bombs away!”
“It’s our turn,” said Charlotte.
Sonja shook her head. “I won’t.”
“I’ll take her,” insisted Wolf Boy.
“What?” Sonja cried. “Charlotte!”
Charlotte let go of Sonja and smiled. “You’ll be fine.”
Wolf Boy grabbed Sonja’s hand.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Why not?”
“Because I told you not to.”
Wolf Boy stared at Sonja. “How about this?” He wrapped his arm around her waist and squeezed tight.
Sonja slapped him and wriggled. “Let me go!”
Wolf Boy laughed and ducked, but held on.
“You act like an animal.”
“Well, I am an animal.” Wolf Boy grinned.
“I hate you.”
“The feeling’s mutual.”
Charlotte watched as they plummeted together deep down into the darkness, then dove in after them.
Dear Jack Cross,
I travel farther away from you in body, but not in heart. I hope you’re thinking of me. I’m thinking of you.
Best regards, Charlotte
Make that: Love, Charlotte
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The Golden Underground
SONJA’S EYES SNAPPED OPEN. THEY HAD TUMBLED OUT of a fireplace and lay on the floor of a large stone room. She sat up and gasped. A small boy with luminous white skin and pink eyes stood over them holding a dagger in his fist. He was barefoot, and his hair was as white as his skin.
Deep, deep underground,
In grottos of golden décor,
Lives a white Alban among the giant boars.
His eyes see in pitch-dark blackness—
And his ears can hear even a mouse snore.
“Hello, Ansel,” Alexandria greeted the Alban. She stood up and dusted off her coat.
The boy’s mouth broadened into a smile. He had a gap between his front teeth. He put away his dagger and hugged Alexandria. The top of his head barely reached her waist.
Alexandria peeled away his little arms from around her legs. “You know I hate hugs.”
The boy laughed. “I’m sorry. I can’t help myself.”
Sonja started to say something, when Wolf Boy interrupted her. “Let me guess. Your mother told you all about the Albans.” He smiled at Ansel. “Don’t let it get to your head. She told them all about the Changelings too.”
Sonja’s face turned bright red. If only she was a giant and could stomp on top of Wolf Boy until he was as flat as a pancake—then, maybe, she would be happy.
“Ansel, meet Charlotte and Sonja. They’re the daughters of the Key. Those two clowns over there are Wolf Boy and Moritz.”
The Alban shook hands with everyone enthusiastically. His hand was cold, thought Sonja. He smelled like licorice.
The lightning bugs circled the stone room. Frescoes had been chipped away from the ceiling, and tiles and panels had been pried off the walls. “What happened here?” said Alexandria, looking around. “The entrance moved?”
The boy’s smile faded. His gaze flickered to the ground. “This is where my father was attacked. Edgar thought it would be safer to move the palace deeper underground.”
Alexandria touched his shoulder. “Your father was a great leader. One of the best.”
“Thank you,” Ansel said softly.
“We’ve come for help. The Key’s been stolen. The Protectors are meeting in the Land Where the Plants Reign. We need passage through the Golden Underground.”
“I’ll take you to my brother. He now wears the Golden Knot. It was our father’s last wish that he’d become Protector.”
Alexandria looked confused, then doubtful. “It wasn’t his decision to make.”
“I know. It’s time someone told Edgar.”
The Alban led them into a tunnel that had been stripped clean of any decoration whatsoever. Only the faintest shadows of painted faces remained. “Lucky I heard you coming,” he said over his shoulder, “or you’d have been lost for days. I was tracking a boar close by to lure him away from our gates. So he doesn’t get hurt.” The boy paused. “Hold on a second.” He dropped to his knees, pressed his ear to the ground, and listened. “I think I hear him now.”
Sonja shivered. The giant boar tattooed above Tatty’s calf was the scariest creature on her body.
A distant rumble echoed down the tunnel. The ground trembled.
Ansel unwound a charm from around his neck. It was a small box with holes pierced into its sides and hung on a long leather string. “You’d better hide.”
“Don’t worry about us,” growled Wolf Boy. “We can take care of ourselves.” He and Moritz began to transform into animals.
“Let’s see how you feel afterward,” Alexandria said, cupping the lightning bugs in her hands.
The sound of stomping hooves filled the cave. Sonja watched, transfixed, as a pair of spiraled tusks, scarred and scored like ancient weapons, emerged slowly, curling out of the darkness. A massive, hairy head followed into the half-light. The boar was three times bigger than even Sonja had imagined. He blinked once, snorted, then charged, roaring down the tunnel, dirt spraying behind him.
Sonja darted into an alcove where Alexandria and Charlotte were hiding. She peeked out. The boar smashed through the Changelings like a cyclone. They flew, spinning, in different directions. The boar skittered to a stop and swiveled. The Changelings crawled, panting and dazed, on the ground. Shock had jolted them back into their human form. The boar narrowed its already tiny eyes. It lowered its head and charged again, squealing.
“They’re going to get killed!” cried Charlotte.
Alexandria shrugged. “It’s their own fault.”
“You don’t really mean that, do you, Alexandria?” Sonja said in a panic. “I don’t like them much, but even I don’t want them to die!”
“Don’t worry. Ansel’s there to help.”
“What can he do?” yelled Sonja. “He’s practically a child.”
“Don’t judge a book by its cover, Charlotte. You’ll see.”
Sonja’s face burned with indignation. How could Alexandria still not know their names? “I’m SONJA!” she thundered.
Charlotte pointed. “Look! There he is!”
Ansel stood in the boar’s path, swinging his charm. Smoke ribboned out from the holes in the little box. They could smell it from fifty feet. Ansel swirled the vapors into a cloud and jumped out of the way. The boar raced through the smoke, wheezing. It staggered and stumbled backward.
Ansel sprinted to the boar, grabbed it by the tusks, and flung his pale body up onto the giant creature’s back. The boar bucked weakly as the Alban gripped his coarse fur. Ansel swung the charm again, casting another puff of smoke. The boar stood motionless. His eyes glazed.
“It’s safe now!” Ansel called out to the others as he hung the charm around the boar’s neck.
Alexandria charged into the tunnel and helped the Changelings to their feet. “The girls were worried. They thought the two of you might be killed.”
“We’re fine,” Wolf Boy insisted. He stood up, wobbly, and wiped the blood off his mouth.
Moritz gulped. “That thing nearly poked a hole straight
through—”
“We’re fine,” Wolf Boy interrupted sharply.
The twins hid behind Alexandria and stared at the massive creature. He eyed them with one of his little pin-sized eyes.
Ansel put his hand in front of the boar’s snout. It licked his knuckles.
“He’s harmless,” encouraged Ansel. “He might lick you. Not the most pleasant experience, but quite safe, I assure you.”
“How did you do that?” Sonja asked, approaching the boar timidly. Charlotte followed.
“It’s an Alban tradition.” Ansel gestured to the charm around the creature’s neck. “Inside’s an ancient mixture of herbs. It binds them to us, sort of like an umbilical cord. Go on. He won’t bite.”
Sonja touched the boar’s wiry fur. His skin was warm and trembled under her fingers. She could feel his giant heart pump. Charlotte closed her eyes and pressed her ear against his chest. “Sounds like thunder,” she murmured.
“Want a ride?” asked Ansel, offering his hand. Sonja grabbed it and climbed the side of the boar like a hill. Charlotte clambered up after her. The creature’s back was cushioned by a layer of fat and covered in soft downy fur. “Pretty comfortable, huh?” Ansel said with a wink.
Sonja nodded, trying not to look down.
Ansel clicked his tongue, and the boar marched. The others followed on foot down the tunnel and into the next. They arrived at a pair of doors. A lantern hung on the wall. The wick was a glowworm curled on the end of a twig.
Ansel yelled into the gap between the doors. “It’s me!”
A slot slid open. An Alban’s face appeared through the grate. “Who’re they?”
“Honored guests.”
“Look like humans.”
Alexandria bent down and pressed her face against the slot. “Open this door, or I will!”
The slot slammed shut, and the doors swung open.
A company of Albans in thick leather tunics greeted them with raised spears. One swung his weapon and scattered the flock of lightning bugs. Some fluttered into Alexandria’s pocket.