by Juman Malouf
Mr. Fortune Teller nodded but did not say another word.
They entered a meadow of normal-sized buttercups and bluebells. Tiffins lounged in the grass, eating and drinking. Butterflies rested on their shoulders, and snails inched up their arms and legs. The air buzzed with cheerful chatter.
Beside a glistening pond was Mr. Fortune Teller’s caravan.
Charlotte gasped. “It wasn’t burned!”
It sat there like a memory. In a way, for a moment, Sonja felt like they were home. “Come on!” she yelled, charging ahead. Charlotte followed, pulling the old man behind her.
They ran past Hester and Alexandria and the boys kneeling in the grass watching Tiffin children race caterpillars. They stopped breathless in front of the caravan. Sonja was unsure whether to laugh or cry. It stood as it always stood, with the curtains drawn and smoke puffing out the chimney. Rhubarb rushed to greet them.
The twins wrapped their arms around his neck and pressed their faces into his striped coat. Sonja breathed in the familiar aroma of chamomile and hay. “He smells the same,” she said dreamily.
“He always does,” said Charlotte, nuzzling her nose into his stripes. “And to think we thought he was from some broken-down zoo. He’s a Gillypur from the Vanishing Islands!”
Rhubarb snorted happily and gritted his square teeth. Sonja laughed. It felt good to be with Charlotte again without Edgar or Jack Cross on her mind.
“Follow me, girls,” beckoned Mr. Fortune Teller from the caravan steps. “I’ve brought some of your things.”
Everything inside looked the same: the peeling walls, the dripping candles, the dusty furniture. Sonja ran her fingers across the spines on the bookshelves, mouthing the familiar titles. She imagined if they walked outside again, they would be back at the circus: the Fat Lady sitting on her deck chair sunbathing in the rain; the Snake Charmer and the Miniature Woman gossiping about Bea; dearest, loveliest, kindest, gentlest Tatty mending their costumes with Monkey on her shoulder. She would look up with her little twinkling blue eyes and say, “Hello, dearies! You’re home!” If only they were home, Sonja thought gloomily.
Mr. Fortune Teller sat down in front of his desk and lit his tin pipe. He pointed to the bed. The last of their possessions were scattered on the mattress. “The clowns saved what they could.”
“My pennywhistle,” gasped Sonja. Her fingers went into convulsions. Even her lips trembled. Sonja snatched up the little instrument, swallowed nervously, and blew into it. It wheezed, sounding scratchy.
Charlotte’s accordion lay among a little pile of clothing. It had warped slightly in the fire. Charlotte flung its straps over her shoulders, jerked open the bellows, and started to play. Her fingers tripped over one another as they slipped against the keys. The instrument moaned and grumbled and shook the caravan.
Mr. Fortune Teller covered his ears as the twins played a duet, it sounded like two dogs quarreling.
After a few minutes, Sonja stopped, out of breath. “Those Protectors don’t know what they’re talking about.” She tossed the pennywhistle back onto the bed. What did she need her Talent for, anyway? She did not care about fame or success anymore if it had anything to do with cities. Where else could she play? The circus was probably gone forever.
Sonja picked up a broken marionette. It was a Pearl Catcher. The long brown yarn hair was singed at the ends. An arm was missing.
Underwater from lake to lake,
A Pearl Catcher swims,
Her long hair flowing, paddling her limbs.
Beneath the waves she, silent, slips,
A secret power in her fingertips.
“It figures: the only marionette that survived,” Charlotte said, making a face, “turns out to be Alexandria.”
“I hope the two of you have been kind to her,” said the old man.
“Kind to her?” huffed Charlotte. “She’s not kind to us! She still doesn’t know which one of us is which.”
“I’m not sure,” Sonja said, thinking. She stared at the marionette’s blackened, cracked face. “She was sort of nice to me when I had that hallucination in the Hidden Stairway.” Sonja wanted to add: Remember, Charlotte, when you ignored me and walked off with Edgar? But she did not.
Mr. Fortune Teller tapped his pipe on the edge of a small brass case. “Come and look.” The twins walked over to the case and peered into the glass. The green caterpillars they had seen back at the circus were now colorful butterflies—their wings like miniature watercolors. Among them was a completely gold one.
“Was that the caterpillar who wove the glittering cocoon?” asked Sonja, studying the luminous creature.
“The very one,” replied the old man.
“She’s got our blood in her,” murmured Charlotte.
“And our magic,” said Sonja. “That’s why she’s gold, right?”
Mr. Fortune Teller nodded. He opened the lid and cupped the little insect in his wrinkled hands. It fluttered out between his fingers and flitted around the twins, its sparkling wings twinkling in their eyes. There was a little part of them inside her, Sonja thought. She watched the butterfly drift to the window. She knew what it wanted. It was the basic right of every living creature. Sonja looked at the old man. “Can we set her free?”
“You can set them all free,” said Mr. Fortune Teller. “They’re from here, you know. Alexandria gives them to me from time to time so I’m reminded of the Seven Edens. It helps to see a little color when you’re traveling through the Outskirts.”
“Uncle Tell,” Charlotte said softly. “Why did you stay with the circus? Why didn’t you live in the Vanishing Islands?”
“Partly to take care of you, partly because I was looking for others like myself. Staghart found other Changelings among the humans of the cities and Outskirts. I thought I would try to do the same for the Foretellers.” The old man sighed. “In all these years, I haven’t found a single one. I’m afraid I might be the last of us.”
Charlotte took his hand and squeezed it. “Edgar’s on his own, too.”
“We went to Rain City,” interrupted Sonja. “You were right, Uncle Tell. You wouldn’t like it there much anymore. We saw the old library, though.”
The old man closed his eyes. “I remember its dusty smell and the quiet sound of turning pages.” He smiled. “Also, the librarian with the pink beehive who used to shush me even when I wasn’t talking.” He mused for a moment. “Memories. They sometimes give you hope that the future can’t be all bad.”
Sonja pushed open a small stained-glass window and released the fluttering insects into the air. Their antennas twirled left and right—overwhelmed by a hundred nectars. The gold butterfly was the last out. A spray of golden dust trailed behind her.
Sonja watched the full moon rise into the dimming sky. She wondered if Tatty could see the moon where she was.
“Mr. Moon,” she said. “Please, tell our Tatty—” Her voice cracked. “Please, tell our Tatty we miss her.” Sonja started to cry. Charlotte quickly followed. Mr. Fortune Teller put his arms around them. He tried to say something sensible but could not find the words. A tear rolled out of his eye, down his cheek, and disappeared into his mustache. He missed Tatty, too.
“Uncle Tell,” said Sonja. “Has Tatty ever visited the Seven Edens?”
The old man shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
“I hope she will one day to see how beautiful they are.”
The door opened. Alexandria poked her head in. “If you don’t come soon—” She saw the old man and the girls huddled together, and her voice trailed off. “I’ll see you outside.” She turned away awkwardly and closed the door.
Charlotte wiped her eyes. “Alexandria’s probably never cried in her life.”
“She’s cried,” said the old man, standing up. “Enough for a hundred years.”
“Does it have something to do with
why the Swifters hate her so much?” asked Sonja.
Mr. Fortune Teller blinked. “Don’t ask me to tell you, because I won’t.”
Sonja looked at her sister. She raised her eyebrows. Something terrible had happened to Alexandria at some point in her life. Perhaps it was why she acted the way she did.
Charlotte pulled out a red plaid dress from the pile. “I wish something I liked wasn’t burned.”
“At least they’re clean,” Sonja said, shrugging. She put on an orange dress with checks all over it and a lumpy sweater hand-knit by Tatty. She caught a glimpse of the pennywhistle lying on the bed. Maybe Charlotte was right. Maybe they should practice. Sonja quickly stuffed it into her sweater pocket.
The old man wrapped his scarf around his head and turned the knob of the door. Sonja felt Charlotte take her hand. She held it firmly. Her sister had not forgotten her after all. Sonja walked outside, smiling. Being back with Mr. Fortune Teller in his caravan with memories of the circus everywhere gave Sonja a little strength. Maybe it would grow, especially with Charlotte by her side.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The Tiffins
ALEXANDRIA WAVED FROM THE OTHER END OF THE POND as Mr. Fortune Teller and the twins walked hand in hand across a wooden bridge. A Tiffin leaned over the railing, skipping stones. Another dipped her toes into the pink-blue water. Singing and laughing filled the air.
Dottie sat perched on top of a post. She opened one eye and said, “Those Changelings are foaming at the mouth. You better hurry, or there’ll be nothing left.”
Charlotte dropped Sonja’s hand when she saw Edgar. He was sitting next to the Changelings on the grass, playing a game of jacks. He grabbed Charlotte and pulled her down next to him. “I missed you,” he whispered. Streaks of silver had crept into his blue eyes, and his pale cheeks were rosy from the sun. He was more beautiful than ever, thought Charlotte. “I missed you, too,” she said shyly.
A banquet of delicately prepared foods was spread out before them: bowls of violet soup, honeysuckle cake dusted with bright pollen, and sweet-stem scones oozing with rose jelly.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Alexandria said—but before the words could leave her mouth, the Changelings were wildly attacking the platters.
Moritz slurped the jelly. “Yummy!” he gushed, licking his lips. His nose was sticky and pink.
“Mine’s good, too!” Wolf Boy said with a mouthful of cake. Crumbs flew everywhere.
Sonja frowned. “Not very good table manners.” She took a sip of the soup. “Really delicious.” She tipped her head back, swallowing the entire bowl in one gulp. When she finished, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and burped.
“Now, that’s ladylike,” remarked Wolf Boy. Moritz laughed, half choking.
Edgar and Charlotte split a sweet-stem scone. Charlotte’s face brightened when she bit into the crumbly, moist treat. It was sweet and fragrant and tingled in her mouth. She wondered if it tasted so good because she was sharing it with Edgar.
Mr. Fortune Teller sat between Alexandria and Hester on a bench. He dabbed his mustache with a handkerchief. “My chest feels cold without my Amulet. It used to warm me up on a chilly night like this.”
“My Amulet used to make the faintest hum,” said Alexandria, wiping off a dollop of lemongrass custard from her mouth. “It helped me sleep at night.”
“I have it worst of all,” sniffed Hester. “I can hardly see without my Amulet.”
“Do you know where the Amulets come from?” Mr. Fortune Teller asked the children. They shook their heads. “They’re ancient relics, each from its own Eden, blessed by the beings we all descend from. These beings hid the Seven Edens after a prophecy foretold that one day the world would be covered in steel, and life on its surface would wither away.” The old man’s white eyes glowed in the dim light. “They believed that if these lands remained untouched, they would be strong enough to sustain the rest of the world’s destruction.”
“That’s why the Amulets are so important.” Hester munched on a rose-hip macaroon as she spoke. Crumbs sprinkled all over her feathered cloak. “They’re our connection to our ancestors and their will to protect the world. Not only do they give us passage into the Seven Edens, but they also unlock many doors within them. Only the oldest Protectors know where the most ancient doors lie, including the one that leads to the source of the magic.”
Sonja stopped eating. “The source of the magic?” She swallowed the half-chewed biscuit. “That’s what Kats von Stralen and the Contessa are looking for.”
“If it’s that hard to find,” said Charlotte, “then why are you so worried? They’ll probably never find it.”
Alexandria’s face darkened. “They’ll ravage the lands, and the world will lose its lifeline. It’s a matter of our survival.”
“There shouldn’t be a Key in the first place,” said Edgar.
“As long as there’ve been Amulets, there’s been a Key,” returned Hester. “We don’t believe in shutting the good out, even if from time to time the bad slips in.”
“There’ve been other Keys?” Sonja asked, surprised.
“Hundreds. They’re chosen for the pureness of their heart,” said Mr. Fortune Teller. “That’s why the Great Tiffin picked Tatty.”
A Tiffin girl with dark spiral curls appeared, carrying another platter. She offered them each a large, dried flower petal. Wolf Boy jerked on her arm and whispered something in her ear. She burst into peals of laughter.
Charlotte saw Sonja roll her eyes. Why was her sister such an old curmudgeon? She hated to see anyone young and happy and in love. It was embarrassing. If only they were not identical. She snuggled closer to Edgar.
Moritz grabbed a spotted blue petal.
“I wouldn’t eat too much of that,” warned the Tiffin girl.
Moritz took three big bites. “How come?”
“The Blue Fancy is quite strong. You’ll feel funny inside.”
Wolf Boy snatched the petal out of Moritz’s hands. He took a bite and paused. “Does kind of make you light-headed.”
“Can I try?” asked Edgar. Wolf Boy passed it to him. He ate some and handed it to Charlotte.
Charlotte was about to say, “No, thank you,” but she changed her mind. She wanted to be the fun twin, the courageous twin, the uncomplaining twin. She took a dainty bite. “Mmm,” she said, quickly taking another. “You’ve got to try it, Sonja,” she giggled. “It makes you feel happy.”
Sonja folded her arms across her chest. “I prefer to feel like myself.”
“But we’d prefer if you were someone else,” joked Wolf Boy. The Tiffin girl hid a laugh behind his shoulder.
Sonja glared at her. “At least someone finds you funny.”
It was becoming more and more clear to Charlotte: other children did not like her sister. She wished Sonja would go to sleep and leave her alone with Edgar.
Hester folded up what remained of the Blue Fancy and popped it into her mouth. She looked at Charlotte. “Can you believe I was once young like you?” she mused. “Young and in love with a Changeling.”
“A Changeling?” Wolf Boy asked.
Hester hiccupped. “Staghart, of course. He was busy finding Changelings to repopulate the Forlorn Forest, and I was caught up in learning the birding way. Now that I’m old, I’m full of regret.” She pointed her cane at the children. “Heed this warning. Don’t deny your love, whatever happens.”
“We won’t,” Edgar said happily. “Right, Charlotte?” He leaned over and kissed her on the mouth.
Mr. Fortune Teller’s face turned bright red. He poked the end of his cane into Edgar’s back. “Watch it, youngster.”
Charlotte sighed. Her family was so aggravating.
A young Tiffin boy with a mass of orange hair ran up to the Tiffin girl, out of breath. “We’re all taking dives off the cliff,” he announced. “
Come along, and bring your friends!” He ran off, stopping now and again to invite more children along the way.
“You’ll come?” the Tiffin girl asked the Changelings.
“Of course,” said Wolf Boy. “Moritz?”
“I can’t move.” Moritz lay flat on his back staring up at the sky. “I’m paralyzed.”
The Tiffin girl laughed. “I told you not to eat too much of the Blue Fancy.”
“Charlotte and I are in,” Edgar said, helping Charlotte to her feet.
Mr. Fortune Teller shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’s getting late.”
Charlotte had to find a way to persuade him. “Please, Uncle Tell,” she begged. “Tatty would let me go.” She could see the old man softening at Tatty’s name. “I’ll only be an hour.”
“One hour,” warned Mr. Fortune Teller, “then straight to bed. Sonja will accompany you.”
Sonja shook her head. “I’m staying.” She looked at Charlotte smugly. “That means you can’t go.”
Charlotte glared at her sister. She had had quite enough of Sonja for one day.
“Great!” exclaimed Wolf Boy. He rose and pulled up the Tiffin girl. “Lead the way, my lady.”
The Tiffin girl ran off, laughing. “Wait for me!” Wolf Boy yelled, chasing after her.
Charlotte was not going to lose her chance. She grabbed Edgar’s hand and they hurried away. She heard Sonja yell after them, “He didn’t say you could go without me!” A smile erupted on Charlotte’s face. Every hair on her body stood on end. It was the first time she had truly rebelled against her sister and she liked it. She was free! At least for an hour.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Crackus
SONJA WATCHED CHARLOTTE AND EDGAR DISAPPEAR INTO the dusk-lit meadow. She slumped down beside Moritz. He was sprawled across the grass, snoring. Moritz was the only one who was nice to her. Otherwise, she was surrounded by traitors like Charlotte.
“If I were younger,” Hester said, eyeing Sonja with her one eye, “I’d have gone with them.”