The Crown of the Bandit King

by Matti Lena Harris

  At the pier’s end, I looked over the railing. Sweet Pea was right—there was no way we could jump. Far below us, the waves rose like mountains that crashed into the pier, sending huge sprays of foam into the air. Even if we did survive the violence of the waves, we’d be shredded on the sharp barnacles that encrusted the pier’s support posts.

  “Mighty powerful waves there. I hope you three kids aren’t thinkin’ o’ jumpin’,” a man’s voice said in a weird accent.

  We gasped and spun around, but it was only the old fisherman at the end of the pier, and he seemed normal enough. Well, mostly normal. He wore a black fisherman’s cap and a long, black raincoat. A pipe stuck out between his lips though his bushy gray beard hid most of his face. Beside him on the bench perched a fluffy white seagull.

  “Um, no sir,” Sweet Pea said, her eyes shifting from the fisherman to the Detective. “We won’t jump.”

  The fisherman gazed at the Detective, who was walking towards us in a hunched over sort of way, peering through the Magnifying Glass. He’d almost reached the middle of the pier. I shifted my feet. There wasn’t much time. The fisherman must have noticed my movement because he fixed his dark eyes on me. Then he smiled.

  “Bit o’ trouble?” he asked.

  Sweet Pea opened her mouth, but no words came out. Like she wasn’t sure what to say.

  “No need to explain. Ol’ Jack’s seen a bit o’ trouble too in his younger days. Tell you what. Why don’t you let ol’ Jack lend a hand? You there,” he motioned at Deeter, “you ought to be small enough to fit in the ice chest since it’s empty. Then we’ll see about hiddin’ the rest o’ you.”

  What other choice did we have?

  Jack lumbered over to the giant red ice chest sitting next to the bench and opened the lid. He motioned to Deeter.

  “In you go, then. Smallest catch o’ the day!”

  He laughed until his laughter turned into a booming cough. Deeter wrinkled his nose like maybe the ice chest smelled fishy.

  “There now,” Jack said, shutting the lid. “You girl, you look the right size to slip under the bench and keep hidden there. And you boy, you curl up on the bench as small as ya’ can, and I’ll cover ya’ with my rain slicker.”

  Sweet Pea ducked under the bench, and I scrunched up into a ball on the bench’s seat. My head was right next to that fluffy white seagull. It ruffled its feathers and snapped its sharp beak at me a few times.

  “No worries,” Jack said, chuckling. “He won’t bite. ’Less I tell him to.”

  Then everything went dark as Jack draped his raincoat over me. The fabric smelled like old fish and cigarette smoke.

  “Now, don’t you worry,” he whispered. “If that fella’ comes near, ol’ Jack will send him away.”

  I held my breath and listened. It wasn’t long before I heard footsteps, and then Jack’s voice.

  “Three kids, you say? No, no. There are no children out this end o’ the pier. If they went anywhere, I’m sure it must have been to the beach.”

  Jack’s voice sounded so smooth and pleasant, despite his weird accent. Suddenly he was a friend, a guide. And he knew exactly what to do, exactly where to go. Everyone else was confused and lost, but not Jack. All anyone had to do was follow Jack’s advice—go to the beach and look there instead. Then everything would be fine.

  The feeling was so strong, even I could’ve believed we weren’t here.

  There was a brief pause, followed by another man’s voice—the Detective’s probably—though it was too quiet to hear what it said. Jack’s voice started again.

  “Nothing for a kid to do on the pier, except maybe fish, and I’m the only fisherman here today.”

  Another pause followed. This time when Jack answered, his voice sounded slightly off. Strained, maybe.

  “Familiar? Well, don’t know as I’ve ever met you before. Can’t imagine a crusty old fisherman like me ever havin’ any business with an important man the likes o’ you. Folk say I have a familiar face. Maybe that’s what’s fooled you.”

  One last pause. A long one.

  “Ah, well. The best of luck to you, sir,” Jack said. “I’m sure you’ll find those three rascals soon.”

  After a minute or so, Jack slipped the raincoat off me while Sweet Pea climbed out from under the bench. Then Jack lifted the ice chest lid, and Deeter climbed out, still wrinkling his nose.

  The Detective was gone.

  “Thanks, Jack,” I said, shifting the backpack on my back. “We owe you one.”

  “Aw, now, you aren’t planning on leaving already, are you?” he asked.

  “Uh, yeah. We have things to do.”

  He stood in front of us, blocking our path, so I tried to edge my way around him. That fluffy white seagull, which had been so quiet this whole time, made a strange noise in the back of its throat.

  Almost like a growl.

  Things were already weird and creepy, which meant that trouble was next in line. I glanced at Sweet Pea to see if she was beginning to feel as nervous as I was. She nodded.

  “We have lots of things to do,” she said. “We’re very busy.”

  “Ah, it’s a pity. Not many folks stay and have a word with poor ol’ Jack. No one has any time anymore.”

  Jack waved his pipe at us—a pipe, but his raincoat smelled like cigarettes.

  “There is one thing before you go,” Jack said. “Just one small thing. Won’t take any time at all.”

  Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue tin box. On the front was a picture of a goldfish along with the words “French’s Fish Food,” but that wasn’t what made my stomach lurch.

  The tin canister of fish food was a Collectible.

  Chapter 14

  The Artisans' Carnival

  Well, at least this settled one question—the pier had definitely been a trap.

  Maybe we would’ve been better off with the Detective, after all. Sure, he might have locked me up in some dark, scary dungeon, but at least he hadn’t tricked us—not like this Fisherman Jack guy. Who knew what Jack had planned for us?

  As Sweet Pea, Deeter, and I stood there staring at him, the ocean waves crashed into the trembling pier. Those waves were the only things that moved or made any sound for a long time.

  “Do you think he’s the rogue Collector?” I whispered to Sweet Pea. She shook her head.

  “Give ol’ Jack the book,” Jack said, stalking closer, “and there’ll be no need to use this.”

  He waved the tin canister of fish food at us.

  But Deeter only laughed. “Or what? You’ll force us to eat fish food?”

  “We don’t have any books,” Sweet Pea said. “We’re here for a school field trip. We left our books at school.”

  “And I suppose that trenchcoated fellow was your teacher?” Jack asked.

  “Um, yes. That’s right.”

  Jack smiled, and his weird accent was suddenly gone. “You should leave acting to the professionals, sweetie. You’re not very good at it.”

  He stepped forward, so the three of us stepped back, closer to the edge of the pier.

  “The fish haven’t been biting this morning,” he said, “but let’s see if they’re a bit hungrier now.”

  That jumpy feeling came over me as Jack opened the canister and tossed the fish pellets into the ocean with a big dramatic swoop of his hand. At first, nothing happened. Then a monster bubble gurgled up to the surface from the depths of the ocean, followed by a splash.

  And another.

  “Ah, excellent,” Jack said. “Their appetite’s grown. Along with a few other things.”

  A dark shape swam beneath us, circling in the water under the pier. Whatever the shape was, it probably didn’t belong to the cute and cuddly category. It had friends too, at least four others, but we were right against the railing with nowhere else to go.

  Doomed.

  “I will shortly send thy soul to heaven,” Jack said, “if heaven will take the present at my hands. But first, I’ll give
you one last chance. Give me the book.”

  I glanced at Sweet Pea, and Sweet Pea glanced at Deeter, but none of us spoke or even moved. There had to be some way out of this, some escape—I just couldn’t see it. At least not for me.

  But Sweet Pea and Deeter, on the other hand….

  “I’m the one who has the book,” I said. “These two don’t have it, and they don’t know anything about it. This is between you and me. Let them go first. Then we can talk.”

  “What!” Sweet Pea cried.

  “No way.” Deeter crossed his arms.

  “Look, guys,” I said, “there’s no reason for you both to—”

  “Don’t even think about it,” Sweet Pea said. “If you even try, I’ll—”

  “You’ll what? Use your feather to stop me?”

  She glared at me.

  “Such fuss over a book.” Jack clicked his tongue. “The book means nothing to you, does it boy? You don’t hold loyalties to anyone. So why pretend you do? Give me the book, then everyone can go.”

  In the water, there was a tremendous splash. A fish as big as an elephant had jumped out of the water. Sweet Pea screamed, and at first I thought it was because of the giant fish. I glanced at her, but she wasn’t beside me anymore.

  Jack had grabbed her, and now he was holding her over the railing.

  “Enough talk, boy,” he said. “The book, or the girl.”

  I’d nearly lost Deeter once. No way was I going to lose Sweet Pea now. I tore off my backpack, unzipped it, and yanked out The Book of All Words.

  “No, don’t!” Sweet Pea struggled to free herself. “Imagine what will happen if you do!”

  But all I could imagine was what would happen if I didn’t.

  “That’s right. Give it here,” Jack said.

  “Don’t you dare, Rookie!” Sweet Pea cried. “He could destroy the world with that book!”

  “So? What’s the world ever done for me!” I yelled.

  But still, I couldn’t quite surrender.

  “What’s wrong, boy?” Jack asked. “Don’t you believe me? That I’ll feed your friend to the fishes? I’m so sick of people saying I’m unconvincing! Very well—I’ll prove it!”

  He dropped Sweet Pea over the side of the pier.

  “No!” I yelled.

  She let out a scream that made my stomach lurch more than any Collectible ever had. There was no way I could grab her in time, but Deeter was closer and quicker. He dived over the railing after her, and somehow he managed to grab the pier’s side with one hand and Sweet Pea’s wrist with the other.

  “Gotcha, Pea!”

  He gritted his teeth and held her tight. But he wasn’t strong enough to pull himself or her back up, so they both were left dangling over the water.

  Jack laughed at the sight.

  “Do you believe me now, boy? Give me the book, and I might be persuaded to help your friends climb back up. Otherwise….”

  Another giant fish leaped out of the water and snapped at Sweet Pea’s shoe, missing her foot by inches.

  “Just like a worm on a hook!” Jack said.

  I couldn’t let Sweet Pea and Deeter die. I couldn’t give away the book.

  What was I going to do?

  Deeter’s hand clenched at the splintered railing, his fingers slipping. There was no help, no one near. Only the giant fish swimming around in the rolling waves. I could just make out their faces breaking through the surface of the water, with their lidless eyes and big gaping mouths. One face was particularly ugly, with huge black eyes, a leering grin, and horns.

  A fish with horns?

  “Well, boy?” Jack asked. “We haven’t got all day.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “We don’t.”

  I shouldered my backpack. For once, that sly smile on Jack’s face slipped.

  “What are you doing, boy?”

  “You want the book? You’re a fisherman. Try fishing for it!”

  With that, I threw The Book of All Words over the railing.

  Jack cried out and rushed to the edge of the pier. The distraction gave me enough time to climb onto the railing myself.

  “You have to let go!” I shouted to Deeter. “Now!”

  At first, I didn’t think he would. Honestly, why should he trust me? But then, with a grin from Deeter and a nod from Sweet Pea, we held our breaths and let go. For one moment, as we fell, I thought we’d be fish food after all. Then we landed with a hard thunk on the Viking ship’s deck.

  Safe.

  No way Jack could get us now. He watched us from the railing, his seagull flapping and squawking by his side, but we were already sailing away from the pier fast. Soon, Jack became an angry, cursing speck in the distance.

  Deeter gave me a high-five. “Nice one, Rookie.”

  “It wasn’t me,” I said. “It was the ship. Somehow it sailed to the pier. I was lucky I saw it in time. But I don’t understand how it got there.”

  “It must have felt our need,” Sweet Pea said.

  “One of the things you gotta learn about magic, Rookie,” Deeter said, “is that it’s completely unpredictable. Collectibles have minds of their own.” He patted the ship’s mast. “Good ship.”

  “But what about the book?” Sweet Pea asked. “You threw it into the ocean! You lost it.”

  “Not quite,” I said, walking up to the front of the ship. There, right between the dragon’s horns, was The Book of All Words. Right where I’d intended for it to land.

  “I may not be good for much,” I said, “but at least I can aim.”

  I raised the book for Sweet Pea to see, and she grinned.

  “Nice one,” she said.

  “So what now?” Deeter asked. “We’re right back where we started. No Magic Eight Ball, and no clues.”

  Clues. Like the pink and blue flyer I’d found near the entrance to the pier when the Detective had arrived. I’d stuffed the page in my pocket and completely forgotten about it.

  “Wait a minute,” I said, handing the flyer to Sweet Pea. “What about this? I found one exactly like it at the Hiddleburg Park, too.”

  “What’s it say?” Deeter asked Sweet Pea.

  “It’s for a carnival that was set up at the pier last night. It says…oh!” She pointed to the bottom right corner of the paper. “Look!”

  Two small symbols stood out at the bottom of the page. The first one I’d seen before—that same strange hand surrounded by seven interwoven circles. Beside that was an image of a Ferris wheel.

  “Artisan’s marks,” Sweet Pea said. “This flyer isn’t for any normal carnival. It’s for the Artisans’ Carnival!”

  Deeter let out a whistle like he was impressed, but none of this made any sense to me.

  “The Artisans have their own carnival?” I asked.

  “Yes, but it’s difficult to find,” Sweet Pea said, “because it’s always moving and changing locations. It’s never in the same place twice, and it never stays at any place longer than a day or two.”

  “Sort of like the Magic Eight Ball?”

  Deeter and Sweet Pea both stared at me, their mouths hanging open.

  “Brilliant,” Sweet Pea said. “The Artisans hid the Magic Eight Ball in a traveling carnival. Small wonder no Finder’s ever been able to get it. To do that, you have to find the Artisans’ Carnival first. And that’s nearly impossible.”

  “But not for us,” I said, pointing to the flyer. “Look, here in the fine print it lists the carnival’s next stop. Some place called Edge Island. It says the carnival will be there tomorrow.”

  Sweet Pea frowned. “Edge Island. I wonder where that is. I’ve never heard of it.”

  “Let’s see if the Viking ship knows,” Deeter said. He ran up to the front of the ship and patted the dragon’s head. “Hey, Viking ship. Do you have any idea where this Edge Island is? We need to be there in time to catch the carnival tomorrow. Could you take us, please?”

  There was a pause, and then the ship surged forward so hard we were nearly knocked
to the ground.

  “Guess that’s a yes,” Deeter said.

  The Viking ship stayed true to its course and sailed throughout the night. Sweet Pea and Deeter spent much of the time trying to figure out who Jack was. Did he have any relation to the Professor’s student? Did he have any relation to Mrs. Hiddleburg or the businessman with the Black Umbrella at the park? Sweet Pea felt pretty confident that Jack wasn’t the rogue Collector, but maybe Jack knew him, or worked for him in some way?

  Who were these people?

  In the end, neither Sweet Pea nor Deeter could find any answers. And I was no help to them, of course. When morning came, we were jarred awake by a big, hull-shaking thud. The Viking ship had beached itself.

  Deeter rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Where are we?”

  “Edge Island, I guess,” I said.

  There were no people on the beach. Just a bunch of driftwood and huge fly-infested mounds of rotting seaweed. The waves smashed against the shoreline, scattering bits of broken shells and turning the water muddy. Not exactly a prime vacation spot—the whole place stank like dead fish.

  “Great place for a carnival,” Deeter said with a snort.

  “It’ll probably be up on that hill.” Sweet Pea pointed. “Beyond those cliffs.”

  “Carnival food for breakfast,” Deeter said, shaking his head. “There’d better be a good pancake stand up there. I’m tired of granola bars. A man’s gotta have real food to stay strong. Especially if he’s trying to save the world!”

  We didn’t find any pancake stands at the top of the hill, though. Only an empty field. In the distance, a couple of pelicans flying in the air swooped and plunged into the ocean. They were the only other living creatures in sight.

  Where had we gone wrong?

  “I don’t understand. Where’s the carnival?” Sweet Pea asked.

  “I’m about to give that Viking ship a piece of my mind,” Deeter said. “Then I’m gonna tell it to take me to a place where they serve an excellent breakfast!”

  With a huff, Deeter started to trudge back down to the beach. Sweet Pea shrugged at me and trailed after him.

  “Wait!” I called. “Don’t you hear that?”