Loremaster

by Todd Fahnestock

  “Squeak,” Squeak said. I spun around and, after a second of searching, spotted him in the grass.

  “Open your little tunnel and get us back to Jimmy and his thugs. We can’t just leave them there.”

  “Squeak.”

  He ran in a zigzag then a circle, quick as a thought, then stared up at me.

  “What?”

  He bowed with an elegant flourish of his paws, and I followed the gesture.

  He had torn little chunks out of the grass to form a word.

  No.

  He pointed up at the rip in the sky. It was raw, flaming and ugly. The edges seemed like they were crawling with a thousand bugs of black and red fire. Squeak shook his mousy head.

  “We don’t have time for this, Squeak. They’re killing our friends!”

  He ran into the sunflowers, vanishing from view.

  “Squeak? Squeak, get back here.”

  I ran after him. He paused ahead, just long enough for me to see him, then dodged out of sight again. I followed him through to another clearing the size of a big trampoline. In the middle was a black rock that grew up out of the ground. It was shaped like a giant question mark. It had chisel marks all over it, and on the ground was a pile of glistening black stone chips.

  Squeak scurried up the pile, jumped onto the curved rock, and scrambled up until he sat on top. With a quick nip, he chipped off a piece of the rock. It clinked onto the pile with the rest.

  “Look, Dollface, you can’t use your pen,” he said.

  I opened my mouth and had a hard time closing it.

  He smoothed his whiskers, waiting.

  “You just talked!”

  “I’m always on the chatter. You just don’t listen too good is all.” His voice was deep, and he sounded like a mobster from one of those old-time movies. “But here, everybody gets the drift.” He gestured to the rock. “This place, it’s called Question Rock. It’s good for makin’ people understand each other. Or for getting truth out of a mook who lies. Especially if the mook that’s lyin’ to you is you. For Doolivantis, it’s where they look like their before selves. You know. The them that they used to be before they came here.”

  Any second I was sure he’d turn into a square-jawed, sooty-eyed gangster in a double-breasted zoot suit.

  “Yo, I’m actually a mouse,” he said, smoothing his whiskers.

  “Then why’s your voice sound like a, like a—”

  “Don’t strain the brain, Dollface.”

  I shook my head. “Look, all of this is great, and I’m glad I can finally understand you, but we have to save our friends.”

  “Our friends are safe as houses.”

  “Oh, really? That’s a relief. Because, you know, they looked so safe, what with Jimmy shouting ‘kill kill’, my bestie brainwashed, Theron hogtied by Licorice Man, and Gruffy on fire.”

  He smoothed his whiskers again like he was waiting for patience. “You got the smarts, Dollface. Use ’em. Why are you here?”

  “Because Jimmy took André and Jayla.”

  “And Jimmy took them to the Wishing World because why?”

  I blinked. Because Jimmy was making a bunch of Lorelei-hating Doolivanti thugs to beat me up. “Because he wants to destroy me.”

  “Good. Not great. He didn’t want to kill you. He said—”

  “He said kill the others but get me alive,” I said.

  “That’s usin’ your noodle,” Squeak said.

  I skipped past the part where a noodle is somehow a brain, took a breath, and tried to calm down. “And he wants me because . . . ?”

  “That’s the question, ain’t it? I’d put twenty large on the fact that he needs you for something, and he needs you bad. Otherwise he’d’a iced you the minute you showed up.”

  “You don’t know, then.”

  He shook his head. “Naw. I don’t know that. But I do know this: Jimmy is chewing his lip right now, tryin’ to figure out what to do next. He’ll keep your brother to bait you. He’ll keep Gruffy and Pip, too.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I know that goin’ after them right now is a trip for biscuits.”

  “A what?”

  “You’ll lose,” he said. “You’re behind the grind. You go back without bein’ ready, you’re makin’ his money for him.”

  “You’re saying I’d be helping him.”

  “You’re sayin’ that. But I’m agreeing with you sayin’ that. He played you for a sap ’cause he had a year to plan. And you had, what, five seconds? Don’t get your nose bent outta shape. When we trip the wire next time, let’s not give him what he wants. Let’s shove a carrot up his nose.”

  I laughed.

  “To do that, we gotta stay calm. Do it right,” he said. “Right now, you got nothing on your side but a good heart and a pen with two more spells before it pulls the world apart. That’s not gonna get the job done. There’s pieces to this puzzle. Let’s find ’em before we go lookin’ to get smacked around again. We need to know why he wants you so bad.”

  “Because he hates me and he’s dead crazy,” I said.

  “Yeah, he done it just to honk you off.”

  “Because he’s got a plan.”

  “You think?”

  I calmed myself. Okay. I thought of the obvious first. Jimmy brought Jayla and all his other thugs to the Wishing World. He brought André. He was now Mr. Flame in addition to being Mr. Annoying, and he had an army that could beat me.

  “Jimmy wants to rule the Wishing World,” I said. “The only reason he’d keep me alive is if I can somehow help him do that.”

  “Now you’re thinkin’ like a mouse.”

  “Except what could I possibly do to help him?”

  “Besides anything you want to when you raise that pen?”

  Fair point.

  “But I never would,” I said. “He knows that.”

  “And if he’s got a gat pointed at Gruffy?”

  “A what?”

  “He can make you do it, if he’s got the people you love.”

  “And he’s got almost all of them,” I said.

  “So, what next?” Squeak asked.

  I thought for a second, then, “We find Vella Wren.”

  He cocked his head. “Veloran?”

  “Not Veloran,” I said. “Vella,” I paused. “Wren.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Never heard of her.”

  “You have, you just don’t know it. She’s the most powerful Doolivanti in the Wishing World. She’s its ruler. You know her as Ripple. If she’s okay, she’ll even the odds against Jimmy. If she’s not okay, which is what I’m guessing, then we have bigger problems than a spat with Jimmy.”

  “You know this how?”

  “Because if the Wishing World is sick, then Vella is in trouble.”

  Seven

  The Sea Without A Ripple

  Squeak’s magic tunnel popped us out on the beach. It was the same beach where we had first met the Grumpalons, the giant crabs that had surfaced from the Eternal Sea and pledged allegiance to Princess Ripple, and the Flimflams, the winged were-foxes, clustering around their Doolivanti, André. That seemed so long ago, and I wished I still had Theron, HuggyBug, Gruffy, Pip, and Ripple by my side. That time, a growling storm churned over the Eternal Sea; Jimmy’s inky clouds had blocked out everything.

  This time, Ripple’s white palace glimmered on the clear, flat horizon. The sun shone bright overhead, and it made the water seem like a painting, especially since nothing was moving. The sea was as flat as glass. No waves lapped the sand. No Grumpalons greeted us.

  I watched the water for long enough that I convinced myself it was fake, then I walked up and stuck my toe in it. My foot went in and out. “That’s freaky,” I said, and a shiver went up my spine. “What kind of sea doesn’t move at all?”

  “Squeak,” said Squeak.

  A sea without a Ripple, that’s what.

  We needed a way to get out there. A boat. I remembered there had been a few anchored by
André’s living tree houses. Maybe we could take one of his boats—

  My gaze fell on André’s Silverweft trees.

  “No,” I whispered, covering my mouth with my hands.

  The majestic Silverweft trees had been burnt and blown down; they lay flat on the sand. I ran to them, holding in my scream. Singed silver leaves covered the beach like coins, and the beautiful interlocking branches poked out of the still water like charred bones. I stopped in the midst of the sad, dead trees.

  “Squeak,” said Squeak, by my side in a flash.

  “He fought,” I whispered. “André fought him.”

  There were no Flimflams. No Sir Tain, no Sir Vant, and no Sir Real. Of the many boats I had seen here last time, only a single rowboat remained unburned, lodged in the lattice of fallen branches.

  Squeak surveyed the scene. He blinked his little eyes once, then looked up at me.

  I thought about the first time I’d met André, before I even knew his real name, when I told him I wasn’t going to call him “Surreal.” I’d been so enchanted by his home, so eager to learn. And he had believed in me. Despite his worry about my power, he had trusted me.

  And then he—not I—had returned my family to me, returned my home to me. He gave up his art to bring them back to Earth, sacrificing what he needed to give me what I needed. And I had repaid him by pretending he wasn’t dying inside.

  Now his home was gone, trashed and crumpled in the water like garbage. I hadn’t listened to my friend—truly listened to him—when he needed me. And now there was this.

  “I’m doing this wrong,” I said, my voice catching in my throat. “People are getting hurt. Because of me. But I-I don’t know what else to do . . .” I looked up at the rip in the sky, and I was scared. I was stumbling around, ripping things apart. If it wasn’t for Squeak, I’d have killed the Wishing World this time to stop Jimmy.

  I pulled out my necklace, held Gruffy’s feather up. It was snow-white, so bright it almost didn’t seem real.

  “I’m broken and I don’t know why.” I cried quietly. “And I don’t know how to fix it.”

  “Squeak,” said Squeak.

  I ran my finger along the feather, feeling the softness, and I blew on it. I searched the sky, but no giant griffon appeared to save me, to show me how to be brave and strong, how to do the right thing.

  “Squeak,” Squeak said softly, putting his paw on my pant leg.

  I wiped my eyes and cleared my throat. “I know. This time, I have to save him.”

  We took the boat to Ripple’s island. I rowed and Squeak navigated us up to the marble docks, where a dozen other ships were tied. The water was crystal blue, and the sun shone pale overhead, glinting off white marble towers and glorious arches. Each corner of the giant square palace had a monolithic sculpture that spat water four stories down. A stone Grumpalon, one large pincer raised up to the sky, shot water from his claw. A Swisherswasher, twisted in an elegant corkscrew, blasted water over her flat tail, creating a spray. A giant whale-like creature with curling horns like a ram spouted from the top of his head. The fourth was a seahorse, the waterfall rushing out of her mouth over the walkway that surrounded the palace. Each plunged into their corner of the sea, hitting with the force of tons of water and making . . .

  . . . no sound. And no ripples.

  “That gives me the heebie jeebies,” I said.

  “Squeak,” he said.

  The tall archway at the top of the steps was gilded in blue curtains. Blue banners hung from the ramparts overhead.

  Nothing looked like how I remembered. Of course, with the storm last time, I hadn’t seen all of the cool things about Ripple’s palace. This time, the high, bright sun revealed it all. And, well, also the last time I’d been here, I kind of tore down the palace, ripped open the sky, and almost destroyed the world.

  I should have been happy about the fact that everything was rebuilt and shiny, but the palace felt like a museum, something you couldn’t touch because it wasn’t ever supposed to change. There should have been at least some kind of sound. Seagulls calling to each other. Somebody moving inside. Water sounding like water should.

  As we passed through the giant archway into the silent throne room, every step I took sounded like a hammer hitting the ground. The tall coral staircase that led up to her throne was empty, and the pools where Ripple’s friends would rise up to talk with their princess were as still as the water outside.

  “Ripple,” I called. My voice echoed off the marble walls. “Vella!”

  I went up the coral steps to her polished white wood throne, curved and covered in intricate designs. The back towered high over me, and the elaborate armrests were smooth and just the right distance apart to be comfortable for someone my size. The cushion was blue velvet, and it looked like it had never been sat upon.

  “She’s not here,” I said. “Something happened to her.” And the only question was: Was it Jimmy? Or was it something—or someone—else?

  Squeak scurried up the leg of the throne. He cocked his head, his nose pointing. “Squeak,” he said.

  I came closer. In the very center of the cushion was a single droplet of water. It blended so well with the blue velvet that I hadn’t even noticed it. No way did a drop of water just sit on that fabric without soaking in. No way.

  Was it some kind of gem? I reached out and touched it—

  It stuck to my finger. I drew a quick breath.

  “Squeak,” said Squeak.

  I held it up, eye-level. Something moved.

  “There’s something inside.” I squinted. It was . . . a person’s face. Blue hair. Blue skin. “Ripple!” The image was so tiny, but it had to be her. It was like a 3D portrait, shifting as I moved my finger back and forth.

  The pools of water below were each shaped like one of the creatures that inhabited Ripple’s ocean, and I had the sudden urge to fling the droplet into one of them.

  Because that was smart.

  No way. I’d lose it forever. I cradled my hand to my chest.

  “So you are the one,” a voice said from below. I spun around, searching the room. A girl emerged from the shadows behind the throne. She had wavy brown hair, pale skin and freckles, and she was younger than me, younger even than Theron. Maybe ten. She wore an old-fashioned black dress, white socks, and black shoes with big square buckles on them. She walked forward with her head cocked to the side, looking at me with eyes that were disturbingly large. Her movements were stiff, like she was a living mannequin. And every time she spoke, it was in a monotone.

  “Hi,” I said. “I’m Lorelei.” I came down from the throne to meet her, hiding the water droplet in my hand.

  “I am . . .” She hesitated a moment. “Connie. Connie Cobblestone. Vella told me I should try to not be so serious.” She had a light English accent, but nothing like Vella’s.

  Um, okay. “You know Vella? Where is she?” And are you the one who vanished her?

  The girl didn’t look powerful, but you didn’t have to look like much to do incredible things in the Wishing World.

  “You are the one she was waiting for,” Connie said. “She told me you would come, that you would bring fire to the sky, and that you could help Flicker.”

  “Flicker?”

  “Squeak,” said Squeak.

  “Ah! The missing Fire Princess?” I looked over at Squeak. He nodded in approval. Ripple, water. Flicker, fire.

  “I am glad that you are here,” Connie said. I was trying to put a finger on why her speech was strange. It wasn’t just the accent and the monotone. She was . . . formal.

  “Well, thank you,” I said, coming down the steps. “I’m glad you’re here, too.” I think. “I’d love to help Flicker. Do you know where Vella is?”

  “Vella says that it is important for me to be Flicker.”

  Double blank stare with a “what?” on top. I tried to work that through. “You’re Flicker? You’re the Fire Princess? That’s your Doolivanti self?”

  “Vella helped me
control the fire.”

  I blinked. “Which makes you Flicker,” I said. Again.

  She shook her head. “Yes.” She gave me a flat smile and nodded. “No.”

  Oh, great. Hi, Crazy. Jump in. The water’s warm.

  Eight

  A Quiet Conversation with Connie Crazyface

  “Are you Flicker?” I asked. “Or aren’t you?”

  She held out her hand, palm up and stared at it as if expecting something. Nothing happened. “Flicker holds the fire. She can live in fire. She can speak to it.” Connie paused, then said in a quieter voice. “And she keeps Agatha away.”

  “Who is Agatha?”

  “But the fire was stolen from Flicker,” Connie said, ignoring my question and looking up at me with her huge eyes. Were those even real-sized eyes? Or had the Wishing World changed her to give her larger-than-normal eyes? “And now it is broken. Flicker is . . . weak.”

  “Are you— Wait.” I snapped my fingers. “Gruffy said someone stole the power of the Fire Princess. Is that what happened? Jimmy stole your Doolivanti-ness! That’s why you’re not Flicker.” And that was why Jimmy was suddenly the “Fire King.”

  “Flicker makes it so fire does not hurt people. Vella says that this is a good thing. . . .” Her voice trailed off like she wasn’t sure, and she studied her feet.

  “She’s right. That’s a good thing,” I said. I was beginning to think Connie needed a little help to finish her sentences. She acted like, well, like a child.

  “But Agatha says everyone should burn,” Connie said, looking up, and I swear I saw flickers of flame in those giant eyes. “We have all done terrible things and should be punished.”

  Oooookay. Double twist your head around and put it back on top.

  I glanced at Squeak. He shrugged and said, “Squeak.”

  “Are Flicker and Agatha the voices in your head?” I asked.

  She gave a ghost of a smile. It was there and gone in an instant, like the flames in her eyes, and then she went back to looking like a Goth Disney doll with a fistful of scissors behind her back.

  I casually leaned over to get a glimpse behind her back. No scissors. “I say listen to Flicker. Not Agatha.”