Saving Fable

by Scott Reintgen

  The other statue looked old and stately. His hair was neat, and he wore an old-fashioned vest. He was saying, “Of course it’s connected, old boy. We didn’t all wake up by accident.”

  Indira saw that the name inscribed upon the cat’s statue had been filed away. A gilded C was all that remained of it. She managed to get within a few feet of them before the older gentleman cleared his throat. The two looked up at her with suspicion.

  “Restricted section,” said the man in the vest. “These books are not for innocent eyes.”

  Indira ignored him and turned to the tabby cat. She could see the fine pattern of his coat and the lovely speckling in his eyes, even though he was wrought in gold. A pair of crooked glasses completed the look. “Are you Checkshire?”

  The cat snorted and replied in an accent that sounded more like an old-timey gangster than a librarian, “No, I’m Christopher Columbus.”

  She pretended not to notice the sarcasm. “Indira Story.”

  “Congratulations, kid,” Checkshire shot back. “But you heard Horace. Our books? They ain’t for little girls and boys. They’re all dark and dreary and, you know, adult.”

  Indira strode right up to the front of the statue. She looked at the spot on the plaque where his favorite book should have been. It had been filed away too. Someone was covering their tracks. “What happened to your plaque?” she asked.

  The cat’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know nothing about nothing.”

  Indira glanced at the man in the vest, Horace.

  “You don’t think I’m going to actually believe that, do you?” she asked.

  The cat snorted. “You’re out of your depth, kiddo.”

  Indira decided to test him. “Was Brainstorm Ketty out of her depth, too?”

  Beyond them, perpendicular panes of glass showed the outside world. Lightning struck, bathing the narrow hall with white light. The statues exchanged nervous glances in the darkness that followed. Checkshire hesitated, then said, “Brainstorm Ketty? Never heard of her.”

  “You sure she didn’t come talk to you?” Indira traced a finger over his scratched-out title. “If I had to take a wild guess, I’d say she’s the one responsible for this.”

  Checkshire’s fur stood on end. He started pacing, and Horace looked around the room, as if the ceiling were now rather interesting. “You don’t know nothing,” the cat hissed.

  “Look.” Indira tried to make her voice calm. “I just want to help. She’s up to something. Whatever she’s doing, it can’t be good.”

  “Oh, just tell her, Checkshire.” Horace looked afraid now. “You can’t get in trouble for being threatened and robbed, old boy.”

  Checkshire scowled at him. “Horace! You rat! You told me you’d take it to the grave.”

  “I’m already dead,” Horace said primly.

  “She’s attacked one of my professors,” Indira interrupted. “I’m pretty sure it will happen again if I don’t do something. You have to help me!”

  “All right, all right! I gave her the book.”

  Horace gasped at Checkshire’s confession.

  “What are you gasping for, Copernicus? You were there! Look, kid, you have to know it wasn’t my fault. I did the best that I could. Told her to get lost.”

  “And?”

  “She kept coming back and asking about the book. But you’d be proud of your uncle Checkshire. Didn’t budge. I says, ‘Restricted means restricted, miss.’ She don’t give up. Keeps trying to convince me that, since she’s some big-shot brainstorm, she deserves to have the book. She makes me these offers and how do I react, Horace?”

  “A vault,” Horace said kindly. “Not a word.”

  Checkshire kept pacing, his thick tail waving through the air. “But it all changed when we figured out that, hey, she just happens to be a wizard!”

  “Ketty? She’s not a wizard.”

  “Tell that to Louie!” Checkshire pointed a paw toward the puddle of gold on the floor. “One day she comes up here and changes her tactics. She says if I don’t give her the book, she’s going to figure out at what temperature gold melts. You know, playing the tough guy.

  “I call her bluff. But then, kapow, she melts Louie. I’ve never seen someone go so quick. Thank God she melted Louie instead of Horace. I mean, may he rest in peace, but I couldn’t have spent an eternity with Louie rattling on and on about how great this and that is. And so, you know, I didn’t exactly need Horace here to tell me we should play ball. I gave her the book.”

  Another bolt of lightning lit the dusty windows.

  “What book did she want?”

  “My favorite,” the cat replied sadly. “The Raven King’s Recipes.”

  Indira frowned. “The Raven King? Never heard of him.”

  “One of the greatest wizards to ever live,” Horace supplied. “In the Real World and in Imagination. Some of his spells are still used in Fable, you know. His recipes were extensive.”

  “Why did Brainstorm Ketty want them?”

  Checkshire adjusted his glasses. “We weren’t sure. At first.”

  “But you are now?” Indira asked.

  “The signs are obvious, kid,” Checkshire replied. “All these fluctuations. The storms kicking outside these windows. The statues all awake at the same time. She’s messing with the connections between the worlds.”

  “Dreams,” Indira said, thinking. “All the characters had dreams of the Real World.”

  Another exchanged glance. Horace shook his head, like it was all a pity.

  “Dimensions,” Checkshire said. “She’s playing with the borders. Maybe she’s trying to get to the Real World? Or maybe she’s trying to bring someone from the Real World here?”

  “But why?” Indira asked. “She’s a brainstorm. She can go there whenever she wants.”

  Horace answered, “There are limitations. Restrictions. Brainstorms can visit the Real World, but they aren’t permitted permanent visas. They have to return to Imagination.”

  Indira nodded. She remembered Maxi saying the same thing. Checkshire pointed a golden paw in her direction. “And if she’s messing with the king’s spells, there could be serious cross-dimensional consequences.”

  “Like what?” Indira asked. “A few storms?”

  “Storms? A little lightning will be the least of your worries. Let me make this clear. The Raven King was unique. He knew magic. He built most of the connections between the worlds in the first place. Called the King’s Roads. But he was a powerful, powerful sorcerer. I’m not trying to speak ill of Brainstorm Ketty, but she’s no Raven King. Clearly, she’s messing around with his spells. Storms? That’s just a side effect. If she actually succeeds in whatever she’s got planned, though? You can kiss your school goodbye!”

  Indira waited for the cat to say he was kidding or exaggerating, but he just shook his head sadly. “We’re stuck in here, kid. It’s not hard to put two and two together. You’re the one that has to take this to the brainstorms if you want to put an end to it.”

  “I already went to the brainstorms,” Indira said. “They don’t believe me. I told them Brainstorm Ketty was behind the attack on my professor. They wanted more evidence.”

  “What happened to your professor?” Horace asked.

  “Brainstorm Ketty took his eyes and his voice.”

  Checkshire’s tail whipped back and forth in nervous fright. “Now that I give it a think, that’s one of the king’s spells. I don’t even want to know what she would do that for. The book is the key, kid. If you get the book, that’d be enough evidence to put her away.”

  “Give me a copy, then,” Indira said. “I’ll take it to the brainstorms.”

  Checkshire shook his head. “Tough luck on that, kiddo. Most books have duplicates. The Raven King’s Recipes is unique. I got no more copies to give.”

&n
bsp; “Can’t you make it overdue or something?” Indira asked. “Recall it from her?”

  The cat shivered. “Too risky. She’d come back for me! I’m not going like Louie.”

  “But we could put a stop to all of this,” Indira said stubbornly.

  “Even as a statue, I prefer to not be melted down to gold coins by evil wizards.”

  “Then what?” Indira asked helplessly.

  “Get the book,” Checkshire said. “Find her copy and turn her in. Piece of cake.”

  “So I have to risk my life when you won’t risk yours?”

  “Hey, you’re the hero, kid. I’m just your average cat librarian from the city.”

  Indira slipped her hammer from her belt.

  “And what if I threaten you? Recall the book or else.”

  Checkshire smiled sadly. “Nice try, kid. Evil is evil. And you ain’t the type.”

  Indira flushed with frustration. “Fine, don’t help me.”

  “Look,” the cat whispered. “It’s a red book, black letters; cover has a raven taking flight on it.”

  “Can’t you tell me anything else?” Indira asked.

  “Be careful?” Checkshire offered.

  Horace nodded, as if that were indeed sound advice. Indira lifted her hammer and gave the cat a little poke on the shoulder. Checkshire let out a sharp protest that followed her back through the rows of golden statues. She had a lead, but it didn’t look like help would be easy to come by. She just hoped Maxi was having more luck and that their meeting the next day would let them piece together the clues they both had gathered.

  There was still the IMMINENT THREAT thread to unravel. Indira wasn’t sure what the label meant. Outside, the dark clouds loomed ominously overhead once more. She made her way home and she finally knew for sure: Brainstorm Ketty was up to something big.

  At dinner, Indira tried to remain calm and play it cool.

  Indira knew she could ask Mrs. Pennington anything, but now she had a better idea about the kind of person Brainstorm Ketty was. She couldn’t risk the Penningtons getting hurt because of her. Especially when they were so close to getting in a story of their own. What if Ketty sabotaged them? The brainstorm had actually destroyed one of the statues to get her way. And now it was clear she had cast one of the Raven King’s spells on Dr. Montague. The situation could get far more dangerous.

  There were two places Indira thought the book could be. Brainstorm Ketty’s office was one of them, but Indira felt that would be a risky place to keep it. The other possibility was in her private residence. Unfortunately, Indira had no idea where that was. She couldn’t overlook either option, but she was running out of time. Maxi wanted to meet the next afternoon. Indira already had the information she’d learned from Checkshire, but she was hoping to show up with hard evidence. They couldn’t risk taking this to the other brainstorms with anything less than an airtight case.

  Back at school, talk continued to center on the strange dreams. Curious interest, though, was slowly transforming into fear and concern. Indira’s next step: Brainstorm Ketty’s office. She could think of only one way of breaking into the office and making sure she wasn’t caught. But she couldn’t do it without help. As she walked into Hearth Hall, her eyes settled on the spot where she normally met Margaret. Indira frowned at her absence. Maybe she was still suspended?

  Instead, she found Phoenix waiting for her. She wasn’t surprised to find him waiting in front of the Luck Hearth. They were going to need all the luck they could get to take Ketty down.

  “Hey,” Indira said softly. She had planned to say more, but the words sort of sat on the tip of her tongue instead of coming out. Phoenix turned, a smile on his face.

  “You mentioned something about new clues?”

  She nodded. “And they all lead to the same place. Want to set something on fire?”

  He grinned at that. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Thirty minutes later they were in position. Both of them were nervous, but she kept telling herself that breaking a rule was okay if you could stop something completely terrible from happening. Checkshire had said that the spells Ketty had access to now had cross-dimensional consequences. What would happen if the school shut down? Or if the entire world of Imagination started to fall apart? Indira couldn’t just sit by and let that happen.

  The two of them stood at the center of an empty classroom. Indira held a desk steady as Phoenix climbed on top of it. Standing, he could almost reach the ceiling’s sprinkler. Indira craned her neck. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she said. “You might get in trouble.”

  “Weird stuff is happening,” Phoenix answered. “If what you and Maxi said is true, we have to do this. Doing nothing isn’t an option.”

  Indira nodded. “I’m ready.”

  Phoenix coaxed a little flame into the palm of his hand. It started off like the flick of a lighter. He leaned forward and blew on it, shaped it, let it grow. The flame flickered into something bigger and rounder. He held it up to the sprinklers for a few seconds until they kicked on. A shrieking alarm sounded in the halls and throughout the school. Phoenix leaped down from the desk and sprinted for the door. His shoulders were dotted with water, but not suspiciously drenched. He flashed her a good-luck smile and slid into the masses of students exiting classrooms and making their way out of the building.

  They had purposefully picked a room that was close to the brainstorms’ offices. Indira waited as the alarms wailed. She jammed into a corner so as little of the water as possible was spraying her clothes. After a few minutes, she cracked the classroom door open. A flash of movement came left to right, and she darted back into shadow. Breathing heavily, she waited a few moments, then glanced back out. Brainstorm Vesulias was standing with his back to her, shouting for students to move in an orderly fashion toward the front entrance of the school.

  Indira waited and waited, and it felt as if the brainstorm stood there for an eternity. She was about to give up when he followed after the last trail of students. Indira slipped down the hallway and headed straight for the offices. The alarms wailed overhead, and she checked both ways before slipping her hammer out. She spun it to the breaking side and hefted it back. She caught herself on the downswing, though, seeing Brainstorm Ketty’s door handle twist. In a panic, she flattened herself to the wall. Ketty came out in a hurry. The woman closed the door behind herself, bustled into her dragon-scale jacket, and went down the hallway without looking back.

  Chest heaving, Indira turned back to the door and tried the handle. Locked. She hefted her hammer again and knocked the handle away with a single swing. The metal snapped free of the wooden circle, and Indira wedged the door open with ease.

  Inside, she took a deep breath and began searching for Checkshire’s restricted book. Stacks of paper were scattered, and a variety of ornaments and keepsakes decorated the shelves. She saw a handful of books, but none with red spines or black letters. Carefully, she opened each drawer of Brainstorm Ketty’s desk. Almost all of them were empty.

  She was working her way through a cabinet when the alarms went silent. Her eyes scanned the room in panic. She had to get out. Now. People were going to be coming back into the building. If she didn’t leave, she wouldn’t have a chance. She pulled at the dangling knob, cracked the door open, and peeked down the hallway.

  All three brainstorms were waiting. Their backs were turned as they spoke to passing students who were funneling through the entrance. The classroom she needed to get to was too far. She closed the door and twisted her hammer to the fixing side. With a solid strike, purple light sliced into the room. The doorknob shivered, blinked, and was as good as new.

  “All right,” Indira said to herself, remembering the backup plan she and Phoenix had discussed. “I’ll pretend that I came here to see her about my grades and got confused when the alarms went off.”

 
; Indira realized that the blackboard was filled with Ketty’s chaotic lists. She had a minute or two, tops, to check the other boards. She launched herself around the desk and fumbled for the buttons. She saw the name DARBY MARTIN again. Why did that student keep showing up? She’d never even heard of the kid. The next page listed Authors. Indira saw some highlighted names, but nothing suspicious.

  Next: a random page of doodles.

  Next: the board went blank.

  Indira stared at it for a few seconds and was about to press the next button when she saw something appear. In a thin chalk outline, a white archway emerged. She watched an invisible hand color the arch with a light shading. Not an arch, she realized, but a door. Indira couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She set her hand flat against where the handle was drawn and felt cold metal. She gave it a tug. White dust coughed into the air as the door groaned open on black hinges. A tunnel led into the waiting darkness.

  It was a secret passageway.

  Indira felt the need to see where it led, but doubts ran through her. If she left this way, the door would still be on the board when Brainstorm Ketty returned to her office. The brainstorm would know that someone else knew. She wouldn’t know it was Indira, but she’d be alerted to the fact that someone was onto her. Indira couldn’t leave by the normal doorway, either, not with the brainstorms hovering at the end of the hallway.

  Taking a deep breath, Indira made up her mind. She squeezed past the chalk door and closed it firmly behind her. As she did, the latch on her side vanished. She patted the wall, but it was flattened stone now, without a place to grip or pull.

  “Great,” she muttered. “I hope I’m not stuck in here.”

  A kind of half darkness dominated the tunnel. She couldn’t see her hands, but she could see a little glow in the distance. Carefully, she hugged the wall, tracing it with her hands, and it was only by sheer luck that she didn’t go tumbling down a hole in the walkway. Her breath came in heaving gasps, and she leaned over, feeling for breaks in the stone.