by Temre Beltz
Headmaster Razzle sighed. “Yes, but when he does return to normal that simply must be the end for Oliver.”
Oliver shivered from the tip of his snout down to his curly pink tail.
“Hmmmm,” Council member Slickabee mused.
“Don’t tell me you’re being soft-hearted, Gulliver? We’ve been working toward this moment for decades! Master Von Hollow has orchestrated the showcase of a lifetime. We finally have a hope, a decent hope, of getting out of this disgusting swamp and having the citizens of Wanderly see us for the marvels that we are. I know it’s harsh, but we’re going to need all the help we can get, not the involvement of a boy that is an utter disaster.”
“Oh, did you think I was feeling badly for the boy?” Council member Slickabee asked. “To the contrary, I was simply remembering that I forgot to eat lunch, and I’m actually quite hungry.”
“Oh, how thoughtless of me! Do say you’ll stay for lunch?” Council member Slickabee nodded, and Headmaster Razzle continued, with a gleam in his eye, “I’ll escort you to the dining room myself, but first may I have a copy of the invitation? You did bring one for me, didn’t you?”
Council member Slickabee shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said. “I figure you ought to keep this too. I certainly don’t want to be caught with it while wandering around the Capital. I’d never explain my way out of that.”
He plunked the large vial of the Black Wreath down on Headmaster Razzle’s desk, while Headmaster Razzle carefully tucked the invitation into his top desk drawer. Without meaning to, Oliver craned his piggy head. He really, really wanted to see what was written on that invitation. Headmaster Razzle had mentioned something about a venue, but every performance Oliver had ever seen had been held right there in the swamp. Were magicians even allowed to hold a showcase outside the Swinging Swamp? And what was Master Von Hollow using that VIP for? The name alone—the Black Wreath—made Oliver shiver. It couldn’t be a special effect just for the upcoming showcase, because Council member Slickabee had said that Master Von Hollow had been using it for years.
Lately, Oliver had been so consumed by his quest to receive a hat that he hadn’t fully considered the weight of Headmaster Razzle’s words or what he’d meant when he said that the magicians’ roles were about to change. Nothing ever changed in Wanderly, except by decree of the Council. Had the magicians found a way around that? How—and at what cost?
But before Oliver could think on it any longer, Headmaster Razzle stooped down and swept Oliver into his arms. He wrinkled his nose. “Do you mind if we drop him in the dungeon on our way? I don’t want him running among the students and stirring up bothersome questions.”
“But don’t you think the other students will notice the boy is missing?” Council member Slickabee asked.
“Oh, don’t worry about that. Nobody notices Oliver. Nobody ever has, and nobody ever will.”
And though it was a terrible, awful thing to say, deep down in the secret places of his heart, Oliver worried that it was true. He worried that he would never be accepted by the rest of the magicians. And for the first time since determining to get his hat at all costs, Oliver wondered if a hat would be enough.
Nine
A Hater of Hats
Pippa and Ernest pushed through the double doors of Castle Cressida on their way to the Loyal Companions’ Barn. Pippa had already visited with her loyal companion a few times in the five days since the Loyal Companions “fiasco,”23 but it hadn’t really gone the way she’d expected. Her fire horse spent most of the time hanging his head, snuffling discontentedly, and doing a very good job of showing Pippa his backside. Today, however, would be their first official training session, and Pippa was glad for the help.
But Pippa and Ernest didn’t get very far. They hopped off the final golden step and promptly drew to a skidding halt. Lying on the ground in front of them was an enormous, messy tangle of ivy. The same suffocating ivy that grew back within hours every time Mistress Peabody ordered it cut down from Castle Cressida’s exterior.
The ivy lying on the ground, however, was brown and withered; it looked done for. And when Pippa looked up over her shoulder, Castle Cressida proudly glistened back.
“Ernest,” Pippa began, “have you noticed anything different about Castle Cressida lately?”
Ernest slid his glasses up along the bridge of his nose. “Well, other than this ivy, I guess there is something. . . . I mean, it’s sort of a weird something and a small something, but you asked if I’d noticed anything and so—”
“What is it, Ernest?” Pippa interrupted. She wasn’t trying to be impatient, but she also loathed being tardy. Not to mention, she’d heard rumors that Ms. Bravo would be dropping in, and Pippa was hoping to ask her at least some of the questions she didn’t trust Mistress Peabody to answer correctly.
“Lately, the boys’ bathroom has smelled like”—Ernest looked from left to right as if to be sure nobody was listening, then he lowered his voice to a whisper—“strawberries.”
“Strawberries?” Pippa repeated. “Interesting. And what did it used to smell like?”
An immediate look of disgust erupted on Ernest’s face. “Let’s just say not strawberries. Why do you ask?”
“I was just trying to figure out whether Castle Cressida is improving. Getting stronger, somehow.”
“Huh,” Ernest said with a shrug. “I hadn’t thought about it, but that sure would be a nice change.” He paused, looking carefully in Pippa’s direction. “I mean, if Castle Cressida really got spiffed up, I wonder if it’s even the sort of place you’d never want to leave. Just saying. . . .”
Pippa sighed. “It’s nice of you to say, Ernest. Really it is. But that’s not what makes a home, is it? At least that hasn’t been the case for me.”
“Oh, I was just thinking that maybe you were starting to feel differently. I mean, out of all the loyal companions in Wanderly, you were matched with a fire horse. The last time that happened was decades ago!”
“Ernest, have you looked at that fire horse?” Pippa asked. “Closely, I mean? He’s kind of a mess.”
Oddly enough, a slow smile spread across Ernest’s face. Pippa put her hands on her hips. “Why are you smiling like that?”
“No reason,” Ernest said, moving past Pippa with a slight spring in his step.
Pippa hurried to catch up with him. “Come on, what did I say?”
“Well, I might be wrong, but it almost sounded like you were worried about—uh, what was his name again?”
“Ferdinand,” Pippa said without thinking.
Ernest pumped his fist in the air. “You named him too? I knew it! You and Ferdinand have already bonded. And now for the rest of your life—”
“Whoa! Hold your horses there, Ernest,” Pippa said.
But Ernest’s grin only deepened. “I think you mean hold your horse.”
“You know, you really are a little bit stubborn,” Pippa said, brushing past him.
“Yes, and you’re moving very quickly for someone who’s not at all excited to see their loyal companion.”
As Pippa and Ernest continued to make their way down the gently sloping hill and into the lush green valley with the meandering stream, the red planks of the Loyal Companions’ Barn came into view. They were worn and weathered and perfectly inviting. The barn was bordered by three separate paddocks—one of which contained a melancholy-looking Ferdinand—and big bales of golden hay were stacked so high on one side they almost touched the roof. At the front of the barn, Ms. Bravo, with Dynamite perched on her shoulder, stood alongside Mistress Peabody. In Mistress Peabody’s arms was the glass bowl containing her loyal companion goldfish, Dixie.
Most of the other Triumphants were spread across the field, already working with their loyal companions. Pippa spotted Viola and her beaver, Choo-Choo, building a fort together out of a bundle of sticks, while not too far away Anastasia and her marmoset, Whisper, were practicing sneaking up on one of the other Triumphant boys and his goose (consid
ering the honking racket they were making, that wasn’t going to be too hard of a task). Prudence and her raccoon were busy using their nimble fingers to pick the locks on the paddock gates. Bernard, however, was standing all alone, a short distance away, and glaring at Pippa.
“Took you long enough,” Bernard said once Pippa and Ernest got closer. “Ms. Bravo wouldn’t let me do anything with Bob until you got here.24 And why are you always hanging out with him? He smells like a goat.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Ernest said with a bewildered expression. “Speaking of which, Leonardo is probably wondering where I am. Good luck on your first lesson, Pippa!” he said, before running off toward the barn’s large double doors.
Pippa drew in a shaky breath and glanced in Ferdinand’s direction. Although Ferdinand was one of Wanderly’s most legendary creatures, she tried to remind herself that (1) he was much smaller than she’d imagined, (2) a single spark was way more manageable than an entire flaming mane and tail, and (3) he wasn’t exactly brave and bold but instead undeniably glum.
Bernard followed her gaze and smirked. “Too bad your loyal companion’s broken, Pippa. It was almost a monudental achievement.”
Certain that Bernard had no interest in paying a compliment to her teeth, Pippa sighed. “‘Monumental,’ you mean?”
“That’s what I said,” Bernard insisted, jutting his chin out. “But I bet that’s why we never see fire horses anymore. They’re no longer worthy of Triumphants. And now that a fire horse has been paired with you, no one will ever doubt that again.”
“Yeah, well, broken things don’t have to stay broken, Bernard. Sometimes they get fixed.” And something inside Pippa’s heart seemed to click into place. Because if it was true of a fire horse, couldn’t it be true of her too? That no matter how bad things looked, there was still a reason to hope that she’d find her way home?
“And you think you’re going to fix him?” Bernard said, crossing his arms against his chest.
“I don’t know. But I don’t think heroes—real ones, anyways—,” she said with a sideways look in Bernard’s direction, “give up easily.”
Bernard waved his hand in the air. “That’s old-school stuff. Nowadays there’s one thing and only one thing that matters: a hero always wins.”
“That’s ridiculous, Bernard. No one can win all the time.”
“In Wanderly they can. In fact, the Chancellor’s guaranteed it. And the Chancellor’s never wrong.”
Pippa pressed her lips together. She thought the Chancellor was wrong about a great many things. For starters, he didn’t seem to have a complete handle on happy endings, otherwise Pippa wouldn’t have been dying to go back home to her common life with her common family. But standing next to two Council members didn’t really seem to be the right place to bring that up.
“Pippa, Bernard,” Ms. Bravo called out. “Please come closer.” Ms. Bravo paused before continuing, “First of all, congratulations. I’m sure I don’t need to explain to you that the relationship you share with your loyal companion is one of a kind.” On her shoulder, Dynamite squawked enthusiastically. “In fact, in all of Wanderly, perhaps nothing will serve to grow, sharpen, and challenge you more than your loyal companion. Wouldn’t you agree, Mistress Peabody?”
“Oh, certainly,” Mistress Peabody said. “It’s hard to know where I’d be without Dixie.” She lifted Dixie’s bowl so high in the air that a bit of water sloshed out the side. Mistress Peabody stifled a shriek as it splashed first on her cheek and then on the toe of her satin dancing slipper. Dixie, meanwhile, trembled inside the pink plastic castle at the bottom of her bowl.
Pippa frowned. Whatever wisdom Dixie had to impart, it didn’t seem like Mistress Peabody had learned all that much. But maybe that wasn’t necessarily Mistress Peabody’s fault—Dixie was a fish after all.
“Ms. Bravo,” Pippa asked, “how are we supposed to learn all that from our loyal companions when none of our loyal companions talk?”
Ms. Bravo beamed. “That’s part of the fun, Pippa. The learning process is different for everyone. It would hardly be satisfying if I told you outright.”
To the contrary, Pippa thought that would be very satisfying. She liked answers and certainty. Especially when those answers involved a creature capable of spontaneously bursting into flames. Ms. Bravo, however, seemed quite adamant, so Pippa continued, “And it’s hard not to notice how very different all of our loyal companions are. Why not just assign everyone the same sort of creature? Then we could all learn together, couldn’t we?”
Ms. Bravo nodded. “That is an excellent question, Pippa. And a timely one. The loyal companions are different because all of you are different, and despite what others say, it’s these differences that allow heroes to do their best work. One of a loyal companion’s most important functions is to serve as a mirror. Your loyal companion is meant to reflect the good in you”—she paused, and her voice grew a bit more serious—“and also the bad. A wise Triumphant learns to heed both.”
The weight of Ms. Bravo’s words—and the fact that he was paired with a brash, overconfident peacock—didn’t seem to register with Bernard. Instead, he said in a casual tone, “So are there ever any take backs?”
“Excuse me—take backs?” Ms. Bravo repeated.
For once, Bernard’s words made Pippa pause, and not because he needed correction. Was it possible that there were also take backs for such a thing as fairy godmothers? She could certainly use a less expensive one than Fairy Dash.
“Yeah, you know, like an exchange.” Bernard continued. “What if you don’t like your loyal companion? What if you think you were assigned the wrong one?”
Mistress Peabody glanced suddenly down at Dixie. She pursed her lips, as if considering whether she actually liked Dixie as much as she claimed to.
Ms. Bravo frowned. “There are no wrong assignments, Bernard. And a loyal companion isn’t like a coat you have lost interest in. If you find there are characteristics about your loyal companion that you don’t like, well, perhaps that is where your work should begin. On yourself, of course.”
A look of indignation flashed across Bernard’s face. “May we begin our practice now?” he asked through gritted teeth.
Ms. Bravo held his gaze a moment longer and then nodded her head. Bernard stomped off toward the paddock where his peacock, Bob, stood with his feathers fully fanned out and bowing profusely to an audience of absolutely no one. Pippa turned to leave as well, but Ms. Bravo stopped her.
“Pippa, I know the timing is a bit unfortunate, but Mistress Peabody has arranged for a reporter from the Wanderly Whistle to observe you and Ferdinand today. Now, everyone knows this is your first training session. This is not meant to put any pressure on you, but for once I can’t say I disagree with Mistress Peabody. Pippa, the discovery of a fire horse on Triumph Mountain, one that has returned to become a Triumphant’s loyal companion no less, will infuse this kingdom with some much-needed hope. Who are we to deny them that?”
Pippa frowned. “But, Ms. Bravo, I can’t take any credit for Ferdinand. I didn’t do anything special to get him. I honestly don’t know why it happened.”
What Pippa really wanted to confess, however, was that if giving Ferdinand back meant escaping Triumph Mountain and going home to her family, she would have done it in an instant.
For the first time since arriving at Castle Cressida, Pippa wondered if her attitude was a bit selfish. Ferdinand hardly looked to be in a good place. What if he’d come to Pippa specifically looking for help? If she didn’t help him, could she be certain that someone else would?
Ms. Bravo smiled kindly. “Perhaps that’s exactly the reason why the fire horse was chosen for you. Perhaps anyone else would have used the situation for their own gain. I daresay yours is a refreshing attitude these days, Pippa.”
“Oh? And what attitude is that exactly?” Mistress Peabody piped up.
“It’s called ‘humble,’ Griselda. Ever heard of it?” But before
Mistress Peabody could answer, Ms. Bravo turned back to Pippa. “Now, if there’s anything you need, just give a holler. And remember, go slow. Regardless of how he looks right now, back in the day, a herd of fire horses could take down any opponent.”
“Um, yes, about that,” Pippa said. “If I were to touch Ferdinand’s flames or even brush up against them accidentally, would they . . . burn me?”
“Absolutely,” Ms. Bravo said. “But only until you have gained his trust. After that, you can ride on his back while he’s fully engulfed in flames and never feel a single thing. At least that’s what the old stories say.”
Pippa tried to tell herself that was good news; that it was nice to know there would come a time when she didn’t have to worry about being burned to a crisp, but considering that time wasn’t likely now, when she made her way over to Ferdinand, her knees were knocking.
“Hello there, Ferdinand,” Pippa said softly.
If Ferdinand heard her, he didn’t show it. His head hung as low as it ever had, and a few flies buzzed noisily around his ears. Pippa had given him a bath the day after the Loyal Companions Ceremony, which had actually consisted of nothing more than lobbing a few buckets full of water at him from the other side of the fence. Still, it was a small improvement. In particular, with the caked-on coating of mud washed away, Ferdinand’s soft, golden Palomino shade would no longer be mistaken for dull brown. The knotty mess of his mane and tail, however, were a different story. Pippa knew horses didn’t do things like brush their hair, but Ferdinand’s mane and tail were interwoven with a multitude of branches, berries, and dead leaves, as if he’d been wandering all over Triumph Mountain, searching desperately for something. Sort of like the way Pippa was searching desperately for a way off Triumph Mountain.
Pippa frowned. “I don’t understand, Ferdinand. You’re already home. What is it that you could possibly be looking for?”
Pippa dug her hand into the pocket of her cape and pulled forth the sugar cubes Maisy had given her just that morning. Maisy, first-rate baker that she was, had assured Pippa they weren’t just any old sugar cubes, but a very special and secret blend she’d whipped up specifically for this purpose. When Pippa asked her if that purpose was I Will Not Singe My Triumphant Companion, Maisy had laughed, but not enough to wash away the worry in her eyes.