by Temre Beltz
A witchy voice, presumably Witch Wendy’s, shrieked, “I’ve got your back, Yolanda! I always smell the kiddies, and when that boy walked into your private chamber, you betcha I called the Quill lickety-split!”
“I know this looks bad,” Oliver whispered. “So, so bad. But you have to believe me!”
A shadow flickered across Ms. Bravo’s face. “What kind of a magician tells on his own kind?”
Oliver gulped. He didn’t have time to explain that he wasn’t actually a magician, so instead he answered, “The kind that cares about Wanderly.” And then, remembering Pippa’s words, remembering what he desperately wanted to be true, he added, “The kind that calls Wanderly home.”
The door began to creak and groan beneath the heavy sole of an officer of the Quill’s boot.
“Hey, easy on the decor there, fella!” Witch Wendy chided.
Not a moment later, the door burst open. A large officer with a square head and block shoulders wrapped one hand around Oliver’s neck. He lifted Oliver right off the ground, jostling the table and causing the little vial of Black Wreath to roll toward Oliver. Oliver didn’t know why, perhaps merely out of instinct, but he wrapped his fingers tightly around it, and as the officer swung him toward the door, with his feet kicking and causing a hearty commotion, he slipped the vial back beneath his cape and no one saw.
On his way out, Oliver tried to catch Ms. Bravo’s eyes one last time, but she had settled comfortably into her seat. She brought her cup of steaming drinking chocolate near to her lips, as if all that time she’d merely been waiting for Oliver to leave so she could resume her midmorning snack.
Oliver had failed, in every sense of the word, but even worse than that was how foolish he felt for ever believing it could have turned out any different.
Seventeen
Down in the Dumps
Change was afoot at Castle Cressida.
In the dining hall, the unveiled tapestries of Triumphants and loyal companions past fluttered cheerfully from the rafters. Outside, the golden steps gleamed in the afternoon sunlight. And underfoot, the very ground upon which Castle Cressida stood had taken to periodic bouts of quaking.
At first, Pippa had been quite alarmed. She wondered if Castle Cressida had grown so dilapidated that it was breaking apart at the seams. But now she had come to quite the opposite opinion. Castle Cressida wasn’t falling apart; it was coming to life. And she couldn’t help thinking that it was in direct response to the Triumphants’—at least a small group of them—making an effort to become the heroes they were always meant to be.
After a long and typically useless morning of instruction from Mistress Peabody (the day’s subject had been twofold: “The Art of the Perfect Wave” and “Strengthening Your Strut”), the Triumphants finished their lunch buffet and were entering their daily period of rest. Though on most days the hours between one o’clock and four thirty seemed to stretch endlessly on, Pippa was glad for it today. She and Ernest had already scheduled another training session for their small group of mobilizing Triumphants at two o’clock sharp. But first, she was on her way to the kitchen to see Maisy. If Pippa had delighted in Maisy’s chocolate chip cookies, cinnamon rolls, and butterscotch candies beforehand, she could only imagine how delicious (and magical) her newest creations would be.
Pippa had made it only halfway down the hallway, however, when a loud whinny rolled in from the nearest window. Pippa’s stomach flip-flopped. There was only one horse who currently called Triumph Mountain home, and that was Ferdinand. But as far as anyone else knew, Ferdinand wasn’t supposed to be there. Ferdinand was supposed to be in the care of the Quill, as far away as the Capital, and awaiting an interrogation, er, visit with the Chancellor—not stowed safely away in the Triumphant Training Forest.
Pippa rushed to the window and, sure enough, spotted Ferdinand prancing about in plain sight just beyond Castle Cressida’s famed golden steps! Pippa didn’t hesitate. She sprinted down the hall and burst through Castle Cressida’s front door. She even remembered to close the door behind her. But I regret to inform you, she did not stop to look back at the window where she’d just been standing. And she did not see the other Triumphant girl stepping up to the glass or the way her fingernails scraped against the paint on the windowsill as her eyes narrowed, taking in the sight of Pippa and her fire horse.
All Pippa saw was Ferdinand.
Ferdinand veritably danced around her. He snorted and bobbed his head up and down. He buried his nose beneath the folds of her cloak as if searching for a snack. Pippa could scarcely believe her eyes.
“Ferdinand, what has happened to you?” she said in a whisper.
For he looked like a different horse. Though he was still small in stature, Pippa could no longer count every single one of Ferdinand’s bones. His golden coat shone beneath the brilliance of the sun, and there wasn’t a speck of mud to be found on him. His once gnarled mane and tail were now silky, full, and illuminated by a soft glow. Though Pippa could still see a shadow of the sadness Ferdinand carried on his shoulders since the day they met, its weight seemed to have lifted—just enough for a bit of happiness to exist alongside it, allowing Ferdinand to proudly raise his head once again.
Pippa ushered Ferdinand back toward the Triumphant Training Forest, where they took cover beneath the dense foliage. She stroked the velvety fur on Ferdinand’s neck, deep in thought. The day before, Viola had learned that, like her loyal companion beaver, she wasn’t just good at making brick castles, she was a creative problem solver and determined to boot. Simon had marveled over how his loyal companion tortoise wasn’t just slow and stubborn, but also steadfast, resolute, and solid as a rock. And Ernest had decided that all the reasons that students such as the Bumbles turned their noses up at Leonardo—his strong aroma, his balding front knees, his bucky front teeth, his overall “un-Triumphantness”—were the very same reasons why Leonardo’s presence on Triumph Mountain was so important: he was proof that there wasn’t just one mold for a hero.
Pippa took a deep breath. She looked into Ferdinand’s eyes framed by his long, soft eyelashes. “If you’re my mirror, Ferdinand, what are you telling me?” she asked.
Ferdinand merely blinked. But when he did, Pippa caught sight of a reflection in his gaze. And she gasped when she saw her mother’s eyes looking back at her. A choked whisper spilled out of her. “Mother?”
And then again, her voice rising, “Mother?”
It was not, of course, Pippa’s mother’s eyes that were looking back at her. They were nothing more than her own, a mere copy of the original, but the reminder made Pippa miss her mother so desperately and so suddenly that she began to cry. And as if she were making up for all the very many days that she had been gone, as if she were calling out about all the things that, for once, her mother had not been there to fix, as if she finally realized what it meant to call the name of someone you love and have them answer, Pippa whispered again, “Mother?”
But everything was silent.
Pippa collapsed, sobbing, against Ferdinand’s warm body. She stayed that way until he began nosing through her hair and tickling her cheek with his soft whiskers. She pulled ever so gently away. And when she looked into his eyes her reflection hadn’t changed, but her heart lifted the smallest bit. Her mother still wasn’t there, but she hadn’t disappeared either. There were pieces of her in Pippa. And maybe that’s how it was with all of them. Mother, Father, Charlie, Jane, Louisa, the triplets, and Rose all inextricably stitched into her, a part of her. Always.
Pippa stroked Ferdinand’s nose. “You are alone and so am I. But we don’t have to be lost, do we? We know who we are, because we know where we’re from, and nothing will ever change that.” Pippa paused. She frowned. “Oh, Ferdinand, I’m so scared of what’s to come! All I wanted was to leave Triumph Mountain, but I’d stay here forever if only it would keep my family away from the picnic.”
As if in answer, the trees around them began to whisper. The dirt and dust on the ground ros
e up as if infused with magic. And the Winds of Wanderly swept into the Triumphant Training Forest. Ferdinand’s mane and tail streamed gloriously behind him, his nostrils flared, and in the face of the Winds, he bowed his head ever so slightly. Pippa’s breath caught in her throat as a bright green shiny beetle buzzed near and then burst into a cloud of metallic green dust. The Winds quickly sifted it into a letter and laid it gently down at her feet. By the time Pippa bent to pick it up, the Winds were already gone.
Pippa’s hand began to tremble. The only person she had ever exchanged letters with via the Winds of Wanderly, or otherwise, was Oliver. Once he reached Ms. Bravo at the Capital she had assumed she would see them both in person.
She brought the letter near and read:
Dear Pippa,
Wow. I didn’t realize how nice it would be to sit down and write you a letter without pretending to be a fairy godmother. Sort of like you’re my actual friend. Considering the way things started out between us, and my track record when it comes to friends (I have zero unless you count rowboats), it’s the last thing I expected to happen.
I do, however, have some bad news. The worst news actually.
I found Ms. Bravo, but she didn’t believe a single word I had to say. Part of that was probably because of the Wanted posters plastered all over the Capital with my picture and a reward of 1,000 grubins! Can you even believe it, Pippa? One thousand grubins for ME, an eleven-year-old hatless magician. I guess the Council thought my list of suspected offenses was a big deal because I’ve seen witches wanted for half that amount.
Don’t feel bad about trusting Ms. Bravo, though. You’re right. She really likes you. I think that’s why she was so suspicious of me. Well, that and the fact that I got caught toting around a vial of an ultra-wicked potion called the Black Wreath. I snagged it completely by accident while escaping from the witch whose broomstick I stole (yep, she found me), and I completely forgot I had it. Once Ms. Bravo found it on me, and the Quill came to take me away, there just wasn’t time to explain. I guess that witch got her revenge after all.
Now I’m here, in the Den for Traitorous Individuals, waiting for a hearing on my Council detention. The Den Master said waiting could take anywhere from three days to seven and one-half years, but honestly maybe that’s all right. It’s not like anyone’s ever gone to a hearing and been found innocent, which means it’s only downhill from here.
Pippa, if you knew me better, you probably would have known this letter was coming. I normally fail at everything. But I’m not used to failing when other people are counting on me. I don’t think anyone’s ever done that before.
This will also probably be my last letter. My current holding cell’s one of the only ones with a small crack in the ceiling, but I can’t imagine the Winds of Wanderly squeeze into this place often. I think I’m lucky they’ve even arrived to deliver this letter.
So I hope you find another way to get help from Ms. Bravo. I hope you and Ferdinand knock the magicians’ socks, or should I say hats, off. I hope Maisy can now officially step into the role of your fairy godmother. And I hope that whatever happens on the night of the Fall Picnic, nobody gets hurt.
I’m scared for us both, Pippa. But I guess that’s why this was all worth it in the first place. Heroes are worth trying to save, even if it means we lose everything else.
Bye for now,
Oliver
Pippa lowered Oliver’s letter. She swallowed back the knot in her throat. Oliver had been captured. Oliver was in a holding cell for a Council detention, and soon his fate would be determined by a whole list of suspected offenses. How could she have let him go to the Capital? Maybe there really was something to the Chancellor’s roles. Maybe by sending a non-Triumphant to do Triumphant work, Pippa had endangered Oliver, and for what?
For herself. For her family.
Pippa hung her head. She still didn’t know much about what it really meant to be a hero, but she was learning more and more about what being a hero wasn’t. It wasn’t all about winning, and it wasn’t only thinking about yourself. Heroes considered others. Pippa had wanted to save her own family so desperately that she hadn’t thought about what was really at stake for Oliver.
“How can I help you now, Oliver?” Pippa whispered, looking off into the distance. “What can I possibly do?”
Pippa jumped at the sound of a twig snapping, and at least twelve flames on Ferdinand’s mane ignited. The flames snarled and crackled, whipping around Ferdinand’s face.
Pippa frowned. “What is it, boy?” she asked. “What’s upset you?”
“Surely it isn’t me, is it? Animals and children love me,” Mistress Peabody’s voice rang out as she moved artfully past a row of bushes. She was flanked by none other than everyone’s favorite Bumbles, Prudence and Bernard.35 Pippa’s gaze fell to where Mistress Peabody was clutching a halter and lead rope so tightly that her knuckles were white.
“Don’t feel too badly about Ferdinand’s naughty behavior, Pippa. Not all loyal companions are well behaved when they first arrive. It seems even a fire horse is no exception.”
Pippa frowned. “Naughty behavior? But Ferdinand hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“I beg your pardon, Pippa, but you don’t think it’s wrong to run away from an officer of the Chancellor? I received the report just this morning that Ferdinand was on his way to the most important appointment of his life when he slipped out the back of the officer’s carriage and galloped away.”
“He—he did?” Pippa said.
“Of course he did! He’s standing right next to you, isn’t he? I was just beginning to wonder where he might have run off to, but, thanks to Prudence’s timely reporting, it is no longer a mystery and perhaps this story can still get its happy ending.” Mistress Peabody thrust the rope in Pippa’s direction. “Now go and tie him up, dear.”
Beside Mistress Peabody, Prudence fumed. “But, Mistress Peabody, I told you that—”
“Quiet!” Mistress Peabody interrupted. “Let us give Pippa a chance to do what Triumphants do best. First and foremost, we must always honor the Chancellor, and because he has put me in charge of this academy, that means you must honor me.” As if it were as easy as all that, as if there were not a single thing more to be said about the matter, Mistress Peabody’s grave tone lightened. “Come now, if we secure Ferdinand and send him back on his way, the Chancellor may hardly notice that he was late.”
Pippa bit her lip. Beside her, Ferdinand continued to flame. He had come so far. He and Pippa had grown to trust one another, and maybe, just maybe, they really were meant to be companions for life. Pippa couldn’t imagine trying to defend Triumph Mountain against the magicians without him. But above all, Triumph Mountain was Ferdinand’s home—if he went off to see the Chancellor, what if he never found his way back? Pippa couldn’t let what happened to her happen to Ferdinand too.
Pippa took a few unsteady steps in Mistress Peabody’s direction. She wrapped her fingers around the rope Mistress Peabody dangled in front of her. But when she walked back to Ferdinand, she didn’t coo at him or rub her hand softly along his neck to settle him down. Instead she jerked her arm high in the air and brought the rope crashing down as if it were a whip. It made a loud and unsettling crack against the ground, and Ferdinand started. He reared up on his hind legs and danced backward. He eyed Pippa with a look of wild confusion.
“Git!” Pippa forced herself to shout. “Go on, Ferdinand, git!” And then beneath her breath, “I’m sorry. . . .”
With one more crack of the rope, Ferdinand bolted. He streaked through the Triumphant Training Forest in a blaze of light. Pippa stood and watched until the bleak shadows of the forest crawled back into place. When she finally turned around, Mistress Peabody’s jaw was agape.
“I don’t understand it. My instructions couldn’t have been more clear. I told you to—”
“Do what Triumphants do best,” Pippa finished for her. “And I always understood that to mean doing the right thing.” Pippa
took a deep breath. She hadn’t planned on telling Mistress Peabody, but now she didn’t see how it could be avoided. “Mistress Peabody, I have something important to tell you. I recently learned that on the night of our Fall Picnic an unauthorized visitor is planning to arrive.”
A peculiar shade of green rolled across Mistress Peabody’s face. She tried to wag her finger playfully at Pippa, but everything about her was tense. “Oh, now, don’t you go trying to find a way to spoil the surprise. I won’t tell you who our guests are, but I did get advance permission, and they are very much authorized, let me tell you.”
“I’m not talking about our families, Mistress Peabody,” Pippa said, and Mistress Peabody gasped. “I’m talking about the magicians! They’re planning to—”
“LA-LA-LA-LA-LA.” Mistress Peabody closed her eyes and shouted while sticking her fingers in her ears. Her actions were so outlandish, so juvenile, so unnerving for a grown-up Triumphant in charge of an entire academy of Triumphants that even Bernard and Prudence exchanged bewildered glances.
When Mistress Peabody finally quieted down, an unsettling smile spread across her face. She reached into her pocket, and with trembling hands, she pulled forth a small spool of translucent thread. Though Pippa had never used such a thing before, she knew right away what it was: magician’s thread.
Mistress Peabody cleared her throat. “It appears, Prudence, that you are right. We do have a rabble-rouser in our midst. We mustn’t stand for such a thing, and especially not two nights before a momentous occasion. An occasion when Castle Cressida will be practically spilling over with important people. Indeed, haven’t I always said, appearances are everything? And so, without further ado”—Mistress Peabody turned to face Prudence and Bernard—“I shall now give the two of you a chance to do what Triumphants do best. Tie Pippa up and take her to the dungeon. That is where she will stay until the picnic is complete.”
“No!” Pippa cried. “No, you mustn’t!” But Mistress Peabody grabbed ahold of her. Despite the daintiness of her dance moves, Mistress Peabody was frighteningly strong. And as Bernard and Prudence scurried near and all too eagerly wound the thread around and around Pippa’s wrists and ankles as if they weren’t doing something heinous, Mistress Peabody never once loosened her grip.