by Temre Beltz
“But what do you want from Pippa?”
Master Von Hollow reached beneath the thick fold of his cape and pulled forth a copy of the Wanderly Whistle. A photograph of Pippa was splashed across the front page. Just beyond her, a bit hazy and in the background, was the outline of Ferdinand. Master Von Hollow jabbed his fingernail so hard into the newspaper that he punctured a small hole in it. “That. I want that,” Master Von Hollow said with a growl. “It’s the only one missing from my herd, and the only thing that could possibly stand in the way of our new role and our new home.”
“Your herd?” Oliver began. “They can’t be—”
“Of course they’re fire horses! I caught them myself! And it’s been simply abominable to sit on this achievement and not have a soul to brag about it to. But now you know. Just like you ought to know that tonight’s showcase won’t be taking place in the Swinging Swamp.” Master Von Hollow paused, and Oliver tried to look surprised, as if he hadn’t already found out that information and been busy sharing it with Pippa. “It will be taking place on Triumph Mountain—which we will be making our new home. At last, no more Swinging Swamp for us!”
Oliver blinked. He tried to sift through the very many thoughts competing for his attention. A letter to Pippa. A home for magicians atop Triumph Mountain—that was certainly news to him. Ferdinand’s herd being imprisoned in the Swinging Swamp right beneath all their noses! But the thought that soared above all the rest was the one that sat in Master Von Hollow’s hand: Oliver’s hat.
Oliver could scarcely believe it had happened. After so much waiting and dreaming and hoping; after so much heartache; after coming to terms with a seemingly inescapable sentence of loneliness, the one thing he’d always wanted, the one thing that guaranteed he would belong, had finally arrived.
How could he turn his back on it now?
As if reading Oliver’s mind, Master Von Hollow twirled the hat through the air. “It’s practically yours, Oliver. You just need to write one little letter. You need to arrange for Pippa and her fire horse—that’s very important; you mustn’t forget that part—to meet you on the South Peak of Triumph Mountain before sunset.” Oliver opened his mouth to speak, but Master Von Hollow hurriedly pressed on, “Don’t tell me you want all your friends to remain stuck in the smelly old swamp forever? Don’t you want to make a new life for yourself atop Triumph Mountain? A new life as a real magician?”
Oliver, however, found himself stuck on the word “friends.” Oliver had never had any friends in the Swinging Swamp. Oliver knew boys who wrote nasty names for him on the walls; Oliver knew boys who chased him into sinkholes just for a laugh; Oliver knew boys who smeared slug slime on him while he was asleep; Oliver didn’t have a single memory of anything even closely resembling friendship.
But Oliver did have Pippa. And maybe there was still a way to help her and secure his hat.
Oliver reached for the paper and pencil Master Von Hollow held out toward him. And even though he trembled all over, he wrote the message Master Von Hollow commanded him to. Because no one had ever said being a real magician required keeping company with other magicians. Just as soon as he had his hat, wouldn’t he be able to perform the same tricks as the rest of the magicians? Like vanish away wherever he wanted?
And that was precisely the first trick Oliver planned to do. Then he could warn Pippa not to believe a single word of the letter. He would explain that he had only done it to get his hat, that it turned out he really was a magician after all, and that now—armed with magic—he could finally give Pippa the kind of help she would need at the Fall Picnic. He could almost imagine the expression on her face!
Master Von Hollow grabbed for the letter, but Oliver whipped it backward. “My hat, first,” he insisted.
“Oh yes, of course,” Master Von Hollow said. “A deal’s a deal, isn’t it?”
Oliver felt his entire body tingle as Master Von Hollow placed the hat in his hands. He lifted the hat in the air and carefully placed it atop his head. He wasn’t at all surprised to find it was a perfect fit. Oliver’s heart filled to bursting. A small gasp escaped his lips, and he brought his fingers to the brim as he had practiced so many, many times before. Preparing to vanish away to Triumph Mountain, he closed his eyes, gave a nod of his head, and—
Didn’t budge an inch.
A cruel peal of laughter rolled toward him.
Master Von Hollow rocked back and forth on his heels, clutching his belly. He laughed so hard and so loud, he could barely find the breath to speak. “You actually thought it was real, didn’t you?” he said, gasping for air and waving his hands about. “Oh, Oliver, you’re so pathetic, you’re very near Tragical. In fact, I’d be careful if I were you. The Chancellor might send you to Tragic Mountain!”
Oliver felt hot tears pricking at his eyes. He shook his head. He refused to listen to Master Von Hollow. He couldn’t have been tricked! He couldn’t have been so stupid! Perhaps he had to warm up a bit. He suddenly remembered Theodore and his bevy of mushrooms back in the dormitory. In retrospect, those mushrooms hardly seemed laughable. He brought his shaking fingertips to the brim of his hat to conjure an illusion of something, anything, but, again, nothing happened.
“Well, if you like it all that much, Oliver, you ought to at least get yourself another. I got it on clearance at a clothing shop in Pigglesticks. It doesn’t have a single magical stitch. But, as fun as this has been, I’ve got much work to do. I’ve got a fire horse to get rid of and a showcase to begin warming up for. Tonight will be quite the event. I like to think of it as opening night for us and closing night for the Triumphants. Ta-ta, Oliver.”
But Oliver wasn’t about to let Master Von Hollow go. He ran at him. He wrapped his arms around Master Von Hollow’s waist and tackled him to the ground. “Give me back that letter!” Oliver cried, rifling through Master Von Hollow’s pockets.
But Master Von Hollow had every advantage in the world. He wrinkled his nose at Oliver in disgust, and with a simple flick of his wrist, he brought his fingers to the brim of his hat and vanished. Oliver’s arms wrapped around empty air, and he fell hard against the dirt.
For a moment, he didn’t move.
He thought long and hard about perhaps never bothering to move again, but the touch of a hand on his shoulder made him flinch. Certain it was the Den Master, Oliver whirled around, but he found himself staring into the small, bright eyes of Ms. Bravo.
She wore a hooded cloak that concealed her tightly curled hair, and her loyal companion, Dynamite, perched on her shoulder.
“Quickly,” she whispered. “We must go.”
Oliver’s eyes widened. “Are you taking me to my hearing for a Council detention?”
Before she could answer, the door to the Den of Traitorous Individuals creaked open. Without bothering to thrust his head into the blazing morning sunlight, the Den Master barked, “Hey! It’s been seventeen minutes. You’re two minutes over time. Pay up or get back inside!”
Ms. Bravo set her jaw determinedly. She beckoned Oliver closer, toward the cover of the trees. “We mustn’t linger,” she insisted. “You—you must trust me the way I failed to trust you.”
“But what made you change your mind about me?” Oliver asked.
“Let’s just say I received a letter,” Ms. Bravo said.
Oliver’s eyes widened. “Pippa?” he whispered. When Ms. Bravo nodded, his face fell. “Ms. Bravo, we’ve got to get to Triumph Mountain. I-I’ve done something terrible. We’ve got to get to Pippa before Master Von Hollow does!”
“And we shall,” Ms. Bravo said, shaking out the folds of the brilliant purple Council cloak she’d hidden beneath her plain one. “But first we must make a few brief stops.”
“A few brief stops?” Oliver echoed. “Ms. Bravo, I don’t think you understand!”
But Ms. Bravo’s face was stern. “I didn’t become Wanderly’s number one Triumphant by a bit of poor planning. Despite what the Chancellor says, only a fool doesn’t know how to ask for
help, and surely at least one or two Triumphants is up for the task. I’m afraid you’ll have to come along for the flight, unless you see another way out of your predicament?”
Oliver hesitated. Although the idea of him making house visits to Wanderly’s Triumphants was nothing short of ridiculous, Ms. Bravo was right. He had no other options. “No, ma’am,” he said softly. “But please, let’s hurry. For Pippa’s sake, we must hurry.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Ms. Bravo said with the unwavering confidence of someone who has never once failed at anything. And as she placed her hand firmly on Oliver’s shoulder, as she twirled her purple Council cloak through the air, as she, Dynamite, and Oliver disappeared in the blink of an eye, Oliver could only hope that today wouldn’t be the day her confidence was, for once, ill-placed.
Nineteen
The Worst Magic Trick of All
Pippa didn’t know exactly what she expected the day of the Annual Fall Picnic to be like, but she certainly hadn’t imagined she would be bored. Ernest and the other Triumphants had determined to spend the bulk of the day training at the Loyal Companions’ Barn; the other Triumphants, the ones who insisted that Pippa was bananas, were busy decorating for the big event; and Maisy had stayed up through all hours of the night trying to perfect a promising new recipe. All alone in the dungeon, Pippa found it hard not to feel both useless and a bit forgotten.
And so, when a pounding erupted from the dungeon stairs, Pippa scrambled to her feet as quickly as she could given the magician’s thread still tied around her ankles. She waited with eager anticipation as Maisy tore through the dungeon and nearly crashed against the iron bars of her cell. Her eyes were glistening, and her cheeks were red with exertion.
“Pippa,” she said, in between breaths and waving an envelope wildly about. “Your letter—it worked! You’ve already received a letter back. It took everything I had not to tear it open at the sight!”
She thrust it through the bars, and Pippa pulled it close. “How did it arrive, Maisy? What did the Winds bring this time? I imagine it must have been something grand, considering it’s from Ms. Bravo!”
At that, Maisy stopped bouncing about. She hesitated before answering, “You know, I didn’t think of it until now, but I don’t know if the Winds of Wanderly delivered this letter. Unless the Winds have taken to ringing doorbells, because that’s what got me to the front door. When I opened it, the letter was sitting there on Castle Cressida’s front steps looking just like you’d expect a letter to look.”
Pippa unfolded the paper and began to shake her head. “It—it’s not from Ms. Bravo. She . . . maybe she’s not on her way to rescue us like I hoped.”
“Not yet. But it doesn’t mean she still won’t,” Maisy said. She stood on tiptoe to peer closer. “If it’s not from Ms. Bravo, who is it from?”
Pippa read aloud:
Dear Pippa,
You’re never going to believe it. My luck has changed. I found a way out of the Den of Traitorous Individuals, and I’m coming to see you. I have something very important to talk to you about. Meet me at the South Peak of Triumph Mountain this afternoon. And, whatever you do, don’t forget to bring Ferdinand.
See you,
Oliver
“Wait, Oliver has managed to escape from his Council detention?” Maisy cried. “Oh, Pippa, this is wonderful, wonderful news! Isn’t this—” Maisy stopped abruptly. She looked at Pippa. “Um, Pippa, why don’t you look happy? This is wonderful news, isn’t it?”
“Certainly Oliver being free is wonderful news, but this letter is—strange. It’s so . . . short. It’s possible he may have just been in a hurry, but even a note or two about how he managed to escape would be nice. Not to mention, how can he possibly get here so quickly? I can’t imagine they let him keep a wicked witch’s broomstick in his dungeon cell. And I just—” Pippa frowned. “Well, can we trust a letter that wasn’t delivered by the Winds of Wanderly?”
“Maybe it was delivered by the Winds of Wanderly, and we just missed all the special effects? Anyhow, you can trust Oliver, can’t you?”
Pippa’s eyes lit up. “Yes, that’s true, isn’t it? I guess I’m just a bit paranoid. But there is, um, one other problem. How am I supposed to meet Oliver this afternoon when Mistress Peabody’s keeping me locked up until the picnic is over?”
Maisy grinned. “That may be the very best part of all this. I think I have a solution to that.” She took a deep breath and called out, “Prudence? You can come down now.”
Pippa’s jaw dropped. “Prudence?” she whispered. “Did you just say Prudence?”
“That’s exactly what she said.” Prudence’s voice snaked down the dungeon stairs as she emerged into the dim, flickering candlelight. “And don’t think for a second that I’m here to help you.”
“Gee, why would I think that?” Pippa asked, shooting an incredulous look in Maisy’s direction. Maisy gulped nervously.
“I’m here,” Prudence said, drawing closer, “because at breakfast this morning, a terrible thought came into my mind. And no matter what I do, that terrible thought won’t go away. In fact, I think it’s getting worse.”
Pippa frowned. It was strange to think that the people who cause terrible thoughts for others might suffer from the same malady themselves.
“A terrible thought about what?” Pippa asked.
Prudence looked right at Pippa. “You,” she said unequivocally.
Pippa’s stomach flip-flopped. “Me? But what can I possibly do to you? I’m stuck here in this dungeon cell until after the picnic!”
“Exactly! And won’t others wonder where you are? The surprise Triumphant nominee who was assigned a fire horse? It will be all of three seconds before people start whispering and gossiping and soon all sorts of rumors will be circulating, and they’ll all say one thing: that you’re a total joke!”
Pippa took a deep breath. She looked down at the magician’s thread Prudence had helped tie around her ankles. “It’s sort of hard to see why you’d care what anyone else thinks about me, Prudence.”
“Ha! I don’t care what anyone thinks about you, I care what they think about my sister!” She leaned so close to Pippa’s cell that her cheeks squished against the iron bars. “Bettina was supposed to be here, Pippa! You were the one who stole her spot—”
“But I never wanted to be here! I just want to be with my—”
“Don’t say it!” Prudence shrieked. “Your family may be nothing but warm hugs and kisses, but not all families are like that.”
“But—but you’re a . . . Triumphant. Your family is full of Triumphants! Shouldn’t that mean you’re all happy?”
A rare look of sadness flickered in Prudence’s eyes. But then she gritted her teeth. “I’m just trying to survive. Bettina is too. And I’m not going to let you humiliate her more than you already have.” She reached into the pocket of her cloak and pulled forth a rusty old skeleton key. She thrust it into the lock and twisted it. The door to Pippa’s cell popped open.
Pippa blinked. “You convinced Mistress Peabody to let me go?”
“Of course I didn’t. But just because my raccoon’s not a fire horse doesn’t mean he’s any less of a loyal companion. Bandit’s the best thief on Triumph Mountain. Getting this key away from Mistress Peabody was a piece of cake. Now.” Prudence nodded at Pippa’s ankles. “Sit down so I can remove that too.”
Prudence worked quickly. She unwound the magician’s thread and stuck it in her pocket. When she finished, she looked at Pippa. “Stay out of sight until the picnic. Don’t let Mistress Peabody see you. Once the picnic begins, she won’t want to make a scene, so you’ll be safe to come out then and”—she paused and narrowed her eyes—“you’d better.”
“There’s nothing in all of Wanderly that will keep me away from that picnic,” Pippa said emphatically. And then, softly, “I really am sorry about Bettina. . . .”
But Prudence had already spun on her heel and marched toward the dungeon steps. When she was gone, Pip
pa turned to Maisy. “I guess your baking was enough to get me out of the dungeon, Maisy. How did you do it?”
“This morning I served up a batch of Happiness Hotcakes. I figured the deepest sort of courage comes from fighting for the things that bring us the most joy. I was hoping the Triumphants would tap into that once the picnic’s underway.”
“That’s genius,” Pippa said. “But it must not have worked quite right for Prudence. Thinking about Bettina didn’t seem to make her happy at all.”
“Unless her happy and her sad are all mixed up,” Maisy said with a sigh. “You’d better get on your way though. Prudence was right about one thing—you can’t let Mistress Peabody see you, and you’ve got an important meeting with Oliver. Maybe he’ll have news about Ms. Bravo or maybe it’s something even grander, like the magicians changing their plans altogether!”
Although that sounded a little too good to be true, Pippa forced a smile, determined to hope for the best.
Pippa didn’t have to look hard to find Ferdinand. The moment she stepped into the Triumphant Training Forest, he plunged out of the bushes and dipped his nose into the crook of her arm, nearly bowling her over. His mane glowed with a soft golden light, and he blinked his big brown eyes at her.
Pippa wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m so glad you’re all right, Ferdinand. I’m so glad Mistress Peabody didn’t call the Quill to come back for you. I hope I didn’t frighten you the other day, but it was all I could think of to keep you safe.”
Ferdinand nickered as if he understood her words, and then he gently lowered himself to the ground so that Pippa could climb onto his back. Pippa took a deep breath and grabbed hold of Ferdinand’s flickering mane. Even though she’d touched it before and not been burned, she was still relieved when she felt nothing but a soothing warmth against her hands.
“We’re not going far, Ferdinand,” Pippa said. “In less than two hours’ time Triumph Mountain is going to be crawling with magicians—and our families! We’ll have enough to do then, but first we’re going to the South Peak to meet Oliver.”