Hudson and Charlotte walked past a few darkened cottages scattered amid the farmland. Some were stone and some were wood. All of them had an abundance of bushes, flowers, and ivy growing up walls and crawling over fences. The leaves rustled in the breeze, gently patting the homes like a mother calming a child at bedtime.
When Hudson and Charlotte were almost through the fields, he realized that the dark stripe that ran in front of Grammaria’s walls was a river. It wrapped around the city, keeping out invaders, robbers, and wandering eighth-grade students.
A few minutes later, Hudson and Charlotte’s path joined one that led directly to the city gates. A sign there read:
WELCOME TO GRAMMARIA,
the home of
KING VAYGRAN THE MAGNIFICENT,
the leader who brought Logos
peace, prosperity, and unity.
Charlotte scowled at the sign, and her eyes grew hard.
“I’ve got a pen,” Hudson said. “Do you want me to cross something out?”
“It’s all true,” she said, still frowning at the sign. “When King Vaygran took the throne, he decreed that war was unlawful. No one disagreed with that. No one wanted to support war. He declared that all weapons except his own were illegal and had his soldiers gather up the rest.”
“Oh,” Hudson said. He could already tell this story wouldn’t end well.
“King Vaygran’s next decree outlawed poverty. No one argued with that, either. Maybe because they didn’t have weapons anymore. Since poverty was illegal, the poor were rounded up and sent away.”
“And unity?” Hudson asked, with a sick feeling running through him.
Charlotte turned away from the sign and strode down the path again. “He decreed that the country must be unified, which basically means everyone has to agree with him. Anyone else is breeding disunity.”
“No one stands up to him?”
She shook her head. “Some people actually think the king has given them peace, prosperity, and unity.”
“What about the people who don’t? Why don’t they do something?”
Charlotte let out a grunt, and her speed picked up with her anger. “The Land of Scholars tried.”
“What happened?”
“Now it’s called the Land of Desolation.”
They reached the edge of the river. Lights along the top of Grammaria’s walls illuminated its crenellated outline and the towers that rose up at the corners.
“The drawbridge has already been raised,” Charlotte said, “so you’ll need to take a ferry over.”
On the ride through the forest, when Charlotte had taken a break from singing, she’d given him instructions about what to do once he got inside. He would make his way to the castle, walk across the courtyard, then go to a walled garden on the left side of the castle. A guard stood at the garden’s doorway collecting an entrance fee of one silver coin. People came from all over the kingdom to visit the garden and sample the fruit from the compliment trees there.
Hudson was supposed to ignore the trees. Very often, after someone tried one piece of fruit, they wanted another, and another, until they stayed in the garden for hours—days even—listening to compliments. “It’s always flattering to find out that the trees think well of you,” Charlotte had said, “but keep in mind that trees think well of everybody. Trees aren’t that discerning.”
Magical statues were spread throughout the garden, each one in the shape of a different animal. If a person laid a gold coin near the animal, he could ask it a question, and it would answer.
Many people asked their questions of the owl because he was wise. Others chose the wolf because wolves, living in packs as they did, understood social issues. The deer was a favorite, too. She knew answers to questions about grace and beauty. Mostly, though, people asked their questions to the lion. He was the most powerful animal and sat regally in the center of the garden.
“Don’t ask the lion,” Charlotte told him. “Most of the time he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, but he always thinks he’s right anyway. And if he doesn’t know the answer, he just makes up something that sounds good.”
“The lion is lying,” Hudson said, committing this piece of information to memory.
“You want to find a tiny statue of a bee. She’s near the lion’s tail—so small most people don’t notice her. If anyone knows where Princess Nomira is, the bee will, and she’ll tell you the truth.”
This seemed like a lot of trust to put in an insect. “Why is the bee smarter than the deer, owl, wolf, or lion?”
“Bees aren’t showy,” Charlotte said. “They go everywhere, getting their jobs done, without anyone really paying attention to them. My father says bees are like common sense. Everybody takes it for granted, and few people use it.”
Hudson thought this over. “We should ask where the royal scepter is, too. We could use it to free the princess.”
Charlotte shook her head. “We only have one gold coin. And besides, wherever Princess Nomira hid the scepter, she most likely used its magic to ensure that only she could retrieve it. Once we free her, she’ll know how to find it, and she can use it to defeat King Vaygran.”
Now Hudson regarded the sprawling city walls and hoped he could locate the magic bee in the darkness. Charlotte had already told him he couldn’t use his flashlight. It would brand him as a stranger from the Land of Banishment, and people would ask why he was there. She had no confidence in his ability to come up with a believable alibi.
Charlotte opened her backpack and gave Hudson the silver coin he needed for the guard and the gold coin to lay by a statue. She also took out a small bottle. “Shake it when you need some light. It’s full of hope.”
He took the bottle. “I’d feel better if this were full of matches.”
“Matches burn out after a few seconds. Hope lasts longer.”
He turned the bottle one way and then the other. “It looks empty. Does that mean we’re hopeless?”
“I hope not.”
While he slipped the bottle into his jacket pocket, Charlotte went through her backpack again, this time taking out the silver bell and two marbles. “These are muselings for the ferry.” She handed him a cloudy red one. “Use this one to return back here.”
Charlotte rang the bell softly, and it made a sound like an airy laugh that tumbled through the night air. In a quiet voice, she called, “We need a ferry to cross the river!”
Or at least he thought that’s what she said. He didn’t see a boat on the riverbank anywhere. Instead, something small and glowing zipped past him. It flew over to Charlotte and hovered in front of her face.
Hudson gawked at the thing, not quite sure he was seeing right. The image didn’t change. A girl who was smaller than his hand floated in the air, her bright white wings fluttering. She had dark blue hair that hung past her shoulders, and her dress looked like it was made from a filmy fishtail. Charlotte had called a fairy, not a ferry.
A tiny pad of paper and a pen no thicker than a piece of yarn appeared in the fairy’s hands. “One passenger or two?”
“One,” Charlotte said. “And he’ll be returning tonight.”
The fairy marked something on her paper. “First class or economy?”
“I can pay one museling each way,” Charlotte said.
“Economy.” The fairy made another mark on her paper. When she finished, she slid her pen behind her ear, ripped off the paper, and dropped it into Charlotte’s outstretched hand. The pad of paper disappeared from the fairy’s hand, replaced by a wand. She flicked it at the marble in Charlotte’s palm, and the museling rose up like a soap bubble, shrinking as it flew over to the fairy. When the museling hovered in front of her, the fairy grabbed it and popped it into her mouth. She smiled and glowed brighter.
Still smiling, the fairy zipped over to Hudson. “Welcome to Fairy Riverside Travel,” she chimed. “We hope you have a safe trip and enjoy your time in the city of Grammaria. Remember to watch for predators, mischief, and magic. W
hen you’re ready for your return trip, just ring the bell for assistance.”
Charlotte handed Hudson the bell, and he put it in his pocket. “What was that about predators?”
Instead of answering, the fairy waved her wand at him. His vision went foggy for a moment, and he felt himself shrinking, falling. Alarmed, Hudson let out a yell. Instead of his voice, a high-pitched noise came from his throat. He flung his arms out wide to catch himself and found he had no arms. In their place, two dark wings beat against the air, propelling him upward. He was a bird now. A bird. No. This absolutely couldn’t be happening.
He looked at Charlotte to see if she was as surprised—as outraged—by this change as he was. She calmly fluttered her hand in the direction of the castle. “You only have five minutes until you transform back. You’ve got to hurry.”
If birds could growl, he would have. Instead, he let out an angry chirp and headed across the river.
Really, there are some things a person should be warned about. Being turned into a bird was on that list.
Below him, the river didn’t seem to move at all. It was a placid, dark street. He soared higher into the air to make it over the city walls. The wind rushed around him, holding him aloft. He felt light and sleek as he sped over the city.
Flying might have been fun if he didn’t have to worry about how long he’d been up in the sky. Had a minute already passed? Down below him, rows of homes and shops spread out. Roads snaked between them, made visible by the lantern posts that dotted the way. A few people were out on the streets coming and going. They looked like the troll villagers, wearing the same sort of bright medieval clothes and elaborate hats. He saw one woman who seemed to be carrying a wedding cake on her head.
Hudson zoomed downward, maneuvering himself into one of the city’s roads that headed toward the castle. The lower to the ground he was, the less his fall would hurt when he changed back to his human form.
He read the signs on the buildings he passed. One outside an armory read SHOOT THE BREEZE HERE. The words over a restaurant door read GRAMMARIA’S BEST REST-A-RANT.
Well, it was nice to know rants needed a rest, too.
A shop window displayed multiple versions of the word good. There were puffy goods, sleek black goods, tiny glass goods, and thick wooden goods. A sign above the shop door read THE BEST GOODS: WHEN OTHER WORDS JUST AREN’T GOOD ENOUGH.
What a peculiar place Charlotte had come from.
The castle drew closer. In another minute, he would reach the courtyard. Two old men were slowly shuffling down the middle of the street, and Hudson pushed upward and went over them. It was then that he transformed back into himself. Arms replaced wings, and he fell, tumbling to the ground right in front of the men’s feet. For a moment, Hudson just lay there sprawled out, the air knocked from his lungs.
One of the old men peered down at him curiously. “That boy just fell from the sky.”
The other man cocked his head. “This is exactly the sort of thing I’ve been talking about. Since King Vaygran took the throne, nothing’s been right. Now it’s raining boys.” He looked up warily, holding his hand over his head as though he might be deluged by a downpour of children.
Hudson didn’t say anything. By the time he’d caught his breath, the two men had ambled around him, still mumbling complaints.
With his arms still stinging from his fall, Hudson stood and brushed himself off. Nothing appeared to be broken. Besides a couple of dirty spots he’d gotten when he’d hit the ground, his clothes were exactly as they had been before he’d been turned into a bird. He felt his pocket. The bell and coins still sat there. The bottle wasn’t broken.
He set off down the street, forcing himself to run. The sooner he finished this task and got away from King Vaygran’s city, the better.
Finally, he reached the castle courtyard. He had never seen a real castle before, and he couldn’t stop staring. Its white stone towers pierced the night sky. A large balcony ran along the front side, a place for the king to address his subjects. Underneath the balcony, two huge doors led into the castle. It should have been too dark to see much detail on the building, but the stone glowed with its own inner light. Carvings lined each arched doorway and window, swirls and letters mixing together. The inscription above them read WORDS CREATE.
The courtyard spread out in front of the castle, paved in the same white stone. A circular garden area stood in the back of the courtyard, and two trees grew there: a huge steel-colored one with crooked, grasping branches, and a smaller, droopier tree with royal-blue leaves. It was a larger version of the tree growing in Charlotte’s living room: Princess Nomira’s.
Hudson walked to it and ran his hand along a low branch. It felt like bumpy velvet. He petted one of the wilting leaves. Perhaps he’d been in this strange land too long, because he couldn’t resist leaning closer and whispering, “Don’t worry. We’re coming to find you.” He never would have talked to a tree back home.
He looked at the bigger tree again, at its many crowded branches. He supposed it must be King Vaygran’s tree. The thought made him keep a wary distance. He was almost afraid one of its long branches would reach out and grab him.
Hudson made his way down the courtyard and around the left side of the castle until he came to a walled garden. Lantern posts lit up the area so the treetops poking over the wall were visible. Brightly colored fruit weighed down their branches. What, he wondered, did turquoise fruit taste like? While he and Charlotte had ridden through the forest, he’d eaten a couple of sandwiches, but all the walking and flying had made him hungry again.
He saw the arched gate that led into the garden and strode up to a guard sitting in a chair in the doorway. He was a big man, dressed in silver armor with a large yellow plume that stuck straight out of his helmet. His eyes were shut in sleep, his head tilted down so his bushy gray beard lay tangled against his chest. A soft snore rattled his lips.
Hudson cleared his throat. “Excuse me.”
The man didn’t wake, didn’t even stir. His beard twitched with every snore.
“Hello?” Hudson said a bit louder.
He still didn’t wake.
Hudson gently nudged the guard’s shoulder. “I need to go inside the garden.”
The man stayed firmly asleep.
Hudson supposed he could just walk in, but that was probably illegal. The last thing he needed was to get in trouble before he and Charlotte had even started searching for the princess. He reached into his pocket. He could leave the silver coin on the man’s lap, then go through the gate.
As soon as the coin was out of Hudson’s pocket, the guard jolted awake and held out his hand.
Hudson was so startled he nearly dropped his coin. “Sorry, I thought you were asleep.”
“I was,” the man said gruffly. “There was no point waking up, was there, until you had money to pay.”
“Um, I guess not.” It seemed like the polite thing to say. He dropped the coin in the man’s outstretched palm.
The man slipped Hudson’s coin into his pocket. “This isn’t the place for guessing. If you want to throw around guesses, you can do that at the economic advisers’ policy meeting tomorrow.”
“Oh. Um, I just want to go to the garden.” Hudson edged away from the guard and went through the gate before the guard spoke to him again.
Things were so odd in this place he wouldn’t have been surprised by anything he found in the garden. Umbrellas and lollipops could have grown next to the bushes.
For the most part, the garden seemed normal enough. Pathways led through rows of trees. Bushes and flowers were planted in colorful arrangements. Some of the flowers glowed like nightlights, and dandelions kept puffing out their seeds in firework-like explosions, but the rest of the plants behaved respectably.
Hudson walked by the statue of the deer. She was a beautiful bronze statue, so lifelike that she even had sculpted eyelashes. She turned her head and blinked at him with soft eyes. He didn’t stop to talk.
Farther down the path, Hudson came across a silver wolf statue the size of a Great Dane. The statue perked up its ears and barked playfully. Hudson waved at the dog and walked on. He didn’t see the owl statue at first. As he walked under a tree with fruit like a popcorn ball, a voice called down, “Who?”
“What?” Hudson asked, and looked up. A statue of a white marble owl sat perched on a tree branch above him.
The owl surveyed him with large eyes. “Witch.”
“Where?” Hudson asked, spinning around to check behind him. He didn’t see anything. Then he realized the owl had probably meant “Which.”
“When?” the owl asked, and then added, “How?” He cocked his head sideways. “I know the answer to all those questions if you have a gold coin.”
“No thanks,” Hudson said. “I’m looking for the bee.”
The owl lifted his head haughtily. “Be that way.”
Or maybe the owl meant “Bee, that way.” It was hard to tell in this place. Hudson mumbled, “Thanks,” in case the owl was being helpful instead of offended, and then walked down the path again.
He kept noticing the fruit hanging from the trees. Charlotte had told him not to eat any fruit from the compliment trees, because eating it might distract him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t pick some to eat tomorrow. The food they’d brought with them would run out soon.
He walked under a tree with red-and-white-striped fruit. It smelled like Italian food—manicotti or spaghetti. Hudson ran his finger over one on a low-hanging branch. It was bumpy but not messy. He plucked off two pieces of fruit and put them in his jacket pockets.
The next tree had pink fruit that smelled like snow cones. He added a couple of those to his pockets. He did the same with a fruit that smelled like french fries. Even though his pockets were bulging, he had the urge to collect fruit from every single tree. He and Charlotte could have a feast when he got back. Then he remembered that Charlotte didn’t want to feast; she wanted an answer about the princess. He stopped picking fruit and went and found the lion statue.
The Wrong Side of Magic Page 8
