“What’s he doing?” Emma demanded. “He needs to attack. He should be killing those things! Dwarves are so stu—Whoa!”
Kate reached for her sister. The entire building had begun to sway and rock. Dena fell into the young warrior, knocking them both to the floor. Looking out the window, Kate saw that everything, the whole ruined city, was in motion.
“What’s going on?” Emma yelled over the tumult. “What’s happening?”
“Damn my soul!” Wallace shouted. “It’s a bloody earthquake! Hold on! Hold on!”
“No!” Michael was gripping the windowsill as you would a ship’s railing during a storm. “It’s Dr. Pym!” He pointed, and Kate and Emma saw the white-haired wizard, standing atop a building, his arms raised out over the city. “He’s doing it!”
“What the bloody ’ell for?” Wallace shouted. “He’ll kill us all!”
“Kate!”
Emma tugged at her arm, and Kate looked toward the square. At first, she didn’t understand; the main body of the monsters seemed to be sinking. Then she realized—the earth was opening up under them. The thought barely had time to register before fully half the horde was swallowed up in a screeching, tumbling mass, disappearing into darkness. Just as quickly, the fissure closed, the shaking and rolling stopped, and the children’s own building came to rest. Kate turned back to Dr. Pym. The old man had lowered his arms and was calmly taking out his pipe. She made a mental note never to doubt the wizard’s power again.
“Dwarves”—Captain Robbie raised his ax—“ATTTTTAAAAACCCK!”
The remaining salmac-tar turned and fled.
“No! No!” The Secretary was jumping up and down, tearing at his meager strands of hair. “Fight! You must fight!”
But his cries were useless. The salmac-tar were clambering over each other in a panicked attempt to escape. Gabriel and the men had stepped back to let the charging dwarves pass through, and above it all, above the clashing of the armor, the thunderous stamp of boots, the frenzied terror of the monsters, Kate could hear the voice of the dwarf captain, filling the cavern:
“Drive them, brothers! Drive them to the pits! Drive them! Drive them!”
And she knew then, finally, the battle was over.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Kate’s Vision
“You see, when Katherine touched the book and traveled into the past—four years from this point, which for you three is not the present at all but already fifteen years into the past—she told me everything that was going to transpire with the missing will and Hamish becoming king, et cetera and et cetera … I, armed with this terrible knowledge, went immediately to Queen Esmerelda (Robbie and Hamish’s mother and a very dear friend of mine). Then and there, she wrote out her will proclaiming Robbie the next king and had the document notarized and sealed, and together we secreted it away.…”
Dr. Pym was explaining to the children how it was that he and Robbie had escaped Hamish’s dungeon and come to arrive in the Dead City with a brigade of armored dwarves. They were all of them—the children, Dr. Pym, Robbie, and Gabriel—crammed into the room where, before the battle, the Secretary had interrogated Kate. It was now being used as a sort of informal head-quarters as messengers pushed past one another on their way in and out, and Robbie and Gabriel huddled around the desk with a group of hotly arguing men and dwarves.
The children had been summoned there without being told why—following the battle, they had been in the building across the square, bringing each other up to date on their respective adventures. Upon entering the room, Emma had literally launched herself into Gabriel’s arms, crying, “You did it!” For her part, Kate wished that whoever was in charge would’ve chosen a different meeting place. The memory of biting into the Secretary’s ear, and the sour sweat-and-blood taste that accompanied it, had returned the moment she crossed the threshold. She wondered when she would get to brush her teeth again.
“You might well ask,” Dr. Pym continued (he had led the children a few feet away), “why I waited as long as I did to produce the queen’s will. But here is the crucial point—I needed Kate to enter the vault, touch the book, and bring it to me in the past. Only by hiding the book in the past could I protect it from the Countess. And I knew if I merely bided my time, this was exactly what would happen. Therefore, I waited. When I finally deemed the moment was right, I had Robbie summon his lawyer.…” Dr. Pym then revealed the location of the will; it was recovered and examined by a panel of judges, as well as by handwriting and fingerprint experts, dwarves being sticklers for protocol (this received an approving nod from Michael), and the will being verified genuine, Captain (now King) Robbie mustered his army and marched to the Dead City.
“So you see,” Dr. Pym concluded, “it is as clear as a summer’s day.”
“I don’t get it,” Emma said.
“Which part, my dear?”
“The whole part.”
“Dr. Pym planned it all,” Kate said. “He knew Hamish would be listening to us in the dungeon. He tricked him into taking me and Michael to the vault. He made sure I touched the book first. He planned everything.”
“But”—Michael had been taking notes; now he paused, addressing the wizard—“did you only know to do all that because Kate had gone into the past and told you what was going to happen? Were you just pretending not to recognize us in the dungeon?”
“That requires a bit of a complicated answer,” Dr. Pym said, scratching his chin thoughtfully, “as there are now two versions of the past. In the original past, I knew nothing of future events and no doubt based my actions upon the connection I saw between your sister and the book. However, in the rewritten past, which occurred after your sister retrieved the book and went back in time …”
Kate was watching the wizard. Her feelings toward him had changed. He had outsmarted Hamish and the Secretary, made Robbie king, saved Gabriel and the men; Kate now truly believed he was on their side. But he was still not telling them everything he knew: about their parents, obviously, but also about her and her siblings’ role in all that was happening. In the throne room, he’d said they were the children he’d been waiting for. And the Secretary had said almost the exact same thing, that she and Michael and Emma were the chosen three. What did that mean? What was the wizard hiding?
“… I knew how events had played out in the other, now-alternate past,” Dr. Pym said, “and wishing things to proceed in exactly the same way, I attempted to behave as I might have done had I been ignorant of the future. This is the version of the past, Michael, that you and I remember. Katherine, being the time traveler, is the only one who remembers the original past. So, to answer your question, as far as your memory is concerned, yes, I did pretend not to recognize you in the dungeon; as far as your sister’s memory is concerned, no, I had absolutely no idea who she was.”
Michael looked at him. “Now I don’t get it.”
“Then just understand this,” Dr. Pym sighed, “if Katherine had not shown the resourcefulness she did, King Robbie and I would still be in the dungeon, and all of Gabriel’s men, all the men of Cambridge Falls, would be dead.”
“ ’E’s right”—Robbie had stepped over from the group at the desk—“and should you ever need my strength or my people’s, you’ve only to ask.” With that, the new dwarf king bowed so low before Kate that the braided tips of his beard brushed the floor.
“Oh please,” Kate said, blushing deeply. “Don’t do that. It’s really kind of embarrassing. Anyway, Michael did as much as I did.”
Robbie straightened up. “Aye, true enough.” He coughed into his fist and assumed a formal tone. “Michael Whatever-Your-Last-Name-Is, it was you telling off Hamish for the prat he was that reminded me what it means to be a dwarf. In recognition of that, I do hereby appoint you Royal Guardian of All Dwarfish Traditions and History.” He snapped his fingers, and a dwarf stepped forward and handed the King a small badge, which he pinned to Michael’s sweater.
“Your H-Highness …,” Michael stam
mered, “I—I wish I’d had a chance to prepare some remarks.”
Robbie clapped him on the shoulder. “Ah, lad, you’d have made a grand dwarf, a grand dwarf.”
Emma looked less than thrilled to see Michael getting so much attention, and as Robbie gave Michael a furry kiss on each cheek, Kate heard her mutter, “I’m the one that got shot with an arrow.” Emma had been, of course, impressed to hear about Michael standing up to Hamish and placing his own hand upon the chopping block, or perhaps not so much impressed, Kate reflected, as dumbfounded, since she’d kept repeating, “Really? Michael did that? Really? Michael?” In any case, Kate was about to tell her to quit muttering and let Michael enjoy his moment when he turned toward them, grinning and puffing out his chest, a look of pure joy upon his face, and before Kate knew it, she and Emma were both hugging him, saying how proud they were of him, Emma punching him in the arm only a little too hard. It wasn’t till Michael cleared his throat and offered that he might say a few words after all that Kate jumped in and suggested that later might be better.
“Yeah,” Emma said, looking immensely relieved, “we always love to hear you talk about dwarves and stuff, but we got other things to talk about first. Like the Atlas! We should probably talk about that!”
“My dear,” Dr. Pym said, “how did you learn that name? I’m quite amazed.”
Kate saw Emma glance at Michael and give a pleased little shrug. “Oh, I know lots of things. Did you know that’s what it’s called, Michael?”
Michael shook his head.
“Well, that’s what it is, all right. The Atlas. You should write it down so you don’t forget.”
Kate did not mention that she had heard this from the Secretary.
“Your sister is indeed correct,” Dr. Pym said. “Each of the Books of Beginning has a unique name. Technically, the book we are searching for is the Atlas of Time—”
“That’s right,” Emma said, nodding seriously. “Technically.”
“—but it is usually just referred to as the Atlas, an appropriate name, as the book contains maps of all possible pasts, presents, and futures and allows one to move through both time and space. But now is not the moment to get into all the whys and wherefores.”
“Sure,” Emma said, “we can get into those later. All the whys and stuff.”
In listening to Dr. Pym, it had occurred to Kate that ever since hearing the book’s true name, she had begun to think of it as the Atlas. The name simply felt right.
“What about Hamish?” Michael asked. “Is he really not king anymore?”
“That ’e is not,” Robbie said. “I sent ’im back to the palace, said I wanted it scrubbed top to bottom by ’im personally. And to shave off that beard a’ ’is. Disgusting it was.”
“Hamish used to be the king,” Emma informed Gabriel; he also had left the group around the desk and entered their circle. “He tried to cut off Kate’s hand. Then Michael stopped him. At least, that’s the story—”
“Hey!”
“Fine, you’re a hero.” Emma rolled her eyes. “Go polish your medal.”
Robbie told them that upon hearing he was no longer king, Hamish had tried to commit suicide by chopping off his own head. However, all he succeeded in doing was knocking himself unconscious, and it required several buckets of cold water to bring him around. This was, Robbie added, the closest Hamish had come to a bath in months.
As the others continued talking, Kate stepped over to the blown-out wall and looked down into the square. The battle won, the dwarves had erected a field kitchen and set about boiling huge vats of carrots, onions, tomatoes, and beef, the smell of which had quickly overwhelmed the rancid stench of expired Screechers. Now men who hadn’t had a decent meal in two years gobbled down bowls of stew as fast as the dwarf servers could bring them to the tables.
Kate turned to look at the cages.
The Secretary was the sole prisoner. He was in the nearest cage, cradling his hurt arm and rocking back and forth. Was it true what he’d said? Did Dr. Pym intend to send her back in time to retrieve the Atlas? Her heart quickened at the thought that she might see her mother again. At the same time, she felt a stab of guilt. Twice now—first with Michael, then with Emma after the battle—she’d told her story of touching the book and going into the past. Neither time had she mentioned seeing their mother. Why? What was her reason for keeping it secret?
Kate became aware that the Secretary was staring directly at her.
“Enough! We must act!”
Tearing herself from the man’s gaze, Kate turned back to the room. The speaker was the gaunt, fierce-eyed man who’d told her which key opened the cage doors. He was leaning forward on the desk, and Kate suddenly noticed his tangled mass of red-brown hair and realized why he’d looked so familiar.
“We know your son! Stephen McClattery! We met him!”
She added quickly:
“He’s fine! We saw him a couple days ago, and he was totally fine.”
The effect of Kate’s words was instant and dramatic. It was as if the man had been straining against a rope, and the rope was abruptly cut. His head dropped, and his whole body seemed to sag forward. Kate knew this must be the first he’d heard of his son in two years. He probably hadn’t even known if the boy was alive or dead. Finally, the man wiped at his face and looked up. There were smeared tear tracks on his grimy cheeks.
“Thank you,” he said thickly. “But every moment we spend talking gives the witch more time to take revenge on our children.”
“Right you are,” Robbie said. “Doctor, you want to tell the young ’uns what we need from ’em?”
“Here is the situation.” Dr. Pym adjusted his tortoiseshell glasses, a process that made them no less crooked. “Our next task is to march to Cambridge Falls and liberate the imprisoned children, including your friend Stephen McClattery.”
“He’s not my friend,” Emma muttered. “He’s actually pretty annoy—oww!” She glared at Kate. “Why’d you poke me?”
“The issue,” Dr. Pym continued, “is that as long as the Countess holds the children hostage, we can’t risk a direct assault on her house.”
“But you’re a wizard,” Michael said. “You made an earthquake. Can’t you do something?”
“Unfortunately, the Countess has set up certain barriers around the house and town that limit my capabilities. We must resort to more conventional means. Which again brings us to you three. You were able to escape the house. I wonder—”
“Oh! Oh!” Emma’s hand shot into the air.
“Yes, my dear.”
“There’s a secret passage! It goes from the room where the kids are and comes out the side of the house. Abraham took us through. But we could find it again! Easy!”
“We already told him about that,” Michael said. “Back in the dungeon.”
“True,” Dr. Pym said. “But I was going to ask you to tell everyone else. Wonderful foresight, my dear.”
“You’re welcome,” Emma said, and smiled triumphantly at Michael.
“Right, then!” King Robbie clapped. “ ’Ere’s what we do: a few of us creep up to the house, slip the nippers out through this secret passage all sneaky-Pete; once that’s done, ’ello-’ello, the rest of us make our attack! Aye, that’s a brilliant plan, that is!”
There was general nodding and murmuring.
Michael was nervously fingering his new badge. “What if the Countess already knows she’s lost the battle? Won’t she be expecting us?”
“Perhaps,” Dr. Pym said, “but we have little choice except to proceed and hope for the best. As Mr. McClattery pointed out, many young lives hang in the balance. Now, Gabriel and I and the children will—”
Just then there was a large thud, and everyone looked to see Kate lying unconscious on the floor.
“Feeling better, my dear?”
Kate blinked. A trio of concerned faces stared down at her. She forced herself to sit up. She had been laid on a very hard, very lumpy couch in a room she did
n’t recognize. Emma, Michael, and Dr. Pym moved back to give her space.
“What happened?” Emma asked. “You were standing there and then you, like … fell over.”
Kate pressed her fingers to her temples. Sitting up had made her light-headed. She could hear, outside the door, many footsteps moving quickly past.
“I think I’m just tired. And hungry.”
“Well,” Dr. Pym said, “you have all had a very trying day. We’ll get you something to eat.”
“And drink,” Michael said. “I bet we’re dehydrated and don’t even know it.”
“Your brain’s dehydrated,” Emma said.
“Very likely,” Michael replied. “The brain’s the most sensitive organ in your body.”
Emma muttered something inaudible.
Kate looked around. There was a single gas lamp on the floor, and stacked against one wall were baskets of turnips, onions, carrots, sacks of potatoes. The cooks were clearly using this room for storage.
“You’re certain that’s all it was, my dear? Hunger?” The wizard was staring at her intently.
Kate closed her eyes. She could still see it happening.…
“Katherine?”
She wished he would stop pressuring her. She knew why she’d fainted, and she had no intention whatsoever of talking about it.
“Perhaps I could help if—”
“Why didn’t you tell us you knew our parents!”
Instantly, Kate realized what she’d done. She’d only meant to distract everyone, to get them talking about something besides her fainting. But she’d spoken in haste, and now …
She glanced at Michael and Emma and saw their confusion. How long did she have before they put it together?
“When should I have told you, Katherine?” Dr. Pym had taken off his glasses and was cleaning them on his tie. “In the dungeon? I’ve already explained why it was important to pretend I had no idea who you were. And in the original past, well, then I truly had no idea who you were.”
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