The leaves rustled and then parted. And out stepped a tiger. Or something like a tiger. It had black and green stripes, and its eyes smoldered like volcanos. The tiger sniffed at its surroundings and then saw the boys. It gave a steaming snarl, full of heat and magma, crouched low, wiggled its hips, and then pounced.
Wally slammed the book shut just as a wave of hot air from the tiger’s claws slashed across the boys’ shirts. The rodent scrambled up Wally’s pants and hopped into his pocket.
Arthur started giggling. “That was amazing!”
“I don’t think you and I have the same definition of amazing,” Wally said, feeling his chest to make sure he was still in one piece.
Arthur scanned the books.
“What are you doing?” Wally said.
“Looking for a book with treasure in it.”
“And what if that treasure is guarded by another tiger? Or something worse?”
Arthur kept searching. “Worth the risk.”
Wally seized his arm and spun him around. “Enough playing around, Arthur! That’s what got us into this mess in the first place! We need to go home. Now.”
Arthur remained calm. “Home is where the hero goes once the journey’s said and done. Know who said that?”
“If it’s Garnett Lacroix, I’m going to scream,” Wally said. “He’s a fictional character with an author who can write him out of sticky situations. You don’t have an Alfred Moore protecting you everywhere you go. That’s why copying the Gentleman Thief always lands you in trouble.”
Arthur tried not to let the hurt show on his face. Instead, he stared deep into Wally’s eyes. “There’s nothing you need money for? Nothing at all?”
Wally looked away. “I just want to go back to Kingsport. You heard that old lady with the snake. The city’s in trouble. The people are under attack by some Fae-born or something.” He studied the bookshelf. “If only they had a book about Kingsport…” His eyes went wide. He went to a nearby desk, grabbed a quill, a loose page, and an inkpot. “If this portal opens onto whatever’s written in the book,” Wally said, slapping the page on the lectern, “maybe we can write our way home.”
“Cooper, that’s brilliant!” Arthur said. He plucked the quill from Wally’s hand. “Better leave this to the storyteller.”
He placed the tip of the quill on the page, then hesitated. He had no problem making things up on the spot, but when the words were on paper, there was a permanence to them.
Wally tapped the page. “Try ‘Wally and Arthur blinked, and there was an exit to Kingsport waiting for them.’”
“Please, Cooper,” Arthur said. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it with style.” He thought a moment and then began to write. “Arthur Benton may have begun his career as a humble thief, but he quickly rose in the ranks of the Black Feathers using charm, wit, and a seemingly endless well of—”
“Bull crap,” Wally finished for him. “Hurry up and get to the part where we go home.”
“You can’t rush art,” Arthur said.
“No,” Wally said, “but I can rush Arthur. Now write us an exit.”
Arthur tickled his chin with the quill’s feather, thinking. He started a new line and read aloud. “With a slight blip, the portal opened like a popped soap bubble. And Arthur and Wally looked with adoration upon their very own magical Kingsport.” He dropped the quill. “There. Happy? I am.”
They stared at the mirror. Their reflection started to flicker. Then it popped—much like a soap bubble—revealing a familiar brick wall.
“That’s Lacey Lane!” Wally said.
“Sure is!” Arthur clapped him on the shoulder. “I’d recognize it anywhere! This is where I steal necklaces for my many gentlewomen callers. Er, Liza, at least.”
They stepped through the portal, and it flickered and vanished behind them, leaving nothing but bricks.
A chill ran up Arthur’s spine when he realized he hadn’t grabbed a single coin or collected any information from the Manor. The Rook was going to sink his talons deep.
“Um, Arthur?”
“Yeah, Cooper?”
“Does something seem … off to you?”
Arthur gazed up and down the street, all silver and shadows. It was late. The stars shined darkly. They were definitely in the Gilded Quarter, but something did feel different. Staring down Lacey Lane gave him the same kind of vertigo Wally must have felt in the spiral hallway.
Then it hit him.
“Everything’s … backward,” Arthur said.
Instead of the street curving up and to the right like it did back home, this street curved up and to the left. The shops were warped and gleamed silvery.
“I think I know where we are,” Wally whispered, fear in his voice. “That woman with the snake mentioned a place called Mirror Kingsport…”
Arthur gulped as he recalled the conversation he’d had with Graham.
Wally’s nearly through the Mirror now. Ready to be reversed …
9
THE MAGE AND THE PALADIN
Things only grew stranger as Wally and Arthur walked through Mirror Kingsport’s silvery streets. The buildings were not only backward but like exaggerated versions of themselves. Some stretched as long and skinny as upside-down icicles while others blobbed stoutly like failed cakes. Lampposts grew spindly against the sky, and chimney stacks belched clouds of ash across the black stars.
“You just had to add style to that sentence, didn’t you?” Wally said. “You just had to say magical Kingsport? You couldn’t just write Kingsport. You couldn’t write home.”
“It was a first draft!” Arthur said.
The tension left Wally’s shoulders, like he couldn’t really blame Arthur. Not for this part anyway. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I wish we were back in the Manor.”
Arthur nodded. “Should we head to Hazelrigg and try to find another portal home?”
“I’m afraid of what we’d find there,” Wally said. “But I don’t have any better ideas.”
A door opened in the night. The boys slowly turned as a figure in a yellow trench coat and top hat exited a building as crooked as a lightning bolt. The figure’s hands had three fingers each, and they held a scythe. Arthur and Wally hustled away, hoping to keep their necks intact.
Soon they arrived at a dress shop. A line of shadows stared with moony eyes through the large, glistening windows. The dresses on display didn’t look like the ones in Kingsport, but what those dresses aspired to be. The shoulders swept up like great thorns around the collar while the trains stretched impossibly long into the dark shops. The street sign read not Lacey Lane but Licey Lane.
Arthur reflexively scratched under his vest. “Let’s keep moving.”
They’d almost made it to Port when something large roared at the end of the street. It sounded like boulders getting into an argument.
Wally’s eyes went wide. “That’s coming from the Oaker pub.”
“Yep,” Arthur said and gulped.
Black Feathers avoided the officers’ watering hole like it was a lit stick of dynamite. How the pub would manifest in the Mirror sent Arthur’s imagination spiraling.
The sounds grew louder, like a mountain splitting in two. Then a vast shadow stretched across the moonlit buildings. The figure came grunting around the corner, dragging something heavy across the cobbles.
“Back the way we came?” Wally asked.
“Uh-huh,” Arthur said, already hustling away.
They hadn’t made it a half block before they heard a snort of confusion behind them. Arthur dared a peek over his shoulder and immediately regretted it. From around the corner swayed an ogre the size of a small house—a great mass of muscle and fat. One of its eyes was bruised, and blood trickled from its tusked mouth.
It had spotted them.
The ogre came bellowing down the street. Arthur and Wally ran as fast as they could, but the ogre’s legs were thick and long, and its great sloshing belly only added to i
ts momentum. When the ogre’s shadow passed over them, it hefted its tree-sized club overhead and—
An alley opened in the wall beside them. “Psst!” a voice said. “In here!”
Arthur and Wally leapt into the alleyway just as the club came crashing down, making the ogre belly flop on the cobbles.
Arthur blinked in the darkness. It was Sekhmet, the girl with the swords, and Huamei, the boy with the braid and calligraphy brush. They wore cloaks, hoods obscuring their faces.
“What are you doing here?” Sekhmet said. “How did you escape the Abyssment?”
Arthur glanced at Wally. Where did they begin?
The ogre grunted as it pushed itself up off the cobbles.
“Wait here,” Sekhmet told the boys with venom in her voice.
She stepped out of the alley, drawing her swords. Arthur couldn’t see what happened next, but it sounded windy and sizzling, and the ogre’s grunts were quickly replaced with peaceful snores.
Huamei smirked at Wally. “Hello, thief.”
“You know this guy?” Arthur asked.
“He tried to murder me with cuckoo clocks,” Wally said.
“Ah,” Arthur said.
Sekhmet stepped back into the alley, holstering her swords.
“We can’t stay here,” she said. “The other Ogre Oakers will come to investigate.”
Ogre Oakers? As if regular Oakers weren’t bad enough. Arthur searched the alley, tracing a path up packing crates, ivy, and broken fire escapes to the top of the impossibly tall building. At least some things were the same in Mirror Kingsport.
“This way,” he said.
Sekhmet looked like she wanted to argue, but then a herd of grunts echoed down the street. Arthur climbed the spindly building while the others followed. The climb was thrice as high as it would’ve been back home, but they made it panting onto the slanted roof. Wally collapsed and covered his face.
He was missing out on an unsettlingly beautiful sight. The four quarters of Mirror Kingsport looked more like an exaggerated sketch of the city than their Real counterparts. The Gilded Quarter shined like a jeweled casino. The Bliss was filled with ivory spires, and the Wretch resembled an exploded sewer main. The Port sat on a sea as black as ink, and Greyridge Mental Hospital towered as ominous as a vampire’s castle, drinking up all the moon’s light.
Sekhmet threw back her hood. “How did you escape the Manor?”
“Someone left our cell unlocked,” Arthur said. “If I were you, I’d fire that woman with the eye patch because—”
Sekhmet patted down Arthur’s pockets and was about to pat down Wally’s when Wally voluntarily handed her the cell key. He seemed to be protecting that rodent in his pocket.
“Looks like Amelia keeps her job,” Sekhmet said and drew her swords.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Arthur said. “What are you—?”
She slashed just as he squeezed his eyes shut. When he felt nothing but a warm gust, he cracked open an eye and raised his wrists to find they were bound in glowing red shackles.
Sekhmet holstered her swords. “Those magma manacles should hold until we get back to the Manor.”
Arthur frowned. “Where are Cooper’s magma manacles?”
“He hasn’t lied to me yet.” Sekhmet stepped to the roof’s edge. “Come with me.”
“Here’s a better idea,” Arthur said, feeling less than charming with his wrists bound. “You turn us loose in our own city after paying us handsomely for leading you to safety from those ogres.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Sekhmet said. “You were the ones who blew our cover. And we don’t need two thieves to help us avoid danger.”
“We could pretend we never saw them,” Huamei said. “I tire of this mission and don’t want it to drag on any longer.”
“Okay, your highness,” Sekhmet said. “Do you want to be the one to tell Lady Weirdwood that we left two kids from the Real in the Mirror? They could compromise the stories of this city and maybe even open up another Rift.”
“Two handsome kids,” Arthur added. “Young men, really.”
“Dawn will break soon,” Huamei said, gazing over the inky sea. “We still don’t know where the Rift is.” He glanced at Sekhmet. “Your precious Wardenship is slipping away.”
She hesitated a moment, then gave her head a shake. “I’ll get these boys back to the Manor. You find the Rift. I’d check the bookstore next.”
She pointed, and Arthur’s eyebrows leapt. Sekhmet had pointed in the wrong direction, and Huamei hadn’t corrected her. When it came to Kingsport, these two didn’t know the Wretch from the Bliss.
“We can help you,” Arthur said.
“Oh yeah?” Sekhmet said with disbelief.
She may have been able to see through his lies, but that didn’t mean she didn’t need something. And she’d just shown him how badly she wanted to complete her mission.
Arthur nodded at Wally. “Cooper here and I are celebrated members of the Black Feathers gang. We know the streets of Kingsport like the stains on our shirts.” He gestured to the Mirror horizon. “Even if those shirts are turned inside out.”
Wally said nothing. He was no help in situations like these.
“Lady Weirdwood wants this mission completed by dawn?” Arthur continued. “We can make that happen. Cooper and I know what it’s like to disappoint a superior. Ours is a lot scarier than yours. He collects fingers, and he doesn’t wear a wedding dress.”
Sekhmet didn’t crack a smile, but Arthur didn’t waver. “We’ll help you out for, say, a few choice items from that treasure room of yours. Once we find the Rift and this Fae-born thing, you can release us, and we’ll all be better off for it. Whaddayasay?”
Sekhmet sighed. “I say you broke into our Manor, stole our money, and then breached the Fae, compromising the Veil’s security. I don’t trust you any more than I trust those ogres.”
Arthur was tempted to lie to try and clinch the deal, but lies never seemed to work on Sekhmet.
“We have a personal stake in helping you too,” he said. “We don’t want to see any harm come to our fair city. And with the funds you give us, I’ll be able to save my dad, who’s being held hostage in a mental hospital.”
Sekhmet looked at Wally. “Is he telling the truth?”
“I doubt it,” Wally said, not meeting Arthur’s eyes.
Huamei cleared his throat. “I am not opposed to accepting the thieves’ assistance. I’m unaccustomed to traveling without a servant anyway.”
Sekhmet looked skeptical, and Arthur felt a glimmer of hope.
“We could divide our efforts,” Huamei said. “One of them could guide me through Real Kingsport while the other guides you through the Mirror. We’ll finish in half the time, and you’ll be awarded your little Wardenship.”
“We’re Kishar and Anshar,” Sekhmet said. “We’re supposed to stay together.”
Arthur cleared his throat. “I don’t know what Keester and Anchor is, but I have to disagree with Huamei here.” He awkwardly threw his manacled hands around Wally’s shoulders. “Cooper and I are a team. We work together or we don’t work at all.”
“Actually,” Wally said, ducking away from Arthur, “we have plenty of experience going our separate ways.”
Even though he should have seen that coming, Arthur still felt like he’d been punched in the heart.
“Fine,” Sekhmet said. “We’ll let you help us.” She addressed Huamei. “But if we’re caught, I’m telling Lady Weirdwood you transformed into your true form and forced me to let two thieves help us.”
Huamei smirked and bowed his head.
“And our payment?” Arthur asked.
Sekhmet considered this. “If we find any treasure in the Mirror, it’s yours for the keeping.”
Huamei snorted and averted his gaze.
“What?” Arthur said. “Why is that funny?”
“No reason.” Sekhmet pointed at Wally. “You. Quiet one. You’re going to the Real to track down the Fae-born
with Huamei.”
Wally nodded nervously.
“And you.” Sekhmet lifted her sword so Arthur could feel the cold metal under his chin. “You’re going to stay here and help me find the Rift so I can keep an eye on you.”
Arthur gulped, and the blade’s sharp edge grazed his Adam’s apple. He smiled. “I’m just happy to be on the team with the swords.”
She dissolved his magma manacles, holstered her blade, and descended a wobbly fire escape. Arthur rubbed his wrists and stepped to the ladder, pausing to take one look back.
Huamei painted a doorway on the side of a chimney. The brickwork opened with a goblin’s mouth, revealing a bright and shining day in Real Kingsport.
Wally stepped through. He didn’t bother looking back at Arthur.
MAIN STREET
Wally led Huamei through Kingsport. The sky was starting to brighten, and Wally’s skin tingled to be back in his city. The damp stone of Greyridge glistened on the cliffs. The sight usually filled his heart with dread, but just seeing it in the pre-dawn light gave him hope that he might be able to save his brother.
VEIN STREET
Arthur led Sekhmet through Mirror Kingsport. The sky swirled darkly, and Arthur’s skin tingled to be in this strange place. The slimy stone of Greyridge glimmered on the cliffs. The sight had always filled his heart with dread, but seeing it in the Mirror light emptied him of hope that he would ever be able to save Harry.
MISTLETOE WAY
“So you can just paint stuff into being?” Wally asked as they stepped onto the bustling street. Maybe Graham didn’t belong in a mental hospital after all.
“It’s not that simple,” Huamei answered. “My art requires years of training and is impossible for those without royal blood. Where’s the bookstore?”
Wally sighed and pointed.
GRISTLETOE WAY
“Can I carry one of your swords?” Arthur whispered as they stepped into the empty street. “I promise I’ll be awesome with it.”
“I wouldn’t trust you with a safety pin,” Sekhmet said, keeping both hands fixed firmly on her sword hilts. “Where’s the bookstore?”
Thieves of Weirdwood Page 9
