“Not yet,” Celia added, still angry. “First tell us what’s going on.”
“I can’t,” Dr. Navel said. “It’s better if you don’t hear it from me.”
“No!” Celia yelled. “I’ve had enough of that. No more deciding what’s better for us and what isn’t. Dad says it’s better for us if we don’t watch too much TV, if we get out and see the world. Well, the world has nearly gotten us killed and all that television is the only thing that’s kept us alive so far! So you tell us and we’ll decide what’s better for us. We’re not kids anymore, like when you left. We’re eleven now. Did you know that? We turned nine while you were gone. And then ten, and you still weren’t back. Now we’re eleven and you have to tell us why you were gone so long and why we had to almost die to get you to come find us!”
Their mother just looked at Celia for a long time. She looked a little sad, but also a little happy, the way people look when they listen to violins.
Oliver and Celia shifted uncomfortably in the silence. They heard the high mountain wind whistling outside.
“You have grown up a lot,” their mother said at last. “But I meant that it is better if you hear it from him.”
She pointed behind them and both children turned. Standing in front of them was a monk dressed in elaborate robes and armor with a sword shimmering in the dim light.
“Oliver, Celia,” their mother said. “I’d like to introduce you to my friend Dorjee Drakden, oracle, warrior-god and Consul General for the Great Protector Pehar Gylapo.”
The spirit suddenly filled the monk’s body and he let out a loud hiss. His chest puffed and he slashed his sword through the air, spinning and coming toward them. Oliver and Celia drew closer to each other. The oracle stopped in front of them and spoke in the voice of Dorjee Drakden.
“The greatest explorers shall be the least,” he chanted. “The old ways shall come to nothing, while new visions reveal everything. All that is known will be unknown and what was lost will be found.” His face had turned red and agitated. He paused and then added. “Trust no one!”
“Um,” Celia said. “What was that about?”
“That was a prophecy,” Oliver said.
“How do you know?”
“Because that’s what prophecies sound like. They’re cryptic.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, ‘having a meaning that is mysterious or obscure,’ ” Oliver said. “At least, that’s what the yak told me.”
“That was why I brought you guys here,” their mother said. “To hear that prophecy. It is your prophecy.”
“But why?” Oliver demanded. “Why us? We don’t even like to leave the couch!”
“Because it is your destiny to find the Lost Library,” their mother said.
Suddenly, the oracle spun around the room waving his sword, hissing and panting. He knocked all the papers from the desk and tipped over a small chair. The little monk seemed barely in control of his body, like the spirit was trying to break free of him. Finally, he stopped in front of Oliver and Celia again. He raised his sword above them and gripped it with both hands, like he was going to chop them apart. And then he pulled a universal remote control out of his sleeve. It was the one they’d left in the cave with the boy.
“For you,” the oracle said, in a totally different voice, almost like a child’s. “All fixed.” He hissed again, right into their faces, and crumpled to the floor in a pile of robes. “Told you we’d meet again.” He winked and then fell sound asleep. The spirit had left his body.
Oliver stood looking at the remote, wondering how it could have gotten here from the cave.
“I’m sorry,” their mother said. “I tried to protect you for so long.”
“Yeah, great job,” Celia said.
“I did what I could. I made that note that only you would understand to try to get you here without the Council knowing why. Dorjee Drakden and I did what we could with the airplane and the yak. We even made that fake version of your soap opera, Celia, because I knew you would recognize that it was fake. It’s hard even for Pehar Gylapo to broadcast images mystically like that, and he’s the most powerful spirit in these mountains. It took a lot of convincing, but I thought it might save you from the Poison Witches. I’m sorry it didn’t work in time to save your father, but mystical television programming is not as easy as it looks.”
“Who is this Council?” Oliver wanted to know.
“They’re also looking for the Lost Library. They have been for thousands of years. They want all of its treasures so they can rule the world. For the last three years, I’ve been trying to beat them to it.”
“But why bring us now, though?” Celia demanded. “Why after all this time?”
“Because of the prophecy you just heard,” she said. “Because it means that I cannot find the library myself; only you can find it. I wanted to spare you. I thought I could find it without you, but I couldn’t. You are the only ones who can uncover its true location.”
“In Shangri-La?” Oliver asked.
“Some might call it that,” she said. “Others might call it Atlantis or El Dorado or the City of Z. It’s a blank spot on the map. Every time in history has such a place. Shangri-La is just one of them. But there are others, lost places where lost things go.”
“How are we supposed to find that?” Celia asked. “Why do people keep expecting us to find things? We’re not explorers! What are we supposed to do?”
“You have all the tools you need. I’ve kept it from Sir Edmund and his Council all this time—a perfect copy of the Lost Tablets.”
“We have that?”
“I hope you do,” a voice said from behind them.
Frank Pfeffer climbed up from a trapdoor in the floor, pointing his gun at the Navel family. “Because you’re going to give it to me. And I can’t wait to announce the discovery myself at a very large press conference! Where the Navel family failed, Frank Pfeffer succeeded! The Lost Library of Alexandria! Should I announce it in Beijing? New York? Los Angeles? Perhaps there’s a movie deal in it for me. . . . Oh, and before you get any ideas,” he added, “I assure you, the bullets in the gun are quite real this time.”
34
WE VISIT A NEW FRIEND
“YOU’LL NEVER WIN,” their mother said. “I didn’t tell you anything in the Gobi Desert; I won’t now.”
“You made me look like a fool.”
“I did what I had to do.”
“And you will again. You will give me this copy you mentioned, or I will shoot one of your children. Which should it be?” He lowered the gun to Oliver and Celia’s level and moved the barrel back and forth. “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, catch a Navel by the toe,” he chanted.
“Is this the happy ending you mentioned?” Celia whispered to her brother.
“Wait!” Oliver said. “We’ll help you.”
“What?” their mother said.
“What?” Celia said.
“What?” Frank Pfeffer said.
“We’ll give you what we have. We don’t care about all this Lost Library stuff. It’s just a bunch of books.” He looked over at his mother sadly. “We just want our mom back.”
Frank Pfeffer smirked.
“But you can’t kill us later,” Celia added angrily. “Bad guys do that kind of thing all the time.”
“Deal. Though it won’t be much help for your father with those witches,” he said, and laughed.
“You snake, you lousy, scheming . . .” Celia searched for the right word to yell at him. “Charlatan!”
Frank Pfeffer just laughed. “We’re running out of time for name-calling, little girl. Why don’t you just give me what you’ve got now?”
“No,” Dr. Navel said. “It’s too important.” She was pleading with her children.
“Here you go,” Oliver said, ignoring his mother. He dropped the remote control into his backpack and pulled out the collar he’d taken from the yeti.
“What is that?” Frank Pfeffer said.
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“It is the Great Key of Alexander,” Oliver said. Celia and his mother looked at him like he was crazy.
“What does it open?” Frank was practically panting.
“The Catalog Room of the Great Library,” Oliver said. “The room is the size of a circus tent, with thousands of scrolls telling you all its mysteries.” He winked at his mother and sister.
“The Lost Tablets,” said Frank Pfeffer.
“Yeah,” said Oliver. “They existed all along . . . right here in Shangri-La.”
“You will not make me look like a fool again,” Frank said.
“Why would I lie now? You’ve got the gun.”
“All right then, Oliver. Lead the way.”
Oliver slipped carefully down the trapdoor. His mother followed. Celia was at the back with Frank, who held her by her collar and kept his rifle pointed at their mother’s back.
“No funny business,” he said.
“Trust me,” Oliver said. “I don’t want to be funny.”
They climbed down the ladder into a dark hallway. They pressed themselves flat against the wall when they heard guards rushing down the hallway. They streaked past, all clattering swords and flapping robes. The man in the baseball cap led them.
“You go that way,” the man shouted. “And you lot, that way. Find them! Go!” The guards ran off in opposite directions. Oliver waved their little group forward and they continued to a winding stairwell.
“I think it’s this way,” he said. Celia wondered what her brother was doing, but if she’d learned anything in the last three days, it was that she should probably just trust him. They’d kept each other from dying so far.
“What are you doing, Ollie?” Dr. Navel whispered.
Oliver ignored her. He led them down a narrow hallway to a heavy wooden door on the outside wall.
“This is it,” Oliver said.
“Good,” said Frank Pfeffer. “Now give me the key.”
“You’ll need to show it to the guardian of the room, in order to get past,” Oliver explained, handing him the collar.
“No, Oliver,” Celia added. “Don’t give it to him!” She’d realized what her brother was up to.
“Give that to me,” Frank said, snatching the collar from Oliver’s hand. “Oh! I am about to become the most famous explorer in the world. Too bad your father won’t survive to see this. Maybe I’ll get your apartment at the Explorers Club.” He laughed and opened the door right into the baby yeti’s cage.
“ROOOOAAAR!” the yeti growled as it stood up straight, at least twice the height of Frank Pfeffer.
“Bow to the Key of Alexander,” Frank shouted.
The yeti cocked its head to the side for a moment, confused. He looked at the explorer and he looked at his mother’s collar in the man’s hands. He cocked his head to the other side. Then he saw the rifle.
“ROOOOAAAR!” he said again and knocked the gun from Frank’s hand with a single swipe.
“Ahhhh!” Frank said, and turned to run, but Oliver and Celia slammed the door on him. They rushed away toward the exit to the courtyard. They didn’t want to stick around and hear what the yeti did to the man it thought had taken his mother.
“Good thinking, guys,” Dr. Navel said to her kids.
“You’re a real Agent Zero,” Celia told Oliver, and she meant it this time. Oliver blushed a little bit.
“The yeti just misses his mother,” Oliver explained. There was a long silence while Oliver and Celia looked at their mother.
“So what did you mean we have everything we need?” Celia asked at last.
“Shhhh,” their mother said.
They crouched down as another group of guards rushed past, led by Sir Edmund. Once the group had gone, she gestured for Oliver and Celia to follow her. They got out to the courtyard, where their yak was still tied up.
“You have to go to the mountain and get your father,” Dr. Navel said.
“What about you?” Celia asked.
“I am going to lead the Council away from you.”
“But you can’t just leave again,” Oliver said.
“I promise, one day, I will be back.”
“But what about the prophecy and stuff?”
“Trust me, guys. Don’t freak out. I love you very much. Just remember to always be yourselves and you’ll be okay. You know far more than you think you do. When the time is right, you’ll find me again. For now, just try to get home and watch some TV. And don’t let Sir Edmund get his hands on the catalog.”
“But we don’t even know—”
She cut Oliver off with a tight hug and kiss on the top of his head. Though Celia resisted a moment, she did the same to her and Celia melted into her mother’s smell of perfume and shampoo and dirty yak fur.
“What do we do about the witches?” Celia said at last. “Without the Lost Tablets, how will we get Dad?”
“Just remember what you know,” Dr. Navel started to say. “They can’t make—”
“Hey!” The shout came from above. It was Sir Edmund standing with a phalanx of guards on a stone balcony. “Stop them!” he shouted.
“Good-bye, kiddos,” Oliver and Celia’s mom said as she set them on the yak and whacked it on the behind. The yak took off toward the slopes of the mountain in the distance. Oliver and Celia looked back as their mother raced off on foot in the opposite direction, pursued by large Tibetan warriors.
As their yak raced upward over gnarly rocks and frozen scrub, they saw the guards only a few feet from their mother. She had stopped at the edge of the gorge, which dropped off thousands of feet below. She turned around and pulled a leather journal from under her robes.
“Is this what you want?” she shouted. “My copy of the Lost Tablets?” The guards froze. She waved the book in the air a few times. Then she gave one look back at her kids riding to safety, and tossed the book into the air. The pages flew apart and scattered in the wind.
“Noooo!” Sir Edmund shouted as the guards scrambled to catch the loose paper. Dr. Navel laughed and took one big leap out into the void.
“Mom!” the twins shouted, but a moment later, they saw her sailing along the edge of the canyon, gripping tightly to the wings of a small glider.
“Stop her!” Sir Edmund shouted as he raced down from the monastery and sprinted across the icy ground, snatching and jumping at loose papers as he ran. Though the warriors tried shooting arrows and firing their rifles at Oliver and Celia’s mother, they couldn’t even come close. She was rising like a hawk on the wind and in only a few minutes, she was gone. As the yak moved farther and farther from the monastery, they heard Sir Edmund shouting at his guards.
“You fools! The papers were blank! It was a trick. Go after her! I can’t believe you fell for that!” His voice faded into the distance. The twins were alone again and their father was running out of time.
35
WE CAN’T COOK EITHER
THE YAK KNEW WHERE it was going. It didn’t hesitate and it didn’t look back. All Oliver and Celia could think about was hesitating and looking back. The last few hours felt like a dream. Had they really just seen their mother? Had she really just left them again?
The yak shot up the mountain as fast as a . . . well . . . a really fast yak. There’s nothing that really compares to a yak running at tremendous speed. Except maybe an out-of-control bulldozer covered in fur.
“What do you think she meant,” Celia shouted, “when she said the witches can’t make something? What can’t they make?”
“I don’t know!” Oliver shouted.
When they arrived at the edge of the mountain, the sun was just beginning to set. It was the fifth day. If they didn’t get to the witches soon, their father would be lost forever. The yak stopped. It wasn’t going any farther. Oliver tried to yank it, to keep it going up, but an eleven-year-old who sits in front of the TV all day has little chance of moving a two-ton yak that has just run a marathon. Oliver had never run a marathon. Neither had Celia. The yak’s expression
told them that it was not easy.
The children had to go on foot. Celia let Oliver carry the backpack.
“Thanks,” he said sarcastically.
“I’ll go first,” Celia said.
“You will?”
“Yeah. I’m better at stealth than you.”
“Since when?” Oliver demanded just as he tripped over a knobby root sticking out of the ground.
She’s protecting me again, Oliver thought, kind of annoyed. And kind of grateful. He really didn’t want to go first. Those witches scared him.
The twins scrambled over rocks and leaped between boulders. They ducked behind a bush when they saw a group of the council’s large guards pass on horseback. The men were huge. They carried shining swords and were dressed like warriors from another time, some time long ago when people didn’t hesitate to slice children in half with their shining swords.
They climbed as quickly as they could over rocks and ice. When they came to the witches’ camp inside a cave of ice, they ducked behind a boulder and watched the witches in the reflections off the ice. They were reflected back over and over again at crazy angles. It was like being in a funhouse.
The witches had set up their huts in the same circle they had in the valley. They had even set up the satellite dish. They sat around a campfire, cooking. Dr. Navel lay unconscious on the ground next to the fire. He was snoring quietly. Every few seconds, he would groan.
“At least Dad’s still warm,” Celia said.
“He’s almost out of time.”
“What do we do?”
They listened in on the witches.
“Put in more butter! That’s too much salt!” the leader shouted at the one stirring a big pot.
“Don’t tell me how to cook. Everything you make tastes like wood.”
“I wish what you made tasted like wood!” she snapped back. “I don’t even want to say what your food tastes like.”
“Say it, I dare you.”
“Or what?”
“You’ll regret it.”
“The only thing I regret is letting you make dinner!”
We Are Not Eaten by Yaks Page 17
