Just as she entered the clearing and raised her magic wand, Meadowlark pulled Tom up behind her on Comète and they flew away in a blaze of light.
Tom sighed with relief. “I’m glad to be away from there. I might be a rock by now.”
“Just a minute,” Meadowlark said. “It isn’t right to leave like this.”
She guided Comète to a landing in a field behind the Evil Queen and sneaked into the clearing. “Where is that boy?” the queen was saying as she looked behind each rock. “I’ll teach him to mind his manners.”
“And I’ll teach you to mind yours!” Meadowlark said, jumping from her hiding place. She grabbed the queen’s wand and waved it three times. “Let the ones with good manners be people and the others be stone!” she cried out, hoping whatever spirit lived inside the wand cared more about justice than queens.
The Evil Queen’s clothing hardened around her as she cried out for help. “Please!” she whimpered. “I’ll curtsey just right for you, I promise! Just make it stop!”
In front of Meadowlark’s eyes the rocks in the field began to crumble, and from each emerged a child. When they had dusted themselves off they all cheered, and they cheered louder yet when they realized the boulder in the middle of the clearing was the Evil Queen. They rushed over and began crawling all over it, kicking it and calling it names.
A boy spat on the rock before coming back over to look at the wand. “Can I have that?” he asked, looking as if he might steal it if Meadowlark refused.
“It’s too much power for anyone to have,” she said, “especially boys who spit.” She scowled at him as she picked up the wand. “I’ll take care of this myself,” she said, looking at Tom. “You have your friends back. What do you want to do?”
“Living here is so dull we might as well be rocks,” Tom said, jumping back on Comète. “Let’s go!”
When they were back in the reaches of space, Meadowlark took the wand and broke it in half. Together they watched as the two shooting stars burned out in the black night.
In which Meadowlark and Tom visit France and learn about the mind …
Meadowlark and Tom looked down at the earth from the moon. “It’s very pretty,” Tom, said. “Especially the blue part. I’ve never seen rock that color before.”
“Rock?” Meadowlark said. “That’s not rock, that’s ocean.”
“What’s ocean?”
“Well,” said Meadowlark, “why don’t you go see for yourself.” They hopped on Comète, and with a shake of his tail he bore them through the sky and landed outside a village somewhere on the coast of France. Comète trotted off to find a field of oats, and Meadowlark and Tom started walking toward the houses they could see in the distance.
An old woman and a girl of about sixteen came out of a farmhouse along the way and started walking with them. “The stars are a spilled handful of salt,” the old woman said. “There’s a wildflower for every kind thought.”
“What kind of talk is that?” Meadowlark asked the girl. “Doesn’t she know anything?”
“I’m afraid not,” the girl said, bursting into tears.
“Well, it’s nice of you to cry for her at least, if she’s as stupid as she sounds.”
The old woman gave Tom a pinch on the cheek. “Obedience paves roads,” she said with a toothless grin.
“I’m not crying for her,” the girl, whose name was Piret, said. “The same thing is going to happen to me today. That’s where we’re headed. I have to go get my brains scrambled.”
“Why don’t you turn around and run while you still have them?” Meadowlark asked.
“Because I have to get married, and that’s what they do to you first. No one will marry me until I’m fixed.”
“It sounds like quite a fixing to me,” Meadowlark said. “Let’s go see what we can do.”
In the middle of the village square, a crowd of men was already gathered near a huge oak tree. A straight-backed chair had been hoisted to the highest branch. Tied inside was a girl Piret’s age. When the men in the tree let the chair go, it spun around so fast that the girl was a blur as they slowly lowered her to the ground.
She got up and staggered over to the mayor. “He’s going to say something really stupid,” Piret said, “and if she repeats it instead of laughing at him, the bachelors will go to the priest over there to make bids on her and she’ll be married this afternoon.”
“Ice is cold butter,” the mayor said.
“Ice is cold butter,” the girl said, nodding her head gravely. The men all cheered and crowded around the village priest, offering their bids.
“The best price goes to the girls who are so addled they answer the mayor backward, though that doesn’t happen very often,” Piret said. “The most scrambled ones are supposed to make the best wives.”
“Tom and I go around the universe saving people,” Meadowlark said. “And we’re going to try to save you. But first we have to make ourselves disappear.” The Philosopher King of Saturn had given Meadowlark a pair of magic boots that made her and whomever she was touching invisible, but the spell only lasted an hour. Meadowlark grabbed Tom by the hand and tapped her right toe twice, followed by a hard stamp of her left heel on the ground.
Piret and the old woman looked around. “Where did they go?” Piret asked. “Fingers are roots,” the old woman replied.
Unseen, Meadowlark and Tom scurried to the top of the tree. “We have to untie the rope and turn it the other way,” she said. “If it spins backward, maybe the magic won’t work.” They finished just as Piret was hoisted in the chair. They watched from a nearby branch as she was spun down to the ground. She stood up and staggered over to the mayor. “Dizzy so am I, Dieu Mon,” she said.
“Oh, no,” Tom said. “It looks like it didn’t work.”
“Potatoes’ eyes are watching in the dark,” the mayor said.
“Dark the in watching are eyes potatoes,” Piret said. All the men cheered and made such a rush for the priest, they ended up tripping over each other and falling in a heap on the ground. Meadowlark and Tom hopped down from the tree and pulled Piret behind the tree to ask her what happened.
“I’m fine,” she said, once she figured out where they were, since they were still invisible. “It worked perfectly. I just don’t want anyone to know, so I can tell all the girls to do the same thing. If our husbands think our brains are scrambled but they’re not, whose brains actually are? I have to go get married now. Thanks!” She turned back to them. “And don’t forget not to trust the potatoes!”
Meadowlark saw her boots coming into view, which always happened first when the invisibility was wearing off. “We need to go before they see us,” she told Tom. She gave the secret whistle and Comète appeared just down the road.
As they ran and jumped on his back, Tom said, “I think Earth is the strangest place we’ve visited.”
“I do too,” said Meadowlark, as they galloped into the blue sky, showering stars behind them.
In which Meadowlark and Tom visit Africa and learn about philosophy …
The camel on which Meadowlark and Tom had been riding got to its knees, and they dismounted inside the walls of an oasis town somewhere in North Africa. They spat sand from their mouths. “I always wanted to see what it would be like to ride a camel,” Meadowlark said, “but I definitely prefer Comète.”
“Me too,” Tom said, “but there are some adventures you just have to have on the ground.” He looked around. “Why are all these people wearing rags? I thought this town was supposed to be rich from trade with the Musulmans.”
A woman wearing a tattered veil over her face was walking toward them. “You there!” Meadowlark called out. “Why are you dressed that way?”
“Because I don’t have anything else to wear,” she said. “I used to have a different veil for every day of the week, but I don’t know where the rest of my clothes have gone.”
“Well, don’t you have children or friends who can help you find them?”
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p; “That’s just it—they can’t find any of their things either. We’re sure we used to have more, so it must be a genie’s spell, though no one’s seen any of them for years. The only reason we’re not naked is we sleep in what we have on. Otherwise, this would probably be gone in the morning too,” she said, shaking the hem of her gown.
Just then three philosophers walked by. “Why are they dressed better than you are?” Tom asked.
“I don’t know,” said the woman. “Only ordinary people seem to lose everything the minute they get it.”
“The problem in this town,” said the first philosopher, “is that people don’t take enough responsibility for themselves. They want the government to solve their problems for them, but they don’t want to pay for it.”
“If they worked harder and saved, they’d have more,” said the second. “Like this beggar needs to,” he said, pointing in the direction of the woman.
Meadowlark and Tom were by now invisible, leaving her looking around in confusion. “Have I lost you too now?” she asked the empty air.
The men shook their heads at her. “And suppose the government did give them all a change of clothes?” the third said. “If you alter one thing, you’d best be prepared for unintended consequences, especially when some of them are as crazy as she is.”
“I’m not crazy—I’m just confused!” the ragged woman called after them. “You would be too if you were half-naked and didn’t know why!”
“Let’s follow them,” Meadowlark whispered to Tom.
The three philosophers went down an alley and soon they were at a grand building near the town walls. Meadowlark and Tom tiptoed in behind them before the doors closed. They went into a dining room where a grand meal had been laid out. The servants were dressed in gowns of velvet, the crystal was cut from huge diamonds, and the dishes were made of gold. Behind them, through a window, Meadowlark and Tom could see trunks and boxes full of clothing, including hundreds of veils being loaded onto camels, while the caravan driver handed a bag of coins to a servant. He came in and poured the coins on the table. “Your proceeds, messieurs,” he said.
They all leaned back and patted their bellies. “It’s good to live in a land of surplus,” the first one said. “And even better when it’s made you rich,” said the second.
“I guess in Africa, the more you need, the less you have,” Tom said when they were safely back among the stars.
“And the more you have, the less you notice,” Meadowlark replied.
In which Meadowlark and Tom go to Uruguay and learn about liberty …
“So this is Uruguay,” Meadowlark said. “But where are all the people?”
“I don’t know,” Tom said, “but there’s smoke coming from every chimney.” He ran ahead and banged on the first door he came to.
“You’ll have to let yourself in,” a muffled voice said. “We can’t get up.”
Meadowlark and Tom pushed the door open and went inside. A family sat, bound to chairs with ropes of gold, and with their faces and mouths covered with finely woven cloth embroidered with family crests. Over their laps were draped silver chains so heavy they could not move their legs.
“Who tied you up?” Meadowlark asked, but the man could only mumble through the cloth in his mouth. “Who tied you up?” she repeated, after pulling it away.
“We did. What did you think?”
“Why in the world would you do that?”
He shook his head, dumbfounded. “It’s obvious. We have to stay here all day doing nothing, just to show we’re not working.”
“You could just stay inside, minding your own business. You don’t have to be tied to your chair!”
“But this way we’re sure people will believe us.”
Just then two young servants, a girl and a boy, came in dressed in peasants’ clothing. “Who are you?” Meadowlark asked. “And why aren’t you tied up too?”
“Tied up?” They laughed until they clutched their sides. “We can’t sit around all day. We have work to do. And besides, we’re not wealthy enough to have gold rope and silver chains. You need those to be properly tied up, don’t you?”
“I suppose,” Meadowlark said.
“And if you have them, you need to show them off,” the chained woman tried to explain, though her voice was muffled almost beyond comprehension. “What good are chains if they’re locked in a drawer?”
A little girl with a silk bag over her head was squirming in her chair. Meadowlark pulled it off. “I want to get up and walk around,” the little girl said. “I want to go outside.”
“You can’t do that,” her parents said.
“Why not?” Tom asked.
“Because we can’t tie her up when she comes back.”
“Aha!” said Meadowlark. “And if that’s the case, who will stop her from leaving?” She pulled the girl’s chains off her lap and untied her ropes. “You’re free!” she said.
“Free?” the girl asked. “What’s that?” She turned to the servants. “Do you know what that means?”
“No,” they both said. “Maybe it just means different from before.”
“Well, that would be enough for me,” the girl said, running toward the door. “Anything has to be better than this!”
Meadowlark went to the door to watch the girl jumping in the air as she ran down the street. Her legs were not very strong from having spent so much time in chains, and before she had gone very far she fell down, exhausted.
“Help me up,” Meadowlark heard her order the people passing in the street. “Don’t you know I’m one of the Chained People? You’re supposed to obey me.”
“The Chained People never help us,” one of them said. “Around here, you learn to do everything for yourself.”
The girl looked around, not sure what to do. She spied Meadowlark, who was now standing next to her. “Can you help me up, please?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes.
“You’d better learn to stand on your own, unless you want to go back there,” she said, pointing in the direction of the house. The girl looked at the house and then at the road out of town. She sighed, and with a great effort, she pulled herself up and dusted off her skirt.
“I’ll be going, then,” she said. Her hand flew to her mouth. “I think I forgot to close the door behind me!”
Meadowlark laughed. “I’ll do it for you,” she said. “I’m more than happy to help the Chained People with that.”
In which Meadowlark and Tom go to China and learn about love …
From the sky, Meadowlark picked out the Great Wall of China and guided Comète down to a palace nearby. In the garden, twenty paces apart, two men at small desks faced each other. Above them on a terrace, a princess sat with her ladies-in-waiting.
One of the men rolled what he had written into a scroll, which he put on a gilded platter to be delivered to the man at the other end. The servant bobbed his head like a chicken pecking for scratch as he carried the scroll, and when he reached the other man, he bowed vigorously for several minutes before extending the platter to him.
As the man read it, his nostrils flared upward and his lips pursed, as if the words smelled too rotten for a delicate nose to bear. He tapped his nose and turned his face sideways in profile, lifting his chin skyward. The first man sniffed indignantly and did the same. Meadowlark saw their eyes darting toward each other, waiting to see who would break the pose first.
The second man wiggled his fingers and a servant handed him his pen. Without moving his head, he scribbled something on the scroll. When he was finished, he flicked his wrist in the direction of his adversary, and the servant scurried off with his reply.
“Who are those people?” Meadowlark asked a servant standing nearby.
“They’re Ting and Tang,” the man said. “Two great nobles of the realm. They’re fighting a duel.”
“A duel?” she exclaimed. “In France they fight those with guns or swords.”
Ting looked up at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. �
��I suppose we could do that,” he said. “After all, we invented gunpowder. But”—he motioned Meadowlark to come closer so no one else could hear—“we’re only fighting over a princess, and there are too many of those in China to care terribly much who wins this one.”
“Well then, how do you fight?” Meadowlark asked.
“We exchange notes about the ways we wish the other would die,” Ting answered. “For example, I told him I would like to see him fall through a crack in the ice and drown, and now”—he took back the scroll, which had just been returned to him—“Tang has written that he’d like my ship to be lost at sea.”
By then the princess had come down to see what the commotion was all about. “Lost at sea?” she said, looking at the sun lowering on the horizon. “It’s getting late. Don’t you think someone should be drawing blood by now? We need a winner before supper.”
She looked at Meadowlark and Tom. “You’re rather strange-looking. Where are you from?”
Her attention was distracted by the servant, who had delivered the scroll to her instead of to Tang. “What’s this?” the princess said, raising her eyebrows.
“I thought you might like something different,” Tang said. “So I wrote directly to you. It’s a poem.”
The princess unrolled the scroll. “‘I planted a rose garden for you,’” she read.
White for your skin, like cool ivory
Pink, for the lips I long to kiss
Yellow for your flowing hair—
“Wait a minute,” the princess said. “My hair’s not yellow. I’m Chinese.”
“I know,” Ting said, pointing at Tom. “But his is, and I needed another color for a rose. It isn’t a very good poem, but I did write it for you.”
“It certainly isn’t,” the princess said. She read again, “‘Blue for your eyes—’”
She scowled at Ting, who gave a helpless shrug and gestured toward Tom’s eyes. “My eyes are brown and there isn’t even such a thing as a blue rose.”
Finding Emilie Page 40
