Enter a Glossy Web

by McKenna Ruebush

  He watched as they joined George and set out to save the worlds together. Cavendish, Thazel, Hector, the Children’s Republic, Obsidia, the Hall of Forfeit, Astria, the Council of Seven being rebuilt, Aunt Henrietta being rescued, the worlds and people being saved and allowed to live on in happiness and hope, all passed by in a blur. Mikal saw all of this, and knew none of it would have had the chance to happen if he and Caleb hadn’t been on their own and in that cemetery when George showed up. He saw that as much as he loved and missed his father, that terrible loss had given him a chance to save the worlds.

  “Sometimes good things come from bad things,” he whispered to the dinosaur he still held. “I can make good things come from bad things.”

  Mikal rose from the bleachers. He turned back to the door, knowing he had passed his test and would be able to rejoin his friends. But as he saw the blank whiteness around him, he paused. How could he leave this world better than it was?

  He thought back to Hector’s sad place and the life that had sprung up after the rain had come. He wondered what would happen when the dragons didn’t return because of the blue dust. Without the dragons, the rain wouldn’t come. Without the rain, the Tree Who Yawns Butterflies would slowly die again, along with everything else.

  But what if something good could be made of all this empty wasted space? What if Astria could nourish things, instead of just collecting them? Mikal’s grin was slow and joyful. He smoothed his hair back with one hand.

  “Astria, I don’t know if you can hear me. I don’t even know if you’re alive, but I know you like to collect things that have been lost. I know of a place that has been lost. The rains have gone away and forgotten all about it.”

  He paused, waiting for a reply, but there was none.

  He plunged ahead with his request. “I think you should collect the Tree Who Yawns Butterflies, and all of the living things of Hector’s sad place. They could come here to live, and you could take care of them, and they would make your world beautiful.”

  There was still no reply. Mikal sat down in front of the white door and waited patiently.

  A flicker of motion caught his attention. He looked up and saw butterflies fluttering toward him. They were translucent, outlined only in blue, but they were butterflies. As he watched, color began to bleed into them, starting at the base against their long bodies and spreading to the tips of their wings.

  As Mikal got back to his feet, mountains erupted from the ground. Grass and wildflowers sprouted beneath him, spreading in waves over new hills and valleys. Streams parted the earth, baby frogs chirped, and the Tree Who Yawns Butterflies took up its home on the hill. Far off in the distance, a thundercloud crackled.

  “Thank you.” Mikal turned back to the door and inserted the key. A white piece of the Els talisman warmed his palm as the door opened. He took one more look at the thriving world around him before stepping into the unknown.

  * * *

  George and Mikal looked at each other in surprise.

  They had arrived safely in a glass chamber with a door leading out. But there was a problem. Caleb was not with them.

  They turned to look back the way they had come, but the door to Astria had closed. Where it had been was now a window into the white world, through which they could see Caleb.

  “Do you think he failed?” George asked.

  “Caleb doesn’t fail.”

  “Then we’ll wait,” George said, and crossed her fingers for her friend.

  * * *

  Caleb knew he was alone before he even turned around, and he felt the absence of his companions keenly. He saw a dark blur far in the distance, and as he got closer, it separated into two black doors. Above them were the words To prove you are not lost, you must find who you are when past meets future and intertwines.

  The door to his right was labeled WHO YOU ARE, and as he watched, the dark wood began to swirl with color until it displayed a memory so vibrant that chills broke out on Caleb’s arms. He saw a younger version of himself huddling behind a pile of garbage, covered only in old newspapers and terrified by a world he didn’t recognize. He was shivering uncontrollably and stuffing stale popcorn into his mouth so fast he didn’t stop to chew it.

  The picture changed, and this time a dark-haired little boy was there, bringing food and blankets. Then a man came, collected Caleb in his arms, and carried him into a warm tent. There the little boy and the man set about caring for Caleb.

  A new picture appeared. Mikal sobbing as his father’s body was carried away and accepting comfort from no one but Caleb. The circus left and Caleb was alone again, but not really alone, because now he had Mikal. It didn’t matter so much that he knew nothing of his past or where he had come from or why he hadn’t been worth keeping, because Mikal needed him.

  More pictures flashed by, faster now. Caleb and Mikal on the run, trying to settle down, finding the cemetery, George showing up, needing help, the boys agreeing to go with her, learning that they had to save the worlds and the people traveling through mud puddles; and finally saying good-bye to Mikal and George as they parted in Astria.

  The wood faded back to black, and silver words appeared. These decisions led you here. Enter if you would do it all again.

  Then Caleb looked to the left door, which was labeled WHO YOU WERE. He drew a sharp breath and stepped eagerly toward it, expecting the door to become a series of pictures that would tell him a story of his unknown past. But the door stayed solid and black.

  A look of dread crossed Caleb’s face as he realized he was being presented with his greatest dilemma: to rejoin his friends, or to attain his heart’s desire? To discover where he came from, who he had been before Mikal found him frozen in the dirt, if he had a real name, and if anybody had ever loved him, or to continue on and save the worlds from destruction?

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He rubbed at his neck, torn with indecision.

  “This isn’t fair,” he called out angrily. “I can’t make this choice!”

  He reached out and traced the words on the left door. “‘Who you were,’” he said softly. “Who was I?”

  He looked back at the other door.

  “Come on!” he yelled, slamming the flat of his hand against the left door. “You have to show me something. Anything! I can’t be this close to finding out where I came from, only to have to turn away and leave without learning anything.”

  Nothing happened, and he kicked furiously at the frame. He beat against the door until his hands were bruised. He fell to his knees, panting and exhausted.

  “Please,” he whispered. “Please, just show me something.”

  * * *

  “I don’t think he’s going to make it,” George said as they watched Caleb through the window.

  Mikal looked on, his brows drawn tight together.

  George’s stomach knotted with anxiety. “Well, I’m tired of doing nothing. I’m going to make him choose us.”

  And she threw herself against the glass. She slammed her palms against it until the pane trembled, and Mikal joined her in a flurry of pummeling fists and green dinosaur.

  * * *

  Caleb sat slumped against the door to his past. He held his head in his hands and muttered to himself. “This could be my only chance to find out who I really am. I have no choice.” He climbed to his feet and rubbed the back of his hand against his cheeks, wiping away tears of frustration. He rested his forehead against the smooth wood of the left door and placed his hand on the knob. “I won’t be Loeta anymore.”

  * * *

  George beat against the window until her arms buzzed. “He can’t hear us. He’s going to make the wrong choice!”

  Mikal kicked at the barrier, then rammed his shoulder against it. “We have to be louder.”

  Together they yelled Caleb’s name and begged him to pick them.

  * * *

  Caleb jiggled the knob of the door to his past, just testing it, not quite ready to turn it. He reached into his pocket and w
ithdrew the key. Feeling the weight of it in his palm, he squeezed it so tightly that the edges cut into his skin. He lifted the key to the hole and threw one last glance at the door that would take him to his friends. It began to shiver and quake.

  He blinked, taking a step back.

  As if through murky water, George and Mikal appeared behind the door. They were beating against it and screaming something, but he could only hear a whisper of their voices.

  He looked at them, pleading with them to understand.

  Their voices grew louder.

  “Caleb,” George was saying, “you belong with us. Please choose us.”

  Caleb’s spine straightened imperceptibly, and without giving himself time to change his mind, he stumbled to the right door, inserted the key, and turned it. Within his hand was a black piece of the talisman, and he stepped through the portal without looking back.

  * * *

  Before the door even closed behind Caleb, George had thrown her arms around his neck. “You came back,” she said. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t.”

  “You saw that, huh?” Caleb’s voice was bleak as he shoved his fingers through his hair.

  George stepped away and wiped the tears from her face with the ends of her scarf. “Yes. We saw it all.” She took one of his bruised hands in both of hers as she looked at him with utter conviction. “I promise you, Caleb. I’m going to help you find out where you came from, but you belong with me and Mikal. Not wherever that Moor would have taken you.”

  Mikal came up and placed a hand on George’s and Caleb’s. “We’re the Snaffleharp Company, you know?”

  Caleb stared at them for a moment and then nodded his head. “I know. That’s why I came back.”

  They turned to the only door leading out of the room.

  George hitched up her backpack. “One for backpack, two for raincoat, three for Caleb, four for Mikal, five for Cavendish, who we’ll get back soon—”

  “Six for my dinosaur,” Mikal said.

  George nodded. “Okay, we’re ready. Let’s go get ’em.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The children stepped out of the glass chamber and back into the dingy waiting room.

  Lucy was waiting all alone, wringing her hands. When she saw them emerge, she rushed to greet them. “I was so worried. You were gone such a long time.”

  “What’s the countdown, Cav?” Caleb asked. But Cavendish wasn’t there to answer.

  “Where is he?” Mikal asked, eyes darting around the room. “He was supposed to wait with you!”

  “Cavendish is with Constantine and the others, which is where we’re going. Hurry! It’s nine thirty PM. You were in Astria for five hours. We haven’t much time now before the end.” Lucy led them from the Hall of Forfeit, back into the fortress, and to a pretty yellow door. She stopped before it and dusted off the front of her gown. “This is it. The Moor that will take us to Selyrdor, where it all began. Are you ready?”

  Mikal smoothed back his hair.

  George tossed the end of her scarf over one shoulder.

  Caleb straightened his suspenders.

  Lucy opened the door, and the children peered into a familiar world. An enormous library with gleaming silver ladders, a glass ceiling through which meteors could be seen streaking across the sky above, a yellow bicycle leaning against the fireplace, and the hidden passage they were standing in disguised as a bookcase.

  Within the library, a mismatched group of people waited. There was Mr. Phinneus Neptune, examining Cavendish on the polished cherry desk. Lue and Yorick, the skeleton George had first met in her bedroom, were playing cat’s cradle in the corner. Mr. Night was carefully applying medicinal drops to the Hag’s shriveled eyes. The pet geese had been brought in from the garden above and were nesting by the bicycle. One was even perched upon the seat.

  Mr. Night saw Lucy and hurriedly finished his task before going to greet her. As soon as the newcomers had stepped clear of the passage, he shut the way behind them.

  “Holy fire and hippos,” Mikal said as he saw Yorick towering above everyone else. “You didn’t say he was so tall!”

  “She did say he was a giant,” Caleb said.

  George saw Constantine standing apart and looking utterly exhausted. His face was more lined, his red shoes were scuffed, and even his enormous mustache drooped at the ends. Then he saw George and smiled big enough to push his mustache back up to where it belonged.

  George rushed to Constantine’s side and was content for a moment just to lean wearily against him as he patted her back.

  Mikal went to Mr. Neptune and Cavendish and began peppering them with questions.

  Cavendish got so excited trying to tell Mikal what had happened when he’d been taken away that he was unable to form coherent sentences. “I … overjoyed … never thought … and now the Council itself!” he stuttered blissfully, and then issued a series of high beeps.

  Caleb stood alone out of the way.

  George called the boys over to meet Constantine, and they bashfully approached, Cavendish back in Mikal’s arms.

  Constantine shook both their hands, his face solemn. “I’ve heard a lot about you boys. It seems you’re quite tenacious and rather brave.”

  Mikal blushed. “We only followed the code.”

  “It was the right thing to do, that’s all,” Caleb said.

  “Don’t listen to them, Uncle Constantine,” George said. “I couldn’t have done any of it without them. I guess you’ve already met Cavendish?”

  “I have,” Constantine said. “We had quite a long talk while you were in Astria.”

  “Excuse me, sir? But speaking of Cavendish, we’re running out of time. Shouldn’t we be getting the talisman to Selyrdor, where it all began?” Caleb asked.

  “You already have,” Constantine said. “This is where it all began. Or rather, that is.” He pointed to the circle of light falling onto the floor in the center of the room. “Chrone Cottage is built directly above the ancient basement where the last survivors of the first showers took refuge and elected the original Council of Seven.”

  “So we made it,” George said, and then jolted upright. “Oh! Uncle Constantine! Nero kidnapped Aunt Henrietta. He’s holding her captive!”

  “I know, George,” Constantine said, looking pained. “Henrietta did what she had to do to keep Nero occupied. She’s very noble. I hope that we’ll soon have her back.”

  “But how, and why? And—” George took a deep breath and let it out with a whoosh. “I’ve got so many questions, I don’t even know where to start.”

  “That’s understandable.” Constantine patted his shirt pocket and then frowned. “Do you happen to have my watch?”

  George retrieved the watch for Constantine, and he polished it on his sleeve and checked the time.

  “Hmm. I believe we can spare a few minutes to satisfy the curiosity of the Snaffleharp Company, seeing as they’ve given us a chance to re-form the Council of Seven.” Constantine raised his bushy eyebrows at them. “How about I start at the beginning, and if I miss anything, you can jump right in with your questions?”

  The children liked this plan.

  “As you know, tonight is the seventh and last night of the Selyrdorian meteor showers that once rained death and destruction upon the worlds. The Council of Seven was created to bring order, and its creation caused the showers to cease. Every one hundred and eleven years after that, the Council would come back together, in this very room. There the bonds of friendship and order would be renewed, keeping the showers at bay for another hundred and eleven years, thus leaving the worlds and their peoples safe.

  “But then the Council broke. Nero, the old Judge, went mad and began murdering the other members. Then it appeared that Nero had been killed in a terrible blast. There were many witnesses and much evidence, and I was lulled into believing the tragedy had completed.

  “Henrietta and I then began to seek out individuals who could help us rebuild the Council of Seven before the sho
wers returned to threaten the worlds. After nearly a century, we had finally gathered a sprinkling of honorable, brilliant people who showed great promise, and just in the nick of time. On the first night of the showers, I left Snaffleharp Lane to begin conducting the final interviews with those we had chosen.”

  “That’s what your business trip was about?” George asked.

  “Yes. I went first to visit Yorick.” He gestured to the lanky skeleton. “After hours of this ultimate examination, I asked him if he would accept the position of Recorder. He was startled, but to my great relief, he agreed. You see, none of the candidates knew why Henrietta and I had shown such sudden and intense interest in them. It was vital that they continue to behave normally so we could observe their true characters.

  “After Yorick, I met with Mr. Neptune, and then Mr. Night. On Wednesday morning, I visited Chrone Cottage to interview the Els and ask them to accept the position of Judge. I arrived only to discover that the Els had been separated. When they recovered enough to speak, Lucy told me what had happened, and I knew at once that Nero was the man who had visited her. When Lucy described how the broken talisman had evaporated, I knew that Astria must have claimed it, as it is very precious.”

  “Is that when you sent me the note?” George asked.

  “Yes. I had Yorick deliver it as soon as I realized that Nero had returned and what was necessary to correct the situation.”

  “But why did Nero want to separate the Els?” Caleb asked.

  “And how did he find them?” Mikal asked.

  “How did he even know about them and the talisman, since they only came to live at Chrone Cottage after the Council was broken and Nero went crazy?” George asked.

  “I believe Nero began to miss the power he once wielded,” Constantine said. “As the showers approached, he knew I would be re-forming the Council and that I would need a Judge. But he wanted that role back, so he must have set out to discover who I was considering for the position.

  “The first step would be to seek out the headquarters of the Council, Chrone Cottage, and see if any activity there would give him insight into my plans. It would not have been hard for him to find it, for when one has called a place home for millennia, a certain magnetic attraction develops. Neither I, nor any of the Council members, had to wait for the cottage to find us, as a normal person might. We were simply drawn to it.