"You mean," Oskar remarked, "whenever the enchanted folk feel like adding to it."
Reaching down, the mouse gripped the hair above Oskar's eyes to balance himself as he leaned forward to peer into one eye from a distance of little more than an inch. "Did I say anything about the enchanted folk, bone-brain? When the museum is ready to grow, it grows. Do you think only flesh can grow? The museum is quite capable of supervising its own expansion."
Indeed, the edifice they entered breathed and exhaled uncomfortably like a live thing, the tepid air rushing systematically in and out as if it were wheezing softly, the walls quivering in response to unseen stimuli. For all that, it looked like an ordinary building. Oskar resolved not to pee on the floor to test the resemblance further.
There were hundreds, thousands, of displays, all neatly mounted and labeled. None of them, he noted as they explored the myriad rooms and trotted past other visitors, were particularly well protected. As near as he and Mamakitty and Taj could tell, there were no guards. There was no need for any. In paradise, there was no reason to steal.
"This is a wonderful place," Taj commented to their guide. "Is it, perhaps, some kind of temple? A temple that contains examples of everything that is, and everything that can be imagined? Perhaps even such a rarity as—white light?" Recalling the words of the unlamented but knowledgeable Captain Covalt of the Kingdom of Red, the songster's friends held their collective breath.
"Not at all," Smegden replied. "Are you crazy? This is no temple!" Behind him, Mamakitty sighed heavily, Samm let out an attenuated hiss of disappointment, and Cezer, sensing among his companions an emotional line it was better not to cross, bit back the sarcastic observation that begged to be liberated from his lips.
Smegden drew himself up. "Every citizen knows this place. It is not a temple but a museum. The Celebrated Grand Mystic Museum of the Exalted Faerie Kingdom of Purple. Wherein," he concluded importantly, "may be found examples of everything that is, or ever was, or can be imagined."
Unable to stand it any longer, Cezer stepped forward to say something. Before the first word could escape from his lips, Cocoa reached over with her mouth, caught one of his long white whiskers in her teeth, and pulled. The resulting look of shock and pain on his face was more than sufficient to forestall his incipient comment.
"When does it close?" Mamakitty inquired quickly of their guide, adding thoughtfully, "We'd like to get back to the Commons before dark."
"The Celebrated Grand Mystic Museum never closes," Smegden informed her. "Nothing in the kingdom ever does. It wouldn't be fair, or appropriate. There are too many citizens of this land who sleep by day and live by night."
"But the kingdom, the city, is not as busy at night," Oskar speculated innocently.
"I don't believe so, no." Smegden was not in the least suspicious. "You asked about white light. As I said, the museum contains examples of everything that is or was or can be imagined. Compared to some of the exhibits here, white light is of comparative insignificance." He sank deep in thought for a moment, then raised a diminutive foreleg and pointed. "That way. Second left at the first long corridor, right after the special exhibition of embalmed censors and petrified lawyers."
They followed the rodent's directions, trying not to hurry, fighting down their rising excitement. A few turns and twists past cases full of the inexplicable and on beyond the impossible—and there it was. After all they had endured, all they had survived, after the arduous crossing of multiple kingdoms of color, their goal gleamed brightly before them.
In an unremarkable room that was home to several dozen exhibits, there stood a tall cabinet of clear crystal containing nothing but glowing balls of color. All the colors were there, including many distinctive shades unfamiliar to the travelers. At the far end of the cabinet, almost as an afterthought, drifted a small globe of pure, unadulterated white light. Each of the diffuse, drifting orbs was clearly labeled as to its nature, pierced and fixed in place by a display rod that had been suitably ensorcelled.
Hopping from upcurled tail tip to head, Taj leaned forward between Mamakitty's ears and whispered, "The problem of how to transport the light is solved. We simply lift up the stick to which it is fastened, and bring both with us."
Mamakitty nodded, inadvertently forcing Taj to take to the air with a temporary fluttering of wings. "I wonder why the individual lights are not all tinted with purple. It's quite unlike anything we've encountered before on our journey, where every object and creature in a specific kingdom of color takes on the tint of that land."
"This is an enchanted museum run for the edification of enchanted folk," the canary pointed out. "What is the wonder in one more enchantment?"
"We have found what we came for," Mamakitty hissed softly, as much to herself as to her diminutive passenger. Beside her, Cocoa was staring silently at the cabinet of wonders. Even Cezer, confronted at last by the object of their quest, was subdued. Louder, she said, "We've taken up enough of your time, Smegden."
"Indeed you have," the mouse agreed readily. Once more the tiny paw indicated the way. "The quickest exit is back that direction, then down a ramp."
Mamakitty and Oskar exchanged a meaningful glance. "If you don't mind," Oskar responded, "there are so many wonderful things to see here. We'll just wander around for a while. We can always ask others the way out."
"That means a long run for me on these short legs, to get out of these endless corridors," Smegden groused, "but better, I suppose, than having to suffer any longer the abiding banalities of your clichйd conversation. If I hurry, I can still make the weekly hunt scheduled for this evening." He drew himself up to his full five-inch height. "Riding to cockroaches, you know." Effortlessly, he leaped down from Oskar's head. From the floor, he turned to confront the trio.
"I wish you a pleasant afternoon of edification, with the added hope that we may never meet again—at least until you have shed your provincial demeanor and developed some sophistication. Fare thee well, O bearers of a benign befuddlement." With that he spun round and, at high speed, scampered off down the corridor he had previously identified as leading to the quickest way out.
"What now?" wondered Cezer, reluctantly reconciled to pursuing their quest to its conclusion.
"We wait," Mamakitty whispered. "Mark this room well." When Oskar raised his right hind leg, she hastened to forestall him. "No, no—that's not what I meant, you idiot! Mentally, mentally! Use your human-augmented mind. At least, I think yours has been augmented."
"Sorry." Abashed, Oskar lowered his leg. "Old habits, you know."
She took a deep breath. "I believe the best time to make our attempt will be at eventide, when the daytime inhabitants of this kingdom begin to retire and before the awakening night dwellers arrive. That time of day should find this measureless structure at its most deserted. We will take the white light from its resting place and slip quietly out of the city. Having once passed that way, the return journey will be easier and less dangerous for us at night."
"You make it sound so easy," Cezer grumbled.
"Every one of those globes of light is pretty bright." Oskar kept his voice down lest he be overheard by a group of female faeries fluttering through the exhibition room. Stylish tiny purses dangled from their hands like pollen from the legs of bees. "If only we had some magical means of temporarily muting their glow."
Wings beating, Taj rose from between Mamakitty's ears. "No sooner said than done. I'll be right back with something I recall seeing several rooms away."
Risking the attention of other museumgoers, Oskar called out to the receding songster. "You saw suitable sorcery just lying around?"
"Not exactly." Taj called back to them just prior to banking a hard right. "It was a very nice paper bag."
And so it was. Retreating to a corner to examine the crumpled container without being observed, Oskar and Mamakitty determined that the sack would indeed fit snugly over the globe of white light. What effect the steady radiance would have on the opaque pap
er remained to be seen. Perhaps, Taj suggested, like so much else in this kingdom, the sack itself would be adequately enchanted for their purpose.
Feigning interest in every exhibit they passed, no matter how boring, they wandered through the labyrinthine structure, pausing occasionally to discuss this sculpture or that artifact with mock erudition. As the daylight began to ebb, so did the increasingly scanty crowd, until the corridors that sparkled with crushed gemstone spackle no longer echoed to the chatter of elves, the giggling of pixies, or the appreciative grunts of aesthetically discriminating goblins.
Taking a roundabout route, they worked their way back to the room that contained the samples of illumination from other kingdoms. Throughout the museum complex, faerie light was winking to life. As might be expected, it was soft and diffuse so as not to hurt the eyes of the nocturnal visitors, who had not yet begun to arrive in any numbers worth worrying about. As Cezer trotted out to the nearest main corridor to keep watch, and Samm spread himself the length of the room's entrance to trip up any unobserved arrivals, the others considered how best to go about expropriating the precious globe of whiteness.
"Back here." From behind the cabinet, Oskar's voice was an urgent whisper. "There's a latch."
It was a very simple, straightforward latch, quite uncomplicated and devoid of charm. There was no reason for anything more elaborate, they decided. Who would want to steal light? What possible use could anyone abiding in the Kingdom of Purple have for nonpurple numinous luminosity? Lifting the latch with his nose, Oskar put his shoulder against the edge of the compartment's rear door. With Mamakitty and Cocoa's help, he was able to push it aside. Lamenting the dearth of hands, but determined as ever, he cocked his head sideways and reached in to seize with his strong jaws the pole that pierced and supported the pure white globe. When he lifted the rod carefully out of its slot, the crystal display case caught the moving light and scattered small rainbows about the room as casually as a rich man casting alms to the poor.
"Look at the colors!" Beneath calico fur, Cocoa's chest swelled elatedly. "It really is white light, and it really does contain within it all the colors of the rainbow!" She retraced her steps as Oskar backed carefully out of the case. "It's everything we've come for. We'll take it back to the Gowdlands and turn it over to the wizards who still roam free. They'll know what to do with it, how to use it to break the curse of the Khaxan Mundurucu."
"I don't think so," an all-too-familiar voice declared.
Oskar spun around on his hind legs so fast he almost dropped the rod and the shining sphere it transfixed. Beside him, Mamakitty let out a furious hiss and Cocoa dropped into a fighting stance, ears flared back and teeth bared. He considered making a mad dash for the exit, only to see that that route, too, was blocked. The axe-wielding trolls who stood there might be slow of foot, but they would only have to hit him once to end forever any hopes of returning to the Fasna Wyzel—or any other part of the land of the living. One stood with a foot on Samm's neck, its sharp axe poised over the serpent's skull. Samm hissed in frustration, wishing for the great stone adze he had been forced to leave behind in the culvert at the edge of the city—and for hands to swing it with.
A grim-visaged ogre (was there any other kind, Oskar wondered?) lumbered forward. With a disapproving oink, it took the shaft from the dog-man's jaws. It hurt Oskar more to let go of it than it had to keep it gripped between his teeth. Exhibiting an unexpectedly light touch, the strapping sentry placed rod and globe back in the display case and slid the door shut behind them, nudging the latch back into place with a blunt forefinger as thick around as Oskar's leg.
Other armed and armored enchanted folk proceeded to place heavy hands on the intruders. As they did so, the voice that had interrupted the attempted theft, which had come so near succeeding, spoke again. It arose from a decidedly charmless ratlike individual who stood quivering with delight and repressed ferocity between a pair of dark-winged, gargoyle-faced night fliers. The speaker had a pointed snout, quivering whiskers, rust-red fur splotched with white spots, alert ears, blazing homicidal eyes, and teeth like needles.
"You'll break no spells, dead meat," snarled the quoll Quoll. "Neither light nor color will you return to the Gowdlands. You'll spend your time in gaol purple, you will, and by the time you get out—if they let you out—there'll be nothing left of the Gowdlands to save. All resistance will have been crushed, the last wizard expunged, and all rebels fled, dead, or missing their heads." Cackling gleefully, he pronked about in delighted, triumphant circles.
"After our last encounter, it was decided we should follow and watch, watch and follow, and bide our time. Please to understand, that's not my style. I like to tear straightaway into quarry every chance I get. But my colleagues"—and he indicated the two softly squeaking bats that flanked him—"managed to persuade me to be patient. So wait we did, until you reached your goal. Only when you were on the verge of winning it did we act."
Ruut stepped awkwardly forward, membranous wings luffing about him like wrinkled black sails. "We had been waiting for a good time to strike. Thanks to your actions, we did not have to decide. This is better—much better. Once informed of a burglary in progress, the local law came shambling with admirable speed."
Raising up on his hind legs, Quoll thrust a quivering forefoot in their direction. "All this time, all this following and waiting, and we didn't even have to fight! By your own actions, you've done yourselves in. All we have to do is sit back and take pleasure in the consequences."
That is what the trio of duplicitous devils proceeded to do, smirking as an elf of scowling mien pushed his way past the guards, stepped over the pinioned Samm, and confronted the rest of the accused. Resigned dog and choleric cats he eyed gravely. Noting the several large nets held by a number of the guards, Taj stayed perched on Oskar's head and prayed for an opening.
"You are charged under Articles XXVIII through XXXII of the Code of the Kingdom with multiple counts of attempted theft of public property, use of a public facility for nefarious purpose, conduct unbecoming guests of the Purple, and general felonious naughtiness. You are to be bound over to the Court of Proscribed Enchantments for trial and sentencing."
Mamakitty frowned. "How can we be bound for sentencing if there hasn't yet been a trial?"
"Procedures must be followed." Stepping back, the imperious elf gestured to the ogres. "Take them and see that they're properly secured. Make sure the bird doesn't get past you. I'll see to the necessary paperwork."
"Your pardon, meritorious sir," husked Ratha as the downcast travelers were escorted from the room, "but can we drink their blood?"
"Sorry," the elf replied. "Against city ordinances. But I'll speak to the presiding magistrate. Considering the help you and your friends have provided in this matter, perhaps something can be worked out."
Greatly pleased with themselves and the evening's evil they had wrought, the twosome of vampire bats alternately walked and fluttered at the head of the somber procession. In a fever of triumphant excitement, Quoll danced and darted back and forth in front of the crestfallen captives. The taunting of prisoners, evidently, was not against the regulations of the kingdom.
Only when all was once again silent within the exhibition room of multicolored lights of other kingdoms in the Celebrated Grand Mystic Museum of the Exalted Kingdom of Purple, save for the gossiping voices of distant strollers, did a small, compact figure emerge from the depths of the ornate Havetra'ng vase of spun spidersilk and regurgitated moonbeam where it had been hiding. Checking repeatedly to make certain that the way out was clear, a grateful Cezer fled as fast as he could for the pastoral, treed sanctuary of the Grand Commons.
NINETEEN
If they had not been under arrest, Oskar and his companions would have marveled at their surroundings. The interior of the Justice Building was fashioned of twinkling spun glass and limpid crystal, all of it vibrant with purple and lavender light. Preoccupied pixies darted down corridors while mercurial sprites delivere
d missives from one chamber to the next. Trolls conferenced in the darkest corners, elves engaged in slavish banter, and something like a squashed sphinx limped slowly past on all four legs, complaining mightily to an attentive retinue of sylphs whose sleek flesh jiggled like tapioca pudding.
The courtroom was small; barely large enough to hold the prisoners, their ogrish guards, a modest audience, and a goggle-eyed, multiarmed court reporter. Oskar, Mamakitty, and Cocoa were seated in the front rank of a triple row of bloated toadstools that sparkled with petrified dew. Next to them, Samm lay stretched out and splinted to keep him from making use of his powerful coils, while a dispirited Taj found himself, for the first time since their original transformation, back in a locked cage.
To make things infinitely worse, the object of their long, grueling journey sat glowing whitely on its rod in the evidence box at the front of the courtroom, within easy reach of the prisoners—if one discounted the presence of the brace of heavily armed trolls that flanked it on either side.
On a back bench, a quietly triumphant Quoll sat flanked by a silent Ruut and Ratha. Oskar growled in their direction, only to have their gleeful foe respond with a taunting, infuriating smile.
The nearest guard cuffed Oskar smartly upside the head and grunted. "No snarling in the courtroom. Show some respect."
Shortly thereafter, a door opened behind a toadstool of truly prodigious dimensions, and a figure appeared within. As it tottered up to the oversize fungi, a sprite clad in flowing frillwork appeared from nowhere to tootle on a small, cochlear horn.
"Hear ye, hear ye! The City Court of the Kingdom of Purple is now in session. His honorable and mystic magisterial elf self Judge Cooble Pilk presiding." A second, slightly less elaborate tootle from the tinny trumpet, and the sprite vanished.
Ascending all of two feet to the high chair located behind the commanding toadstool, the judge had extraordinarily large, pointed ears, a shiny forehead from which a few determined, scraggly hairs emerged, narrow, intense dark eyes, and the long, supple fingers of a courtesan. The lavender-whitish wig he wore spilled in carefully powdered curls down his back, onto the floor, and beyond, stretching several feet in two directions. No book lay open before him, nor was a gavel of any kind close at hand. Pushing out his hairy lower lip and glaring importunately at the unhappy prisoners, he folded his hands and leaned forward, his elbows resting on the curved, slightly flexible surface of the toadstool.
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