by Richard Due
Tay, holding a protective hand near his head, pointed to the bridge telegraph. “Jasper,” he bellowed, “turn that thing off!”
Instantly, Oscar and his flocskool came down once more. This time they descended like a soft, silent rain, landing and perching as still as statues on whatever object came first to talon. In the silence, Oscar slanted his eyes back and forth between the children and their parents. He looked positively chastened.
The entire family gazed at the frozen birdfish. Lily’s mother shook her head.
“Crazy little things,” she muttered.
Lily’s father gave them a long look, sighed, and then hooked his cap on one of the nearby pegs. He tossed his walking stick a bit too forcefully into a bin filled with umbrellas and walking sticks.
“Jasper, Lily,” he said, looking distracted. “Your mother and I will need some time alone in Uncle Ebb’s study. You may putter about as you wish.” He hooked his wife’s arm in his own, and they descended the stairs without another word, disappearing through the first doorway on their right.
Lily turned to her brother. “Mom is worried.”
Jasper nodded, then held up a hand to shush Lily. Their mother was speaking.
“You don’t really think they’re involved, do you, Tay?” she said, her voice fading.
“It’s always been a possibility,” said their father. “They’ve been nothing but trouble since the day they were born.”
“But surely they—” and the rest trailed off too softly for Lily and Jasper to understand.
Lily frowned, her lip sticking out slightly. “You don’t think . . . you don’t think they could mean us, do you?” she said uncertainly.
But before Jasper could answer, Oscar let out an ear-piercing burble-squawk and launched himself directly at them, the flocskool in tow. They rounded Jasper sharply and then twisted around Lily, quickly forming into a fast-moving figure eight of fluttery bright colors.
They were traveling so fast and so close that Lily was afraid to move. At last, her arms pinned to her sides, she began to laugh.
“The feathers!” she giggled. “They tickle!”
“I’m afraid to move my arms!” yelled Jasper.
“I know! Me too!”
Then Oscar broke free and flitted up the stairs, lighting on the old grandfather clock that towered on the landing. The flocskool followed him noisily, settling all over the clock and the coral reef behind it. The birdfish were loud, but Lily and Jasper could still make out Oscar’s plaintive whistling over the din.
“Lily—” said Jasper, his eyes growing wide. “Oscar knows something . . . and he’s trying to tell us what it is.”
Jasper raced up the stairs two at a time, Lily right on his heels, and with every step, the coral walls brightened. Light purled across their surface as if it were shining through only a few feet of water.
The second floor ran perpendicular to the great hall for the full length of the mansion’s long wings; the corridors vanishing in each direction were called the North Hall and South Hall. As Jasper peered down the twin halls, an uneasy feeling crept over him, like he was being watched. But there wasn’t an electrimal in sight.
Suddenly he was engulfed by a colorful tornado of wings descending from the third floor. Jasper twisted around, trying to spot Oscar. That’s when he saw it—or thought he saw it. About twenty feet up North Hall, just for a second, something—or someone—ducked through an open doorway and out of sight.
“Uncle Ebb?” yelled Jasper. There was no reply.
A moment later Lily stepped into the swirling flocskool, now thinning rapidly as the birdfish diverted down South Hall.
Lily eyed her brother, still staring at the doorway where he thought he had seen something.
“What is it?” asked Lily. “Did you see him? Did you see Ebb?”
“I don’t know—I saw something. It could have been—but Uncle would have answered, right?”
“You probably saw Finder,” offered Lily, as she stared down the hall at the departing birdfish. “He never answers when he’s on a job for Mr. Phixit,” she said quickly, grabbing Jasper by the elbow and giving him a hard tug. “Come on, they’re getting away!”
The second floor of Uncle Ebb’s home was like a museum, albeit one with glowing coral reefs for walls. Tall glass curio cabinets stood every few feet, and piled between them was just about anything you could imagine: busts, telescopes, sculptures, shields, saddles, whole looms still threaded and in working order, piles of books, barnacled anchors, and fully garbed mannequins, some in splendid gowns or cloaks, some in full suits of armor.
Between the cabinets, the reef walls were covered with dozens of small shelves, pictures, and brass hooks. From the hooks hung daggers, short swords, and belts.
Ebb’s paintings peppered the walls. Portraits of merfolk mounted on seahorse dragons; hammer-wielding giants striking anvils before glowing forges; groomed Rinn, sphinx-like on their thrones; lavish interiors; castles; pitched battles; glowing horizons immense with overlapping moons—all were well known to Lily and Jasper through the forbidden bedtime tales. Long had they studied these paintings, matching snippets of tales and pieces of maps, searching for new clues or insights into the twists and turns of Uncle Ebb’s ingenious mind. It was a long-played game, one they still played today, but there was no time for that now.
The birdfish doubled back and fluttered about, brushing against their arms and cheeks and using Jasper and Lily’s bodies like moving islands to crisscross the hall.
Oscar darted out a doorway, whistled loudly, and ducked back in. The birdfish took off after him, and Lily and Jasper sprinted to catch up. The room they entered was large enough that the birdfish returned to their habit of hugging the walls on both sides, dipping around the furniture and picture frames as they spread out, their servos and motors silent. Lily and Jasper slowed to a walk.
They passed through several rooms in this fashion, the flock rejoining and splitting at each new doorway. When there was more than one doorway, Jasper and Lily would wait mid-room until it became apparent which way Oscar was taking them.
The journey ended in a darkly paneled room. The birdfish circled aimlessly before becoming strangely calm and alighting wherever they could find purchase. Dust motes hung in the air. And though it was one of the chief jobs of the birdfish to collect and transport dust to the dustbins, they simply perched and stared.
Directly opposite the entrance was an enormous nine-sided window. Through it shone the distorted crown of an immense tree. Liquid, golden, it glowed like the surface of a great sphere. Two long-tailed orange bob-jabs clung precariously to a grille in the middle of the window, their long tail feathers pressed like fans against the wavy glass.
Jasper compared their position to his woefully incomplete mental map of the mansion. He knew exactly where they were now: just under the eaves of the mansion’s second story. Oscar had delivered them into one of Uncle Ebb’s personal rooms. Jasper jumped back nervously.
“Lily! We’re not allowed to be in—”
“Hush,” whispered Lily, stepping further into the room. “They brought us here for a reason.”
On either side of the door, rows of brass hooks held cloaks, coats, and jackets. Half the floor was taken up by two large, haphazard piles of clothes, many of which needed laundering. Shallow shelves overflowed with hurriedly piled hats, ties, belts, keychains, wallets, gloves, and every other accessory you could imagine.
Lily picked up a glove from a nearby shelf. “Odd place for a cloakroom.”
Jasper stood in the doorway, holding fast to the doorjambs as if afraid of being sucked into the room.
“Lily!” he hissed, “Dad will have a fit if he catches us here.”
Lily continued to glance about, looking for Oscar. “We’ll just be a minute. Calm yourself.” She beckoned
to Jasper, tossing her blonde hair. “Come on in. Even the birdfish don’t seem to mind it—and there’s not a speck of coral reef in sight.” Lily smiled in that strange way that Jasper always thought made her seem so much older. She seemed to save it for very disturbing times . . . like now.
Jasper looked at the birdfish dotting the walls; what Lily had said was true. “They must be malfunctioning. They’ve strayed too far from the generator or something.”
“That’s ridiculous. They’re fine. The reason is obvious,” said Lily, laying the glove back down and picking up a red velvet ring box. Prying it open, she frowned at its emptiness.
“Obvious?” said Jasper, sounding put out. “Obvious how?”
Lily smiled, put the box back where she’d found it, and picked up another. This one was covered in green velvet. “They do it,” said Lily imperiously, “because Uncle has programmed them to do it. Simple as that.”
The green box had three trees embossed in gold on the lid. When Lily opened this one, she gasped. Inside was a ring, set with a large round piece of polished bone wreathed by tiny golden wings.
“Lily!” Jasper took a step into the room and snatched the box from Lily’s hand, closing it and returning it to the shelf. “These are his private things. We’re not . . . to . . .”
A glint from something in the umbrella stand caught Jasper’s eye. He pushed aside the walking sticks, frilly parasols, and dark umbrellas, revealing the hilts and scabbards of several swords. He fished out a jewel-encrusted one and gave the hilt a yank, partially freeing the blade. It was bright silver, with a long line of runes engraved down its center. The light from the window caught the blade oddly, making it difficult for Jasper to focus. At the grip jutted two cross-guards, each studded with a moon, one full, the other crescent. When Jasper subtly pronated his wrist, the moons shone iridescent, like mother-of-pearl.
Oscar burble-squawked, and instinctively Jasper dropped the blade and scabbard back into the umbrella stand. The scabbard hit the bottom of the metal container with a hollow bang, and the blade re-sheathed itself, hidden once again among the swords, walking sticks, and umbrellas.
“Oscar!” exclaimed Lily, holding a hand to her heart. “Was that really necessary?”
Oscar dove between them, spread his wings, and glided to a row of coats hanging on the wall. He looped his tail around a big brass hook shaped like a praying mantis. With an impressive tug of his beak, he deposited one of the coats unceremoniously onto the floor.
Lily knelt down to pick up the coat. “Really, Oscar? Seriously? This place is messy enough without you—” This time Oscar dropped an outsized topcoat on Lily’s head. “Hey!” Lily batted at the coat. Oscar added a gray wool hunting cloak, a black dress cape, and a houndstooth waistcoat. “Help!”
Jasper bent over to help, and Oscar cut loose a heavy cavalryman’s greatcoat. It looked like something from the Napoleonic Wars. The sudden weight unbalanced him, and he toppled onto Lily.
Oscar emptied half the rack before they could untangle themselves. Jasper was the first to free himself and see it.
“Oh, no!”
“What is it?” asked Lily, her voice muffled from the pile of coats.
Jasper jumped up and began replacing the coats as fast as he could. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
But Oscar kept unhooking the coats as fast as Jasper could replace them. With a mighty heave, Lily popped free of the pile and spotted it.
“Jasper! We have to solve it!”
Oscar let out a low whistle and nodded his head.
“No we don’t,” said Jasper, replacing the black dress cape, which Oscar promptly unhooked and let fall to the floor. “We have to get out of here. We’re in Uncle’s private quarters! What if we get caught?”
“No, Jasper. This is why Oscar brought us here. First he tried to tell Mom and Dad, but they didn’t understand. Now he’s telling us.”
Jasper dropped the cavalryman’s greatcoat and turned to face the wall. Carved deeply into the wood was one of Uncle Ebb’s bestiary puzzles. This was the seventh they’d encountered. Each of the previous ones had unlocked a secret: a drawer full of candies, a shortcut to another room or the outside, a secret playroom filled with stuffed animals. One puzzle led to a maze they still hadn’t solved.
Anyone could look at the carvings and admire the artist’s handiwork. But if you knew a little Moon Realm lore, and you knew the basic structure, you could solve the puzzle. All the principal denizens of the Moon Realm were represented—all but one. The missing one left you the clues you’d need to solve the puzzle.
“I see Rinn,” Lily said, pointing to one of the enormous cat-like creatures, who lay on his back, belly-fur exposed, laughing ridiculously.
They both held out a finger, an unconscious gesture unchanged from childhood.
“That accounts for Barreth,” said Jasper. “One moon down. Hey, aren’t those Tinkers tickling the Rinn’s belly?”
“Those little guys, yeah.” Two fingers. “Can you imagine a real Rinn putting up with that?”
Lily and Jasper looked at each other.
“They’d eat ‘em,” they said in unison.
“Well, that takes care of the Secret moon,” said Lily. “Look here. Where is this long coil headed? It looks like part of a dragon, and what are those two people doing along the edge?”
Jasper pushed aside a coat. “Um . . . giving a dragon a manicure?”
“‘Three hearts bejewel the crown,’” said Lily, quoting from Ebb’s poem. “So that accounts for Dain. Three moons down.”
Three fingers.
“This foot is obviously connected to a giant, although it’s silly big.”
“And I see plenty of birds. That accounts for Min Tar and Taw.” Fourth and fifth fingers. “Hold on. I don’t see any merfolk,” said Lily. “Not a one.”
Jasper removed the last of the coats at the edges of the panel. “You’re right.” Lily and Jasper moved closer, examining every inch. “Well then, that’s our clue. So what have they left behind?”
“The emery board that woman is using on the dragon’s nails is a starfish,” Lily blurted.
“Good one,” said Jasper.
They stared longer. “As puzzles go, this one is just absurd. There’s no narrative.”
“It’s like a nursery rhyme,” Lily agreed. “Maybe the starfish is the only clue.”
“No. Good things come in groups of threes,” he said.
“‘And better things come in three groups of threes,’” said Lily, repeating one of Ebb’s sayings. “There! On the Rinn’s tongue. A pearl.”
“You sure? Could be a piercing.” Jasper nudged Lily with his elbow.
“On a Rinn? Not likely, idiot. That’s two. But where’s the third?”
With a sudden burst of his wings, Oscar dropped down and landed on Jasper’s bicep, where his purchase was precarious at best. Jasper raised his arm, and Oscar inched his way down until he was pecking forcefully at Jasper’s index finger.
“He wants you to point,” said Lily.
Oscar’s crest rose and fell, and he made a low whistle that sounded very impatient.
“That’ll be enough from you, my little friend,” said Jasper. “And staring at me like that isn’t going to help one bit.”
Jasper pointed his finger and Oscar nipped the knuckle of Jasper’s thumb.
“I think he wants you to go in that dir—”
“And that’ll be enough out of you, too.” Jasper moved his hand to the right. Oscar held out his wings.
“I think he wants you to—”
“Shut it.” Jasper raised his finger until he was pointing to a group of trails meeting in the far background of the scenery.
“Trails,” stated Lily. “Paths. Roads. I don’t get it. How does that fit with an ocean
-covered moon?” asked Lily.
“The shape! They form a trident!” said Jasper. As he spoke, he pressed all three of the clues at once, using an elbow to reach the starfish. A loud creak sounded in the opposite corner of the room.
Behind them, a floor-to-ceiling gap opened where the walls met.
Lily approached slowly and gave the walls a push, revealing a darkened passageway. She stepped back and gave her brother a quick smile. “After you, oh ninja master.”
Jasper deposited Oscar on a pair of red leather dress gloves and gave Lily a cordial nod. “To the brave go the spoils,” he said, striding past her into the darkness.
Lily’s face fell. “Wait . . . spoils? What spoils?” She darted after her brother so fast she bumped into his back. Shuffling from side to side, she tried to find enough room to squeeze past him, but the passage was too narrow.
“What do you see?” she said, making little jumps to try and see over his shoulder. “Is that light? Tell me what you see.”
Within ten feet, the passage opened into a long, narrow room that ran under the eaves. An inch-wide skylight ran the length of the room, and underneath rested nine enormous glass globes. Each one sat on a squat bronze base atop a low pedestal.
“They’re terrariums,” said Jasper, tapping the closest one.
Lily bent down low. “Look, there’s writing,” she said. Foreign scripts, each strikingly different from the next, were etched into the bases.
Jasper studied the writing. He paused before the only globe completely filled with liquid. “I’ve seen this one, in one of the paintings.”
“The one of the merfolk library?”
“Yes!”
Lily started. Something had moved in the globe. The narrow band of light from the ceiling created a veil within the globe. In its center was a colorful lump of living coral, crags swirling with the frenetic movement of minute crustaceans and slowly undulating anemones.
Jasper pushed his forehead against the glass and cupped his hands around his eyes. “They’re alive. Unless . . . you don’t think they could be electrimals, do you? I mean . . . they’re so small.”
