“Professor? Is everything okay?” I asked.
“I believe so,” he said. “The Bronze Crown won’t give us any trouble now that you are its owner. However, I recommend placing it in the Vault for safekeeping.”
The Vault. Great. Wherever that was. Just as long as it kept the crown out of the Actor’s grasp. Or anyone else’s.
The little white card I received from the Higher Authorities suddenly grew warm in my hands. When I looked at it, there was a postscript that hadn’t been there before.
P.S. Your name is Peter.
Peter?
I glanced back down at the card to read my name again, only now there was a second postscript.
P.P.S. Well done.
Chapter 33
A Solid, Dependable Name
Once the Actor was gone and the Bronze Crown was no longer a threat, every single Artisan in the whole Oratorium wanted to shake my hand. The Professor had a huge job keeping the crowd from smothering me.
“I know you’re all grateful,” he said, “and there’ll be plenty of time and plenty of ways to show it. Please, give him a bit of room. A bit of room, please!”
One by one, the Artisans began to leave—some through the Oratorium’s exits, others by just vanishing where they stood. Eventually, the theater emptied.
“So, you finally didn’t mess up,” Deeter said, as he and Sweet Pea came up beside me. He punched me in the arm. “Nice one, Rookie.”
“Thanks. You guys okay?”
“Just fine,” Sweet Pea said. “I knew you could do it.”
I grinned. That meant a lot to me, coming from her.
Now that the play had finished and the seats were vacant, a change was transforming the Oratorium. The stage curtains slowly drew themselves closed while the glaring lights dimmed like the theater was tucking itself in for a long sleep. The Professor retrieved the Bronze Crown and joined us at the edge of the stage.
“Well, my young scholars. Are we ready to go?”
“Um, go where?” I asked.
“To my study, of course! We still have a great many matters in need of further research!”
Figured.
“Let me see here.” He patted his pockets. “It’s always there when I need it, but I always forget which…ah! Here we are!”
He reached into his right pocket, then held up the Gold Doorknob. Not the most comfortable way to travel, but certainly one of the quickest. Back at the Professor’s study, the Detective was already waiting for us by the desk when we arrived.
“What took you so long?” He winked and pushed up the brim of his fedora. “Good work, kid.”
“Is the Actor taken care of?” the Professor asked.
“Oh, yeah. He won’t be causing trouble anytime soon. Once his giggles settled down, he told me about his…activities. Told me he’s been using the Finder’s Globe to keep track of everyone.”
“The Finder’s Globe?” I asked. “What sort of thing is that?”
“It’s a Collectible made by the Map Maker,” the Professor said, “meant to help Finders in their searches, but anyone can use it, and it works on people, too. So that’s how he found me in the graveyard. I wondered how he managed such a trick.”
Sweet Pea turned to Deeter and me. “That makes sense. He always seemed to know where we were, even when we didn’t know ourselves, like when we were out looking for the Magic Eight Ball.”
“Ah, the eight ball.” The Detective leaned against the desk’s edge. “He had plenty to say about that, too. Apparently, he was the reason why you three were sent to look for it in the first place.”
“But the Magic Eight Ball,” I said. “That was the Ragman’s idea.”
“In his mind, maybe it was. But the idea first came from the Actor. Right after the library fire, he anonymously joined the Ragman’s favorite online Collector’s forum. There, he suggested that the Ragman could use the Magic Eight Ball to his advantage in his bidding wars.”
“How could the Actor possibly know about those?” I asked.
The corners of the Detective’s mouth lifted a little.
“The Ragman’s bidding wars are legendary, kid. Of all the Collectors, he tends to only use his Finders for the really hard-to-get Collectibles. Everything else he tries to obtain himself, mostly by purchasing it.”
Thank goodness for that. I could just imagine how much work it would be to find all the junk he’d bought online. Sweet Pea, Deeter and I would be exhausted.
“Of course, the Magic Eight Ball was simply a ruse to flush you out,” the Professor said. “The Packrat House is a remarkably secure place. As long as you were there, you were beyond the Actor’s reach, and so was The Book of All Words.”
“Right,” the Detective said. “But even out in the open, you three are pretty difficult to catch. Trust me, I know from experience. So when that failed, he tried another way.”
The Choir Boys.
“He hired Finders to find Finders,” I said. “Clever move.”
“Clever, but a mistake.” The Professor leaned forward. “You see, he underestimated them.”
The Detective shook his head. “The Choir Boys have always been wild cards in the deck.”
“True. However, that wasn’t his only mistake. His biggest mistake was the fuss he made to the Critic. I assume he was the one who ransacked her room?”
The Detective nodded.
“Then perhaps we should be grateful for the Actor’s vanity,” the Professor continued. “If he hadn’t been quite so dramatic in his tantrums, his plan might have succeeded. The Critic’s information helped us out in our research immensely.”
The Professor set the Bronze Crown on his desk, right beside The Book of All Words.
“A whole lot of trouble for a scrap of bronze,” the Detective muttered.
“Professor, I’m confused about something,” I said. “During the play, while the Actor was wearing the crown, he commanded me, remember? He ordered me to seize the crown. But when I didn’t obey, nothing happened. Why not?”
The Professor thought for a moment. “This is only speculation. An educated guess, really, but perhaps it’s because he didn’t command you. He commanded Henry Bolingbroke, the character you were playing at the time. Even with its formidable powers, the Bronze Crown can’t hurt fictional characters.”
That sorted everything out. Well, almost. There was still the Librarian to take care of, but the Professor promised to smooth things over with her on my behalf when he went to return The Book of All Words to her.
“Shall I take the Bronze Crown to the Vault for you, Professor?” the Detective asked.
“Yes, please. I think it would be best if it were out of sight and out of mind for a while.”
The Detective slipped the crown into his coat pocket. “Until the next case, then.”
He tipped the brim of his fedora at me and vanished.
Sweet Pea and Deeter were ready to go, too.
“Your house keys should work on my study door up there,” the Professor said. “That door has a very good lock, and the Gold Doorknob should be attached now.”
He rose from his chair and shook our hands.
“Thanks, Professor,” Sweet Pea said.
“Not at all, not at all. It has been an honor undertaking this extraordinary research adventure with you all. I hope we have a chance to do some research again in the future.”
Sweet Pea and Deeter headed for the door, but they paused when I didn’t follow.
“You guys go on ahead,” I told them. “I’ll meet you back at the house.”
“Is something still troubling you, young scholar?” the Professor asked when we were alone.
“Not troubling me, not exactly. It’s just….”
I took out the card that the Higher Authorities had sent me.
“There was a postscript that appeared on the card,” I said. “After I’d opened it. The postscript said my name’s Peter.”
The Professor tilted his head. “That’s fantastic news
. Congratulations!”
“But…is that really my name?”
“Oh, yes,” the Professor said. “You can always rely on the Higher Authorities. And if they say your name is Peter, then so it is.”
Something inside my head clicked, like a key turning in a lock, and suddenly I knew. I could remember my name. The Higher Authorities were right.
I was Peter.
“Peter,” the Professor said, almost to himself. “A good name, that. Peter Piper, Peter the Pumpkin Eater—what an interesting fellow he was—High King Peter of the Pevensies. Peter Pan, of course. Yes, a very solid name. A dependable name.”
“You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
The Professor’s eyebrows lifted.
“I’d sort of like to do it myself,” I said, “in my own time.”
The Professor nodded. “Of course.”
I moved a few steps away from the desk, but then I paused. If the Higher Authorities knew my name….
“Professor, are the Higher Authorities very powerful?”
“In the extreme. More powerful than any Ordinary or any Collector or any Finder or even any Artisan.”
“So, do you think maybe they could make the Ragman return my memories?”
The Professor sighed. “Yes, they could, but they won’t. Just as you refused to force others to your will with the Bronze Crown, so they too refuse to force others to their will with their own powers. And for the same reasons.”
I glanced down at the card in my hands, and the Professor patted me on the back.
“It doesn’t seem fair, I know,” he said, “but it’s actually the fairest thing of all about them. They always make sure we have our choices to make freely. They may lend you a hand here and there, but…no, I think the matter of your memories will have to remain between you and the Ragman.”
Oh, well. It was a long shot anyway.
“Still,” I said, “I’m not going to stop. Not until I’ll find a way to get my memories back and go home again. I won’t give up.”
“My dear Peter, I’d be highly disappointed if you did.”
He chuckled, and then he eased back into his desk chair.
“Now,” he said, “you’re always welcome to stay and do research with me, of course, but I’m afraid I’ve run out of time for chatting. I’ve been neglecting my work terribly these last few days.”
A flurry of books flew over to the Professor’s desk and circled it like a flock of birds.
“Yes, yes, all right,” he said to them. “I’m dreadfully sorry for the delay. I haven’t forgotten. Unstable weather patterns, the French Revolution, nuclear fusion, of course. Oh, and homemade lasagna recipes. All right, all right. Settle down all of you. We’ll begin at once.”
I left the Professor there at his desk, reading at least five different books at the same time. But at the top of the staircase, he called out to me.
“Oh, Peter? Left pocket. Don’t forget.”
I reached into my left coat pocket. Somehow, the Magic Eight Ball had found its way inside.
“Thanks, Professor!” I said.
“Anytime, young scholar, anytime!”
At the Ragman’s house, Sweet Pea and Deeter were waiting for me near the front door.
“Thank goodness that’s over with,” Sweet Pea said.
I looked down the hallway. “Not quite.”
With the Magic Eight Ball in my hands, I walked to the Ragman’s room and knocked on his door.
“Come in!” he called.
Yikes.
Here I’d thought his study was messy before, but that old mess had been clean and orderly compared to this chaos. The Ragman was bent over his desk, shuffling through the pile of strange Collectibles that had accumulated there. The desk drawers were pulled out, their contents scattered on the carpet. Every single crate and box in the room had been opened and turned over onto its side.
Even his armchair was set upside down.
“Ah, good. The new lad,” he said, brushing back a thin strand of hair dangling down his ears. “You’re just in time. I could use your help. Do you remember that encyclopedia you found for me? The one for fraudulent Collectibles? I can’t find it anywhere! I could have sworn it was right here on my desk. Or did I set it on the floor….”
He started digging through the closest pile of junk on the ground. Judging from the state of his room, he’d been looking for the encyclopedia a long time. He’d probably be looking even longer too, now that its due date had passed and it was back in the Librarian’s library.
I had to work hard to keep from grinning.
“Here,” I said. “Maybe this will help.”
I set the Magic Eight Ball down in front of him on his desk. His eyes grew wide, and for a minute he stared at it like he couldn’t believe it. Then he snatched it up.
“Brilliant! Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!”
He danced around the room, almost tripping on the leg of his armchair.
“Magic Eight Ball,” he said, giving it a shake, “where is the encyclopedia? Oh.”
“What’s it say?” I asked.
“It says, cannot predict now.” He gave it another little shake. “Did I leave it under my chair?”
His face fell.
“Better not tell you now? What’s it mean by that?”
He turned the Magic Eight Ball over and over in his hands. I could hear Sweet Pea and Deeter snickering behind the Ragman’s closed door.
“So,” I said, “that’s two, right?”
The Ragman looked up. “Sorry?”
“Two Collectibles that I’ve found for you. Eight more, and I get my memories back.”
“Oh. Yes, yes.”
“And this one counts for all of us. Deeter and Sweet Pea, too. We all found it. Do you promise?”
“Of course! And I’m a man of my word.”
Yeah, right. I could just imagine how much his word was worth.
“Try the Magic Eight Ball again,” I suggested. “It’s very helpful.”
“Thanks! I will.” The Ragman cleared his throat. “Um, Rookie? Good job on this one. Tell Deeter and Sweet Pea good job, too, will you?”
I left the Ragman standing near his armchair and shaking the Magic Eight Ball wildly as I closed the door.
So maybe he’d keep his word, and maybe he wouldn’t. It didn’t matter. The Bronze Crown didn’t work out, but there were still a lot of other Collectibles in the world. Maybe one of them might be just what I needed to get my memories back. Somehow, soon, I’d outwit the Ragman. And once I did, I’d be going home. Besides, at least some good came out of all this.
Finally, I knew my name.
A Note from the Author
NO ORDINARIES ALLOWED!
All right, maybe a few. But if you’re reading this, then I suspect you have better than average Finder’s instincts anyway. This book may have ended, but there are plenty of surprises still to discover. Of course, I can’t tell you where all the Collectibles are hidden—that would be cheating—but a good place to begin your search is on my website at mattilenaharris.com. I’ve stashed quite a few peculiarities there—alternate scenes, deleted materials, character interviews, plus a few other oddities of immense value (just please don’t tell your Collector).
Not satisfied? If you’re seeking the truly rare, then might I suggest you join my mailing list? Once you sign up on my website, you’ll have access to my newsletter, where you can find the exclusive (dare I say, forbidden?) Collectibles that are simply too amazing to belong elsewhere. You’ll also be the first to know when new books are available. The Librarian would approve.
Still not satisfied? There’s one more Collectible to find. After the Acknowledgments, I’ve included the first chapter from book two, The Cross of the Broken Knight. Proceed with caution, though, and don’t say I didn’t warn you. Not all magic is safe; not all Finders are friendly.
* * *
The Ghosts are real, and they are dangerous.
* * *
M.L.H.
A Message Directly from the Critic’s Typewriter
Yes, I’m writing to you personally, dear astute readers, to let you know the impact that a few thoughtful, insightful reviews can have on a book’s success, particularly if that book is penned by an independent author. Such authors often have limited resources—no flashy marketing campaigns, extravagant celebrity endorsements or million-dollar movie deals for them! Such limitations can make it difficult to compete in the book market, which is why independent authors cherish your support so much.
These days, online bookstores are flush with thousands upon thousands of books, and I have my hands utterly full trying to review them all! That’s why I’m entreating you for your help. Fortunately, you don’t have to be me to make your voice heard. If you thought this book was worth your support, then please consider leaving a review wherever you made your purchase. Believe me, the author knows how precious your time is, and she would be so grateful to you.
Now, I simply must get back to that restaurant review I was writing. Where did I put my fork?
* * *
With kind regards,
The Critic
Acknowledgments
Deeter told me to skip the sappy stuff, so I’ll do my best. This book wouldn’t exist, however, without the love and support I received while writing it. To my family, especially my parents, and my bosom friend Beth—it still boggles my mind how much you all believe in me. Thank you for the Sunday phone calls, the much-needed advice, and the gaming marathons (thank you, Laurel, for protecting me from the big’uns).
Also, to those who helped in the construction of this book. Alexis Sanchez (I haven’t forgotten you!), Ernesto, Secret Squirrel, Sandra Garcia, and all my other beta readers who didn’t wish to be named, many thanks for your brilliant comments. The Artisans are in your debt.
To MagicGraphix for the fantastic website design, thank you for keeping the bells and whistles of my website working, and to Aero Gallerie, thank you for your brilliant cover ideas. You guys are Artisans of the highest class!
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