by Temre Beltz
But Pippa shook her head. “I think what you have to say about yourself means a whole lot more than some old hat.”
Some old hat? Despite the peculiarity of the situation, Oliver almost smiled. He was certain he’d never once heard anyone refer to a magician’s hat like that, and he was suddenly very glad to know Pippa.
“You also pulled a terrible trick on me that dashed every single hope I had of making my way back home,” she said, hands planted firmly on her hips. “But now something more important has come up: saving Triumph Mountain and keeping our families safe.” Pippa’s expression softened just a bit. “And despite all those concerns I just listed, I still have a good feeling about you. Plus, you have a broomstick.”
Beside Pippa, Ernest coughed. “A good feeling? Pippa, I’m not so sure that’s the most reliable measure. Not to mention, did you see the way he flew in on that broomstick? Um, no offense,” Ernest finished with a quick sideways glance in Oliver’s direction.
“Ernest, I come from a family of ten,” Pippa said. “That’s ten people with ten very different personalities. I’ve become very good at judging people’s intentions.”
“Maybe so,” Maisy said warily. “But that doesn’t speak to the broomstick. I mean, it’s sort of a miracle Oliver got here in one piece.”
Pippa looked around matter-of-factly. “Yes, but does anyone see any other way off Triumph Mountain?”
Oliver would have jumped in sooner, but he was having great difficulty swallowing. He couldn’t believe where this was headed. Pippa wanted Oliver to take her somewhere? On a witch’s broomstick? He was a fugitive magician! He didn’t have a clue what he planned to do next, but at the very least he knew he should remain out of sight. If he was caught with a runaway Triumphant, wouldn’t he be in even more trouble? Then again, if Pippa was with him, he also wouldn’t be alone. In all of his worrying over being kicked out of the Swinging Swamp, the alone part had seemed inescapable.
Oliver drew in a sharp breath. “You want me to take you back home, don’t you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Oliver. Unless my role is officially changed back to a commoner, I can’t go home. I’d be accused of acting outside my role. And the last thing I need is a Council detention.” Pippa paused. She lifted her chin in the air. Oliver didn’t know much about girls, but they certainly seemed brave. “I need you to help me get Ferdinand back. We need him here on Triumph Mountain. I have a feeling we’re going to need all of our loyal companions, but Ferdinand especially.”
“But didn’t you just say he’s with the Chancellor?” Oliver asked.
“He’s on his way to the Chancellor, accompanied by an officer of the Quill,” Pippa explained. “If we hurry—and from the stories I’ve read, speed’s not a problem for a broomstick—we can stop the carriage and free Ferdinand!”
With a determined nod, Maisy hustled toward the broomstick. “All right, then,” she said. “Everybody pile on!”
“I—oh—loop the loops? Nosedives?” Ernest muttered. Nevertheless, he dragged his feet behind Maisy. “Why did today have to be cake day?”
Oliver, however, threw his hands up. “Wait!” he cried. “Just because something’s the only option doesn’t mean it’s a good one.” Oliver gestured at the broomstick. “I still don’t know how to fly that thing, and I nearly met my End three separate times on the way here! Not to mention it’s a witch’s broomstick. Witches’ broomsticks are meant to be ridden solo, and there’s no way it can carry all four of us.”
“But two of us can fit,” Pippa said matter-of-factly. “Surely two kids are the same as one plump witch. Anyhow, you can’t go without me. Ferdinand’s flames might burn you.”
“Are you even sure Ferdinand’s flames won’t burn you, Pippa?” Ernest asked gently.
Pippa frowned. “No, but I think I have to trust that they won’t. I think that’s part of having a loyal companion. So,” Pippa said, turning to Oliver, “are you ready?”
Oliver wanted to tell Pippa that it sounded flat-out impossible. Then again, she was also the very same girl who, when whisked away to Peabody’s Academy for the Triumphant, sent a letter to a fairy godmother via the Winds of Wanderly. Oliver didn’t imagine there was anything Pippa wasn’t willing to try when her family was involved. But that didn’t mean he had to put himself at risk.
Oliver looked at Pippa. “You’re asking me to take you on my broomstick, track down your fire horse, and free him from an officer of the Quill? What reason do I have for saying yes?”
“None,” Pippa said. “And I bet most people would say no. I’m only asking because most people wouldn’t have come here in the first place. But you did.”
For most of Oliver’s life he had felt like he never really had a choice. Things just happened to him. Things outside his control. But in this moment the choice was very clear: he could decide whether he wanted to keep going down an obviously risky path with Pippa or move safely ahead on his own.
But was anything really guaranteed to be safe? What did it mean to be safe anyhow?
“Okay,” he heard someone say.
Pippa’s eyes widened. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, and she plopped onto the broomstick, directly behind Oliver. That’s when Oliver realized it had been him. He was the one who had said okay. And as Maisy wrung her hands, Ernest’s jaw gaped, and the broomstick spat out an array of angry sparks, Pippa and Oliver lifted off Triumph Mountain, speeding away by the light of the stars just beginning to twinkle and shine.
It almost seems as if everything is going to be okay, doesn’t it?
Oliver hadn’t a clue if his stolen broomstick was trying to impress Pippa because she was a Triumphant or if it had merely succumbed to the humiliation of hauling around two kids, but so far it hadn’t once tried to toss them off. And when it began to twist into a downward spiral of swizzles, a slight admonition from Pippa was all it took for it to start behaving again. The broomstick’s tracking skills were also second to none. This was both 100 percent helpful and 100 percent scary, as Oliver began to wonder precisely how long it might take a witch to relocate her stolen broomstick by using another. This, of course, would also mean locating Oliver, and he couldn’t imagine said witch would be very happy about what he’d done. But that was another problem for another day. At least he hoped.
“Are there any other magicians like you in the Swinging Swamp, Oliver?” Pippa asked.
Oliver shifted a bit uncomfortably. “Like me, how?” he said. But he was already certain the answer was no. If he had been anything like the other magicians, he never would have found himself in the position he was in.
“Ones who think what the magicians are planning is wrong.”
“Oh.” Oliver paused. “Did I say that I thought it was wrong?”
“You didn’t have to. The very fact that you’re trying to stop them says it all.”
Oliver felt a wave of heat creep across his cheeks. He didn’t want Pippa to think he was some kind of hero. If he had happened to secure a spot as Master Von Hollow’s assistant the way he’d set out to, wouldn’t Oliver have been leading the charge? He shivered, wondering how he could have so easily wound up on a path that was beginning to seem more and more wrong.
Oliver’s rock heart lightened the smallest bit. Though he could hardly believe it, maybe, possibly, some good had come of him never receiving his hat. Maybe it had helped him to see more clearly.
“It’s not what you’re thinking, Pippa. I would be like all the other magicians if they had let me. But they didn’t; they kicked me out. I’m not even allowed to go back to the Swinging Swamp.”
Pippa gasped. “Oliver, that—that’s horrible. And it’s all just because you don’t have your hat?”
“Well, that and about a dozen other things I did wrong over the past two weeks. That’s what got me writing to you in the first place. I asked you for the grubins because I wanted to be chosen as an assistant in Master Von Hollow’s showcase—”
“You mean the one he�
��s going to perform on the night of the picnic? You were going to be . . . a part of that?” Pippa asked, aghast.
Oliver nodded miserably. “At the time I had no idea it wasn’t going to be held in the Swinging Swamp. I just knew that a role like that would help me get my hat. But I . . . didn’t get it. I mean, I missed the auditions because I . . . well, after that I tried to sabotage the showcase because—”
“Because once you found out it was going to be on Triumph Mountain you knew it was wrong?” Pippa asked.
“Not quite,” Oliver said sheepishly. “I wasn’t trying to stop it, just postpone it. It wasn’t until I found out you were on Triumph Mountain that I started to look at things . . . differently. Well, that and almost getting shipped off for a Council detention.”
“For a what?” Pippa exclaimed. The broomstick must have been eavesdropping too because it shuddered dramatically, and Oliver gripped the handle tighter. “Oliver, you’re a—fugitive? Why didn’t you say anything? Do you know where we’re headed right now?”
“Uh, I thought we were going to free your fire horse . . . Freddy, was it?”
“Ferdinand,” Pippa corrected. “But what’s important here is the officer of the Quill part. If he suspects who you are, he could haul you away!”
“Yep,” Oliver said.
Pippa was beside herself. “But—but . . . Oliver, we’re talking about a detention. I don’t think I’ve heard of anyone ever being released from a detention.”
“Honestly, Pippa, I’m not sure where I’m supposed to go anyway.” They were the worst words Oliver could think of. The words that had been haunting him. The words that scared him. An admission that maybe there really was no place for him at all.
Pippa pressed her lips together. “Oliver, our lives are supposed to look like what we see in the storybooks, but have you ever read a story with an accidental character?”
“Um . . . no?” Oliver said, slightly puzzled.
“Right! A character can’t write themselves. Someone else had to think of them; someone had to include them; a character never happens by mistake.”
Oliver’s eyes widened. The last time he’d heard the word “mistake,” he had been sitting in Headmaster Razzle’s office, and it was in reference to him.
Pippa tumbled on, “I don’t think it’s all that different in Wanderly. Oliver, just by being here, you already belong. From the first moment you opened up your eyes, you became a part of something bigger—there’s a spot that only you were meant to fill. And even if your story is turning out differently than what you expected, maybe it’s the Chancellor who’s wrong. Maybe instead of trying to make our stories look like someone else’s, instead we should see where our stories take us.”
Oliver felt everything inside him squeeze tight.
Could all of that really be true?
But before he could respond, beneath them, the stolen broomstick froze. It began to twitch and wiggle. It skipped a few feet back as if winding up for something big.
“I think it’s found Ferdinand,” Oliver said. “Pippa, quick! You’d better hold—”
Oliver didn’t have time to finish his sentence before the broomstick made a nauseatingly sharp nosedive into the forest below. Tree boughs and tree trunks zipped by in a blur until the steady drum of horse hooves could be heard along with the deep hum of a man’s voice. The broomstick jerked upward so that Pippa and Oliver slid right off the end and into a very prickly bush.
“It’s dark out here,” Pippa whispered.
“Are you scared?” Oliver asked with a shiver.
“No, I’m glad. It’ll make what we’re about to do easier.” Pippa bent down and began scooping up dirt in both hands. She smeared dirt first on her cheeks and then on her chin. She reached up and tore a hole in the collar of her shirt and snagged the hem of her sleeves.
“What are you doing?” Oliver asked.
“Getting into character,” she said with a grin. Before Oliver could wiggle away, she dipped her fingertip in the dirt and smeared a long, thick line across his forehead.
“Ugh!” Oliver said. “That’s messy even by swamp standards.”
Pippa raised her eyebrow. “Would you rather be recognized?” When Oliver shook his head, she continued, “Anyhow, here’s the plan. I’ll do my best to distract the officer while you sneak around back and undo the latch on Ferdinand’s trailer. If we get separated, meet back here.” Pippa reached for her now frayed sleeve and tore free a strip of fabric. She hastily tied it around one of the bush’s branches.
“O-okay,” Oliver said a bit uncertainly.
Pippa, however, was already making her way toward the dirt road. The carriage jostled closer, and she ran out in front of it. She waved her arms wildly to and fro, but the officer didn’t stop, nor did he bother to pull up the reins and slow the horses.
“Outta the way!” he shouted.
“Please! Please stop, sir!” Pippa cried.
“OUTTA THE WAY!” the officer shouted again, but this time much louder.
Oliver anxiously ruffled his hair with his hands. This was madness! Oliver should have known Pippa wouldn’t back down, but he hadn’t anticipated the officer being just as stubborn. Officers of the Quill weren’t supposed to run over young girls, but this was only Oliver’s first day outside the Swinging Swamp. What did Oliver know, really?30
“STOP!” Pippa insisted.
Oliver couldn’t tell whether the officer actually obliged or if his horses just had more sense than he did. Either way, the carriage slowed to a crawl, and the officer cracked his whip hard at the ground near Pippa’s feet.
“I’ve got precious cargo, kid, and yer slowing me down!” the officer roared.
As Oliver was wondering what Pippa was going to do next, she turned and looked pointedly in his direction. The desperate “what are you waiting for?” look written on her face caused his knees to buckle. Oliver hadn’t expected his part to come so quickly, and he was a mess of nerves! Still, Pippa was depending on him, and he couldn’t let her down.
Oliver slipped toward the carriage. He heard the sound of the fire horse breathing and the heavy stamp of its hooves against the metal floor. Great big beads of sweat began to roll down Oliver’s forehead as he envisioned a mane of flames scorching his skin.
“MOVE!” the officer barked at Pippa. Oliver heard the terrible crack of the whip again, and he knew he had to hurry. There simply wasn’t time to be afraid.
Oliver took a deep breath, yanked on the latch with all his might, and swung the trailer door open. It let out an impossibly shrill creak! With a terrifying grunt, the officer leaped free of the driver’s seat and tore around the back of the carriage.
“GO!” Pippa shouted. “RUN!”
Though Oliver didn’t need to be told twice, Ferdinand seemed like he was half-awake. He also seemed awfully . . . small. So small that Oliver wondered fleetingly if he and Pippa had freed the right horse. But no horse deserved to be stuck with an officer of the Quill. Resolute, Oliver reached out and slapped Ferdinand on the backside the way he’d read about in storybooks. Reading, I’m delighted to report, hadn’t steered him wrong, because Ferdinand reared to life!
He also, unfortunately, streaked right past Oliver and left him completely vulnerable to the fuming officer. Oliver, having narrowly escaped so many attempted pranks at Razzle’s School for Meddlesome Boys, expertly ran a tight circle around the officer until the officer was hopelessly dizzy. By the time Oliver reached the designated meeting spot, the grumbling and disoriented officer had crawled back into the driver’s seat and cracked his whip against the backs of the two horses that were far less fortunate than Ferdinand.
Oliver let out the breath he was holding and looked up at the sound of crunching leaves. It was Pippa, and she was holding tight to Ferdinand’s lead rope. Her face glowed warm by the light of three flames that flickered on Ferdinand’s mane and two that flickered on his tail. Though Ferdinand wasn’t anything at all like what Oliver had pictured, though he almos
t looked like he’d fit right in with Master Von Hollow’s herd of sorry-looking horses, Oliver wasn’t a bit disappointed.
Pippa lifted her bare hand. She sucked up a tiny breath, pressed her eyes shut, and began combing her hand through Ferdinand’s mane.
“Watch out!” Oliver cried.
But Pippa didn’t jerk her hand away. Instead, she opened her eyes and grinned. “He’s never had this many flames at one time. I think Ferdinand’s getting stronger, Oliver! And look—” Pippa cupped a flame in her hand. “We trust each other. His flames don’t hurt. If I want to, I can even ride him!”
Oliver reached for the stolen broomstick. It huffed rudely at him. “Well, at least you won’t have to put up with this rascal on the trip back to Triumph Mountain. You’ll probably be glad to be rid of it.”
Pippa lowered her eyes. “Not really, because that means you’ll be leaving too. Anyhow, I’m not going back to Triumph Mountain right away. I’m going to the Capital first.”
“The Capital? Pippa, we just rescued Ferdinand so he wouldn’t have to go to the Capital!”
“Yes, but I’m sure I can hide him somewhere.”
“It can’t be that easy to hide a horse that’s on fire!”
Pippa’s face fell. “I know, but I just keep thinking that we’re going to need help on the night of the picnic, that even if we have one solid, experienced Triumphant on our side, it might make all the difference. And the only person that could be is Ms. Bravo.”
“Ms. Bravo the giant tamer?” Oliver asked. “Even I’ve heard of her.”
Suddenly, Oliver’s heart began to thump.
And his palms began to sweat.
He had already come to terms with the fact that soon Pippa would have to go, and he would be back to trying to figure out what to do next, but was it possible that this was his next step? With only four days remaining before the picnic, Pippa couldn’t do everything that needed to be done. At least not all by herself. And then wouldn’t Oliver’s warning—and everything that followed after it—have been for nothing?
