by Lisa McMann
Fifer smoothed out the canvas, her mind moving a mile a minute as she thought of the possibilities Shimmer and the other birds had presented to her. But could she trust the falcons? She had no reason not to—they adored her. They obeyed her. And together they made a fierce army.
Folding the hammock, Fifer blocked out all the doubts that crowded her mind. She picked up the unwieldy thing, letting a few of the ropes trail behind her, and fled the Museum of Large. Peeking carefully out of the hallway to make sure nobody was around who might get suspicious of her, Fifer ran to the girls’ hallway and down to her room. She called out to her doorway so that it would open, and she rushed in, past Desdemona before she could surface and see what Fifer was carrying. Then she threw the giant hammock onto Thisbe’s bed and sank onto her own, huffing and puffing and sweating from the exertion.
After a moment to catch her breath, Fifer went back to her living area, and to her tube, where she was planning to place a room service order so she could collect food for her trip. There, on the floor of her tube, was a package tied up in colorful paper and string.
“What’s this?” Fifer whispered.
Desdemona pushed her face out of the blackboard. “It came up a little while ago,” she said. “Anonymously. I guess you’d better open it.”
Florence Sends a Message
Desdemona kept her head pushed out far enough from the screen to watch Fifer pick up the package.
“It’s heavy,” Fifer said. She pulled the string to release the bow. The wrapping paper fell open, revealing a note on top of a big lumpy cloth sack. Fifer lifted the piece of paper and read it.
Dear Fifer, you’ve earned it, the note read. Do what you need to do. If you need more lessons, you know where to find me. Your friend Florence, Magical Warrior trainer.
Fifer stared at the words in wonder. Then she opened the sack and peered inside. She reached in and pulled out something soft and brown. It shimmered a bit when she first touched it. She dropped everything else, the package hitting the floor with a thunk.
Fifer shook out the gift and stared at it. “My component vest!” she said, then shouted, “YESSS!” She hurried to put it on, her fingers trembling with the buttons. She smoothed it down the front and whirled around to face Desdemona. “How does it look?” she asked, breathless.
“Very smart indeed,” said Desdemona, and she actually smiled to see Fifer’s excitement. “It fits you perfectly. And did you see the shimmer? That’s the magic protection activating. Mr. Today began adding that many years ago, and Florence continued it. You’re very lucky to get yours early. And I feel lucky to have witnessed it. It’s a big moment in a blackboard’s career to see their human get a component vest.” She almost looked misty-eyed. “You’re growing up.”
Fifer nodded, unable to speak. She ran to the mirror to admire it. She looked absolutely wonderful. “I’ll never take it off,” she said.
“Don’t forget there was something else in the package in that mess on the floor.”
“Oh!” said Fifer. “Right.” She darted back to the living area, kicked away the wrapping paper, and picked up the heavy cloth sack. Reaching inside, she felt around and pulled out a handful of stuff. “Spell components!” she cried. Scatterclips, clay balls for shackles, little moss bits for magic carpets, yellow highlighters for light and to blind enemies with, backward bobbly heads, and real fire-breathing origami dragons, among others. There were tons more where those came from.
Fifer hopped up on her sofa and started jumping and dancing for joy and shrieking and laughing for the first time in forever. It was the best possible gift she could imagine.
She went back to the note and read it again. “Do what you need to do,” she read out loud. Her heart rose to her throat. Was Florence somehow giving her permission to go after Thisbe? Fifer knew that Florence had disagreed with Alex, even though the statue hadn’t ever disparaged the head mage. But Florence was openly defying his wishes by offering to let Fifer join in on Magical Warrior Training—she took her job seriously and acted as the final word on who was ready. “If you need more lessons . . .” Fifer stared at the words. “If.” Florence knew very well that Fifer didn’t really need lessons to make the magic work. She’d been teaching Fifer secretly while she taught Alex. But was Florence really saying what Fifer thought she was saying? Florence knew about the birds and their magical presence. Did Florence also know that Fifer would figure out a way to use them to go after Thisbe? And was she trying to help her?
It seemed to be so.
With that kind of permission, Fifer felt even better about her decision. She’d leave Florence a note and be off this very evening. Maybe she could even catch up to the others. Alex would have to let her join them, and if he didn’t, Fifer would just continue on her own anyway. On second thought, there was little chance Fifer could catch Simber and a dragon at the speed of a hundred birds. How fast could falcons fly, anyway? It might take her weeks to get there.
She had to gather supplies and get it right this time.
With a final word of congratulations, Desdemona shrank back and disappeared into the blackboard. Fifer changed her mind about ordering food up and decided to go down to the kitchen to sneak some food. She didn’t want to tip off the chefs by requesting two weeks’ worth of meals all at once. She needed to be smart. Stealthily, she gathered as much sensible food as she could carry, like nut butters and fig jam and some fruit and cheese and crusty bread and slipped back to her room through the room service tube when no one was looking. She managed two more trips like it without being noticed and was able to hide everything in the bedroom with Desdemona only poking her head out and sounding suspicious once.
Next Fifer went back to the Museum of Large to find a big travel bag so she could carry everything. Her mind whirled. Was Florence really and truly giving her permission? Or was Fifer twisting the warrior’s words to make them seem so? When she returned to her room, she picked up the wrappings and string and the sack full of components. A small slip of paper fluttered to the ground. She hadn’t noticed it before. Fifer stooped to grab it. It was a drawing—an absolutely terrible stick-figure drawing—of Florence herself. Written alongside the picture: If you ever need me, use my fabulous drawing with the seek spell.
The seek spell was something Fifer was extremely familiar with since Alex used it constantly to try to track down her and Thisbe. It only worked if the spell caster held an item created by the person they were seeking. Florence wasn’t particularly artistic, so her crude drawing made Fifer smile, but it also made it even more special to know the extra effort she’d put into it.
And seeing the gift and the note solidified in Fifer’s mind that Florence wasn’t going to stop her if she decided to strike out on her own. With a surge of fear and excitement, Fifer went into the bedroom and began packing her bag. She was going to avoid all the problems they’d had last time by taking plenty of food and water and extra clothing. And now she had all these spell components, too.
Florence trusted her. Now Fifer had to show her she hadn’t made a mistake. She took a moment to write two letters. One to Florence, thanking her and explaining what she planned to do. I’ll stop at Warbler to see Crow so you’ll know I made it that far at least. That’ll keep you from worrying too much. I won’t do anything dangerous until I’m safely with the others. Thank you for trusting me. Your friend, Fifer. The other letter was for Aaron to assure him she was okay and there was no need to go after her. I’ll find the rescue team, and I’ll stick with Alex no matter how much he annoys me, she wrote. I promise. I love you! She signed her name at the bottom.
While Fifer waited for dusk and for the lawn to clear so she could sneak off unnoticed during the evening meal, she thought about other things that could be useful to have with her. She found a new rope that would help her out the window and down to the ground, and might come in handy on her journey, and added it to her bag. Then she remembered how Dev had fished for food, and she went in search of fishing tackle and flint to
make a fire—though she had the fire-breathing origami dragons to help with that part now. Still, she didn’t want to use her precious components if she didn’t have to.
By the time most of Artimé was inside the mansion for dinner, Fifer was packed and almost ready to go. She ordered up her favorite meal through room service and ate, then sent the letters to Florence’s room through the tube—she’d be sure to give Aaron’s to him. Then she went back into her bedroom and closed the door.
Her breath came in short, excited bursts as she thought about what she was going to do. It was a thousand times scarier to do this alone than it had been to have Thisbe and Seth by her side. She calmed her nerves by reminding herself that she wouldn’t be alone once she found the others in the land of the dragons. But doubts kept poking at her. What if she never found them? It was a huge land—much bigger than any of the seven islands. And what if she and the birds didn’t make it? No one would ever know what happened to her. An uncomfortable chill raced through her.
“Stop,” she chided herself, and released the glass spell from her window. It melted away, and she sucked in the cool evening air. She spotted several of her falcons on the lawn or in trees. “Ready for an adventure?” she murmured. She grabbed her travel bag full of supplies, hoisted it out the window, and let it drop. It hit the ground with a thud, and Fifer cringed. She hoped nothing had broken or smashed. But if it had, it was too late now. She threw the hammock out the window after it. Grabbing the rope, she tied one end to the invisible hook outside the window and flung the other end down. Then she slipped her rucksack over her shoulders and took one last look at her comfy bed. It would be a while before she felt so snug again—at least a week. But it would all be worth it to have Thisbe back.
She climbed out, hung for a moment while she replaced the glass with a spell, and went down the side of the mansion as stealthily as possible. When she reached the ground, she coiled the rope and put it in her pack. Then she made a soft scream to call the birds. She turned and was surprised to see hundreds of eyes glowing in the dusk. The birds were already there.
“Oh, my sweet birds,” she said, and bent down to pet the nearest ones. “Are you ready for this? It’s going to be hard.”
They bobbed their heads as if they understood, and Fifer believed they did—for some reason, with Fifer’s kind of magic, they could understand her. She unfolded the hammock and spread it out. “See what I found?” she said. “Do you think this will work?”
The birds chattered softly as they moved around the edges of the hammock, tentatively testing the ends of the many ropes to make sure they weren’t too big for them to take in their beaks. Shimmer slipped its head into a loop of rope and wore it around its neck, prompting the others to do the same with the other loops, which had no doubt been hooked around Simber’s appendages at one point.
While the birds figured out the hammock, Fifer loaded her travel bag and backpack onto it, and then, when the birds seemed ready, she sat down in the middle of the canvas. “Should we do a test run above the lawn just in case?” Fifer asked Shimmer. She didn’t want to risk being seen, but with Alex and Simber away and Florence on her side, she wasn’t nearly as worried about that as she had been the first time they’d snuck out. Anyone noticing her antics now might just think she was amusing herself with her flock of birds.
Shimmer chirped out instructions to the others, and together they began flapping their wings. They lifted the corners of the hammock off the ground, and then, almost as if Fifer and her goods were weightless, the whole contraption rose into the air. With the lead bird directing the others, they flew with the precision of dancers over the lawn.
Fifer slid to her knees so she could see over the edge of the canvas. It was like a picture of a hot air balloon she’d studied once in a book, only her basket was made of a ship’s sail, and the balloon was made of red-and-purple falcons. Her heart soared with the creatures as they slowly circled the lawn. It worked! She looked up at the birds and noticed that only about a third of them were holding a tether. The rest were flying alongside and in front, creating a thick cover over Fifer’s head. She wasn’t sure why, but she had a lot of faith in the birds by now and knew they must have a reason for what they were doing. She’d probably find out eventually.
“If you’re ready, let’s go!” Fifer called out to Shimmer. “First stop, Warbler Island.” She watched as Shimmer let out a sharp spirrr, prompting the falcons to change course. After a few minutes, Fifer rummaged through her bag of goods. She pulled out a fizzy drink and got comfortable in the hammock. Soon they were soaring over the water toward Warbler.
Fifer Rides Again
The first ten minutes of Fifer’s ride to Warbler were pleasant, but then the wind picked up over the open sea and began buffeting her around. The birds soared with it, reaching speeds Fifer had never imagined they could reach and zigzagging to catch the gusts. Fifer didn’t know how to anticipate which way they were going to go, and soon her stomach was flipping with each turn. She put her fizzy drink away and tried not to throw up. Next she lay back and closed her eyes, focusing on rescuing Thisbe. Eventually she tried to sleep, and she managed to get a few hours. When she woke to the sound of Shimmer’s spiiiiiirrr, she could see in the starlight that the birds were switching out duties. The ones who had been carrying the hammock gave their ropes to the ones who’d been flying alongside. Some of the newly free group of falcons fluttered to rest on the edges of the hammock, while others flew in front and to the sides so the birds carrying the ropes could draft along with less resistance.
It was a magically smooth changeover, and it made Fifer wonder just what had gone into these birds when she’d touched them. Had she alone made them magical, or had they somehow been magical before? They weren’t native to the seven islands, according to what Seth had learned from Grandfather Ishibashi. Had they come from some other magical land that no one had discovered yet?
She dozed again. By morning Warbler Island was growing close. Fifer peered over the cloth. “That’s where we want to stop,” she called out, hoping the birds understood. “That island there.”
A few of the birds bobbed their heads. They headed for it. That’s about the time Fifer first began thinking about landing.
By the time they reached Warbler, Fifer was worried. “Set me down gently,” she said. They hadn’t practiced this part with the hammock, and she was situated much farther below the birds than when they’d carried her by her clothing. She braced herself for a crash, but when the birds got close to the ground, Shimmer squawked out an instruction—or something—and they threw their wings up against the wind, then slowly lowered Fifer to the ground. Once she was down, they fluttered to drop their ropes in an outstretched direction so that it would be easy to lift the cargo again when it was time to go.
Fifer crawled to the edge of the hammock and slowly got to her feet. She felt a little wobbly after the ride, like the ground was moving. She stood there for a minute, taking in the lush tropical trees and white sandy beach, then made her way into the brush toward the entrance to the underground world of Warbler Island.
The opening in the ground was slightly hidden, but Fifer knew how to find it among the palm fronds. She pushed them aside and peered into the hole, then slid down into it. She landed in a hallway lit by magical orbs that some of the Artiméans had created for Sky and Crow’s mother, Copper, who was the ruler of the island now that Queen Eagala had been killed. Or . . . maybe “replaced” seemed more accurate now.
The hallways echoed with the sound of voices from people working in various rooms off the main passage. Fifer didn’t stop to see if she recognized anyone. Instead she went straight for Copper’s living quarters, which had once been an elaborately decorated golden throne room. Now it had been toned down quite considerably to match Copper’s more sensible preferences.
A young man around Alex’s age, with orange eyes and scars around his neck, sat at a desk in the outer chamber. He smiled sympathetically when he saw Fifer come in.
“Hi, Fifer. How are you?”
“Hi, Phoenix. I’m doing all right, I guess. Is Crow here?” Fifer asked.
“He’s in the shipyard. Do you want me to take you there?”
“I know the way. Thanks.” Fifer hurried back out to the hallway and kept on in the direction she’d been going before. After several minutes, she came to an exit and climbed the steep path that brought her outside on the opposite end of the island from where she’d landed.
All around her were ships in various stages of construction. Copper and Scarlet were balancing on the mast of one, repairing something, while Crow stood on the ship’s deck holding a rope attached to a block. He pulled down, and a large sail rose and flapped in the air. Copper reached out for the end of it.
“Hi, Crow,” Fifer called out, trying not to startle him. “It’s me. Are you doing all right?” She meant all of them, regarding Sky’s disappearance, but kept the question vague in case they were weary of speculating about her. Fifer knew well enough how hard it was to keep wondering about someone.
Crow turned sharply. “Fifer,” he said, seeming alarmed to see her standing there alone. “What happened? Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine. I just promised Florence I would stop here and see you on my way to . . . um, to find Thisbe.”
“You’re going after all? How did you convince Alex? And hey—nice vest! What’s happening? Where’s the rest of the team?” Crow secured his end of the rope and climbed down a ladder to the ground. Scarlet and Copper stopped working to listen, then started down to the deck railing so they could hear better.
Fifer explained everything about the team already having left, and what had happened with the birds, and fudging a little when it came to her being officially permitted to undertake this journey alone. “Anyway,” she said, “I just wanted to report that I’m fine and the journey is going well. The birds trade places when they get tired. Some even ride in the hammock with me if they need to sleep along the way. So if Florence checks in with you, just tell her I’m all good. Okay?”
