The only time I could remember having a worse night’s sleep was in the months after Papá died. Well, and the time a skunk stowed away in my backpack.
My mattress felt like a slab of concrete. The bunkbed creaked and squeaked as I flailed. My dreams were haunted by car crashes, indoor tornadoes, and bald dachshunds with krank wings. At one point, James kicked my bunk from below. I got the message and tried to stop fidgeting.
At breakfast the next morning, Mamá didn’t say much. When she wanted the jam, she literally pointed to me, then to the jam. I moved it in her direction without looking her in the eye. Michael and Camila chatted away about a video my sister watched about flying cars. After riding in a flying car last night, I guess it was harder for me to get excited about it.
I returned to my room after breakfast and saw that Hen left a message on the page.
I’m done with chores. When can you guys be here?
I wrote her back.
Mamá grounded us last night. We’re not supposed to leave the house.
Hen wrote back immediately. I watched as the letters formed on the page.
Isn’t the chest in your bedroom? You don’t have to leave the house. We’ll meet at City Hall. Come on!
I sat there, pen in my hand. Why did sneaking out feel like a felony? This was a good thing, right?
Mamá stepped in and I abruptly closed the notebook.
“Santiago,” she said.
“Hi Mamá,” I said nervously.
“Please tell me what’s going on,” she said. “If I need to, I’ll cancel my classes and help you fix whatever you’ve gotten yourself into.”
My stomach tightened. “Thank you, Mamá,” I said. “But I can’t tell you.”
The edges of her eyes looked moist, but she just merely turned around and walked out of the room. I heard her shoes clap loudly on the stairs as she left. I stared out the window as our old Toyota Camry backed out and sped away.
I stood there for a full minute as if I could still see it stopping at the always-red stoplight then making the turn on the highway that would take her most of the way to the university. I took a seat at my desk as Patch padded in and leaned up against my leg. I absently scratched his ears. “What do you think, boy? Should I have told her?”
Patch looked up at me with the adoring look only a dog could give. A feeling of determination overcame me. I swiveled my chair towards the desk, opened the hand-me-down laptop (which, miraculously, was spared from the carnage wreaked by the harpy yesterday). I was about to start an email, when I saw a message from Coach Kafburn.
Huamán, why didn’t you send me your time? 16:33 is good enough to make this year’s team. Let me know if you intend to join and we’ll discuss next steps.
My eyebrows shot up in surprise. I clicked reply, but for some reason, I just couldn’t bring myself to type anything.
After a couple minutes, I started a different email.
Mamá, I know you’re probably not going to believe me but I have something I need to tell you. You see-
James appeared at the doorway.
“Dad’s gone. Are you ready?”
I eyed my email, my sudden determination just as suddenly waning. Finally, I shut the laptop.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
I scribbled a reply to Hen and we dropped through the portal.
Founder’s Day was a much bigger deal than I expected. Everywhere we walked, we saw purple and green banners and flags. A stage stood in the middle of the main square along with dozens of tents. A live band was playing and a couple dozen people danced to their music. Fairies zipped this way and that and I saw what looked like the flyland equivalent of the girl scouts wandering around.
Both Hen and Corbyn were waiting for us in the main square in front of the City Hall. Corbyn looked more anxious than ever.
“Mapps was reviewing the Orders of Orderliness with us at breakfast this morning and I kept mixing up #278 and #287. Is my memory going bad?”
“Sounds serious,” Hen said.
“Shall we go in?” I asked.
“But we’re having so much fun standing around,” James said dryly.
Having entered through an upstairs window with Bess, walking into the spacious lobby was new to me. Thick mahogany columns lined either side of the hall. Half a dozen people and fairies milled around, but it was relatively quiet inside.
I thought the large info desk in the center of the hall was unattended until I noticed a young-looking fairy hovering over half a dozen books.
Before I could say anything, he said, “Happy Founder’s Day! How can I help– Ah yes, Seer Santiago! Mayor Featherstone and Councilmember Valentine just sent for you a few minutes ago. They’re meeting together upstairs. Can you show them the way, Corbyn?”
“Yes,” Corbyn answered.
Wondering what the mayor and Valentine might want to talk to me about, I followed Corbyn as he fluttered up the hall and down a corridor. He took us up several flights of stairs and then down a corridor lined with white busts. One of these cleared her throat and said, “Excuse me, do any of you have the time?”
I instinctively checked my pocket for my phone as we passed, then remembered that it was stuck in the kranks’ hoop, in the small briefcase in my backpack. I really needed to figure out how to get that out of there.
When none of us responded, I heard her mumble, “Seriously? Jerks.”
We walked into a sort of foyer with several plush couches and tables. Several important looking doors lined the walls around us, and I saw nameplates for a few of the council members.
Facing the front of the building was a door labeled, Mayor Featherstone. Corbyn extended his hand as if to knock on it, then paused. “What if–”
“Oh please,” Hen said, then rapped it with her knuckles.
“Come in, come in!” Valentine’s pleasant voice urged as Hen pushed the door open. “That is, if you don’t mind, Mayor.”
“Of course not, Nathaniel, feel free to invite as many people into my office as you like,” Mayor Featherstone said sarcastically.
“Hi there,” I said as we walked in.
“Happy Founder’s Day, peeps!” Hen said.
The mayor was seated at her desk, clearly irritated. Several fairies were hovering nearby, peering down intently at something. Valentine turned toward us, smiling with affection.
“We want to talk to the mayor about the Pearls of Prescott,” I continued.
“Santiago, so good to see you again!” Valentine said, extending his hands to his sides as if greeting an old family member. “Unfortunately, I don’t think it will be necessary to discuss the Pearls any longer.”
He stepped forward and there was Misty, looking sullen as ever.
I glanced at the desk and saw that the fairies were hovering over a necklace. A pearl necklace. My stomach clenched.
“Congratulations,” I said, my voice catching. “Where were they?”
Misty gave me a wouldn’t-you-like-to-know sort of stare.
“Yes, where did you find them?” Mayor Featherstone repeated.
“I recharged the compass with magic and it led us to a talking flamingo named Ferdinand in the Gloomwood.”
James and I looked at each other, but if anybody else in the group found the mention of a talking flamingo strange, they didn’t show it.
“Arnold was indeed friends with a flamingo named Ferdinand,” an old male fairy said, nodding his head up and down.
“It was uncooperative,” Misty continued. “We knocked it out and took the necklace.”
Mayor Featherstone looked at Valentine, expectantly. When he didn’t say anything, she said, “What, no lecture on the treatment of wildlife in the Gloomwood?”
Valentine smiled, waving away a fly that was circling him, and said, “Obviously, not ideal but I should think the dispelling of a centuries-long curse is grounds for some leniency.”
Featherstone turned to the fairies. “Talk to me, Persephone.”
A Black, ancient-looking fairy with her hair knotted in several white buns scratched one of her chins. “Mmm, yes, it’s from the 19th century for sure for sure. Hmmm, hard to say though. Milton and Thornton speculated that the legendary, mmm, Pearls of Prescott dated earlier than their enchantment at the hands of Sigourney, yes, yes, but that is conjecture.”
“So it’s not the Pearls?” Hen asked.
“I didn’t say that, Miss Bloomberry, I didn’t say that,” Persephone said, shaking her jowls emphatically. “You see, each of us and I mean each of us here detects great magic, yeeeess, great magic.”
“Then that’s them?” James asked.
“Let’s not be hasty, no, not hasty,” Persephone said. “Helsinke conjectured that the pearls had a more pinkish tint to them and these do not bear that tint. But some magical objects change color based on who is holding them.”
Valentine’s jaw tightened.
“So?” the mayor asked, flicking the fly off her hand.
“I can say for sure for sure . . .” she started, “that I cannot presently disprove this artifact as the Pearls of Prescott.”
The other fairies nodded emphatically as the mayor rolled her eyes.
“Well said!” an old male fairy with droopy white skin exclaimed.
The fly landed on my face. It reminded me of something.
“Can I ask a question? After this question, I mean,” I hastily added.
“We love questions,” Persephone said, then she gave me a stern look. “But I hope you’re not expecting an easy answer. The easy answers are never the mmm right answers.”
“Here here,” the old male fairy said.
“What does it mean if there is a fly etched into something?” I asked.
“A fly etched by whom?” Persephone asked.
“Dwarves, I think,” I said.
“You think, dear? Or you know?” Persephone asked sternly.
“It had dwarfish characters next to it,” I said.
“From what century?” the old man fairy asked.
“19th century,” Corbyn piped in meekly.
The fairies conversed briefly before Persephone turned to me and said, “In general, among dwarves, the fly is a symbol of Loki, the great prankster.”
“I like the sound of this dude,” Hen said.
I then had an idea and turned to Misty. “Can’t you do a possession regression? Then we could figure out who they were owned by.”
“That would be the Seer’s responsibility,” Persephone said. “Indeed, I was going to ask if you could do one, Seer.”
“I don’t know how yet,” I said. “But Misty can.”
Misty’s facial expression didn’t change but she paled considerably.
“It would not be appropriate for Misty to do pre-initiation magic without proper paperwork,” Valentine said.
“But–”
Valentine cut me off. “What we must determine is if these are or are not the Pearls of Prescott. This Ferdinand had them—doesn’t that mean something?”
“Yes,” Persephone said. “And no, mmm no. While Ferdinand and Arnold were seen together on many mmm occasions and numerous sources report a close friendship between the two, flamingos would not be able to access the mmm magic of the pearls, making it seem an odd choice that he would have taken possession of them, yes a very odd choice indeed. Flamingos are known to be mmm, pacifists. Hoarding a potentially contentious magical artifact would seem quite out of character, yes.”
“I have to preside over the Founder’s Day Plaza Celebration. Bottom line, Persephone,” the mayor said. “Are these the Pearls of Prescott?”
Persephone nodded. “From the moment I started studying these, roughly 13 minutes ago to now, I have maintained the hypothesis that this necklace cannot be proven nor disproven to not be the Pearls of Prescott without further study. My professional opinion mmm has not changed, no, not at all. Of the roughly 47 different methodologies the six of us have used, the necklace still cannot be disproven to be the famed artifact.”
“Thanks, Persephone,” Mayor Featherstone said, in a tone that indicated the opposite. “Supposing they are truly the Pearls of Prescott, how likely is it that you’d be able to tell immediately?”
“It’s impossible to tell if I’d be able to tell immediately.”
“Or not,” the old male fairy added.
Valentine cleared his throat. “Mayor, I believe that enough evidence exists that we can call Misty the victor of this challenge. Unless, of course, Santiago and his friends have a necklace of their own.” He let out a friendly laugh.
“I don’t,” I said. “But–”
“In that case, I believe this challenge has been completed,” Valentine interrupted.
“Nathaniel, I–” Mayor Featherstone began but was cut off as a young female fairy clad in red darted into the room.
“Mayor, we have a situation developing near Mercy Avenue. A troll is rampaging.”
“A troll is rampaging? On Founder’s Day? Have the police responded?” the mayor asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” the fairy said. “The Chief wishes to contact you in the next few minutes to give a report.”
Mayor Featherstone looked at Valentine and he said, “Let’s leave the mayor to deal with this.”
“Thanks, Nathaniel,” the mayor said as Valentine herded us out of the office.
We were led back out into the foyer as the mayor began conversing urgently with the young fairy. Valentine opened a nearby door, and we walked into what looked like a break room. There were four tables with chairs around them and kitchen cupboards on the walls. It was dark with no windows.
“Come in, come in,” Valentine said. “Misty, you may wait in my office.”
Misty glanced briefly at me before slinking off.
“It appears to me then that the challenge is complete,” Mr. Valentine said. “Which leaves us with the unpleasant business of sending you home, Santiago.”
“Now wait a minute,” James said. “You’re going to wipe Santiago’s memories based on that?” He pointed dramatically toward the mayor’s office.
“Forgive me, I don’t believe I caught your name,” Valentine said.
“I’m James. I’m his–”
“Friend,” I interrupted.
I mean, we didn’t need to both have our memories wiped, right?
“I thought he could help,” Hen added, catching on quickly.
James didn’t look happy about it, but he didn’t say anything. For once.
“Well, James, it was the decision of the council that if one of these two young people should find the pearls, then we would wipe Santiago’s memory and send him home, to protect the secret of the flyland. And the necklace has been found.”
“Allegedly,” James said severely.
“The mystery has been resolved to my satisfaction,” Valentine said.
James and Hen both let out sounds of disgust.
“Natty,” Hen said. “He’s one of us. What’s the freaking point of zapping his memory?”
“We can’t have hoards of underlanders running around knowing about us, can we?”
“Santiago is several dozen people less than a horde,” James said.
“Mr. Valentine,” I said. “Even if I wanted to tell everyone about this, which I don’t, no one would believe me.”
“I’m afraid the decision is final. Santiago, it’s been a pleasure getting to know you. I wish you well. I’ve sent someone to get the potion. I understand it’s quite delicious. I’ll be returning with them, so you have a friend close by when it happens.” Valentine seemed not to notice James guffawing derisively when he said this last part. “I’d like all of you to wait here in the lounge. Please, make yourselves comfortable.”
He started closing the door.
“Wait!” I said and Valentine paused. “Shouldn’t you confirm this with the other council members or something?”
“I assure you; they have complete confidence in my judgment in this matter. Excuse me.”
He closed the door and we heard it lock.
“That went well,” James said dryly.