The Wrest Is History

That’s delightful!” Valentine was all aflutter as I approached. “Ah, Santiago! How pleasant it is to see you once again.” His voice sounded so warm and sincere that I almost forgot that he wanted to wipe my memory and send me back to the Underland for good. He pointed to the woman. “Meet Trinnia Egbert, Misty’s aunt.”

“Hey!” I said.

“Trinnia was just telling me the most lovely thing I’ve heard all day.”

A cold breeze tickled my legs. Weird. But Valentine was look at me expectantly. “What was that?”

“Rema Bello will be coming to our very flyland! Can you believe it?”

“That sounds great,” I said, glancing distractedly at the foggy entrance. “Is she–”

“She’s one of the top singers of our age,” Valentine said, then turned back to Trinnia. “You must get her to come to Founder’s Day this weekend.”

“I didn’t say I knew her personally; I said I bought tickets,” Trinnia said, looking annoyed.

“Well, it’s delightful news regardless,” Valentine said.

Out of nowhere, thunder crashed. I looked up to the sky to see if there was a storm moving in but there wasn’t anything.

Valentine continued as though nothing happened. “Is she performing in Flamingo Springs?”

“No, just New Prescott,” Trinnia said.

“The capital always gets the big names,” Valentine sighed, clearly disappointed. “We’ve got to put Flamingo Springs on the map again, you two.”

“Did you guys have a good weekend?” Couldn’t hurt to try making friends, right?

Misty’s face remained expressionless, but Valentine lit up.

“It was positively delightful, Seer, positively delightful. A number of us went to the Memorial Gardens at New Prescott to pay homage to the generations of patriots born here on the flyland who died to preserve our way of life.”

I shifted. His voice was pleasant, yet it felt like I was being criticized for something.

“That sounds really nice,” I said, unsure what else to say.

“Yes, I thought you’d think so, Seer. Really, we do see eye to eye on so much, don’t we? We’re already finding ways to build bridges between us, even though you’re an Underlander.”

“How about you, Misty, did you do anything fun?” I asked, rubbing my thigh.

She glowered at me.

“Come, now, Misty. No harm in polite conversation,” Valentine said.

“Why bother? You’re just going to give him forgeterall and dump him back to the Underland,” Misty said. “He won’t know I exist next week.”

“Sounds like a good friend to borrow money from,” I said, hoping to lighten the tension.

Nobody laughed. Apparently, my sense of humor wasn’t appreciated. Misty looked at me like I was a moron.

I heard an intense wind but didn’t see any sign of it. No leaves rustling nor debris stirring. Again, the others didn’t seem to notice.

“So, what was this before it, uh, blew up?” I asked to change the subject.

“I keep forgetting you’re from the Underland,” Valentine said, his tone unconvincing. “200 years ago, it was a shop that sold magical artifacts.”

The building shook. This time I caught Misty glancing at it with a hint of anxiety.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Let’s just say the interior experiences different weather patterns somewhat unpredictably. It can actually be quite chaotic at times. If you don’t want to continue, we, of course, would completely understand. No one would hold it against you if you dropped out, especially since you’re just an Underlander.”

“Thanks, but I’m good,” I said. I wasn’t giving up that easily. “Are we going in then?”

“We are waiting for–ah! There he is! Chad Bloomberry, the man of the hour.”

A tall, scowling man in a brown leather coat stalked through the weeds and rubble toward where we were standing. Everything about him was large. His black boots had thick heels that made him even taller. He wore brown trousers held up by a thick belt, complete with a black, metal buckle shaped like a dragon.

“Let’s get this over with,” Mr. Bloomberry said. His voice was incredibly deep. He glanced over his shoulder then turned back to us.

“Chad, allow me to present Santiago, temporary Seer of Flamingo Springs, and Misty Marshall, a likely contender for that role, and Trinnia.”

“Hi,” I said.

He looked me up and down, appraisingly. “You’re the new Seer?”

“Yeah.”

“Did the old one perish?”

“She’s still alive,” I said.

“Good. I liked her,” Mr. Bloomberry said, glancing back toward the street again.

The way he said it, I wasn’t sure if he just liked Bess or if he was trying to say he liked her better than me.

“And what ingratiated you to Bess so much?” Valentine asked pleasantly.

“She was good with people,” Bloomberry said.

I scrunched my nose. That wasn’t how I’d describe Bess. Valentine also looked puzzled.

Bloomberry apparently felt the need to clarify, because he added, “People don’t make useless conversation around her.”

“I see,” Valentine said, looking ruffled. Perhaps he couldn’t imagine a person who didn’t enjoy mindless prattle. “I hope you’ll make some useful conversation now to explain your lead.”

“Yes, I agree, some conversation is probably necessary.”

I let out a small laugh before I realized the guy was being dead serious. He looked down at me disapprovingly.

“How did you get involved with the pearls anyway?” I asked, hoping to change the subject.

“The elf,” Bloomberry said as though it pained him.

“What elf?” I asked, intrigued.

“The male one,” he said, unhelpfully. “I’ve never spoken to the sister. I do not associate with spies.”

“You mean Wasslehook?” Valentine asked.

Bloomberry grunted, which I took as a yes.

“There are only two elves in Flamingo Springs,” Misty blurted, surprising me. From the looks of it, she regretted offering any additional information.

“He came to you and wanted you to find the pearls,” I clarified.

“He thought I might be able to track them down and offered me significant money,” He looked at me as though this were something shameful, then added, “It is my job searching for magical artifacts. I’m a Scrounger.”

“Which brought you here, eventually,” Valentine added, apparently eager to get to the end of the story.

“Yes. I was able to trace the pearls back to someone named Arnold the Awkward. There were several references to him possessing the pearls, even hiding them. This location seemed important to him, although I believe he had another stronghold somewhere.”

“Arnold the Awkward?” I questioned. I glanced at Misty to see if she found any of this interesting. Her face was impassive again.

“He was a somewhat . . . enigmatic figure from our history,” Valentines said.

“Legends tell dark tales of his deeds,” Bloomberry said dramatically. “He captured the heart of Sigourney the Great Sorceress.”

My head immediately conjured up images of Sigourney Weaver and aliens.

“She overthrew Emperor Pugsly the Ugly, the last of the tyrannical tyrants, and ruled in his stead,” Bloomberry continued. “At the beginning of her reign, she fashioned the pearls, which were rumored to bring peace, power, and prosperity to the people of Prescott.”

“So where does Arnold fit in?”

“Arnold got in with her before she became Empress. Perhaps he sensed her greatness and wanted a piece of her power. She fell in love with him, and they married. He was her right-hand man when she overthrew Pugsly. For several years, he laid in wait. Then he betrayed her and stole the pearls for himself, hoping to rule in her stead. But whatever he did destroyed most of Prescott.”

“Those who survived fled here,” Valentine said. “Nobody has returned to the city since.”

“It lies in ruins to this day,” Bloomberry agreed.

“What did Sigourney do?”

“She was presumed dead in the destruction,” Bloomberry said. Once again, he looked toward the road.

Valentine apparently noticed this too. “Are you waiting for someone?” he asked.

Mr. Bloomberry looked uncomfortable. Well, more uncomfortable. “Henrietta wanted to come. I forbade her, but she is stubborn.”

“I can see she has the persistence of her parents,” Valentine said.

Bloomberry didn’t seem amused. “It is a family matter,” he said, with a tone of rebuke.

“Of course, of course,” Valentine said with a forced laugh.

Bloomberry grunted again, then continued. “Ever since then, the flyland has been under a curse. Where once the North American colony was among the most powerful, the other flylands now outpace us. We are the weakest of the magical colonies.

“From that point forward, Arnold was shunned. He went from being at the side of the most powerful sorceress in history to being the lowest of the low, consorting with dwarves and trolls, scavenging for magical artifacts to sell and trade.”

“Why wasn’t he arrested?” I asked.

“Because nobody could prove it,” Bloomberry said, obviously annoyed at the idea.

“And nobody knows what happened to the necklace?”

“Unable to use them himself, he hid them. His manifesto is still in there.”

“Sounds like the Pearls didn’t bring peace and prosperity to him,” I said, louder than I intended.

Valentine’s fake smile stretched even faker, but he didn’t say anything.

“Why did you stop looking for them?” I asked.

He paused dramatically as if collecting his thoughts. Then he said, “I received word that there was an imbued object that would give the location of the Pearls. I came here several times, searching for such an object.”

Bloomberry stopped again and, for a moment, he looked almost misty-eyed. He continued. “But every time I saw the Manifesto, I felt drawn to read it. After a time, I determined that my employer was not worthy of the Pearls. And neither was I.”

There was an awkward silence.

“But I’m sure one of you will prove worthy to find them,” Valentine said quickly, smiling warmly. “It appears you two will be looking for an imbued object. Splendid. Are you ready to go in?”

“You guys aren’t coming?” I asked.

“We want you to proceed at your discretion without interference,” Valentine said.

Of course the adults here wouldn’t be supervising as two teens went into a dangerous building that exploded two hundred years ago. Why would they?

I glanced over at Misty. “Ready?” I asked her.

“Oh please,” she responded, rolling her eyes.

I took that as a yes. I twisted the umbrella in my hands, swallowed and turned toward the door.