Billy: Messenger of Powers (60 page)

Rumpelstiltskin shook his head and looked around. “With all this mess?” he said, and laughed that crazy laugh that Billy had later heard when spirited away by the rock Fizzles that would come to clean Powers Island.

Lumilla wept. She was given the Brown Robe. She held the scepter of Power, and read the Book of the Earth. She grew, and aged.

And was alone.

Billy suddenly found himself back in the library again. Lumilla was crying. “He’s gone,” she was saying again, over and over, as she had before.

Billy was shocked, heartbroken. He had never suspected that Mrs. Russet could have such tragedy in her past. Not the strong, almost impervious-seeming teacher that ruled both her class and the Brown Throne with such an iron hand.

But then, he thought, maybe that’s how she became so strong. Because she had to be. Maybe that’s what makes anyone strong.

He looked at the crying woman. This was her memory. This was her Dread, the one moment in her life that had become her world, the sum of her existence.

“It’s not true,” he whispered to her.

“He’s gone,” she answered.

“It’s not true,” he said again. “You’re more than this. You’re more than this one moment. It never broke you. You’re strong, and wise, and good.” Without thinking, Billy hugged Lumilla, clutching her to him as his own mother must have held him when he was a baby. He rocked her, and thought of Rumpelstiltskin. “He still loves you, Terry is still in there somewhere,” he said.

Lumilla shook her head, the weeping quieter and somehow more intense than it had been. “He’s gone,” she said again. She was locked in that thought, it was clear.

Billy remembered something. He held Lumilla’s face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. “He’s not gone,” he said. “I saw him. I saw Terry.”

“You saw Rumpelstiltskin,” said Lumilla firmly.

“Mostly,” agreed Billy. “But then, at the end of our meeting, he changed.” Lumilla said nothing, but gazed at him with hope. This was what he could give her, Billy realized. He couldn’t change her own memory, but perhaps he could make it less important by giving her a piece of his own memories. He let himself think of the funny old man who had eaten half-finished talking hot dogs. He remembered the laughter and the light in the man’s eyes as he gleefully recited a borderline dirty limerick. He thought of the look in Terry’s eyes when he talked of his wife, who had “cheated” by reading the Prophecies in the Book of the Earth.

Billy couldn’t help but smile at the memories. He hadn’t realized until now what a bright spirit Rumpelstiltskin was. Do we all have that brightness, he wondered, even when it isn’t seen by others?

Do I have it?

Billy smiled still wider at that thought. “He remembers you,” he said to Lumilla. “He’s not the same. Wolfen’s spell hurt him, hurt him badly. But he’s not gone. There’s still part of him that is there, that remembers and loves you.”

“Just a shadow,” whispered Lumilla. “Just a shadow of what was. The rest of him—the best of him—is gone.”

“No,” said Billy sternly. As he spoke, he continued to look in Lumilla’s eyes. And he realized that they were changing somehow, their color dimming a bit. Her skin, too, was different. A bit more wrinkled.

She’s becoming Mrs. Russet again, he realized.

And he continued talking, guiding her past the prison of her fears as best he could. “He’s a shadow, maybe, but there are only shadows when the real thing is close at hand. You can’t have a shadow with no substance nearby. He’s there, somewhere. He’s sick, but he’s there.”

“How do you know?” said Lumilla. She looked like she was in her forties now, showing the signs of the burdens that had been placed on her at a time when she was far, far too young.

“Because I saw him. I saw Terry,” said Billy.

“Rumpelstiltskin,” said Lumilla firmly, and Billy saw her start to grow younger again, as though she were spinning back to her time of greatest woe.

“No!” he almost shouted. The sound echoed through the dismal library. “I saw
Terry
. He sent me through the earth. He came up with the plan that eventually got me to Dark Isle,” said Billy. Then, with urgency, he said, “Don’t you see?
He helped me rescue you
.”

Lumilla stared at Billy. He could see her, willing to hope, wishing to believe.

Her face grew aged. Her face wrinkled.

She smiled.

“Hello, Mr. Jones,” she said.

Billy smiled back. “Hello, Mrs. Russet.”

He had never thought he would be so glad to see a teacher.

She stood, once more the Brown Councilor. She was, in fact, even wearing her Brown Cloak, and holding the crystal staff that she had used to defend them against the blue dragon, Serba.

Billy stood with her. He hadn’t realized how much he had come to rely on his teacher. But having her back, after so long apart, he felt for the first time as though everything might actually work out in the end.

Then his eyes fell upon the book. The book of Mrs. Russet’s memory, her Dread. As he watched, it changed. The un-sealed portion of the book separated itself from the rest. It grew bright, as though glowing from an inner light. The brightness increased in intensity until it shone like a small sun, blinding Billy.

Then the light dimmed, and when Billy could see again, he realized that the library had changed. Gone was the dungeon-like place with its skeletal candle-holders and horrid shelves. Gone were the books that looked like they were covered in skin. Gone were the sounds of banshees and ghosts in the night. It was still a library, but perfectly clean and bright. The books were no longer locked, but stood open on the shelves, each framed individually in a beautiful nook of crystal that glowed from within.

This was a place where anyone looking for light and knowledge could come, and be edified and illuminated.

He looked at the place where there had been a table made of ribs and stone, expecting it to have changed as well. But to his surprise, it hadn’t. It was still a terrifying piece of furniture, and though the memory of Mrs. Russet’s loss had separated itself and disappeared into the rest of the library of light, the sealed portion of that fearful book still hunched like a tumor on the table.

“What is that?” Billy asked Mrs. Russet.

Her face showed uncharacteristic fear as she looked at the book. “I don’t know,” she said. “Something that I once knew, but not any more.”

“It’s not your Dread?” he asked.

She shook her head slowly. “No. Not my Dread. But something terrible, I think, and something that I will one day have to face.” Her face scrunched up, as though she were willing herself to remember something terribly difficult. “A baby,” she said almost to herself. “A baby was stolen from its family. And….” She struggled to remember for a moment longer, then shook her head again. “I can’t see any more.” She looked at the table for a long moment, then took Billy’s hand suddenly.

“Come,” she said.

“Where?” asked Billy.

“Back,” Mrs. Russet said simply. She waved her crystal staff, and before them the ground rippled and swayed like liquid. It rolled up in a huge wave, then solidified into a long, winding staircase of white marble that led up, up, up, to the very heights of Mrs. Russet’s library.

“Come,” she said, and pulled Billy with her. They climbed the marble stairs. It went forever, it seemed, one stair after another. They ascended to the highest shelves of Memory, and beyond, into the cloudy night sky that was the only ceiling above the library.

And still up they climbed. Now the misty clouds were thick around them, the white marble of the staircase dim and slick under their feet. Billy was relying totally on Mrs. Russet to guide him as the cloud closed in around them. It condensed on his face like perspiration, and he had to continually wipe at his eyes to be able to see.

Then one time he looked down, and realized that the library was gone. Mrs. Russet’s Memories lay behind them.

“Where are we going?” he asked. But before Mrs. Russet—now only a dim form in the mist—could answer, he suddenly slipped on the stairs.

He pinwheeled his arms, struggling for balance, trying to maintain a hold of Mrs. Russet’s hand. But he couldn’t. The mist was everywhere, making everything slippery. He lost his grip and fell screaming through the mist, dropping into an eternity of free-falling dusk.

And when he hit the ground, it was with a crushing impact that made Billy feel like he had been squashed under the heel of a giant.

“Oof,” he said.

He slowly opened his eyes…and saw Ivy. The Green Power smiled at him.

“You’re back.”

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIFTH

Billy and Mrs. Russet were soon helped to their feet by Vester, Ivy, and Tempus, all of whom were overjoyed to see them returned. None of them could believe what had happened, and they were effusive in their words of praise and surprise at Billy’s accomplishment.

“No one has ever done that,” said Ivy. “Once again, you’ve shown yourself to be quite a surprise,” said Vester. And Tempus, for his part, just kept murmuring, “I say, quite remarkable, I say, quite remarkable,” over and over in an amusingly befuddled way.

Only Fulgora was silent. Hers was the first hand out to help Billy up, though, and as she did so he again saw that trace of a smile on her lips. He realized, too, for the first time that under her cloak she was still wearing her red armor, the same suit of mail and red steel that she had worn at the time of Napalm’s challenge. Indeed, looking back, he realized that she had always had it on, every time he saw her. Even at their first meeting, when he first saw her on the Red Throne, he remembered now, she had been wearing her outfit of war. This drove home to him some of what Ivy, Vester, and Tempus had alluded to: this was not only a Red Power, she was a creature of war.

So Billy felt a flush of pride at the mere fact that Fulgora was helping him stand: he read in her assistance that she now accepted him. He had taken a test of bravery, and he could see that he had passed it. She gripped his hand firmly, then moved away to allow Billy’s three friends to hug and, in Ivy’s case, kiss him, each saying how happy they were at his return.

Mrs. Russet was there too, and each of the Powers—even Fulgora—welcomed her back as well. But for Mrs. Russet there were no kisses, no hugs. The other Powers were all friendly, courteous, and kind to her, but Billy realized for the first time that Mrs. Russet truly occupied a separate station from the rest. Maybe it was her position as a Councilor, maybe it was her great powers, or perhaps it was merely that she was clearly one of the smartest and most able people in the world. But now, having seen what could send Mrs. Russet into a tailspin of Dread, Billy noticed her isolation. So when Ivy, Tempus, and Vester were all done, he walked to her as well, intending to hug her and tell her how pleased he was to have her back, and how much she had been missed.

To his surprise, though, he found when he faced her that he just couldn’t do it. Students and teachers just didn’t hug and declare devotion and affection, even if it was there. It would be like a mule hugging a rabbit: sure, they could be friends, and perhaps even walk on the same road together, but actually hugging would just be too weird to contemplate.