Jane and the Raven King (7 page)

E
verybody up!” Finn called. “Up, up!”

Jane wiped her eyes. Her back and neck were sore, and she shielded her face from the light. “What time is it?” she asked. They were still surrounded by animals. Nothing had changed overnight.

“It’s time to wake up,” Gaius said. “Sleep well?”

Finn yawned dramatically. “Like a log.”

“I wasn’t asking you—I
know
you slept well.” Gaius collected the sleeping bags. “Let’s get ready to go. We’ll eat when we get there.”

When everything was packed, they climbed onto Finn’s back. He jumped into the air, his wings beating—and they were off. Jane tried to watch the crowded fields pass below; she tried to think about anything but the envelope in her pocket. It didn’t work.

They flew for a long time. When the Sunburn Road disappeared behind them, clumps of gray and green trees broke up the grassland. There were fewer animals. Soon the ground sloped away, the vegetation thickened into a swamp of vines and tangled canopy, and Finn landed at the edge. Ahead the mud became brackish water crusted red, as if it were rusted. Inside the bog, where the trees and bushes thickened, the air was dark, humid, and red. It smelled of rotten wood and mud.

“Why do they call it the Purple Marsh?” Jane asked. “It’s not purple.”

“It
was
purple a long time ago,” Gaius said.

Finn went to the edge of the embankment and sighed. “I hate this part. Well? Everybody ready?” When they were secure on Finn’s back, he slid into the water. It rose to his belly, just below the sleeping bags. When Finn waded deeper, the red surface rippled, and Jane could see that the brown water below was full of the shadows of fish. Finn swam between mud-islands, ugly trees, and moldering logs. Bird-voices cawed overhead, and there was the constant drone of insect voices, rhythmic and indistinct. Jane couldn’t make out the words.

Finn stopped at a bank of reddish muck. “Here we are,” he said.

“Stay here, Jane,” Gaius said, and Finn helped Gaius to the muddy shore. The ground squished and oozed when Gaius walked with his cane. “Sandra?” he called. “Sandra, darling?”

The insects and birds quieted.

Gaius rapped his cane on a tree. “Sandra? Come out, please—we are in a hurry, darling.”

Jane whispered, “Who’s Sandra?”

“Guardian of the marsh,” Finn said. “This is her land. She only lets Gaius live here because she has a crush on him.” Gaius frowned back, and Finn said, “What? It’s true.”

“Why does he need to find her?”

“Unless Sandra gives permission, there is no way through. We’d get lost in here. And wouldn’t that be inconvenient?”

“
There
you are!” a woman’s voice said. “My dear Gaius Saebius, you look thin. How are you?”

Jane squinted at the mud where Gaius was smiling, but there was no one there.

“Busy as always, darling,” Gaius said. “And you?”

“The Raven King’s magic crossed the Old Wall this morning.”

Gaius stopped smiling. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so, dear.”

Now Jane saw it: a red frog squatted in the mud, camouflaged perfectly except for her lips, which were painted just a bit too pink. She seemed to be wearing eyeliner.

“I’m so sorry, Gaius,” the frog—Sandra—said. “You are almost out of time. You know, we’re all counting on you to find the one. I know you will.”

“Thank you,” Gaius said. “How is the family?”

“
Don’t
ask,” Sandra said. “Honestly.” She croaked a laugh. “
You
get those children sorted out. But first, give me a kiss.”

“Of course,” Gaius said. He knelt and planted a kiss on Sandra’s lips. When he stood, there was frog-lipstick all over his whiskers.

“And here you go,” Sandra said. “Candles to light your way.” Glowing red orbs appeared in the marsh ahead. They were decorated with black strips and Chinese characters.

“Thanks again, darling,” Gaius said as he returned to Finn.

“Not at all,” Sandra said. “You just be careful! Something is coming.”

“I will,” Gaius called, and he blew another kiss.

When they passed the first light, Jane smiled. “Sandra likes you, Gaius.”

Gaius’s fur prickled, like a cat blushing. “Sandra is very old and wise.”

“You two—”

Finn cleared his throat, interrupting her.

They were quiet until they stopped at the last light. Behind them, the swamp was dark again: the orbs were gone.
We couldn’t leave now even if we wanted to,
Jane thought. As they climbed onto the mud, she thought,
There’s nothing here.

Gaius pointed at the swamp and said, “Reveal.”

The castle revealed itself.

I
t didn’t pop out of the swamp, and it certainly did not magically appear. Instead the air shifted and slouched, as if Jane were watching invisible curtains being drawn aside. First she saw the middle, then the sides. It was a castle, certainly; but it was also a tree. The castle rose to three towers that she could see—two at the corners and the largest in the center—although Jane imagined there might be third and fourth corner towers at the rear (and she was right). The tops of the walls were ridged—for lookouts, she assumed—and irregular windows of stained glass dotted the sides above a heavy iron door.

Leaves grew from the walls, and bizarre branches sprouted from the tops of the towers. At first glance, it was a traditional castle—with unorthodox windows and branches but
still
a castle—but the longer Jane examined it, the more tree features she found. The base was stumped with roots, and the surface was rough bark, not stone; this was
not
a tree that had been chopped down. No, this giant tree had grown a door-hole, windows, towers—even the serrated lookout points—and, Jane assumed (again rightly), a hollow interior so people, or bobbins, could live inside.

As he followed Gaius, Finn said, “There’s bird poop on the twelfth king.”

Jane followed Finn’s gaze to bobbin statues built—no,
grown
—into the castle wall, each as tall as a house. The bobbins wore robes and armor, and their faces were grim, like the expressions of television soldiers or tennis players…if they let giant cat-people play tennis. Finn was right: the closest bobbin relief had a white smear on his cat nose and eyes.

“Thanks, girls,” Finn called to the trees, and Jane saw segmented legs move in the branches. She glimpsed a face with eight black eyes above a pincer mouth.

“Welcome home,” the spider murmured, followed by a cacophony of “—elcome home.” “—home.”

The air behind them changed. Jane couldn’t describe what happened: she
smelled
something move.
A spider web
, she thought.
It was hiding the castle when we first approached. It opened to let us through, and now it has shut again.
It made her uneasy.
No one out there can see us,
Jane realized.
We’re invisible.

“It’s so hidden,” Jane said.

“That’s right,” Finn said. “The only people who can find the castle are people who have been here before.”

Although it had looked impressive from the distance, as they neared the iron entry door, Jane felt uneasy. How could a tree grow into this shape, she wondered, with windows and bobbin statues in its bark? It didn’t seem natural.

Someone laughed from the top of the wall, and when Jane looked up, she saw a flash of red, like a hat or a coat. “Are there other kids here?” she asked.

“Yes,” Gaius said.

“Why?”

When Gaius reached the front door, he said, “You’ll find out shortly.” He rapped, a lock clicked, and the door opened. “Welcome to Castle Alsod, my home.”

I
nside, the tree wasn’t a tree. Instead of the roots and tree rings and sap smell Jane had expected, they entered a great hall of gears. Beneath the floor and in the walls—all the way up to the giant ceiling—round gears clicked and clacked, tapped and tocked, as if they had stepped into the dream of a giant clock. There were silver gears and red gears, wooden gears and dark granite gears, all crammed into a complicated network of moving, murmuring parts.
It’s glass,
Jane realized. The floor, the walls, and the ceiling were all transparent glass with the gears on the other side.

Jane said, “Why does it look like a tree from the outside?”

Finn ducked and squeezed. Jane was certain he wouldn’t fit through the entryway, until the doorway yawned around Finn and the dragon slipped inside. The doorway shrank again.

“A tree is never just a tree,” Gaius said. “This is
not
a tree. This is Castle Alsod. And we’re late.”

Something the size of a big bumblebee zipped from the far end of the hall to Gaius. It had a long skinny nose, and its wings whirred too quickly to see. Its segmented body clicked each time it jerked from one side of Gaius’s face to the other.
A hummingbird,
Jane thought, and she tried to get a better look. Finn was picking his nose. It seemed to be a wooden hummingbird with a
click-clack body like a toy and bright blue eyes. It was wearing a pointy maroon hat and matching sweater.

The hummingbird chirped, “Lord of the manor, last of your noble race and guardian—”

“Just Gaius,” Gaius said.

“Oh, noble Just-Gaius—”

“Mallory, you can call me Gaius, remember?” Gaius said. “Nothing else.”

“Yes, lord,” Mallory the wooden hummingbird said. “They are assembled in the dining hall.”

“All of them?”

Mallory fluttered neurotically and said, “Um, yes, I believe we have collected—”

“
All
of them?” Gaius asked again.

“Sire, there is one unaccounted for—it wasn’t my fault! He must have heard the meal bell, but we’ve looked everywhere! My lord, if anyone is to be punished, I beg that you take my life and spare the kitchen staff! Surely, I am to—”

“He is on the roof,” Gaius said, and they walked toward a set of brass doors at the end of the hall.

“Of course!” Mallory said. “Your magical powers are stronger than anything your humble servants might—”

“I heard him when we came up the front walk,” Gaius said. “Please go tell him it’s time to eat.” Mallory left, and Gaius said, “Jane, I hope you’re hungry.”

The doors opened on a marble banquet hall of long tables full of
a hundred laughing, shouting children. Jane’s stomach clenched. It was just like the cafeteria at school; everyone had a seat except her.
It’s all right,
she thought.
I’ll slip around the back wall and look for an empty place where no one will notice me. I can blend in and pretend that I’ve been here all along…

Finn shot a fireball over the center of the hall, and Gaius shouted, “
Attention!
” The room went quiet, and hundreds of eyes were watching Jane, waiting. Her mouth was dry. She felt sick. “All of you are here because you have potential,” Gaius said, “but
this
is Jane!” Jane felt heat in her cheeks, and Gaius continued, “Her family was saving the world before you or your parents or your great-great-great grandparents were in diapers! She is the first, best hope in this room!”

A tall boy slipped through a side door with Mallory buzzing at his ear. The boy was tan with a shock of short dark hair. He crossed his arms when he saw Jane, unimpressed. He wore a red jacket.

“Jane is the one we have been waiting for, and tomorrow, the tests will begin! But now,” Gaius said, “let’s eat!”