The Familiars (13 page)

“They’re friendly, right?” asked Aldwyn, cautiously eyeing the armed amphibians.

“Aldwyn, these are my people,” said Gilbert with a smile. “Of course they are.”

As Gilbert spoke, one of the frogs sent a bamboo spear flying through the air, straight toward the familiars.

Aldwyn dove for cover, tackling Skylar and Gilbert out of the way, nearly pushing them into the water.

“I don’t know what your definition of friendly is,” said Aldwyn to Gilbert, “but that’s certainly not mine!”

Gilbert pointed behind them, and Aldwyn turned to see that the spear had killed a water snake that had been sliding up the back of their log.

“Okay, forget what I said. I’m just not very good with pointy things flying toward me, that’s all.”

The two frog-helmed boats approached, flanking them on either side.

“Sorry about the scare,” said one of the frogs. “Those snakes are deadly, you know. I think it was intending to swallow the pretty lady whole.”

“Well, thank you for saving me,” said Skylar.

“Not you,” replied the tree frog. “The furry one.”

It took a moment for Aldwyn to realize the frog was talking about him.

“Actually, I’m not a girl.”

“Oh,” said the frog, not completely convinced. “You cats all look the same.”

“Anyway, welcome back, Gilbert,” said a second frog. “We’ve been expecting you.”

“Of course you have,” said Gilbert, none too surprised.

The group was led beneath the cypress arch and into the village beyond, not one made up of huts and streets but of trees and lily pads. Rounding a bend, Aldwyn’s paws stopped paddling as his eyes discovered hundreds of tree frogs hanging from the reeds, jumping from branch to branch, and swimming in the muddy water. A clamor of croaking surrounded them, both noisy and strangely melodic. The frogs of Daku were an incredibly athletic lot. Gilbert seemed lazy and uncoordinated in comparison.

When the familiars’ log reached the shore, they
were met by an excited group of thirty red-eyed frogs. A chorus of “Welcome back,” “Hey, big brother,” and “Gilbert!” followed.

“Aldwyn, Skylar, these are my brothers and sisters,” said Gilbert. “Half of them, anyway.”

An older female frog pushed through the crowd and embraced Gilbert. She wore several thin grass necklaces, each adorned with dozens of wooden charms.

“My baby,” she said, holding back tears. “Look at how skinny you are.”

“Hi, Mom,” said Gilbert.

“We’ve missed you so much,” she said.

“You and Dad?” asked Gilbert hopefully.

“
I’ve
missed you so much,” she corrected herself. Aldwyn watched a hurt look cross Gilbert’s face. “I wear your birth charm close to my heart every day.” She touched one of the wood chips hanging from her neck, with a carving of a circle with a star in it. “Now come on, I have a feast waiting for you and your friends. I’ve been preparing it for over a week.”

Aldwyn tried to wrap his head around how strange this all was, the way these frogs had
known they’d visit long before he had ever met Jack, set foot in Stone Runlet, or watched Kalstaff die. A week ago, all Aldwyn had foreseen of his future were back alley brawls over scraps of meat and sleepless nights on the rooftops.

Gilbert’s mom led the trio across some mossy branches to a circle of toadstools, where a feast had been laid. And not just acorn caps brimming with juicy insects, but chopped fish for Aldwyn and nuts and berries for Skylar. Aldwyn was about to stick his nose in the wood bowl of dried minnows when Gilbert’s mom interrupted him, handing him a damp fern leaf.

“That’s okay,” said Aldwyn. “I’ll just lick myself clean when I’m through.”

“Oh, it’s not for the food,” she replied.

Before Aldwyn could express his confusion, a swamp parakeet flew overhead, sending a splattering of bird droppings directly onto Aldwyn’s shoulder. He used the wet leaf to wipe it from his fur, then turned to Gilbert, a bit upset.

“Wouldn’t it have been easier for her to just tell me to get out of the way?”

“If it has been seen in a viewing, there’s nothing
that can be done to change it,” said Gilbert. “The future has already been written. My people just get a glimpse of it.”

Aldwyn found the rules of soothsaying hard to follow. What would have happened if Gilbert’s mom had warned him? Would the bird dropping have still landed on him at a later moment? Or if he ducked, would he have caused ripples in time, with disastrous cosmic results? But Aldwyn’s growling stomach called his attention back to the home-cooked fish.

“Gilbert, have you told your friends about that glorious day when the red-haired man came to choose one among us?” asked Gilbert’s mom.

“No, they’re not interested, Ma,” said Gilbert, attempting to change the subject.

“Actually, I’m
very
interested,” chirped Skylar.

“It was late in the afternoon, just like now,” said Gilbert’s mom. “He arrived on a boat that rowed itself. It was magical! The entire village gathered to see this strange human visitor. Then he spoke to us. He said he had come to Daku looking for a frog who wished to be a familiar. He asked if there were any volunteers who would be willing
to leave their family and friends to become a companion to a wizard. And who was the first to leap down from the trees? My first hatched, Gil!”

Gilbert’s mom planted a kiss on Gilbert’s forehead. “I was so proud,” she exclaimed. His cheeks quickly filled with red.

“He didn’t jump, he slipped!” called out a stronger, muscular frog from nearby. “He was chasing after a ladybug.”

“Phillip, that’s your older brother you’re talking about,” snapped Gilbert’s mom. “Be nice.”

Gilbert got redder. Aldwyn knew his fellow familiar well enough and could see by his expression that Phillip wasn’t lying.

“So, who wants seconds?” asked Gilbert’s mom, taking the attention off Gilbert.

Skylar leaned over and whispered to Gilbert, trying not to appear rude.

“We really should speak to your father,” she said. “Remember why we’re here.”

“You know, t-the Ocean Oracle isn’t
t-that
f-far away,” said Gilbert with a nervous stutter.

“Gilbert—”

“Okay, okay.” He rubbed his webbed hands
together and cleared his throat before turning to his mother. “Mom, I need to talk to Dad.”

“He knows why you’ve come,” she replied. “You can find him meditating in the Quag.”

Skylar pushed aside the rest of her nuts and berries, eager to move on to the more pressing matters at hand. Aldwyn lapped up every last chunk of fish, unsure when his next meal would come.

“Thanks, Ma,” said Gilbert with his mouth full.

He led Aldwyn and Skylar down a narrow mud path, past cypress boughs weighed down by colonies of tree frogs basking in the sun. They walked through a cove where young froglets practiced their puddle viewing in leaves filled with dew. Finally, they crossed over a series of lily pads to an island dense with bamboo sticks, some taller than others, each with symbols carved into the wood.

“What are these?” asked Aldwyn.

“Valor staves,” replied Gilbert. “Once a tree frog has earned the respect of the village elder—my father—a stalk of bamboo is carved with his or her symbol and placed here surrounding the Quag.”

“Where’s yours?” asked Aldwyn.

“I don’t have one yet.”

Gilbert sucked in a big lungful of air, lifted his shoulders high, and walked through the cluster of valor staves, with Aldwyn and Skylar right behind him. There, on the other side, was a pool of still water. Fireflies peacefully floated above it, making the pond glow with swirls of light. On the opposite end sat an old tree frog meditating quietly. He looked like Gilbert and all his brothers, save for the fact that he was much older and had a black diamond birthmark on his back.

“Hello, Father,” said Gilbert hesitantly.

Gilbert’s dad sighed. “I thought you’d grow old and die in that magician’s pet store. I still can’t believe a young wizard chose
you
as her familiar.”

“Well, maybe she saw something special in me,” said Gilbert meekly.

“You know, I’m a grandpa now. Little tadpoles swimming around, just a few days old, already predicting the weather,” said Gilbert’s dad with a sneer. “You, on the other hand, couldn’t see a storm coming if the rain was pouring right down on your head.”

Aldwyn felt sorry for Gilbert. Not that he’d ever had the experience, but he imagined that to be told off by one’s father in front of one’s friends had to be about the worst thing for anybody’s self-confidence. He wanted to tell the mean old frog to back off but then thought better of it.

“You know, life isn’t just about looking into the past and future,” said Gilbert, too afraid to meet his father’s gaze. “It’s about living in the moment and appreciating what’s right in front of you.”

“Who filled your head with such silly notions?”

“Marianne. The smartest person I know,” said Gilbert proudly, before turning to Skylar. “No offense.”

“I had hoped you would have grown up by now,” said Gilbert’s dad, deeply disappointed. “But I’m not sure you’ll ever learn to be like one of us.”

Aldwyn thought that maybe being an orphan wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Gilbert looked as if he was ready to head back out the way they’d come. But as he turned, Skylar put a wing on his shoulder and cleared her throat.

“Forgetting something?” she said to him quietly.

“Right,” he said, before turning back to his father. “Dad, we need your help. Our loyals have been kidnapped by Queen Loranella, and we don’t know where to find them.”

Gilbert’s father looked at his son, as if staring deep into his soul.

“Give me a moment to stir the waters.”

Gilbert’s dad picked up a nearby stick and used it to make circles in the still pool. Immediately, pictures began to take shape on the surface, but they were flashing by too fast for Aldwyn to understand. Then one image, lasting longer than the others, caught his eye: Jack, Marianne, and Dalton were chained to the same wall as in
Gilbert’s vision, only this time Queen Loranella stood across from them. She was sending bolts of electricity from the tips of her fingers at Jack, but they fizzled upon making contact with his protective forcefield. Then the picture vanished as quickly as it came, blending into more pictures. Aldwyn felt a lump in his throat bigger than any hair ball. Jack was in danger and there was nothing he could do.

Gilbert’s dad continued to watch intently, the images reflecting in his eyes. A chorus of voices emerged from the water, their words overlapping and tumbling over one another. Then the pool’s water went still again: the viewing was complete.

“They are being held in the dungeon of the Sunken Palace,” said Gilbert’s dad with a voice that was full of authority but without emotion.

“Thank you so much,” said Skylar. “I don’t know how we can ever repay you.”

“But there is a guardian,” the old frog continued. “The seven-headed Hydra of Mukrete stands in the way. If you wish to make it safely past you’ll need to put the beast to sleep with a special
powder that can only be made by the Mountain Alchemist.”

Aldwyn sneaked a look at Skylar and Gilbert. He wasn’t surprised to see that Gilbert was frightened by what his father said, but to find Skylar staring blankly into space with equal fear made him realize just how daunting the quest was that lay ahead. Saving their loyals seemed more impossible than ever.

“You should go now,” said Gilbert’s dad. “The pool has no more to reveal to me. How this will all end is up to the three of you.”

And with that, the old frog turned his back on the group, not even saying good-bye to Gilbert as he resumed his meditation. Aldwyn could see that Gilbert was hurt, but now was not the time to make things better between father and son.

Aldwyn, Skylar, and Gilbert left the Quag and passed back through the village.

“I know that must have been hard for you,” said Skylar, “but it had to be done.”

“You did good, Gilbert,” said Aldwyn, giving his companion a pat on the back.

The tree frog brightened slightly, but his father’s
coldness had left him looking weary.

Gilbert couldn’t leave without saying a final farewell to his mom. He found her sitting in a leaf hammock, rocking a tadpole in her arms and singing it a lullaby.

“‘
Hiding high upon its head, draped in white shimmering gown, lie the keys to the past, in the snow leopard’s crown,
’” she whispered to a melody.

“Ma, I gotta go,” said Gilbert quietly, trying not to disturb the baby frog.

“Do you remember when I used to sing this to you?” she asked, clearly not picking up on the urgency in his voice. “You would fall asleep in my arms even when you were a full-grown frog.”

“Mom, not now,” said Gilbert, embarrassed.

“I think the songbirds used to sing us the same one at the Aviary,” said Skylar, remembering. “Only when I was little, of course.”

“I packed you some flies for the road,” said Gilbert’s mom, handing Gilbert a sack made from a hollowed-out flower bud. He looked inside and saw that it was stuffed with gnats and maggots. She then turned to Skylar and Aldwyn. “Take care of him. And make sure he
washes his feet twice a day—”