The Order of Odd-Fish (11 page)

“I thought they were on the same side!” said Ken Kiang.

“So did she!” giggled the Belgian Prankster.

Dame Lily sprawled off her ostrich, into the ash. At once Colonel Korsakov roared, charging toward Sir Nils—but Sir Nils yanked his ostrich’s reins, flapping up into the sky. Korsakov wheeled his ostrich around and took off. The Silent Sisters quickly drew closer to the house as Sir Nils and Colonel Korsakov tangled in the air, their ostriches swooping, spinning, and clawing each other.

Sir Nils was a whirl of limbs, thrusting and whacking and hurling things at Korsakov, who seemed overwhelmed by his berserk energy. Suddenly Dame Lily was back in the battle, furiously slashing away at Sir Nils. The knights separated in the sky for a moment, Korsakov and Dame Lily on one side, Sir Nils on the other; then they dived back toward each other.

Ken Kiang watched the duel with shocked fascination. He couldn’t believe this was the same doddering Colonel Korsakov and Lily Larouche he had met. These knights were terrifyingly fast and fierce. Their weapons were bulky antiques—complex boxes and clumsy double-sided lances spurting fire—and the way they fought baffled Ken Kiang, as they followed an etiquette of combat that made the duel seem like a violent ceremony. Time and again the knights let pass an opportunity to strike their opponent down, but then they would unexpectedly land blows that seemed to ignore laws of physics.

The house bucked and exploded again, blasting out slime and hundreds of snakes and lizards and toads. This was too much for the ostriches—all three panicked, bucked off their knights, and flew away as fast as they could. Sir Nils, Dame Lily, and Colonel Korsakov collapsed in a heap of armor and weapons on the half-destroyed roof of the Hazelwoods’ house. The knights rolled away from each other and leaped up, ready to fight again.

Again the Silent Sisters’ circle tightened. Colonel Korsakov half glanced, distracted—and Sir Nils spun his lance into a skewering wheel of fire, walloping Korsakov off the roof. Korsakov thudded onto the ground, lying in a heap of armor, his legs twisted unnaturally.

The Silent Sisters stepped over his body and entered the house.

Something in Dame Lily snapped. With a sudden fury that seemed to surprise even Sir Nils, she wildly slashed and lunged and kicked at him—Ken Kiang had never seen such reckless anger—Sir Nils tried to keep up his defenses, but Dame Lily smacked them aside, again and again, and finally, with a yell and a slash of fire, cut him precisely in half.

Sir Nils fell apart, ripped in two like a piece of paper. Dame Lily stood on the roof of the Hazelwoods’ house, panting, staring down at Sir Nils’s smoking, torn-apart body, her eyes filled with horror and heartbreak.

Then the roof collapsed, the ground collapsed beneath the house, and the whole house, Dame Lily, the Hazelwoods, the Silent Sisters, and what was left of Sir Nils went crashing down into a flaming hole. The green fog was sucked in as well, draining down the hole as if a stopper had been pulled. The scene lingered for a long minute, off-kilter and strangely incomplete. The mist was gone, the Silent Sisters were gone, the streets were empty. Nothing stirred in the wasteland of Eldritch City.

The movie projector spluttered to a halt. Ken Kiang was left in the dark, sitting uncomfortably close to the Belgian Prankster.

“Well, Mr. Kiang, what a night this has been. I think you’ll agree that was a first-rate multimedia presentation. And look! Your steak and eggs.”

Ken Kiang looked. Sometime during the film the waiter had brought his steak and eggs, and with it, the steak knife he had wanted so badly—what seemed like a lifetime ago.

“Shall I wait while you eat your breakfast?” asked the Belgian Prankster politely. “There’s still a bit more to tell.”

Ken Kiang did not respond. The Belgian Prankster shrugged, rose, and waddled back to the opposite side of the table.

“Only Dame Lily survived,” said the Belgian Prankster, settling in to his chair. “Martin and Evelyn Hazelwood were killed. It seemed the Silent Sisters had taken the Hazelwood baby with them, for they had vanished as mysteriously as they had come.

“In Eldritch City, the punishment for murder is amnesia and exile. The new mayor was furious that the knights had disobeyed him, and many citizens now supported him. His judges declared Lily Larouche, Colonel Korsakov, and Korsakov’s butler, Sefino, guilty of murdering Sir Nils Van der Woort. Their memories were confiscated and they were exiled.”

“Guilty of murder?” said Ken Kiang slowly. “But Sir Nils attacked
them
!”

“The legal issues don’t interest me, Mr. Kiang. Nor did they interest the mayor. He found a reason to exile them, and, flimsy as it was, he got them exiled.”

“And that’s the end?”

“No,” said the Belgian Prankster. “For the Hazelwood baby
was
found. Dame Lily had smuggled the child out of the catastrophe. And with the help of another knight, Sir Oliver Mulcahy, she took the baby with her into exile.”

“Why are you telling me this?” said Ken Kiang. “What does this have to do with me?”

The Belgian Prankster began laughing silently, his body wiggling in ghastly merriment.

“Who are you?” shouted Ken Kiang.

“I am Sir Nils Van der Woort,” said the Belgian Prankster.

“What? But you said Sir Nils was killed—chopped in half—”

“I
was
killed,” guffawed the Belgian Prankster. “I
was
chopped in half. But my friends stitched me back together. I’m not what I used to be, but what of it? I am a servant of the Silent Sisters, and nothing can hurt me, or help me, anymore.”

The Belgian Prankster shook like a horrible jelly, snuffling with unholy mirth—Ken Kiang could not bear him a moment longer; with a yell he leaped to his feet and hurled the steak knife.

The knife whistled swiftly through the air and plunged into the Belgian Prankster’s laughing face with a sickening THUP.

Ken Kiang stared. The Belgian Prankster continued to laugh, even as the knife stuck between his eyes. But this was not what transfixed Ken Kiang—it was just that he’d never expected the Belgian Prankster’s head to
deflate.

A hissing squeal filled the room. The Belgian Prankster’s face shriveled and collapsed, as did the bodies of Mr. XXX, Mr. QQQ, Mr. NNN, Mr. FFF—the entire committee—with a shriek and a howl, their mouths opened, spewing stale air, leaping up to the ceiling and shooting around the room, spluttering into shreds, and the Belgian Prankster’s head flew across the table, right up to Ken Kiang, a shriveled empty skin, eyeless and toothless—Ken Kiang screamed—

And the face collapsed onto the table in a rubbery heap.

For this “Belgian Prankster” was not the real Belgian Prankster. He, and his committee, were nothing more than ingeniously complicated balloon animals.

Ken Kiang was deeply humiliated by the prank.

The Belgian Prankster had also stuck him with the bill.

J
O
woke up and for a moment had no idea where she was.

Gone was the vast jeweled egg she’d woken up in every other morning of her life. Her new room was barely large enough for her narrow bed, a wardrobe, and a scruffy wooden desk. Morning sunlight quietly streamed in from a little arched leaded-glass window. There was a tiny bathroom and another door leading out to the hallway. That was all.

Jo suddenly realized she was still wearing her waitress uniform. At once she threw off the sheets and scrambled out of bed—she couldn’t get out of the crusty, stinky thing fast enough—hopped, stumbled out of the pink polyester, left it in a heap on the floor, and staggered into the bathroom. She turned on the shower: hot water: glorious.

Jo had never savored a shower so much. She scrubbed every corner of her body in an agony of relief, washed her hair twice, and for a long time just stood under the hot water, breathing the steamy air. She finally came out, wrapped in a fluffy white towel, and opened her window to look out at Eldritch City waking up below: people walking down the sidewalks, market stands being set up, cars and elephants moving in the boulevards. She took a deep breath of the morning air. From up here, it felt as though the city were all hers.

Just then someone knocked on her door. She opened it a little—Sefino.

“Already up and about, I see.” The cockroach glanced at Jo and coughed in embarrassment. “Do put some clothes on. Dame Lily would like you to come to her room for breakfast. She has something to tell you.”

It was a long breakfast.

The eggs and toast went cold, untouched, as Aunt Lily told Jo about her strange and violent birth. Jo could only stare in appalled shock. The story was the same the Belgian Prankster had told Ken Kiang, except for one detail.

“I was engaged to him,” said Aunt Lily.

Jo nearly spit out her coffee. “You were engaged to—you were going to marry the
Belgian Prankster
?”

“No, Jo. I was engaged to
Sir Nils.
I still can’t believe what he’s turned into.” Aunt Lily closed her eyes. “Maybe losing my memory was for the best. It must’ve been a relief to forget it all and walk away.”

Jo stared at her wasted breakfast. She felt so shaken she couldn’t think straight. “Then we shouldn’t have come here,” she said. “We should’ve stayed in California. We have to go home!”

“We can’t.” Aunt Lily’s voice was strained but calm. “I know this is awful for you, Jo, but it’s even more dangerous for you outside the city. The situation is changing fast. Sir Oliver is afraid the Belgian Prankster has something terrible planned.”

“Who knows who I really am?”

“You and I. Sir Oliver. Colonel Korsakov and Sefino. That’s all.”

“Not the other knights?”

“We can’t tell them everything right away.”

Jo felt more and more helpless. “Why not? If they’re our friends, why can’t we tell them?”

“Because some people, and not just crazy ones—” Aunt Lily paused, as if what she was saying was painful. “They blame you for nearly destroying Eldritch City.”

“Me?”
It was as if the ground had reeled under her. “But I was just a baby!”

“That makes them all the more afraid,” said Aunt Lily. “Even today, the neighborhood where your parents lived is deserted. All because the Silent Sisters wanted you.”

“But I don’t even understand who these Silent Sisters are!”

“Nobody does. There’s only rumors, old legends…Sir Oliver and I are trying to figure it out.” Aunt Lily looked carefully at Jo. “All we know is that if anyone found out that you are the Hazelwood baby, your life would be in danger.”

Jo felt such a rush of shock she could hardly choke out, “Why?”

“Because some people believe if the Ichthala returns, the city
really will be
destroyed,” said Aunt Lily. “All of it. And for good.”

Jo shuddered. That word,
Ichthala
—just hearing it made her skin prickle. “Then why did you and Colonel Korsakov fight to protect me?”

“I knew your parents had nothing to do with the Silent Sisters,” said Aunt Lily. “They were my friends. They were Odd-Fish.”

“But so was Sir Nils!” said Jo. “And you were engaged to him!”

Aunt Lily closed her eyes. “I’ll tell you about Nils some other time. For now, I’m going to keep your ring in my jewelry box. If you were caught with it…”

Jo shook her head. “Why’d they make me a ring if I was a monster?”

“Jo, you’re
not
a monster. Korsakov and Oliver don’t think so, either. Most people know the Ichthala stuff is just a crazy old legend, it’s—”

“But it’s not just a legend!” said Jo. “If those Silent Sisters really did come to Eldritch City, if there really were fires and earthquakes, and if the Belgian Prankster—”

“Jo, don’t.” Aunt Lily held up her hand. “Just because some cult—some crazy old women—tried to kidnap you, it doesn’t mean they were right about who you are.”

“But even Sir Oliver wrote that I was dangerous!”

“We weren’t sure back then. It was a risk. I suppose it still is.” Aunt Lily rubbed her temples. “At my trial, they asked me what happened to you. I said that your mother
had
given birth to a monster. And that the Silent Sisters took it.”

“And that’s what everyone believes?”

“Well…no,” said Aunt Lily. “Some people think the Silent Sisters disappeared only because
I
killed the Hazelwood baby.”

Jo stared back at Aunt Lily in horror. “Would you have? If I
had
been a monster?”

“Jo, this is hard enough.” Aunt Lily looked down. “People were asking questions when we first got here. I told everyone that you’re my niece from California. Oliver thinks we can pull it off. Anyway, it’s worth it. You don’t belong with the Silent Sisters. You belong with us. With me.” Aunt Lily took her hand. “You’re the only daughter I’ll ever have.”

Jo’s hand sat awkwardly in Aunt Lily’s. She stared at her knees and murmured, “What am I supposed to do?”

“Nothing for now. Sir Oliver and I are working on this. Just try to blend in, lead the life of a normal Odd-Fish squire.”

Jo pulled her hand away, incredulous. “Try to blend in? Be normal? After everything you’ve just told me, how could I possibly—”

Someone knocked on the door. Aunt Lily turned and called out, “Yes? Who is it?”

Dame Delia poked her head in. “Everybody’s waiting for you, Lily.”

Aunt Lily nodded. “We’re on our way!”

“Where are we going?” said Jo as Aunt Lily started to gather her things.

Aunt Lily stood up. “Downtown. To Commissioner Olvershaw’s. Today we are making you a proper squire.”

Downstairs there was much coming and going and jostling in the halls as knights and squires and butlers prepared for the day. Jo descended the stairs slowly, still in a state of numb shock.

The common room was a busy chaos, everyone intent on some project, rushing and fussing and bumping into each other. Dame Isabel and Nora McGunn were repairing a long silver horn stuck into a black vinyl sack studded with chrome spigots—the device, Aunt Lily had explained, that Dame Isabel used to capture her unusual smells. Sir Oliver, Sir Alasdair, and Sir Oort breezed through the room, Sir Oort rapidly hopping around the two larger, slower gentlemen, waving his hands, energetically outlining a metaphysical argument that seemed to leave them unconvinced. And out the front window Dame Delia led a lavishly costumed elephant out of the stables, singing contentedly to herself. Jo watched it all with dazed envy, her head still buzzing. The cheerful uproar of the common room comforted her and almost made Aunt Lily’s story of her birth seem safely distant, even unreal. She suddenly wanted something of her own to do, something that would give her a rightful place in the bustle.

“Good morning, Jo!” boomed Colonel Korsakov. “Come down, come down!”

Colonel Korsakov was happily idle in the commotion, sunk side by side with Sir Festus in overstuffed chairs near the fireplace. The gigantic head of a shaggy, viciously fanged, extravagantly horned beast was mounted over the fireplace’s mantel, its eyes frozen in bewilderment, its gargantuan bulk making the rest of the room feel cramped.

“The Prancing Gobbler!” said Sir Festus to Jo. “I couldn’t help noticing you admiring it.”

“It’s…large,” said Jo carefully.

“Now
that
was a beast,” said Sir Festus with great satisfaction. “Took ten of us to bring him down. Those were the days, eh, Korsakov?”

“Ah, the glories of youth,” said Colonel Korsakov wistfully. “I’m afraid those days are behind us forever.”

“Nonsense!” said Sir Festus. “What we lose in vigor, my good man, we only gain in cunning. And Korsakov…you
do
have some unfinished business here in Eldritch City…”

Colonel Korsakov’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean…”

“I do,” said Sir Festus. “The Schwenk.”

“The…
Schwenk
?” said Korsakov in a strangled roar. “The Schwenk is still loose in Eldritch City? After all these years? The Schwenk still roams our streets unchallenged? I knew it, Festus. My digestion was distinctly disturbed last night, though I could not pin down the cause. Why, the Schwenk must have learned of my arrival and was capering outside my window, giggling Schwenkishly, engaging in rampant Schwenkery, even as I tossed and turned…oh, the Schwenk, Festus, the infamous Schwenk, the unholy
Schwenk
!”

“What’s the Schwenk?” said Jo.

“A fearsome beast,” said Korsakov. “Some say even more fearsome than the Prancing Gobbler.”

“
You
say that,” said Sir Festus.

“All due respect, my dear Festus, but everybody does,” said Korsakov. “Or they would, if the Schwenk could ever be found. You see, Jo, when I was a young squire, not unlike yourself, I was given the quest to slay the Schwenk. So far the clever beast has eluded me.”

“Permit me to say it has eluded you for nearly
fifty years,
” said Sir Festus.

“Hmmm, well,” said Korsakov uncomfortably. “These things take time.”

Jo said, “So that’s what squires do? Slay Schwenks?”

“
I
get to slay the Schwenk,” said Korsakov. “You’ll get your own quest at the Municipal Squires Authority. From Commissioner Olv…Olver…”

Jo remembered the name: “Commissioner Olvershaw?”

Korsakov winced. “Yes…well…ahem. The commissioner will have to register you first, of course.”

“That’s what we’re doing today,” said Aunt Lily, coming around the corner, trailed by a group of curious squires: Ian Barrows, Albert Blatch-Budgins, and Daphne Brockbank.

“Do you mind if we come along?” said Korsakov. “I intend to register Ian myself.”

Jo hadn’t seen Ian since they were separated at the banquet; she had almost forgotten about him. “So you’re not a squire yet, either?” she said.

Before Ian could answer, Nora looked up from Dame Isabel’s machine and called out, “Ian just hangs around the lodge and
pretends
to be a squire.”

Ian leaned against the wall. “This from a girl who spends every day collecting
smells
?”

“At least I don’t have a half-grown mustache.”

“You should try it, Nora. It could only help your face.”

Nora snorted and turned to Korsakov. “Why on earth are you taking on Ian Barrows as a squire?”

“Sir Oliver recommended Ian, and that is enough for me,” said Korsakov, frowning at Nora. “I understand he is a cousin of Sir Oliver’s squire, Dugan Barrows.”

“Where
is
Dugan?” wondered Sir Festus. “It’s disgraceful he missed the feast. How long has he been gone? Two days?”

Albert Blatch-Budgins smiled. “Ah, there’s always something up with Dugan.”

Nora skirted around the room and popped up at Jo’s side. “Hey, Jo! Sefino told me to fetch you. C’mon!”

“Right now? Okay, okay!” said Jo as Nora tugged her sleeve, leading her down the dusty, debris-strewn hallway. Once they were out of earshot, Nora turned to Jo with dancing eyes.

“So you’re really getting registered as a squire today? You and Ian?”

“Yes,” said Jo. “Why do you give him such a hard time?”

“I give
him
a hard time? That’s rich! Don’t worry, Ian can handle it. It’s about time they made him a squire—I was getting embarrassed for him. Too bad I won’t be there to see it.”

“Aren’t you coming?”

“I’ve got other business in the city.” Nora ducked her head, looked around carefully, and added, “Actually, Jo, I’ve been meaning to get a minute alone with you.”

“What about?”

“I think you know…I was trying to tell you last night.”

“What?”

“Come on, Jo. The Ichthala.”

The word
Ichthala
hit Jo like a bucketful of ice water. At once she tightened all over—was it possible Nora knew?

Nora chattered on, “Now, no disrespect, but I think Dame Lily isn’t telling us everything about the Ichthala. That’s why I think if we worked together, Jo, we could figure out just what the Ichthala is,
where
it is. Living with Dame Lily for so long, I bet you have tons of clues, don’t you? Most people think the Ichthala is dead, you know, or that the Silent Sisters have her locked up somewhere. But I think the Ichthala walks among us…. Hey, what’s wrong? You look sick.”