“Please, let’s all remain calm,” Master George said. “Mothball, please be seated. I appreciate your concern for Atticus and his friends. Priscilla hasn’t met them, of course, so let’s give her time to appreciate their importance.”
Mothball sat, not taking her eyes off Priscilla, whose suddenly pale face made her look like she might never speak again.
“Now, er, we do need to talk of this matter,” Master George continued. “Sato here has put together a summary of his interviews, and the reports of people going insane are numerous, indeed. Something is very wrong, and it’s spreading throughout the Realities at an alarming rate. Almost
like a—”
“Disease,” Nancy Zeppelin said. “Like a disease.”
Master George paused, studying the beautiful woman as he thought about what she said. She didn’t look back, staring at the table in front of her with a blank expression.
“Yes,” he finally said. “Yes, quite like a disease, actually. The pattern shows it spreading from a fragmented Reality—all cases link back to it eventually, with no exception. It is exactly like a disease or a virus.”
“Need a sample, then. One of the crazies,” Mothball said.
Before Master George could reply, an urgent knock rapped at the closed door from the hallway. Finally. Perhaps now they would have some answers. He stood up. “Mothball—”
The door opened before she could do anything. A wave of relief washed through Master George as he saw one of his oldest friends enter the room, though he looked like he’d just taken a bath in a pile of dirt—his overalls were filthy.
“Master Sally,” George said, smiling.
Sally grinned through his thick, red beard. “It was harder ‘an findin’ a tick on a grizzly bear, but I did it.”
“Did what?” Rutger asked, shocked.
“I found dem kids a’yorn.”
Part
2
The Beast in the Glass
Chapter
15
Nice Mistress Jane
Frazier Gunn was worried about his boss.
As he walked up the winding stone staircase of Mistress Jane’s tower, enjoying the smell of burning pitch from the torches ensconced on the hard granite walls, he wondered which version of her would answer the door. The flickering, spitting flames cast haunted shadows that seemed alive, hiding and reappearing like dark wraiths. A team of seven servants maintained the torches throughout the Lemon Fortress, even though Jane probably could have lit the place using only her growing abilities in the mutated Chi’karda.
But she had her own way of doing things, and that was that.
Frazier felt a trickle of sweat slide down his right temple as he passed the halfway point. He’d been sick the last few days, unable to keep any food down, and he felt the effect of his illness now. He almost paused to rest, but his pride wouldn’t let him. He kept moving up the staircase, step by step.
His thoughts slid back to Jane’s recent mood swings—episodes of inexplicable kindness mixed in with the usual displays of anger and violence. He’d witnessed with his own eyes several of the bizarre occurrences. Just the other day, he’d almost swallowed his own tongue when he saw his boss help her servant Brainless clean up a broken dish Jane had slammed against the wall. The child’s face had paled during the incident, sure it was a trap, but when they finished, Jane apologized for losing her temper, dismissed her with a wave, and went back to work.
Frazier would’ve been less surprised to see a duck-billed platypus knock on his door and ask for tea.
Rumors of other surprising acts had spread through the castle like flames through a heat-wilted cornfield. Stories of kind words, apologies, thank-yous, compliments. Tales of Jane using her special powers to help servants lift heavy objects. It was crazy. Frazier had known this evil woman for years, and he couldn’t reconcile in his brain how it could be the same person. And yet, interspersed among these un-Jane-like anomalies, there were many moments where she exploded in rage, sometimes worse than ever before.
The whole thing was fishy, and in an odd way, Frazier longed for the days when Jane acted the tyrant every minute of every day. At least then he’d known what to expect.
He finally reached the top step, pausing to take three long breaths to calm his heart. He wiped the sweat from his face, not wanting Jane to see him so weak. After a very long minute, he finally crossed the stone landing and knocked on her wooden door.
It disappeared in a swipe from left to right, as if it had slid into the stone. It was only a trick, however, a manipulation of Chi’karda. Jane loved using her power for such trivial things, always opening her doors in creative and unexpected ways. One time she’d simply made it explode outward in a spray of dagger-like splinters, permanently scarring the poor sap delivering her mail.
Jane stood there, dressed in a simple yellow gown, her feet and hands bare. Her emerald eyes shone, almost glowing like green embers. Something was off, though. For a second, Frazier couldn’t figure out why she looked so odd, but then it hit him.
Jane had a layer of stubble growing across her head, tiny black sprouts of hair. Never—not once since he’d first met her so long ago—had Frazier ever seen so much as one hair on her head. She’d always insisted on baldness for some mysterious reason. Frazier balked and looked toward the floor, almost as if he’d caught her unawares coming out of the bath.
“Good morning, Mistress,” he said, keeping his eyes down. “I’ve come to report the latest on the Barrier Wand, and to, uh, report some interesting news.”
“Frazier, dear Frazier,” Jane said, her voice soft. “Please, come in.”
He looked up to see she had moved aside, gesturing toward her large, yellow velvet couch, beside which a fresh fire burned in the comforting hearth, its bricks freshly painted her favorite color. Clearing his throat, using every ounce of his will to avoid a single glance at her head, Frazier stepped past her and took a seat, sinking into the wonderfully comfortable cushions.
Mistress Jane sat next to him on his right, crossing her legs so that she faced him only a foot away. The fire reflected in her bright eyes, seeming to ignite them into some odd, molten metal. Frazier didn’t like this. No, he didn’t like this one bit.
“Frazier,” Jane said, reaching out to caress his arm, just once, before clasping her hands in her lap. “I know people are talking about me—about my . . . change.”
Frazier cleared his throat, faked a cough, hoping to buy time. He didn’t know how to respond to this. “Um, yes, Mistress, the servants have said some very . . . um, nice things about you. They are, of course, very grateful when you, uh, show them kindness.” He stopped; every word that came out of his mouth sounded worse than the one before it.
“Kindness?” she said with a disgusted tone, as if the word were a highly contagious disease. “That’s the best they can come up with? That’s how they honor my attempts to elevate my leadership skills?”
“Well,” he said, doing his best to speak clearly without stuttering. “No, I meant, well, I just meant they’re noticing your efforts, saying many different words—all very glowing words, actually. Your esteem has skyrocketed in their eyes. In, uh, mine, too.”
Jane folded her arms, glaring directly into Frazier’s eyes. “Do you think I’m stupid, Frazier?”
She’s going to kill me, he thought. Right now, after all these years, she’s going to kill me because she’s finally gone completely and totally insane.
“Stupid?” he repeated. “Of course I don’t think you’re stupid.”
Jane leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Then don’t speak to me like I’m stupid.”
She sat back, looking at the fire, her face expressionless. After several seconds, Frazier followed her gaze and caught his breath.
Several burning logs had floated up into the air and out of the main hearth, hovering above a rug made from the skin of a scallywag beast. Sparks and hot cinders fell from the logs, igniting several long hairs of the soft fur, which flared and died out quickly. A mess of white ash flew up from the fireplace, swirling around the flames in midair in fancy patterns, spelling words and making faces. Frazier felt a familiar icy fear in his gut, thinking of such power in the hands of a woman as unstable as Mistress Jane.
With a hiss and crackle, the whole show collapsed back into the fireplace; in seconds, it looked like the fire hadn’t been disturbed at all.
“Now,” Jane said, folding her arms and returning her focus to Frazier. “I know people are worried that my attempts to change are insincere. If anything, they seem more frightened of me than ever. Correct?”
Frazier nodded, not daring to say a word.
“This doesn’t bother me. Not in the least. I’ve been . . . unwise in some of my leadership methods. Perhaps even cruel. I know it will take time—a long time—to change.” Jane shifted in her seat, looking toward the window on the other side of the room, muted light from the cloudy day spilling through onto her bed. “All I ever wanted was to make things better, Frazier. That’s all I still want. If I need to adapt how I rule things, then so be it.”
She turned her neck, looking once again at Frazier, her eyes narrowed. “But we will take over the Realities. We will spread the goodness and power of the Chi’karda from the Thirteenth Reality to the others. And in the end, we will make the universe a better place for all. This, I promise you.”
Frazier nodded again, throwing all the sincerity he could into his expression. Jane’s words, filled with passion, had moved him greatly. He remembered why he had followed this woman for so many years, despite the constant danger. He remembered . . . and felt ashamed of the many times he’d hoped to topple her and take over.
“Mistress Jane,” he said. “I . . . I . . . I don’t know what to—”
“Say nothing,” she snapped, a sudden thunderclap shaking the room. It was a trick she performed often. “You’ve earned yourself back into my full graces. You’re my most loyal servant. You will be beside me, always. Nothing else needs to be said.”
A long pause followed, thoughts churning inside Frazier’s mind. How do I act now? What do I say? His fear of Jane hadn’t diminished in the least—if anything, it had grown stronger.
Thankfully, Jane got back to business. “You said you had an update on the Barrier Wand and some interesting news. Well, get on with—” She paused, forcing a smile. “Please, report.”
Frazier leaned forward, grunting as he pulled himself out of the soft cushions, and put his elbows on his knees. “They’ve found a place in a small mountain range about five hundred miles away—they’ve spotted signs of ore. It looks encouraging. The Diggers are hunting as we speak. As soon as they find a deposit, I’ll let you know.”
“Once they do,” Jane said, “we should need only two or three more weeks.”
“That’s right. The metal is the last thing we need to reconstruct the Wand.”
Something floated up from a shelf near the bed, flying through the air and landing with a thump in Jane’s outreached palm. She held it out for Frazier to see—a complex bundle of wires, pipework, gears, and nanochips—the Chi’karda Drive she’d removed from her previous Barrier Wand. The one Atticus Higginbottom had stolen.