Changing the Prophecy Chapter 17

 

Chapter 17 Reunion

In her ignorance of the history of Faracadar, Elena was the only person in all of Big House City to believe that Compost had genuinely decided to become a reformed individual. Everyone else perceived him as a dangerous enemy and he had certainly earned that reputation. Hadn’t he just laid siege to Big House City for many weeks at Sissrath’s command, threatening the lives of the royal family? Everyone but Elena had no doubt that he belonged in prison. They did, however, allow him to take a bath, and afterward Elena cut his hair close to his head. She provided him with a clean set of clothing, helped him trim his nails, and convinced him to rub cocoa butter moisturizer on his ashy skin. After his makeover, his own mother would not have recognized him. His captors feared him less than they would have if he had the ability to use enchantment. Only some of the Mountain People could use enchantment and Compost was not a person with this ability.

Once she had helped Compost improve his appearance and personal grooming, Elena introduced herself to the royal cooks and kitchen staff and arranged to use the kitchen to prepare a traditional Mexican meal as best as she could with the ingredients that she could find at hand. She enlisted Guhblorin as her kitchen assistant and didn’t complain when he taste-tested the ingredients (especially the chocolate).

While Elena kept busy transforming Compost’s hygiene habits and establishing a makeshift taqueria in the royal kitchen, Denzel, Maia, and Honeydew met with the great enchanter Cardamom and Honeydew’s parents to sort through the information they had and to chart a course of action. They wondered why Doshmisi had instructed them not to go to the North Coast, but instead to meet her on Whale Island, when obviously something serious was happening at the North Coast. The news that Sonjay had joined forces with a Prophet of the Khoum caused much excitement among those with an understanding of what that meant. But where had Sonjay locomotaported from? Everyone was worried about Sissrath’s activities and whereabouts because they knew how much damage he could do. After much discussion, Denzel concluded, “We need more information, especially about Sissrath.”

“Only one person here in Big House City has more information about Sissrath,” Maia said.

“We have to question him,” Honeydew agreed.

“Your friend Elena should do it,” High Chieftess Saffron suggested. “She has a rapport with him. I think he would speak to her about Sissrath to prove to her that he seriously wishes to change, whether he actually does or not, which, of course, is questionable.”

“She’s too busy cooking dinner for him to interrogate him,” Denzel reminded them, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice.

“She’s cooking dinner for all of us,” Maia reminded him.

“I’ll go to the kitchen and invite her to join our conversation,” Saffron offered.

Saffron proceeded down the back stairs to the kitchen where she found Elena with her thick hair pulled back in a ponytail and her hands covered in cornmeal. Guhblorin mashed avocados in a large bowl while nibbling on a hot chili pepper, which had turned his ears bright red. “Ay Caramba!” he exclaimed after each nibble of spicy chili pepper.

“It smells delicious in here,” Saffron greeted Elena.

“I’m just getting started,” Elena responded cheerfully, clearly in her element in the kitchen. “I love this.” Her eyes glowed brightly.

“I’ve come to request that you join us for a few minutes to discuss a delicate matter,” Saffron informed her.

Elena frowned as she brushed a stray hair back from her forehead with the back of her hand and left a smudge of cornmeal on her face. “Now?”

Saffron picked up a towel and wiped the cornmeal smudge off Elena’s face. “Wash your hands and please come with me. This won’t take long.”

Elena washed up, removed her apron, and warned Guhblorin not to eat too many chilies, before following Saffron up the stairs into the council chamber.

“What’s up?” she asked as she approached the others gathered around the council table.

“Would you please help us?” Cardamom asked.

“Me?” Elena replied as her eyes grew wide. She wondered what they imagined she could do.

“Let me break it down for you,” Cardamom continued. “We need to figure out what Sissrath is doing and why. He’s extremely dangerous, extremely powerful, extremely clever, and perfectly capable of destroying the whole land. As one of Sissrath’s most high-level commanders, Compost has valuable knowledge about Sissrath’s activities. We need him to share that knowledge with us.”

“He was one of Sissrath’s commanders,” Elena corrected firmly. “Was. He gave all that up. He doesn’t work for Sissrath anymore.”

“So he says,” Honeydew responded skeptically.

“And so he means,” Elena insisted stubbornly. “I believe that people can change. He’s trying to become a different person, a better person.”

“You haven’t gone through everything with him that we’ve gone through,” Maia explained.

“Last year he tried to kill us,” Denzel said. “He commanded the Special Forces when they burned the Passage Circle to the ground. You didn’t see what the Passage Circle looked like after that attack, or what it looked like before they destroyed it. Compost put us in the garbage labyrinth, remember? And he tried to starve this entire city to death. Tell me one thing he has done to make me believe that he has changed.”

Elena gazed around the room at the expectant faces of those gathered there. “Because I am new here, I don’t have any preconceived notions about people in this place, no stereotypic perceptions of what Mountain People are like or not like, or what geebachings are like or not like. So I just see Guhblorin as he is, as he’s trying to be. Same with Compost. I don’t know about Compost’s past, I see him for who he is now, who he’s trying to be now. As an observer, it appears to me that Compost’s people from the High Mountains have been mistreated and disrespected. Perhaps if he and his people were treated better then he would have behaved differently.”

“It takes time to build trust,” Saffron said. “And we don’t have the luxury of time for that in this moment. We need information about Sissrath’s activities now. Please help us convince Compost to tell us what he knows about Sissrath.”

Elena studied the others as she considered Saffron’s request. “I would be willing to ask him politely for information if you would be willing to invite him to sit down to dinner with us tonight in the dining hall.”

“Invite him to dinner?! But he’s my swollen enemy because of the crimes he has comittated,” Hyacinth pronounced sternly.

“Qué?” Elena asked.

“Daddy means that he can’t forgive Compost that easily for the horrible things he has done, such as trying to kill him,” Honeydew explained.

Elena crossed her arms. “Well, everybody has a choice. We can either keep doing things the same way and keep seeing things the same way, or we can open our minds to new possibilities. If you keep doing things the same way then you’ll probably spend the rest of your lives fighting. Mountain People. Big House City people. Fight, fight, fight. Battles. Sieges. Burning down circles. What if you could agree to a compromise and the Mountain People could agree to a compromise and you could make a peaceful place for your children? Everyone will have to give up things they don’t want to give up. That’s how compromise works.” Elena shrugged. “That’s my opinion. It’s your land. Do what you want. But I think forgiveness will serve you better than revenge and holding grudges. If you want me, you’ll find me in the kitchen.”

As Maia watched Elena leave the council chamber, she felt a rush of affection for her friend. At the same time, she knew that Elena had simplified things in her mind because she didn’t know the history of Faracadar and she had never seen Sissrath, the leader of the so-called dissatisfied people of the Mountain Downs, commander of the Special Forces, Compost’s boss, and the most malevolent individual she had ever encountered. She wanted to defend Elena’s position, but she could not believe that Compost had transformed himself into a harmless player in the unfolding events. She knew what he was capable of.

“Theoretically, she’s right, you know,” Saffron said, with a sigh.

“Theoretically,” Hyacinth echoed.

“But not realistically. She has this fantasy that we can make a truce with Sissrath, and we know he’s just not a truce-making sort of guy,” Denzel reminded them. The previous year, Sissrath had shot Denzel, his siblings, and all of their closest friends with poison darts and they would have died if not for Sonjay calling the Staff of Shakabaz to him and using it to save their lives just in the nick of time. After that, Sissrath ran away. Denzel did not look forward to another encounter with the powerful enchanter, who appeared devoid of any human attachments or affections.

“To get what we want, I think we need to honor Elena’s request,” Saffron said.

“Guess who’s coming to dinner,” Maia said to Denzel. It was a joke. Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner? was the title of an old Sidney Poitier, Katherine Hepburn, and Spencer Tracey movie about a white woman who fell in love with a black man and brought him home to meet her parents. Denzel shook his head and smiled weakly.

“I’ll send a message to Compost that his presence is desired at dinner,” Cardamom said. The council meeting dissolved and Saffron headed for the kitchen to inform Elena of their decision.

They reassembled at a long wooden table in the dining room that evening. Hyacinth and Saffron dressed up for the occasion and they appeared spectacularly royal in deep-purple velvet robes trimmed with silver braid.

Eight ferocious-looking guards escorted Compost from his cell to the royal dining room. He appeared in a mustard-yellow suit with a black shirt; and the dramatic change in his appearance shocked the others. His feet remained shackled, forcing him to shuffle to the table. After Compost sat, a guard chained his left wrist to his chair, forged from heavy metal, unlike the other dining room chairs, constructed from artfully carved wood. When Elena emerged from the kitchen with Guhblorin to join the others, she took one look at Compost, and glared sternly at everyone else seated around the table. Guhblorin flapped his ears uncomfortably and hid behind Elena.

“What?” Denzel demanded. “What do you have a problem with now?”

“You must treat a dinner guest with respect. You don’t chain a dinner guest to his chair. I will not bring a single tortilla out here until you release him,” Elena announced.

“Release him?” Hyacinth asked incredulously.

“Release him?” Honeydew and Denzel echoed.

“Unchain him,” Elena demanded.

Everyone looked around at everyone else uncertainly before Saffron instructed the guards to release Compost from his chains. The guards stepped forward and unlocked the chain at his wrist and removed the manacles from his feet.

“And bring him a comfy chair like ours,” Elena ordered. Honeydew reluctantly rose and fetched a carved wooden chair with a cushioned seat from against the wall and brought it over to Compost.

Compost thanked her politely.

Elena seated herself between Compost and Guhblorin. “Tell them,” Elena said to Compost. “Before we eat, tell them what they don’t read in the history books. Tell them what you told me.”

Compost replied, “I think they know Elena. They just don’t want to know.”

“Don’t assume. Tell it,” Elena demanded. “Explain why your people feel slighted and mistreated. Tell about the long-ago time.”

“Yes, tell me about that,” Denzel interjected. “I would like to hear about that.” He couldn’t imagine what type of explanation Compost might have given to Elena, what stories he had fabricated about the past.

“At one time,” Compost commenced as he looked down self-consciously, “the Mountain People did not live in one place. We wandered with the seasons and set up camp in small groups throughout the land.” He glanced around at the others. “We didn’t believe that land belonged to particular people. It belonged to all of us and we had enough of it to share. But the other people saw things differently and didn’t like our groups when we arrived for our seasonal encampments in their settlements. They forced us into the mountains and contained us on barren land where we had difficulty finding or producing food. Before that time, we had eaten no meat, but soon our circumstances forced us to eat meat to survive. At least we retained control of our own community in the mountains, even if we had been banished from the rest of the land and ostracized. Since that time, my people have continued to feel disenfranchised and discriminated against.”

“That’s a peculiar way to describe the relocation,” Cardamom commented.

“Peculiar to you but that’s how my people see it,” Compost snapped.

“Obviously there is more to say on this subject, but let’s eat before everything gets cold,” Elena said, as she gave a sign to the kitchen staff, who then brought in trays of food that smelled delicious. Elena had cooked goose-chicken enchiladas with mole sauce as well as bean-and-cheese enchiladas with a vegetarian mole sauce. She had made chili relleno casserole, guacamole, shredded lettuce with tomatoes and cilantro, Spanish rice, and three kinds of salsa. She had prepared pitchers of sweet horchata (rice water) as well as strawberry juice. The conversation disintegrated into yummy sounds and compliments to the chef.

When Hyacinth finally stopped eating long enough to speak, and opened his mouth to say something, he did not have a chance to utter a single mangled word because the doors to the dining hall burst open and in strolled Sonjay with the others who had escaped the Final Fortress, accompanied by an escort of more than a dozen hoverboarding intuits and the colorful flash of Bayard Rustin’s feathers.

Everyone stared in amazement.

“Just in time for dinner, as usual,” Maia declared. Then her gaze fell on the strange man with the dreadlocks who had arrived with Sonjay. He looked sort of familiar to her, but she couldn’t place where she might have seen him before. Bayard flew to her and perched on her shoulder as he eyed the dinner table, searching for berries.

“Good thing we made so much food,” Elena commented to Guhblorin quietly.

“Enough for everyone,” Guhblorin answered.

“You’ve been upstaged,” Compost said to Elena. “Frankly, that one gets on my nerves.”

“Be good,” Elena warned him.

The intuits stepped down from their hoverboards and dropped to the floor in exhaustion. The guards surrounded Compost to ensure that he didn’t try to escape in the midst of the excitement, but he didn’t seem inclined to go anywhere. He continued to shovel large forkfuls of Elena’s goose-chicken in mole sauce into his mouth as he pointedly ignored the new arrivals.

“Is that?” Denzel managed to whisper, before he choked up, unable to go on. Denzel’s chest felt tight and he feared saying another word because he thought he would start crying in front of everyone.

“Our father,” Sonjay confirmed. “I found him. Sissrath imprisoned him in the Final Fortress. I turned up at the Final Fortress after the passage. I always knew our father was there.”

At the sight of Denzel and Maia, Reggie’s face collapsed with emotion and his shoulders heaved. Large tears rolled down his cheeks. Denzel raced over to Reggie, who, sobbing, seized him in an enormous bear hug. Bayard leapt off her shoulder as Maia also ran to her father, who embraced her as well. Maia burst into tears and Denzel, struggling not to cry, clung to Reggie.

Compost continued to focus on his dinner plate as he leaned close to Elena and said, “This is all very touching, but what’s for dessert?”

Elena glared at him. “Listen,” she said, “I have stuck my neck out for you to give you a chance to clean up your act. Behave or I’ll have them chain your feet together again and laugh at you when you fall on your face trying to walk.”

“OK, OK,” Compost said, attempting to appease her. “I’m trying.”

“Try harder,” Elena told him. “The suit looks good but the suit does not make the man.”

A great deal of hugging and laughter ensued and then Denzel and Hyacinth began pulling chairs to the table for the weary travelers. Crumpet smacked his younger brother Cardamom on the back while Saffron greeted Buttercup. Reggie remained locked in a tearful embrace with Maia. Sonjay asked Hyacinth if he would have some of his house staff tend to the exhausted intuits, who had used every ounce of their strength to fly Sonjay, Crumpet, Buttercup, and Reggie to Big House City. Amid the bustle and laughter and excitement, no one had yet noticed Elena’s dinner companion until Sonjay spoke up.

“Do I know you?” Sonjay remarked to Compost. “You look familiar.”

“Compost,” Denzel replied. “He’s friends with Elena now.”

“You’re joking!” Sonjay exclaimed.

“It’s a long story,” his brother said.

“Is that a geebaching?” Crumpet asked, pointing at Guhblorin.

“That’s a long story too,” Denzel informed Crumpet. “He’s also friends with Elena.”

“Is she collecting dangerous creatures?” Sonjay asked.

“Don’t be rude,” Elena admonished.

“We all have a lot of explaining to do,” Cardamom noted. “We can do so while we continue with this tasty dinner that Elena cooked for us.”

“I don’t suppose you cooked any meat,” Crumpet speculated mournfully.

“As a matter of fact,” Elena informed him with a grin, “you’ll find plenty of fat pieces of goose-chicken in this tray of enchiladas con mole.”

“Woo-hoo!” Crumpet rejoiced.

“Now you’re talking, girlfriend,” Buttercup added happily as she plopped her ample bottom into a chair and pulled close to the table.

Interrupting one another and speaking animatedly between mouthfuls, Sonjay and Crumpet shared what they knew about the Corportons at the Final Fortress, Elena introduced the reformed Compost (with a stern glance in his direction to remind him to behave) and explained why a geebaching sat at her right hand, Honeydew and Denzel repeated the information provided in Elena’s phone call with Doshmisi, and Hyacinth (in his strange way of speaking and with help from his wife and daughter) described the siege.

Cardamom showed Sonjay the enchanted box he had made as a receptacle for the Staff of Shakabaz. After Sonjay had reclaimed the Staff from Sissrath the previous year, he had left it with Cardamom for safekeeping. The box, artfully decorated with seashells, measured about the size of a loaf of bread. Cardamom demonstrated how he could open the lid and lift the Staff out until it stood at its full height and weight, and then how he could collapse the Staff back into the box.

Elena, who had never seen the splendid Staff before, could not tear her eyes from it when Cardamom revealed it. The polished, shiny, carved wooden branch bulged at the top, as thick around as the upper arm of a muscular man, and it tapered down to a thickness of no more than the wrist of a young girl at the bottom. Bristling red, yellow, blue, and green feathers graced the top of the Staff, where wooden struts held them in place within a weave of jute. Below the feathers, strings of small shells hung in a cascade. The many faces of people and animals carved into the wood of the Staff peeked out from wooden strands that entwined around the main branch like vines or smaller branches. When removed from the enchanted box, the Staff stood more than nine feet in height. “Muy bonita,” Elena said softly, “beautiful.”

“And extremely powerful,” Compost informed her.

As Cardamom returned the Staff to its enchanted box, the others around the table fell silent. Into that silence, Buttercup announced, “Reggie is a Prophet of the Khoum.”

“For real?” Honeydew asked, her eyes growing wide with astonishment.

“How?” Cardamom demanded.

“As in the High Shaman of the Khoum? With the Mystical Book?” Saffron asked.

“How totally fondue!” Hyacinth exclaimed. The others promptly ignored him because fondue was a melted cheese appetizer and no one had any idea what he really meant to say. Compost muttered to Elena, “And this man is our high chief. It makes me want to holler.”

Reggie explained how he came by the book and learned how to use it, Honeydew explained what the Prophet of the Khoum was all about for those who didn’t know and, finally, Sonjay shared with the others the prophecy about the destruction of Faracadar and the deal that Sissrath had apparently made with the Corportons whereby they agreed to take him out of Faracadar with them when they left.

“Does anyone know why the Corportons came to Faracadar in the first place?” Sonjay asked. The question hung in the air, begging a response. But none arrived.

Slowly, all eyes turned toward Compost, who patted his belly contentedly between noisy sips of horchata. The center of attention, Compost asked, “Could anyone else go for an espresso right about now?” Elena kicked him under the table. He winced and shot her a reproachful look.

Cardamom addressed Compost. “Your new friend Elena believes that you have made a serious commitment to changing your life. Perhaps you could demonstrate just how serious by sharing with us any useful information you have about Sissrath’s intentions and the purpose of the Corportons.”

Compost cast his gaze over the others at the table.

“Now would be a good time to share that information,” Sonjay said.

Compost turned to Elena and asked, bitterly, “Do you hear that tone?”

“I hear it,” she replied. “But you can’t tell me that you don’t deserve it after the nasty things you’ve done. Be gracious. If you know something that would help us defeat this Sissrath character, then please tell us,” Elena requested politely.

“I happen to be extremely intelligent,” Compost said, raising his voice to make sure everyone heard him. “And I find it insulting when people talk down to me as if I’m stupid.”

“A lot depends on how you use your intelligence,” Guhblorin piped up. “I happen to be an extremely funny geebaching, but if I use laughter to kill people, what good is my talent to me or to anyone else? How do you use your intelligence?”

Compost studied Guhblorin in surprise. Everyone else held their tongue. Compost leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “You’ve already figured out most of what I know. The Prophet of the Khoum has prophesied the destruction of Faracadar. When the Corportons appeared at the Final Fortress, Sissrath negotiated an agreement with them. He will help them on their mission here in Faracadar and in return they will take him with them when they leave. Sissrath bound the agreement with deep enchantment. We all know the strength of his diabolical skill at that.” Compost’s voice dripped with irony.

Those gathered at the table had never heard Compost speak about Sissrath with such dislike before. It shocked them.

“What about you?” Sonjay asked. “Did Sissrath plan to leave you behind in this supposedly dying land?”

“No,” Compost answered, “he did not. Or so he told me. He negotiated for me to leave with him. But honestly, I never planned to go.”

“Why not?” Elena asked in surprise. “I mean, if you believe the prophecy about the destruction.”

“I do believe it,” Compost said, with uncharacteristic sadness. “But why would I want to go anywhere else? Would you do it? I have a family and friends whom I left behind in the Mountain Downs. If the land dies, I don’t wish to survive everyone and everything in my community. I would just as soon perish with all the rest, here at home. I didn’t share these thoughts with Sissrath. He doesn’t know that I did not plan to leave with him when the time came. What joy would I have in a life so far from my home?”

The others contemplated Compost’s words in silence until Saffron stated, softly, “I always thought you were Sissrath’s man to the core.”

“You thought wrong,” Compost informed her matter-of-factly. Then he sighed and put his fork down on his plate. “Have you ever considered how things look from my point of view? What good am I? I can’t throw enchantments. So I have to work for someone who can. Admit it:  You would never trust me because I come from the Mountain Downs. I have had only one path open to me to gain power. Only one way for me to help my people have a say in the significant decisions of the land. Those of us from the Mountain Downs do tire of being demonized by you. You could give it a rest, you know.” Saffron and Hyacinth furrowed their brows in thought and Maia wondered if they were reconsidering their treatment of the Mountain People who lived in the Downs.

Compost continued, “I wonder if Sissrath will live to regret leaving Faracadar. The Corportons come from a land fighting for its survival. They need this stuff that they came here to take. I don’t know what they call the stuff; but they need it desperately to save their own land and they somehow figured out that we have it so they came to Faracadar to get it. Sissrath has helped them to mine this substance at the North Coast. When they have enough of it then they’ll go home and they’ll take Sissrath with them. You and I and everyone else will remain behind to live out the prophecy, which, as Reggie will tell you, foretells the destruction of the land but not exactly how that will occur.”

“He has that right,” Reggie added. “I can see the destruction but can’t see exactly how it will come about. I know for sure, however, that a prophecy through the way of the Mystical Book never lies, it always comes to pass.”

“Why did Sissrath order the siege of Big House City?” Cardamom asked.

“It meant nothing,” Compost replied. “Absolutely nothing. Sissrath wanted to distract you, the royals, and everyone else in order to keep you out from under foot so that he could help the Corportons at the North Coast without interference. But then the Four turned up and started turning over rocks and asking questions.”

“So now what do we do?” Reggie posed the question on everyone’s mind.

“We have to meet Dosh and Jasper on Whale Island. They’ve been to the North Coast and they know more about all this than any of us,” Sonjay replied immediately.

“We got separated during the passage into the land,” Denzel told his father.

“I gathered as much from Sonjay,” Reggie answered.

“But we need to get back together,” Maia said. “Who will go to Whale Island?”

“I’ve come with you this far and I refuse to leave you now,” Elena insisted firmly.

“What she said,” Guhblorin agreed.

“I have to see my daughter,” Reggie said simply. “So I’m in.”

Sonjay placed his hand on the box that contained the Staff of Shakabaz. “We could sure use you with us, Cardamom.”

Cardamom nodded in Sonjay’s direction and they understood from the nod that he had just agreed to go with them. Then Cardamom said, “The high chief and chieftess should remain safely within the walls of Big House City; at least until we have more information about the situation.”

“Count me in,” Honeydew said. “I’ll go.”

“Princess, I think the people need you safely at home with your parents right now,” Cardamom told her gently. Honeydew stamped her foot stubbornly. “No, no, no,” she complained in frustration. Bisc stood and licked her hand comfortingly.

Buttercup spoke up. “How about this? Crumpet and I will remain here at Big House City with the royals.” She patted Honeydew’s arm sympathetically. “But when you’re ready to head for the North Coast, send us a messenger and Crumpet and I will join you at the Passage Circle to travel with you. At such time, the princess will accompany us.”

“I advise against that,” Cardamom noted.

“Saffron?” Hyacinth deferred to his wife.

“We will all join you at the Passage Circle,” Saffron said decidedly. “If the land is in such grave danger then we have no reason to hide in the Big House.” Honeydew was not happy to be left behind, but she agreed to that plan.

Elena rose from her seat abruptly and went into the kitchen to fetch dessert, which was chocolate raspberry flan and sweet pumpkin empanadas.

Between luscious mouthfuls, Sonjay complimented Elena, “Girl, you seriously know how to throw down.”

“Absolutely,” Reggie agreed. “You put your foot in it.”

“What does that mean?” Elena asked Reggie.

Reggie laughed as he explained, “They use that expression back home where I come from. It means that you cooked an exceptional meal.”

 “Bueno. Gracias,” Elena said with a modest smile.

Hyacinth beckoned to the guards, who came forward and surrounded Compost. “Time to return the prisoner to his cell,” Hyacinth commanded.

“Wait,” Compost said as he held up a hand to stay the guards. “I have one other thing to share with you. It may help you against Sissrath.” Denzel’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and he thought maybe Compost really had started to change.

“Speak,” Cardamom encouraged Compost.

“Sissrath has a phobia about cockroaches,” Compost announced.

“How can that help us?” Sonjay asked impatiently.

“Hear him out,” Elena cautioned.

“You have no idea,” Compost continued speaking, with a raspy chuckle. “He has tried to conquer this phobia unsuccessfully. He has brought healers and enchanters to him and ordered them to remove this fear from him. None could do it and he put them all to death one by one because he thought to keep his weakness a secret. He doesn’t know that I know about it. I am probably the only person alive who knows. When he sees a cockroach, he chokes. He has trouble throwing an enchantment in the presence of a cockroach. He can barely breathe. If you put a cockroach in his path then you will have a chance of overpowering him.”

“Brilliant,” Crumpet declared. He stretched out his arm, said an enchantment, and an army of cockroaches began to drop from his sleeve and march across the floor.

“Ewww!” Elena exclaimed in disgust. Many of the others swiftly echoed with “ewwws” of their own.

“Put those away,” Saffron demanded. “I run a clean Big House here.”

“As you wish,” Crumpet said. He made three large circles in the air with his left hand and stretched his fingers out toward the cockroaches he had unleashed. They disappeared in a puff of orange-brown smoke.

“That trick will come in quite handy,” Compost told Crumpet. “Trust me on that.”

“We do trust you,” Elena replied. “Don’t we?” she asked the others, who muttered and sidestepped the question.

 “We must remember our manners, people,” Elena asserted. “Gracias for the good information, Compost. I will leave in the morning, but I hope to return to see you again, mí amigo.” She hugged Compost, who patted her on the head affectionately.

“What’s up with them?” Sonjay asked Denzel, as the guards led Compost away to lock him up.

“She likes him,” Denzel replied with a shrug. “She talked him into taking a bath. Go figure.”

“So, is she your girlfriend yet?” Sonjay teased.

“Shut up,” Denzel replied, while secretly he admitted to himself that he had grown fond of Elena. She had more substance to her than he had previously realized.

With the meal over, everyone prepared to retire to their rooms. Reggie hugged each of his children in turn and then burst into tears again. “I have imagined myself kissing you goodnight so often. I have longed for the privilege of doing so. This simple thing. To do it now feels like a miracle.”

Both residents and guests at the Big House slept well in their comfortable beds that night. They dreamt of chocolate flan and woke up refreshed and ready for whatever challenges they would need to face in the coming days.

Sonjay, Maia, Denzel, Elena, Guhblorin, Cardamom, and Reggie rode out on their tigers right after breakfast, and made the Passage Circle by nightfall. After a joyful reunion with her drummer friends, Maia stayed up half the night drumming on the beach. Early the next morning the travelers rode over the first ocean bridge and onto the first of the islands. Maia shared a tiger with Reggie, who held her and kept her from falling off while she leaned back into her father’s arms with a contented smile on her face as she caught up on the sleep she had lost the night before while drumming. The travelers arrived by ferry at the dock on Whale Island in the late afternoon, well before sunset, and Cardamom led the way to Clover’s house at the library. The Goodacres’ grandmother (the mother of Alice, Martin, Bobby, and Debbie), Clover the Griot, had served as keeper of the history and manager of the library for many years.

The library compound consisted of a central courtyard surrounded by cottages. The cottages housed the books and other library holdings. Clover lived in one of the cottages, which she shared with her assistant, Iris. Her grandchildren had visited her at her cottage the year before. In the courtyard, the travelers dismounted from their tigers and hurried to her door. They knocked and then entered, comfortable doing so in their grandmother’s house.

When the travelers appeared in the cottage, Jasper jumped up from where he sat on the couch studying maps and ran to greet them. He grabbed Denzel first in an enthusiastic hug and thumped him on the back. “Where did you land after the passage?” he asked.

“Long story,” Denzel replied. “I missed you, man. I have so much to tell you.”

Jasper released Denzel and flung his arms around Maia, then Sonjay, in turn. “I have a lot to tell you too,” Jasper said. “Say, who are these guys? Whoa, is that a geebaching?”

“Why does everyone make such a big deal about the geebaching?” Elena exploded. “Duh. Sí. Yes. He’s a geebaching. His name is Guhblorin. Don’t judge.”

Unfamiliar with Elena’s straightforward style, Jasper threw a look of hurt and puzzlement in her direction. He put his hands up, palms outward, in a gesture of defense while Bayard squawked, “Latina firecracker, Latina firecracker.”

“Elena, chill,” Denzel said. “It’s surprising and worrisome for people in Faracadar to see a geebaching. Aight? Geebachings have a bad rep. Get over it.”

Elena scowled as she informed Jasper, “He’s a reformed geebaching. He doesn’t make people laugh to death.”

“No, these days I just make them laugh until they wet their pants,” Guhblorin interjected.

Elena whirled around and yanked hard on his ear, “Enough out of you. Don’t make matters worse. And that wasn’t even funny.”

Guhblorin yelped. “I must be losing my touch,” he said contritely.

“Let me introduce you to our dad, Reggie,” Sonjay said to Jasper. Then he turned to Reggie and explained, “Jasper went everywhere with us last year as our guide.”

“You found your dad!” Jasper exclaimed. “Fantastic.”

“Is my daughter here?” Reggie asked anxiously.

“Your daughter,” Jasper echoed. “Wait right here.” Jasper turned abruptly and hurried down the hallway to Clover’s bedroom, calling as he went, “Dosh! Dosh! Come out here. You won’t believe this.”

Doshmisi emerged from the room with a startled expression. Jasper took her hand and led her to where the others waited. Of the four Goodacre children, she alone remembered her father well enough from before he had disappeared to recognize him instantly when she saw him again. They blinked at each other in astonishment in Clover’s bright living room and then Doshmisi ran to Reggie and collapsed into his arms, crying and laughing both at the same time. “Daddy. It’s really you. Oh Daddy.”

“I thought I would never see you again, baby girl,” Reggie said. He looked over Doshmisi’s shoulder and his gaze fell on each of his children, one at a time. “I thought I would never see any of you again. I thought it impossible.”

“Yes, well, we changed all that, didn’t we?” Sonjay stated with satisfaction. “Impossible happens.”

Changing the Prophecy Chapter 16

 

Chapter 16 Trackers

When Sonjay floated through the wall of the prison cell, he saw his body below him on the floor. His father sat cross-legged on the rug and cradled Sonjay’s head in his lap. Buttercup slept in the bed and Crumpet had nodded off in the chair, his head thrown back and his mouth wide open. He snored loudly. Beyond exhausted, Sonjay weakly attempted, with no luck, to force his locomotaported self down into his body. He felt pinned to the ceiling. He feebly fought to remain conscious. Bayard flew in through the window and squawked, which caught Reggie’s attention and he gazed upward.

“Are you there, Sonjay?” Reggie asked.

Reggie could make out the vague misty outline of Sonjay’s form as he squinted up at the ceiling. “Come on down. Here you are,” Reggie encouraged. “I’ve got you, son.” Bayard squawked again, this time closer to the locomotaported self, as if trying to herd Sonjay back into his body. His squawk woke Crumpet and Buttercup, who jumped to their feet as quickly as old people can jump, and they waved and called to Sonjay, who mustered every ounce of remaining energy he had, took aim at his body on the rug, and forced his locomotaported self to float back down into his physical self. He returned to his body with a snap only moments before he dropped into unconsciousness.

When Sonjay opened his eyes, many hours later, he found himself tucked comfortably in his father’s bed in the dim cell. He fought the weakness in his body and sat up. His empty stomach growled with hunger. Taking care not to disturb Crumpet and Buttercup, who slept on the rug, he slowly made his way to the desk and lifted a corner of the cloth that covered the glow-lamp. Beside the glow-lamp sat a fat sandwich on a plate and a large glass of juice. “We set that out for you in case you needed a midnight snack.” Reggie’s voice emerged from the darkness at the outer edge of the cell. In the dim light, Sonjay identified his father’s form in the desk chair.

“Sorry I woke you. I tried to be quiet.”

“You were plenty quiet. I wasn’t asleep,” Reggie assured him. “How’d it go?”

“I ended the siege,” Sonjay stated matter-of-factly as he took a bite of the sandwich and chewed.

“I figured,” Reggie responded. “Did you see the others?”

“Just Denzel and Maia. Dosh isn’t with them. She wound up somewhere else,” Sonjay explained. “But they know where she went. They plan to meet up at Grandmomma’s on Whale Island. We need to get out of here and meet them there.”

“I have an idea about that,” Reggie informed him.

Sonjay stopped chewing. “Hit me with it,” he said expectantly.

“You locomotaport out with that parrot…”

“Bayard,” Sonjay interrupted.

“Yes, with Bayard,” Reggie continued, “and you find the key to the cell. You can’t carry the key in your locomotaport form, but Bayard can carry it in his beak. Do you think you could make him understand that he has to retrieve the key for us?”

“Not a problem. He’s no ordinary bird.”

“Bayard brings us the key through the window. Once we leave this cell, Crumpet and Buttercup will be able to use enchantment. They’ll get us past the guards,” Reggie concluded.

“Can they use enchantment inside the Final Fortress?” Sonjay asked.

“I have learned many things about this place while in this cell. Although Sissrath has blocked the use of enchantments inside individual cells, he does not have the strength to block enchantments throughout the entire Final Fortress. If we can just get Crumpet and Buttercup outside the confines of this cell, then their enchantments will likely work,” Reggie asserted.

“Buttercup’s anyway. We can’t depend on Crumpet. Let’s hope he doesn’t turn himself into anything too large for us to pick up and carry with us.”

Reggie laughed softly, and hearing his father’s laugh filled Sonjay with happiness. He smiled, took another bite of the sandwich, and suggested, “We should go at night when they’ll have more trouble following us.”

“That makes sense.”

“In the meantime, I can locomotaport out of here to look for the key.”

“No need. I know where they keep it,” Reggie said. Sonjay finished eating his sandwich. “Get some more rest. You’ll need it,” Reggie told him.

“What about you?” Sonjay asked.

“Don’t worry about me,” Reggie said.

Sonjay went to Reggie and put his arms around him. “G’night Dad.”

“Good night, son,” Reggie responded. He squeezed Sonjay’s upper arms briefly and then released him. “Sweet dreams.”

Sonjay crawled back into Reggie’s bed, contentedly, and fell fast asleep.

In the morning, Crumpet, Buttercup, and Sonjay meditated to gather their energy for the escape. Sonjay had hardly anything in his backpack so he gave it to his father. Reggie packed the few things he would take with him from the cell where he had lived for nearly ten years. Mostly he took books, and he had trouble deciding which ones. Although Sissrath had imprisoned his body, his mind had remained free. The books that surrounded him had served as his companions and he regretted leaving so many of them behind.

Impatient to embark upon their escape, Sonjay locomotaported out of the cell with Bayard the instant the sun went down. Reggie had described for him the guard house at the top of the stairs where the keys to the cells were kept and how to recognize the one for their cell. He had no difficulty finding the key and Bayard silently picked it up off its hook in his powerful beak when Sonjay pointed to it. The guard in the guard house (not one of the aliens, but one of the Mountain People) remained engrossed in a solitaire card game and did not notice the stealthy parrot behind him. 

Before they unlocked the door to the cell, Reggie took a last look around. Crumpet patted Reggie’s shoulder and said, “May the work of the Four continue.” He and his comrades often said that phrase at times of departure. It always gave Sonjay an odd feeling when he heard it because he was one of the Four and he never knew for sure exactly what his work might entail since he made it up as he went along.

The escaped prisoners clung to the cold stone wall as they crept up the stairs. Bayard perched on his favorite spot on Sonjay’s shoulder. Buttercup threw a sleeping enchantment at the guard in the guard house. Then Crumpet led them through a maze of hallways and out into the central courtyard of the Final Fortress. They had barely emerged when a flock of skeeters took to the sky with a racket of wings, cawing loudly to alert the guards and Corportons about the escaped prisoners.

“Those infernal birds. If I could, I’d fry up the lot of them and eat them for dinner. This way! Quickly!” Buttercup ordered as she made a mad dash for the gate and their freedom. The others ran after her.

Sonjay heard a hiss next to his ear and Bayard leapt from his shoulder and took to the air in fright. Sonjay ducked as a flying snake whizzed past his head. “Yuk!” he shouted as he jumped behind Crumpet, who had turned to face the onslaught.

Three flying snakes, more than five feet in length and as thick around as Reggie’s muscular thigh, glowed phosphorescent-green in the dark. They circled back, regrouped, and then flew at the escapees.

“Reptiraptors!” Buttercup screamed, as Crumpet raised his hands to cast an enchantment.

“Why you demonic, pythonic, moronic…” Crumpet began as he drew himself up to his full height and nearly exploded in fury.

“Babycakes, no!” Buttercup shouted at him. “Restraint. Control your temper.”

Sonjay clung to the back of Crumpet’s cloak, using the large enchanter as a shield to protect himself from the attacking serpents, and he reminded his friend, “Chill. Don’t get too bent. You’ll turn into a muffin any second.” Green electric light flashed from Crumpet’s fingertips briefly and then he closed his hands into tight fists. As the reptiraptors swooped in for the kill, Crumpet pulled his arms back and then, wham, wham, wham, he punched each of those flying snakes hard, right in the nose, like Muhammad Ali in the ring. He knocked them right out. Crumpet grinned at Sonjay as the reptiraptors dropped from the air and landed unmoving on the ground at his feet. “Doing it the old-fashioned way,” he said.

Buttercup immediately subdued the guard in the guard house with her handy sleep enchantment and the four of them fled into the hillside, where a thick fog engulfed them. “Stay close,” Buttercup commanded. They followed her up a rocky slope and into the forest. Once they had reached the cover of trees, Buttercup stopped and cocked her head to listen. They could hear dogs barking in the distance.

“They’re already tracking us,” Buttercup warned.

“Dogs?” Reggie asked.

“Sounds like it, yes,” Buttercup replied. “We’ll have to keep moving and find a way to throw them off our trail.” She put her arms around Crumpet and kissed him. “You done good, babycakes. You’re not a doughnut.”

“It’s all in the feet,” Crumpet boasted. “You gotta plant your feet and then pack a wallop.”

“How well do you know this territory surrounding the Final Fortress?” Reggie asked Buttercup and Crumpet.

“Extremely well. We live in the Amber Mountains,” Buttercup replied.

“Can you take us to a stream or river or other body of water? Those dogs will lose our scent in water,” Reggie told them.

“This way,” Buttercup pointed and the others scrambled after her as she retreated further into the forest.

“How’d you know that?” Sonjay asked Reggie.

“Haven’t you ever watched any slavey-in-the-South movies, where the slaves throw the slave-trackers and their dogs off by walking in a stream?” Reggie asked his son.

“You mean like Harriet Tubman and follow-the-drinking-gourd and all that?” Sonjay responded.

“Yeah, like American history.”

“No, not really. I saw Sounder ‘cause Aunt Alice insisted that it was important for my education. Slavery is depressing,” Sonjay declared.

“It’s important to know about history and your origins,” Reggie said.

“My origin is in Faracadar, and here we don’t want to head to the North. We want to head to the South.”

The four escapees moved quickly through the dark forest, watching the ground carefully to maintain their footing. Buttercup led them down a slippery slope into a ravine, at the bottom of which flowed a wide stream.

“So now we wade in the water,” Buttercup gasped, trying to catch her breath from the rush to stay ahead of the dogs, which they could still hear in the distance. She removed her shoes and tied the laces together, strung them around her neck, then hiked her dress up over her knees and tucked it into her waistband. The others followed suit with their shoes and rolled up their pants. In their haste, they splashed water on their clothes anyway. Sonjay feared stepping on something icky in the water in the dark, but he had to move too quickly to watch carefully where he stepped. Small round stones covered the bottom of the stream and he had to concentrate so as not to tumble into the water. Reggie stumbled as his backpack full of books threw him off balance.

They staggered and slithered in the stream for what seemed to Sonjay like hours, following it as it wound between the trees rising up on both sides of them. The sound of the dogs barking and baying faded. Sonjay wondered how much time had passed since they had escaped from their cell and how soon the sun would rise.

Buttercup came to a halt. “We can’t continue in the stream,” she said. “It winds to the North and we need to go to the South. Otherwise, we’ll never get out of the Amber Mountains. We have to go toward Big House City. This stream goes in the opposite direction.”

“Wouldn’t it throw them off in their pursuit if we continue for a while in the opposite direction from what they expect?” Reggie asked.

“We won’t find any help along this stream. To the South we will find sympathetic circles of people who will help us if we can reach them. We risk cutting ourselves off from these people if we go to the North,” Crumpet explained.

“Seriously, can we get out of this water?” Sonjay added.

Reggie sighed. “OK, to the South.”

They climbed up onto the steep embankment rising from the stream.

“Listen,” Buttercup cocked her head to the side as she sat down to put on her shoes.

“What are we listening for?” Sonjay asked.

“Dogs,” Buttercup answered. “I don’t hear them anymore.”

“I’ll take that as a good sign,” Crumpet said hopefully.

After they dried their feet and put their shoes and socks back on, the soggy escapees continued through the forest. Sonjay wished he could lie down and go to sleep. He wished he had a tiger to ride. He stumbled on a root and fell forward, catching himself on his hands as he landed hard on the ground.

“Maybe we should rest,” Reggie suggested anxiously. “We seem to have put the dogs off the scent for now.”

“There are some caves I know about just up ahead,” Crumpet informed Reggie, “and we can hide in there and sleep for a little while.” It didn’t take them long to reach the caves, where Sonjay curled up gratefully on the hard ground and fell asleep instantly. He did not know how long he had slept before Buttercup shook him awake. He saw the milky-blue light of early dawn beckoning from the cave entrance.

“The dogs,” Buttercup told Sonjay urgently. “I hear them again. We need to get moving.” The escapees grabbed their belongings and hurried back into the tree-covered mountains, with Buttercup leading the way.

Sonjay heard the dogs plainly and their baying grew noticeably louder by the minute. The dogs were gaining ground.

Bayard, who flew high up overhead, squawked “trees, trees, trees.”

“Wait, stop,” Sonjay called to Buttercup. He studied Bayard, who had changed his chant from “trees” to “up, up, up.”

Sonjay announced, “Bayard wants us to climb up the trees. We should do what he says.”

“He’s a bird,” Reggie protested, breathlessly. “What does he know? Birds always feel safe in the trees.”

“Trust me,” Sonjay reassured his father, “he’s an extremely smart bird. If he tells me to climb a tree then I will climb a tree.”

“We don’t have many options,” Crumpet pointed out. “I agree with Bayard. Buttercup and I might manage an enchantment or two on the dogs from up a tree. Let’s get off the ground.”

“Up!” Bayard called urgently as he perched on a high branch in an enormous fir tree. Sonjay grabbed onto the bottom branch and began to climb toward the parrot, the sticky sap turning black on his hands as he went. The tree was perfect for climbing. The branches led one to another and Sonjay clambered quickly to the top. Even Reggie, carrying the backpack full of books, had little difficulty climbing up the tree. The four of them spread out on the firm upper branches, which held them like the arms of a friendly giant. From his vantage point, Sonjay could actually see the dogs racing through the woods. Close behind the dogs followed more pursuers than Sonjay could count.

“Look,” Sonjay pointed out to the others, “no aliens, just Sissrath’s Special Forces. I never thought I’d be happy to see them, but I’m glad it’s them and not those Corportons.”

“I hear you,” Buttercup agreed.

“Do you think they’ll see us?” Reggie asked anxiously. “Maybe the tree’s branches will conceal us.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Crumpet said. “The dogs will go crazy when they catch our scent going up the tree. They’ll know.”

“Then what do we do?” Reggie asked.

Approaching rapidly, the dogs would reveal their whereabouts to the pursuing Special Forces in a couple of minutes.

“Skaters,” Bayard squawked. “Skaters, skaters, skaters.”    

“Skeeters?” Buttercup asked Bayard anxiously as she scanned the sky. The last thing they needed was a flock of skeeters.

“No,” Sonjay said, his head cocked as he listened to the bird. “Skaters.”

“Skaters,” Bayard confirmed.

“I thought he said skeeters at first too, but he said skaters,” Sonjay informed Buttercup, and then he laughed out loud.

“What’s so funny about skaters?” Crumpet asked Sonjay.

Sonjay pointed silently.

The others followed the direction of his finger with their eyes and saw something approaching, in fact many somethings. Reggie squinted against the light of the morning sun, struggling to see what Sonjay saw. But before he understood what he was looking at, hoverboarding intuits descended on the trapped escapees and scooped them up out of the tops of the trees. It took a half a dozen of them working together to hoist Buttercup into the air between them. She laughed delightedly. Sonjay jumped onto the back of Jack’s board, which was a long board, and Sonjay set his feet and flew with Jack as he and the others followed Bayard, who flapped furiously as he led the way to the South and Big House City.

The skaters had plucked the escapees out of the treetops and flown them away by the time the trackers arrived sniffing and barking madly at the base of the fir tree. The hounds’ furious snarls and yips faded in the distance.

“How did you know?” Sonjay asked Jack.

“We’re intuits,” Jack shouted over the sound of the rushing wind. “That’s what we do. We know.” Sonjay had never heard Jack utter so many words in a row before.

“You’re not just intuits,” Sonjay answered gleefully, “you’re skaters. Best thing I ever did in this crazy land was teach you little dudes how to skateboard.”

Changing the Prophecy Chapter 15

 Chapter 15 Buttered Biscuits

“Where’s Dosh?” Sonjay asked.

“At the North Coast with Jasper,” Maia told him.

“How come you guys split up?”

“We got separated in the passage,” Denzel answered.

“Then how do you know where she is?”

“Elena called her on her phone if you can believe it, but she was in the middle of something and couldn’t talk and now she doesn’t answer,” Maia explained.

Sonjay tried to process this extraordinary news. “Her phone?”

“For real,” Denzel confirmed with a quick laugh and an eye roll. “Crazy, huh? She said to meet her at Clover’s.”

Following Sonjay’s lead, they skirted the city and made for the main entrance. Occasionally Maia attempted to touch him, but each time her hand went straight through him. It was disturbing.

As they circled the city, while sticking to the protective cover of the surrounding forest, they saw that an encampment of Compost’s soldiers, heavily armed, guarded each of the entrance gates. Outside the main gate, Compost’s vast encampment stretched into the distance. Campfires glowed, tigers stirred restlessly in their paddocks, and soldiers went about their daily activities. Sonjay and the others concealed themselves in a grove of fir trees on the edge of the plain where Compost had established his military tent city.

They spoke in hushed voices.

“Stay here, away from their weapons, and out of sight,” Sonjay ordered. “I’ll go speak to them. They can’t kill me since I’m not in my body. If I can, I’ll appear to you again when I finish. Just in case I can’t, listen up. Do what Doshmisi said. Go to Grandmomma’s and I’ll try to meet you there with the Prophet of the Khoum.”

“Prophet of the Khoum,” Honeydew echoed dreamily.

“So you know what he means by the Prophet of the Khoum?” Denzel asked the princess.

“Of course,” Honeydew confirmed.

“Good. You can explain it to the rest of us later, after Sonjay disintegrates.” It bothered Denzel that he knew nothing about this Prophet of the Khoum and no one seemed forthcoming with more information.

“He’s not going to disintegrate,” Honeydew explained in the voice that Denzel thought of as her “professor voice.” Sometimes she was such an annoying know-it-all. “He’s just going to return to his physical body.”

“Whatever,” Denzel replied.

Sonjay sniffed the air distractedly. “Do you smell that?” he asked.

“What?” Denzel shot his brother a baffled look.

“Beans,” Elena said.

“Beans,” Guhblorin echoed, adding (because he couldn’t entirely suppress his geebaching nature) “the musical fruit.”

“Perfect,” Sonjay announced with glee. “I smell beans and I don’t smell meat to go with them. You know how the Mountain People love their meat.” Sonjay’s amulet began to glow with amber light.

“Can’t you ever think about anything other than food?” Maia demanded in disgust.

“Yup,” Sonjay answered happily. “But I bet those soldiers down there can’t. I bet those soldiers have thought about little other than food for days, maybe weeks. I have an idea. You can thank me later. Don’t go anywhere. Hopefully, I’ll be right back.” With those words he nearly disappeared. The others could vaguely see him in the form of a shimmer as he descended to the plain where Compost’s troops prepared to sit down to their meager meal of beans-with-no-meat.

Sonjay’s voice boomed across the plain. “Beans again?”

“How can he make his voice so loud?” Elena asked in wonder.

“It’s an amplification enchantment,” Honeydew said softly. “I can do that one too. It’s one of the first ones they teach us.”

“How many days of beans?” Sonjay’s loud voice continued, spreading in all directions so that the troops could hear him clearly throughout the tent city. “How long do you want to keep eating beans and leaves? Wouldn’t you just love to bite into a burger or crunch a tasty goose-chicken eyeball? Where’s the meat? Roasted, barbecued, fried up in a pan. Dripping with gravy and poured over mashed potatoes. With macaroni and cheese. With cranberry sauce. How about apple pie and pumpkin pie and pecan pie, with whipped cream, with ice cream. Or an ice cream sundae. Cold vanilla ice cream with hot chocolate sauce. Crushed walnuts on top.”

Compost’s troops had set their plates of beans aside and stood or sat transfixed, listening to the smooth voice as it seductively described the delicious food they dreamed about but had not tasted for some time during the siege.

“Spaghetti and meatballs. Garlic bread. Chicken noodle soup. Eggs and grits with sausages. Blueberries, raspberries, strawberry cheesecake. What are you doing here?” Sonjay asked the troops. “When you could go home to your family and friends, where you could drink kiwi juice, eat chocolate cake, barbecue some ribs, slow-roast a chicken. What do you gain by staying here? Nothing. You’re not well-fed. You’re not appreciated. How long has it been since you’ve had a good meal? A decent espresso? Waffles slathered in butter and syrup? Chocolate chip cookies. Tangerines. Butterscotch pudding. Sweet-potato pie. What keeps you from going home? Just say no. Go back to your farm and your gardens and your kitchen pantry full of tasty treats. Take back your life. Take back your dinner.”

Compost’s soldiers eyed each other with hungry eyes. They stared into their boring plates of beans-with-no-meat.

“Wouldn’t you give anything for a buttered biscuit? Can’t you just taste that biscuit right now? Flaky and light and warm? Yeasty and soft. Go home and make biscuits,” Sonjay implored. “Go home to your families in the Amber Mountains and bake biscuits and spread them with butter and eat them hot, straight from the oven. Imagine biting into those biscuits. Those hot, buttered biscuits!”

A sigh of longing rose from the soldiers as the words “buttered biscuits” passed from one salivating mouth to the next, reverently, longingly, and then with a fresh resolve. The soldiers gathered their belongings, mounted their tigers, and began a mass exodus from the encampment. In front of his tent, Compost threw a hissy-fit the size of Texas. He berated and threatened, jumped up and down and waved his arms in the air. He took off his hat and stomped on it. But no one paid him any mind and the din of departing feet drowned out his voice.

“Hot buttered biscuits,” Sonjay crooned again and again in that velvety hypnotic voice. “Flaky and buttery and warm from the oven. Melt-in-your-mouth buttery biscuits.” Sonjay repeated it until the legions of soldiers had mounted their tigers and headed away from the encampment while dreamily murmuring “buttered biscuits.”

The entire army quickly disappeared, leaving behind a deserted city of abandoned tents, uneaten beans, and trash. The news that the siege army had headed for home to eat buttered biscuits spread to the encampments of troops at each of the city gates and these troops also packed up and left for the Amber Mountains and their farms, families, and a good dinner. By the time the descending sun approached the horizon in the fading afternoon, only a handful of Compost’s most loyal followers shuffled and snuffled miserably outside Compost’s tent, burdened with the thought of all the buttery biscuits they would not eat.

Once the troops evaporated, Sonjay returned, exhausted, to the place in the woods where he had left the others.

“Awesome,” Elena complimented him as he approached them. “You’ve got game.”

“I’m one of the Four and that’s how we roll,” Sonjay boasted, with a weak smile.

“You’re the pusher-man,” Denzel said with an approving nod. “I can’t believe you pulled that off. I want some of them buttery biscuits my own self.”

Sonjay began to flicker in and out of visibility, Honeydew realized that his ability to control his locomotaport had worn perilously thin. “You need to leave,” she told him. “You need to go back to your body. Do it now. Can you do it?”  

“I think so,” Sonjay said faintly.

“Then go,” Maia urged him, anxiously.

“I’ll try to meet up with you at Grandmomma’s,” Sonjay whispered before he vanished completely.

After Sonjay vanished, the others turned their attention to the scene unfolding at the main gate of Big House City below. With his troops gone, Compost had no muscle. Honeydew’s father, High Chief Hyacinth, and a group of royal guards emerged from Big House City and proceeded to Compost and his tiny band of loyalists, which consisted of about a dozen bedraggled men. The instant Princess Honeydew saw her father, she called out to the others, “Let’s go.” She abandoned her hiding place and fairly flew down the hill. Elena and Guhblorin followed reluctantly since Elena didn’t yet feel safe walking out into the open and Guhblorin worried that someone would kill him on sight because he was a geebaching. He stuck to Elena like white on rice. Bisc trotted at Honeydew’s side. It reassured Elena somewhat to have Bisc with them.

As she ran, Honeydew called out, “Daddy! Daddy!” The royal guards had taken Compost and his men into custody. The high chief turned to look up the hillside and his face broke into a delighted grin as he saw his daughter and Bisc bounding toward him. High Chief Hyacinth adored animals and had a special way with them. Bisc jumped up on Hyacinth, nearly knocking him over, and licked his face enthusiastically. A few moments later, Honeydew flung herself into Hyacinth’s arms, sobbing. “Oh Daddy, I’m so glad you’re alright! I was so worried.”

“Not to worry,” Hyacinth comforted his daughter as he stroked her hair. “We’re fine. We heard the voice about the buttered biscuits from inside the city and wondered what enchanter had come to our aid. Who spoke of the buttered biscuits?”

“It was Sonjay, Daddy,” Honeydew told him. Then the words tumbled out of her as if a dam had burst. “The Four came back, only they got separated in the passage so Sonjay landed somewhere else but he locomotaported. Amazing, right? Not since Hazamon, huh?! But Sonjay did it. He found a Prophet of the Khoum. And Denzel and Maia are with me, and they brought a friend named Elena, and they found a geebaching, only he’s a friendly one, a Dud, who won’t hurt a soul, and Compost caught us and put us in a garbage labyrinth, but then the butterflies came and flew away with Guhblorin and when they brought him back he…”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” Hyacinth stopped his daughter, “too much inflotation. I’m completely obtuse.” Hyacinth spoke in a unique and somewhat incomprehensible manner because he confused the meaning of words. Honeydew was one of the few people who could usually decipher what he meant. She laughed happily to hear his mangled language.

“You must mean too much information and that you are completely confused,” she told him, as she stood on her toes and kissed him on the tip of his nose. “Obtuse means you’re not very observant. I don’t think inflotation is actually a word.”

“I mean you make no sense at all,” he replied.

“I know what you mean. I’ll tell you all about our adventures at dinner. I’m starved. What have we got to eat?”

“Any buttered biscuits?” Denzel asked hopefully. The others had caught up with Honeydew and Bisc. Hyacinth released his daughter and pulled Denzel and Maia into a joyful hug. As royals, the Four were distant cousins to him. He beamed as he greeted them, “Welcome,” he announced in a loud jolly voice, “Welcome to Big House City. I welcome you with opulence, corpulence, and flatulence!”

Elena did not know for sure what opulence or corpulence meant, but she knew what flatulence meant. She thought Hyacinth seemed a rather peculiar ruler and she struggled to keep a straight face so she wouldn’t insult him by laughing at him. But Maia and Denzel, who had traveled with him the previous summer and knew him well, busted out laughing, while Honeydew explained to her father, “Daddy, Daddy! Opulence means wealth, corpulence refers to a really fat person, and flatulence, oh my goodness,” she giggled, “flatulence means farting. I hardly think you wish to welcome them with that.”

“Oh dear,” Hyacinth said, worried and embarrassed. “I do have a nice big house and I have put on quite a few pounds from your mother’s delicious cooking, but I would never wish to subject my guests to flatulence. Oh my.”

“Not a problem,” Denzel assured Hyacinth good-naturedly. “We’re happy to see you again too.”

Meanwhile, the royal guards from inside Big House City had tied Compost’s hands behind his back and similarly incapacitated his few remaining followers. Elena could not stop staring at Compost. She had not had a good look at him when he captured them at the garbage labyrinth. Now that she could see him clearly, she was fascinated by him. He had the nappiest uncombed hair and a film of dirt dusted his yellowish-grayish-brownish skin. His fat belly hung over his belt and jiggled. But most of all she noticed that he smelled bad, like a person living on the street who hadn’t taken a shower in months. She had never seen a more repulsive individual. She looked into his eyes, which gazed back at her sadly in defeat. A wave of pity for him washed over her. Friendless, abandoned, disliked, he didn’t’ seem all that dangerous. He reminded her of the homeless people who came to her family’s church for dinners on Sundays. Elena often went with her parents to serve food to the homeless at church.

Compost asked Elena quietly, with a sneer, “How’d you get out of the labyrinth?”

“The geebaching rescued us,” she answered, just as the others paused in their reunion conversation. Her voice sounded louder in the sudden silence.

“No, it wasn’t really me,” Guhblorin protested. “It was the butterflies.”

“It was you and the butterflies. We would never have gotten out of there if not for you,” Elena insisted. “It was Guhblorin,” she told Compost and Hyacinth and all those within earshot. “The geebaching saved our lives.”

“How irregular,” Hyacinth muttered. “A geebaching of all things.”

Honeydew introduced Elena and Guhblorin to her father and added in a loud voice for all to hear, “Guhblorin is a good geebaching. He’s trying not to hurt anyone. He remains under my royal protection.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Guhblorin said as he flapped his ears nervously.

“High Chief Hyacinth, I plead for mercy for these followers of Compost,” Maia announced. “I think if you allow them to return to their homes, they won’t cause any further trouble. You have captured Compost. Please release these others. The rest of Compost’s troops have left for their homes already.”

Hyacinth rubbed his chin in thought.

“You can do that, Daddy,” Honeydew reassured him.

“Last year we let Sissrath run away with his followers and now look what a problemic scintillation he caused,” Hyacinth pointed out.

Elena thought that a scintillation was a flash of light. She figured that the high chief must mean the situation that Sissrath had caused with the siege. His odd speech was difficult but not impossible to decipher.

One of the followers in question instantly dropped to his knees and the others quickly followed suit. They looked thoroughly miserable. The one who had first dropped to his knees appealed to High Chief Hyacinth for mercy, “Please, Your Highness, allow us to return to our families in the Amber Mountains and we will not trouble you again. We are simple men who fear Sissrath. Please protect us from him.”

Hyacinth blustered and blushed. “Get up, get up,” he commanded. The prisoners stood. “I can’t promise to protect you from Sissrath. I can’t even protect myself from him.”

“Release these prisoners,” Princess Honeydew told the royal guards, who followed her order. The former prisoners hurried off before their captors could change their minds.

At that moment, Honeydew’s mother, High Chieftess Saffron, emerged from Big House City accompanied by Cardamom the enchanter and a great deal of hugging and back-patting and hand-shaking ensued, along with introductions. Cardamom was genuinely delighted to make the acquaintance of a real-live geebaching. Explanations were offered and stories swapped. While the others enjoyed their happy reunion, Elena continued to eye Compost curiously. He smelled quite like over-cooked broccoli, which Elena considered one of the worst-smelling things in the whole world. When her mother cooked broccoli, Elena left the house.

“So,” Elena asked Compost quietly, “how come you’re so dirty?”

“I like dirt,” Compost replied defensively, also quietly. The noisy reunion continued, with everyone oblivious to Elena and Compost.

“I don’t believe you,” Elena told him firmly.

“That shows how much you know,” Compost said.

“You smell dreadful. You can’t possibly enjoy that.”

“It keeps people like you from bothering me.”

“You don’t know me. Maybe I like rotten vegetables. Maybe you would like me.”

“I doubt it.”

“Why do you want to fight the high chief? What did he do to you?” Elena asked.

“He’s an imbecile who rules only because of his royal blood. He has virtually no ability at enchantment. He needs a barn full of advisors to make even the simplest decision. And yet he leads the land,” Compost spat out venomously. “The People of the Mountain Downs, my people, are infinitely better equipped as leaders and yet we must do the bidding of that fool who can’t even speak a grammatical sentence. I come from a people of great enchanters. We should rule.”

“If you think about it, though, it doesn’t matter how smart you are or how proficient you are at enchantment if you’re not a good person. To be a good leader, you have to be a good person. You have to be someone who cares about helping others and making their lives better. The smartest person in the world could be a rotten leader if that person is mean and hurts other people,” Elena countered.

Compost studied Elena uncertainly.

“Being smart isn’t everything, you know,” Elena added.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No. I came with my friends.”

“The Four?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s what you call them here. I wasn’t supposed to come with them. They didn’t want me to come, but I came anyway. It’s a long story.”

“I’m their sworn enemy, you know,” Compost told Elena.

“Your point?” she asked, somewhat rebelliously.

Compost chuckled. “Tell me, do you think someone who treats most of his subjects with respect but treats one group of his subjects like second-class citizens is a good leader?”

“Of course not,” Elena answered. “That’s hurting other people. That’s unjust and unethical.”

“Well,” Compost continued, smugly, “that’s the treatment my people have received. As if we are inferior beings. I resent it. If Hyacinth can’t treat us properly then he shouldn’t be the high chief, right?”

“My people are treated like inferiors a lot of the time where I come from,” Elena told Compost. “And the leaders in our country don’t do enough to stop it.”

“What are your people?” Compost asked. He focused intensely on what Elena had to say. It was as if the two of them were in their own private room, separated from all the clamor that surrounded them.

“I’m a Mexican-American, a Chicana. Where I come from…” Elena began to explain.

Compost interrupted her, “In the Farland?”

“The Farland?”

“You come from where the Four come from, right? The Farland.”

 “The Farland,” Elena repeated after him. “OK, where I come from in the Farland, Mexican-American people are often treated as inferiors.”

“Why do they do you like that?” Compost asked.

“Well, for one thing a lot of us speak Spanish instead of English as our first language, and for another a lot of us are immigrants.”

“Spanish? Immigrants?” Compost asked, uncomprehending.

Elena thought for a minute about how to explain it to him. “We originally come from a land farther away from the center of things than where most of the other people who live around us come from. Our land is called Mexico and we speak our own language called Spanish there.”

“The People of the Mountain Downs live farther from Big House City than anyone,” Compost said with a note of surprise.

“Do they treat you worse because of that?” Elena asked.

“Partly. We do things our own way, which is a little differently from the other people. For instance, the Mountain People eat meat and all the other people don’t.”

“You mean all the other people here are vegetarians?” Elena asked incredulously.

“No lie,” Compost confirmed.

“That’s loco!”

“Loco?”

“Crazy. They’re crazy. I couldn’t live without Carne Asada, Pollo Con Mole, or Pork Carnitas.”

“What is that stuff?” Compost asked.

“Mexican food! But of course; you never had Mexican food. Pobrecito, poor guy. Pollo Con Mole is chicken in spicy chocolate sauce,” Elena explained.

Compost’s eyes grew large. “Oh stop. Stop this minute. You’re killing me. That sounds so excellent. I haven’t had anything except beans and cabbage for weeks.”

“I can cook some for you. Mí abuela (that’s Spanish for grandmother) taught me how to cook and I love cooking traditional Mexican food.” Elena’s words tumbled over each other in a hurry as her thoughts raced.

“You would do that? Cook me Pollo Con Mole?” Compost sounded shocked.

“Why not?”

“Because no one likes me,” Compost blurted out.

“So change,” Elena said, as she tossed her blue-black hair over her shoulder. The two of them stared at each other for a long moment.

“Change?”

“Yes, change. Become a person people will like.”

“That’s too hard.”

“If the geebaching could do it then you could do it.”

“The geebaching?”

“Yeah. He decided to stop killing people with laughter. He changed. You could change too.”

“Like how?” Compost mumbled.

“Take a bath, for one thing. Get a haircut. I could cut your hair for you. Sheesh. Isn’t it obvious? Look at yourself. You’re a hot mess. Put on some decent clothes. You look like you just crawled out of that hideous garbage labyrinth. Brush your teeth. I mean, make an effort.”

“And what if I agree to do that?” Compost sounded extremely surprised to be saying those words even as they tumbled from his mouth.

“People might take to you. And I’ll see what I can do about this present predicament of yours and your previous unwise association with that unsavory Sissrath character.” At Elena’s words, Compost laughed out loud. His laughter caught the attention of Denzel, Maia, and the royals, who fell silent and gazed at Elena and Compost.

“Compost would like a bath if that can be arranged,” Elena announced.

Unfortunately, she announced this just as Guhblorin was taking a long drink of water from a bottle. He exploded with laughter, spraying High Chief Hyacinth. Water then poured out of his nose and ears as he fell on his back laughing like only a geebaching can, which set everyone else laughing. They all roared with laughter. Except for Elena, who kept a completely straight face. She had taken on a mission and remained unmoved by the hilarity.

“Compost is rethinking his identity,” Elena insisted, when the others had quieted enough to hear her. “He needs a makeover. He wants a bath and a haircut, which I will give him, and a large tray of Pollo Con Mole, which I intend to cook for him.”

“You’re serious,” Denzel replied.

“As serious as a hunting coyote,” Elena confirmed.

“As serious as what she said,” Compost added. “I’m with her.”

“We’re going second class together, aren’t we, Compost?” Elena linked her arm through Compost’s and, to everyone’s astonishment, she planted a tiny peck of a kiss on his grimy cheek. “Compadres,” Elena said.

Then the most amazing thing happened. Compost blushed. “Second-class compadres,” Compost said to Elena, with a twisted little smile.

Maia nearly fainted dead away at the shock when she noticed that Compost’s eyes glistened with unshed tears and she remembered a line from one of Momma’s favorite Otis Redding songs:  “Try a little tenderness.”