“What could possibly be taking them so long?” Aldwyn asked. “I don’t understand why we’re still being kept down here.”
Several hours had passed since the familiars had been detained. The steel bars on the dungeon cell stared back at Aldwyn, their dull glow dampening any attempts at magic cast from within. No food. No water. No hint as to what those on the outside had in mind for them.
“We should be out there helping,” said Skylar, who was perched on a brick protruding from the wall. “I’ve seen tomes about reversing those kinds of necromantic spells. The longer we’re locked in here, the stronger that curse will become. It could be too late already.”
“Let’s not overreact, guys,” Gilbert said, almost sounding desperate. “The queen is probably recovering as we speak. Urbaugh just hasn’t had a chance to release us yet.”
“When I find out who’s responsible for this, I’ll hang the traitor myself,” Skylar said.
“Hang?” Gilbert croaked. “Is that what they do to traitors?” He hopped up to the bars and shouted at the top of his lungs, “We’re innocent! We didn’t do anything!”
“I never met a dungeon dweller who didn’t claim to be innocent,” a voice called out from the darkness.
Aldwyn looked over to discover that the voice belonged to a warthog standing in the cell across the hall. He was thin and pale, but his tusks appeared as sharp as ever.
“We are innocent,” Aldwyn said.
“And I did not commit treason against Loranella,” the warthog replied, flashing the double hex—two concentric circles with a five-pointed star at its center—branded into his paw. It was the sign of allegiance to Paksahara, the evil hare who had tried to take over the queendom. The warthog continued, “I was trying to save our land from the rule of humans. Good to have the three of you on our side now.”
“Are you responsible for this?” Skylar demanded.
The warthog smiled and slunk back into the shadows.
Just then the heavy metal door to the dungeon could be heard swinging open. Footsteps followed and soon a bolka-dur appeared. Troll-like, with green, wart-covered skin and a snout, the creature wore a collar with keys dangling from it. Urbaugh walked alongside the dungeon keeper with a torch floating in front of him. Behind them were three expressionless figures dressed in crimson robes. These were the Truth Seekers, interrogators of the queens’ guard. Each removed a steel cage from hooks hanging on the wall and continued down the hall.
The bolka-dur used one of the keys to unlock Aldwyn, Skylar, and Gilbert’s cell, and the others entered.
“Galatea has ordered each of you to be questioned,” Urbaugh said coldly, avoiding eye contact with the familiars. “And it won’t be by me. The Truth Seekers were dragged out in the middle of the night to do it.”
“Urbaugh,” Aldwyn pleaded, “you know we would never do something like this. Please, you have to believe us.”
“In my heart, I do,” Urbaugh said. “But what I’ve seen with my own eyes tells a different story.”
Seen with his own eyes? What was he talking about?
Urbaugh gestured for Aldwyn, Skylar, and Gilbert to exit their cell. They were immediately ushered into separate cages, locked in, and picked up by the Truth Seekers. Aldwyn watched through the tiny slit of his cage as he was carried down the hall. He could see other inhabitants of the dungeon staring back at him as he and his companions were led toward the door. Firescale snakes, wolverines, and the worst that humankind had to offer.
“Don’t let them intimidate you, brother,” one of the wolverines snarled.
“And whatever you do, don’t grovel for forgiveness,” added a firescale snake. “You only did what the rest of us wish we could have.”
It made Aldwyn’s fur bristle to hear these villains of Vastia think of him as one of them. He had been thought of as a scoundrel before, when he was forced to steal food on the streets of Bridgetower. But even then, his crimes were committed only so he could survive. He never hurt anyone. Then everything changed for him. Jack chose him as his familiar and he discovered that he was one of the Prophesized Three, destined to save the queendom. He became part of something bigger than himself, something he could be proud of. People saw him not as a lowly street urchin but as a hero. And he never wanted to go back.
The Truth Seekers stopped before the dungeon door, waiting as the bolka-dur let them and Urbaugh through. They continued into the forbidden hallways rarely seen by castle visitors. Aldwyn even caught a glimpse of the steel door to the palace vault, which spit fire as they passed. A few steps later the Truth Seeker carrying Aldwyn took a sudden turn away from Gilbert and Skylar.
“Hey,” Aldwyn called. “Where are you taking me? Why aren’t I going with them?”
His questions were met by silence.
Aldwyn’s cage was set down on a table and the door unlocked. The Maidenmere cat stepped out and stretched his legs, then looked around the room. It was simple and empty, and the walls were the same creamy alabaster as the ones in the cellar of Kalstaff’s cottage.
The Truth Seeker sat opposite him in a chair. The hooded robe was pulled back to reveal a dark-skinned woman, expressionless.
“Ask me anything,” Aldwyn said. “I have nothing to hide.”
“I will not be the one asking the questions,” the woman said. “My familiar will be.”
A tarsier emerged from behind her robe. The pocket-size primate had spindly fingers, a snakelike tail three times the length of its body, and giant piercing eyes that took up half its head.
“It’s quite a thrill to be sitting across from the prophesized cat,” the tarsier said. “And a mighty big surprise. Under these circumstances, anyway.”
“Whatever evidence you think you have, it’s a setup.”
Aldwyn looked into the tarsier’s bulging eyes. He attempted to read his mind but was met with nothing more than a hazy cloud of gray. There appeared to be some kind of magic protecting the thoughts of Aldwyn’s inquisitor.
“Have you ever been a member of the Noctonati?” the tarsier asked.
“No. Never.”
“Have you ever been associated with a member of the Noctonati?”
“What are you getting at?” Aldwyn asked.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” The tarsier’s eyes never wavered from Aldwyn’s. “Have you ever been in possession of mugwort? Echo drool? Vulgar cinquefoil?”
“I don’t know. I hardly keep track of all the components I’ve come across.”
“Black lichen? Tarantula teeth? Ghoul bile? I could keep going if you like.”
“Yes, I’m sure you could,” Aldwyn replied. “I just have no idea what it has to do with me.”
“They were found in your rooms,” the tarsier said. “Along with a copy of Wyvern and Skull’s Tome of the Occult.”
“That’s ridiculous. Someone planted those things,” Aldwyn said. “Besides, doesn’t that seem a bit convenient? I mean, if I was really going to hurt the queen, why would I leave evidence of it in my room?”
“Ah, so tell me, how would you hurt the queen?”
“Now you’re just twisting my words,” Aldwyn said. “I wouldn’t hurt her.”
“Whose idea was it to visit Agdaleen’s lair?” the tarsier asked.
“That was months ago.” Aldwyn thought for a moment. “I suppose it was Skylar.”
“Hm. Interesting. And her questabout? Where did she go again?”
“The lost Xylem garden of Horteus Ebekenezer.”
“Ah, the fabled garden filled with forbidden components.” The tarsier paused. “Have you ever questioned your good friend Skylar’s loyalty?”
Aldwyn remained silent. He had.
“Have you ever thought that Skylar was capable of hurting someone that you loved?”
He had.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“But I was wrong,” Aldwyn said. “I had misinterpreted one of Gilbert’s puddle viewings. I never should have doubted her.”
“Or maybe you should have.”
“Are you finished yet?” Aldwyn asked.
“No, I’m just getting started. Let’s talk about you for a moment. Orphaned as a kitten. A long history of theft. Street fights. There was even a bounty on your head by numerous fish and fowl shops in Bridgetower. They considered you their number one enemy.”
“I didn’t hear a question.”
“Do you ever miss your life of crime?” the tarsier asked.
“No,” Aldwyn answered. “Not for a moment. I only did those things out of necessity. To eat. To survive. It’s not the same.”
“Once a criminal, always a criminal in my book,” the tarsier said. “Tell me more. Malvern. He was one of Paksahara’s most trusted conspirators. And your uncle.”
“Malvern betrayed me and my family. I was hardly on his side. His death at my paw should be evidence enough of that.”
“So you admit that you are a murderer?”
“It was self-defense,” Aldwyn said.
“But you proved that you’re capable of killing.”
Aldwyn was getting more and more frustrated. He didn’t like this one bit. And even though it was tempting, clawing the tarsier’s eyes out certainly wouldn’t help his cause.
“You haven’t even told me,” Aldwyn said, holding back his anger. “How is Queen Loranella?”
“Concerned that perhaps you and your companions didn’t finish the job?”
“Please,” Aldwyn said. “Please tell me that she’s all right.”
“The best healers in Vastia are by her side. They’ve been able to keep her in the Wander, between this life and the Tomorrowlife.”
Aldwyn exhaled. Relief flooded him. No matter the predicament he was in, at least she wasn’t dead.
The door creaked open and one of the other crimson-robed Truth Seekers entered. She walked up to the woman sitting across from Aldwyn and whispered in her ear. As suddenly as she arrived, she was gone.
“Gilbert has confessed,” said the woman. “This interrogation does not need to go on any longer.”
“It’s a lie,” Aldwyn said. “I don’t believe it.”
“Perhaps his conscience was heavier than yours,” the tarsier said.
“No. You must have confused him. Or tricked him. There was nothing for him to admit to, because we didn’t do anything!”
“This much I do know,” the tarsier said. “There will be leniency for those who cooperate. If you insist on withholding the truth, your punishment will be severe.”
No threat, whatever the consequence, would make the orphan cat confess to a crime he didn’t commit. Growing up on the streets of Bridgetower, honor was all that he had. And he wasn’t going to compromise it now.
“I’m innocent,” Aldwyn said simply. “We all are.”
The tarsier turned to his loyal and the two shared a look.
“Back in your cage, cat,” the Truth Seeker said.
Aldwyn returned to the metal carrier. The tarsier climbed inside his loyal’s robe, and she locked the cage and lifted it from the table.
She retraced her steps back to the door of the dungeon, where the bolka-dur was waiting. The creature gleefully ran his stubby fingers along the chain of keys around his neck until he found the right one and slid it into the lock. Once through to the other side, they returned to Aldwyn’s cell, where again the bolka-dur did what he did best. He unlocked the otherwise impenetrable cell. Gilbert was already inside.
Aldwyn’s cage door was opened and he was allowed to join his companion. The Truth Seeker departed. Gilbert sat in the corner, a mix of shock and fear on his face.
“They said they have evidence, Aldwyn,” Gilbert croaked. “Components, hexes, diaries filled with our plans.”
“Someone obviously wants us to take the fall for this,” Aldwyn replied. “The question is who.”
“The palace chef has had it out for me ever since I criticized his beetle soup.”
“I think this might be a little more complicated than that,” Aldwyn said.
Aldwyn’s mind was racing through the possibilities. There were the strangers he had met at the celebration. Then there were the animals who remained loyal to Paksahara but still were unaccounted for. And the humans who never liked the decision made by Loranella to share her throne with Galatea. That hardly narrowed it down.
Just then, something on the ground caught Aldwyn’s eye. A line was being drawn in the dust and grime clinging to the stone floor, as if an invisible finger was moving just below the surface. At first Aldwyn figured it was nothing more than a phantom slug. But after a moment he realized that letters were being written, from right to left. Already woyt had been spelled, and the letters were coming faster now. Just to the left of the w came a d, then s, o, and u. The finished word spelled uosdwoyt.
“Gilbert, come look at this,” Aldwyn said.
The tree frog hopped over to Aldwyn’s side and looked down at the floor. A second word had already formed to the left of the first: udpjbm.
“Udpjbm uosdwoyt?” Gilbert asked. “What does it mean? I don’t get it.”
“Neither do I,” Aldwyn replied.
“You mean you’re not using your telekinesis to do that?”
“No.”
More words were forming in the dirt. Aldwyn and Gilbert just stood there watching until whatever was writing them was done. Then Aldwyn read the words aloud:
“Spuowbip wjots sby udpjbm uosdwoyt. I think it’s some kind of message for us.”
“But who from?” Gilbert asked.
“I don’t know. Another prisoner or a spirit from the Tomorrowlife? The castle itself. It could be anyone.”
“Well, whoever sent it must think we speak gobbledygook,” Gilbert said. “Because that doesn’t make any sense.”
Down the hall they saw another Truth Seeker carrying Skylar to the cell. The bolka-dur unlocked the door and the blue jay fluttered out from the cage to perch again on the protruding brick. The dungeon keeper slammed the cell door shut once more, relocking it. The bolka-dur then followed the Truth Seeker toward the dungeon exit, where she placed the open cage back on its hook before being led outside.
“You okay?” Aldwyn asked Skylar.
She didn’t respond.
“Well, you got back just in time,” he continued. “I think somebody’s trying to tell us something.”
Again, she just sat there quietly.
“Come on, Skylar, I need you to look at this,” Aldwyn said, growing impatient. “It’s written in some other language.”
“What’s wrong with her?” Gilbert asked.
Then, before their eyes, the blue jay vanished.
By the time Aldwyn and Gilbert realized what had happened, Skylar had flown out from the cage hanging down the hall and was hovering just outside their locked cell door. She had tricked them all with a clever illusion. The real Skylar had been in the cage the whole time.
“We have to hurry,” she said. “The dungeon keeper will be back shortly.”
“How are you going to get us out?” Gilbert asked. “He has the only key that can unlock this door.”
“Not the only one,” she said.
Skylar raised her wings and focused on the keyhole.
“What are you doing?” Aldwyn asked.
“Remember what Hepsibah was able to do over Liveod’s Canyon?” Skylar replied. “The most powerful birds at Nearhurst can create illusions so convincing that they can momentarily take solid form.”
“I thought only five-feather master illusionists could do that,” Gilbert said.
“Well, I’ve been practicing. Now be quiet. I need to find my focal point.”
She concentrated and soon a key began to materialize. Aldwyn did a double take. He couldn’t believe it wasn’t real. The key found its way into the lock and gave a twist. Then the cell door opened.
“Wait,” Aldwyn said. “Before we go, there’s something you need to see. A message, written on the floor of our cell. It just appeared out of nowhere.”
Skylar glanced over and repeated the strange words aloud.
“Come on,” Skylar said. “I’ve already memorized it. We’ll figure it out later. Now let’s go.”
As the three animals took to the hall, prisoners from the neighboring cells ran up to their bars making a racket.
“Hey, let us out, too!” a pockmarked man with no teeth shouted.
“I don’t belong in here,” an elvin pirate called.
“I’ll help you escape,” the firescale snake hissed from a cell with bars so tight even she couldn’t slip through.
“You’re not going to leave without us, are you, brother?” the wolverine called out to Aldwyn.
“I’m not your brother,” Aldwyn yelled back.
The familiars hurried for the dungeon door. But they’d made it only halfway there when the bolka-dur burst through, spiked billy club in hand.
“Shut your slop holes,” he hollered, banging his club against the first bars he could. Then his eyes fell on Aldwyn, Skylar, and Gilbert running toward him. “How did you? It’s impossible.”
He flung his spiked billy club down the hall like an ax. Aldwyn used his telekinesis to catch it in midair, then fired it back at the dungeon keeper. The blunt end struck the bolka-dur square in the forehead, knocking him out cold. His body dropped to the stone floor, his head landing against the bars of one of the cells.
The familiars were now racing toward an open door. But no escape plan could go that smoothly. A wrinkled hand reached out through the cell bars and a witch’s fingernail sliced through the band of the bolka-dur’s leather collar. She lifted the key ring off his neck and unlocked the door to her dungeon cell.
Reveling in her first taste of freedom, the witch threw the key ring into the air and incanted: “Otebrit vsechny dvere!”
And with those words uttered, the keys broke off from the chain and soared through the air, until each one found its home in a different lock. Then the keys turned in unison, opening every last cell door in the dungeon block. Prisoners poured out into the hall. With a mob mentality, they turned on the fallen bolka-dur.
Aldwyn came to a stop at the door.
“Come on,” Skylar urged. “This is our chance. Let’s go.”
But Aldwyn couldn’t just let the dungeon keeper get ripped to pieces. He eyed the spiked billy club and telekinetically lifted it from the ground, swinging it in a circle around the bolka-dur to ward off any attackers.
Skylar and Gilbert reluctantly turned back to help.
Suddenly a dozen palace guards were rushing through the dungeon door, drawing the attention of the prisoners. Aldwyn could tell by the way Skylar was holding her wing that these were mere illusions. He immediately focused all his mental energy on the bolka-dur and strained to tug him across the floor with his mind.
All through the dungeon there was chaos. Bolts flew from the witch’s fingertips and flames blasted off the back of the firescale snake. Aldwyn was even nearly gouged by the sharpened tusk of the warthog.
The familiars were able to escape through the dungeon door, dragging the bolka-dur behind them. The elvin pirate tried to slip through as well, but Gilbert bounced up and kicked him, forcing him to stumble backward. Aldwyn telekinetically slammed the door shut and sent the blockade bar crashing down across it. Leaving the still unconscious bolka-dur resting against the door, the trio continued on their way.
They had successfully fled the dungeon, but they still had to navigate their way out of the castle and escape the city. The familiars had gone from being Vastia’s most celebrated to its most wanted.
The Prophesized Three were fugitives.