Chapter 32
That may have been the most exciting adventure I’ve ever seen in my thirty plus years of Questmastering!” Hob said, once all the lights had returned and the last images of the Uncrossable Sea faded from view.
The two wizards sat on opposite sides of a table, and other than a few playing cards strewn about, any evidence of the game of Champion’s Quest had been cleared away. I looked at the window where Garasculous the feathered eyeball drooped quietly, as though sound asleep. Beyond the glass, the outside was dark and quiet. We had been in the Lower Etchlands for several days, though they had all seemed to smudge together, which meant it was probably well past our curfew.
“What do you say, Bogie?” Hob asked, beaming at his partner. “Are we in agreement?”
Bogie rolled his eyes and yawned. “In agreement about what? Can we be done here already?”
“Not until you give them the praise they deserve,” Hob insisted. “After a performance like that, I challenge you to find a more seasoned Band of Champions than my Wild Crows.”
“Well, they’re not just your Wild Crows anymore, now, are they?” Bogie asked.
Hob folded his arms and snorted. “What is this nonsense you speak of?”
Bogie raised his eyebrows, gazing at Hob as though waiting for him to get the punchline of a joke. When Hob gave no indication of understanding, Bogie slapped the table. “Sierra McDonald!” he said, raising his voice. “She’s now an official member of their Band!”
“So?”
“So?” Bogie scoffed. “I loaned Sierra to them for their Quest. She was my alternate, ergo, we now share the Wild Crows as their Questmasters.”
“That’s preposterous!” Sliding his chair back from the table, Hob pointed a harsh finger at Bogie. “I will not sit here and let you—”
Jasmine cleared her throat, disrupting the rising argument. “Can we focus on us for a second?” she asked. “I mean, we did just finish a pretty important Quest, and I think we’ve earned some explanation.”
“Oh, wonderful.” Bogie’s eyelids fluttered with annoyance. “The arrogance has already begun.”
“Of course, of course,” Hob said. “Never mind him. He’s always moody, and we do love to bicker. Now, let’s get down to business. Let’s talk about the Wild Crows, shall we?”
“First things first,” Jasmine said. “Have you taken care of my Lola?”
“And my parents?” Sierra added.
“And our parents. I mean Mr. and Mrs. Crowe,” I said, remembering how when we had left them, they had barely finished eating dinner, which now felt like months ago. I could only hope Hob had used his crafty powers of persuasion to smooth things over with the Sunnyside caretakers, as he had done after our first Quest.
“Yes . . . er . . . um, sort of,” Hob said, making a rolling gesture with his hand.
“What do you mean by ‘sort of’?” Jasmine asked.
“Have no fear. Your guardians are safe and sound asleep in their beds.”
“That’s great,” I said. “So why are you acting weird?”
“Well, I’m afraid Jasmine’s grandmother and her Uncle Kulas may not wake up for a couple of days,” Hob explained, holding up his hands to calm Jasmine. “Now, please, let me explain. You gave them Mystery’s candy, which can cause alarming reactions. Bogie had to resort to all types of drastic thaumaturgy just to reverse the effects. Didn’t you, Bogie?”
“You’re welcome for that,” Bogie said, leveling his eyes upon Jasmine. “You have a lovely apartment, by the way. Tell me, do all those stuffed bears belong to you, or are you keeping them on your bed until you can find a suitable owner?”
“You went into my room?” Jasmine hissed.
“I did not,” he said. “But your door was open when I walked by carrying your Lola like a sack of mulch, and I happened to steal a peek.”
“Stop pestering her, Bogie,” Hob said impatiently. “If we indeed share partial responsibility for the Wild Crows, you might want to start treating them with a little more respect.”
Bogie curled his lip. “We’ll see about that.”
“Now, friends.” Hob rubbed his hands together. “You may make some inquiries about your Quest, and we shall try to answer them, if we are able to.”
Everyone started talking at once. We all had something we wanted to ask, and it took Hob a moment to restore order to the torrent of questions. Bogie left the answering to his partner, though he stood by the table, waiting to interject the moment Hob misspoke. I asked about our Quest and what would have happened had we failed to stop Raspaard and Faylinn from crossing the Abysmal with Madge. Hob danced around the answer, and while he did confirm that dire consequences might have resulted from failure, he refused to give up any details on what exactly they were.
“It doesn’t matter,” Hob said, “because we never had any doubts you would fail.”
“I had plenty of doubts,” Bogie said.
Jasmine asked about where Mystery had collected his Astral Stones. Hob replied with a less than satisfying answer.
“There’s only one place in the Lower Etchlands where Astral Stones can be found,” he said. “And I believe Mystery already told you that.”
“But how was he able to use them on us?” Jasmine pressed. “That seems wrong.”
“How is not important,” Hob said, bobbing his head from side to side. “Especially since the four of you discovered a clever way to foil Mystery’s plans.”
“You’re not going to answer any of our questions, are you?” Jasmine asked, folding her arms.
“You’re not really asking the right ones,” he replied. “The ones I can answer.”
“Where’s Madge now?” Sierra asked. “Is she still under Faylinn’s control?”
“Ah, there we go. That’s a good one,” Hob said, clicking his tongue. “Yes, a couple of days still remain on the term of Madge’s servitude to Faylinn. But don’t worry about her. There’s not much Faylinn can do, and Madge is as patient and resilient as a Sphinx. Besides, when last I checked the two of them were baking cookies.”
“Okay, what about Mystery?” I leaned across the table. “What happens to him now?”
Upon hearing this, Bogie began to chuckle. Also finding the question humorous, Hob cracked a smile, and the two wizards exchanged a wry glance.
“Mr. Waddlewort shall be waiting for our arrival on the Dueling Ground next week,” Hob said. “He will not enjoy it.”
“Another wizard duel?” I asked. “Does that happen after every Quest?”
“Only after the important ones. I’m actually looking forward to this one. Aren’t you, Bogie?”
“Indeed,” Bogie said. “I’ve been waiting for the chance to snatch away a few of that doppelganger’s cards for quite some time now.”
“Cards?” Miles’s mouth dropped open. “Is that what happens when you duel? You steal each other’s cards?”
That sent Hob squirming uncomfortably in his seat. “Um, unfortunately, we cannot provide further details when it comes to certain particulars of Champion’s Quest. There are binding rules that forbid such things.”
“But what about the cards in the game?” I asked.
“Yeah!” Sierra chimed in. “Which ones did you play to help us? Were the journal and the necklace from a card?”
Bogie heaved an exhausted sigh. “We cannot discuss that,” he said, scratching the side of his nose. “Did you not hear what he said?”
“Look, the important thing is that you now understand there’s more at stake riding upon your Quests,” Hob said. “Champion’s Quest is not just a game—it’s a mistake, a mistake Bogie and I have been trying to correct for thirty years. With each Quest our Bands complete, we get one step closer.”
“So you work together?” I asked, eyeing Bogie suspiciously. “And Mystery too?”
“Not exactly,” Bogie sneered.
“We each have our reasons for wanting to return home,” Hob said. “And now you’ve learned how Mystery is trying to stop us. While Bogie and I certainly battle with each other in most accounts, we both agree that even enemies can put aside their differences for the greater good.”
“For now, at least,” Bogie said. “Look, I’m exhausted, and I’m hungry, and I want to close up the Shoppe. And in case you’ve forgotten, Hob, we’re paying my apprentice, Mr. Fitzgal, his hourly wage to sit at home in his apartment and watch Netflix.”
Miles’s eyes suddenly widened. “Mr. Fitzgal? Barry Fitzgal is the name of the goblin?”
Bogie nodded. “Yes. Why?”
“Barfitzgal?” I squawked as the realization seemed to smack me in the face.
“No way!” Sierra hopped up and down in her seat. “Barry wrote that journal? I knew that card came from you!”
Once again, Hob glanced at Bogie. “Clever, aren’t they?”
“I suppose so,” Bogie admitted.
“Are you trying to tell us Barry the goblin is actually a Questmaster?” Jasmine asked, smirking skeptically. “He has the fourth set of dice?”
“He did have them,” Hob said, “but he lost them.”
“How?” I asked.
“That’s a long story involving Mystery Waddlewort, a bookmobile, and Barry’s uncontrollable addiction to ice cream,” Hob explained.
“Oh, yes!” Miles rubbed his hands together eagerly. “I can’t wait to hear that one!”
“I’m afraid now is not the time for that,” Hob said, pursing his lips. “The four of you should be getting home. Why, it’s nearly three in the morning. That certainly seemed like a sufficient Q&A, don’t you agree?”
“We can’t go home yet,” I said. “I still have questions.”
“Me too,” Miles agreed. “We’re all mixed up now. I’m the Artisan. Lucas is the Gamekeeper. What do we do about that?”
“Yeah, can we change back?” Jasmine asked.
“Why on earth would you want to?” Hob gawked at her dumbfoundedly. “You all played exceptionally well. Swapping Character roles in the middle of a Quest like that was certainly groundbreaking. Bogie and I never saw it coming, and I dare say it bamboozled poor old Mystery Waddlewort as well.”
“But I like being the Harvester,” Jasmine said. “I like to fight.”
“And I miss Goon. He doesn’t even like me anymore,” Miles grumbled.
“That’s not true, Miles,” I said.
Miles narrowed his eyes. “You keep saying that, but I don’t believe you.”
“What about Sierra?” Hob asked, gesturing across the table. “As a newly appointed member of your Band, she should have a say in these changes, shouldn’t she?”
“Oh, I don’t care,” Sierra said, grinning contentedly. “I’m just happy with whatever.”
“That’s the spirit! Way to see the bigger picture, Sierra. Every Champion plays an equal part. All Characters are important. You just have to roll with it.” Hob chuckled at his own joke, but when he noticed the anxious looks on everyone’s faces, he blew a raspberry. “Very well. If it truly bothers you, we can look into some sort of swap. I can make no promises with randomized dice rolls, but I suppose we can give it a try when you begin your next game. Now, off you go.”
I didn’t want to leave yet. I could have sat there in the Curiosity Shoppe for hours, prying into the mysterious ways of the two cryptic wizards. Plus, I feared the moment we walked out the door into the alley, it would be at least another month or longer before we could return for our next Quest. Hob, however, was insistent that we be on our way.
“How are we going to get home?” Jasmine asked, as we stood from the table. “We don’t have a ride.”
“I called you an Uber,” Bogie said dryly. “He’s waiting outside, but don’t worry, he’s bewitched.”
“Oh, and Bogie?” Hob snapped his fingers and pointed at Jasmine.
Bogie nodded and handed Jasmine a jar of yellowish goop. It looked like putrid Vaseline.
“Slather this beneath your grandmother’s and uncle’s noses twice a day,” Bogie instructed. “Once in the morning and another by early afternoon. They should wake up sometime Monday evening. I’m afraid they’ll be grumpy.”
“What is this?” Jasmine asked, eyeing the jar with disgust.
“I don’t have to tell you that,” Bogie said, grimacing.
“Have a good night, my friends.” Swooping his arms wide, Hob ushered us toward the door. “Go home and celebrate. Revel in your victory!”
“Wait!” Miles shouted, stopping abruptly, his shoes scrubbing the floor. “Are we all Silver Level now?”
“Um . . . well, . . . I believe so,” Hob stammered. He glanced back at Bogie for confirmation, but the younger wizard had already wandered through the back door of the Shoppe. “Silver Level, yes, that sounds about right.”
“What about treasure?” I asked, following Miles’s lead, by digging in my heels and forcing Hob to stumble. “Did we earn more of that?” After our first Quest, there had been piles of gold and gemstones in our trunks, waiting for us to spend.
“Listen, children, there’s no need for such excitement,” Hob said, gasping with irritation. “There will be plenty of time to delve further into all your prying questions, when you come back tomorrow.”
As he opened the door and the warm night air wafted through the opening, Garasculous stirred in the window. The ferocious eyeball made a sound halfway between a snarl and a snore, but then fell quiet once more.
“Tomorrow?” I asked, stopping in the doorway.
“Yes, tomorrow.” Squinting, Hob pointed to his handwritten note pasted to the window. “Saturday evening. Seven o’clock sharp. Like a dagger. That was our original appointment, was it not? Unless, of course, you’d prefer some time off to recover from your latest Quest,” Hob said, raising an eyebrow. “A little rest and relaxation for a job well done.”
A feeling of immense excitement tingled in my spine as I looked around at the others. They were all smiling eagerly, thoughts of our next adventure no doubt filling their heads. And then I turned back to Hob.
“We’ll be here!”