CHAPTER

24

For days, Calib had been looking down his snout at only rock and darkness and more rock. The rebellion had found several passageways that had been dug out long ago by some other creatures, but many had caved in or led to nowhere. None led to the surface.

That evening, around the campfire, there was somber news. One of the more promising tunnels had collapsed, nearly killing two moles.

“We have to start over!” Lylas said, his jaw set with frustration. “This is the fifth time this has happened!”

“What is causing these cave-ins?” Calib asked.

“No idea,” Lylas said. “Everything seems to be going well when we leave to sleep, but then our supports come loose in the night. If I had to guess, I feel as if someone or something is purposefully sabotaging our efforts.”

“Badger,” Leftie growled warningly, “heed your words. Who among us wants to stay here forever? We must continue to trust one another, or else all is truly lost.”

Lylas looked into the embers. “I’m sorry, Leftie. Of course I don’t think any creature within our ranks is hindering our efforts.”

“I think those tunnels are cursed,” Ginny said softly, wringing her apron with her paws. “I hear spooky noises coming from them at night.”

“There’s no such thing,” Cecily said. “It’s just bad luck.”

Leftie the wildcat fixed his single yellow eye on Cecily. “You haven’t seen any other creatures when you go exploring, have you, Von Mandrake?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Cecily asked in the same tone Calib recognized from when Commander Kensington used to ask who had used the Hurler without adult supervision.

“I know when you go to collect food, it takes twenty times longer than when Ginny here does,” Leftie said, his voice gruff, though there was amusement in his eyes. “So I ask you: Have you seen anything in your explorations?”

“No,” Cecily said. “Not anything.”

Leftie nodded, but something in Calib’s stomach wiggled. He wasn’t so sure he believed her.

When Cecily next went to forage for food, Calib asked if he could come along.

“I haven’t been yet, and I think I’ll go mad if I just keep digging the entire day,” he said truthfully.

“As long as you can keep up—you never could in Camelot!” she said with a smile, and Calib smiled back at the memory of them and the other pages scurrying to the Two-Legger kitchens to help scrounge food for the castle feasts.

They raced through the different tunnels, until Cecily gestured to what looked like another dead end. But she leaned against one side of the stone and began to push.

“Come on, help me,” she grunted.

Bracing his shoulder against the stone, he pushed. Slowly, the wall revolved, and the sour smell of rancid food filled Calib’s nostrils and lungs. The stench made him cough and his eyes water. In the darkness, Calib could see bits of eggshells, peels, and rotten bones strewn across the ledge on the other side.

“Blech, what are we doing here?” said Calib, breathing through his mouth to dampen the smell.

“Waiting on our food delivery from Jasper,” Cecily said, also holding her nose.

“Food delivery . . . from Jasper . . .” Calib was beginning to put the pieces together.

“He’s the one who has been secretly sending us food this whole time,” Cecily continued. “He pretends it’s gone bad and—”

“Sends it down the garbage chute,” Calib finished as the last puzzle piece clicked into place. Jasper didn’t hate his cooking—he’d been feeding the rebellion! They were standing on a small ledge overlooking a large mining shaft of untold depths. If the drop was positioned properly, it would land right here where they were waiting, making it easy pickings for an intrepid mouse.

Calib’s admiration for the brave hare grew tenfold.

“This is how Leftie has kept his rebellion fed the entire time,” Cecily said. “But, well, there have been hiccups. Hopefully, Jasper won’t be late this time. He’s missed his previous two deliveries, and as you heard Ginny say, we’re running low.”

“Incoming,” a hushed voice from somewhere high above echoed down.

Cecily pushed Calib close to the wall. Four parcels, bound multiple times in cheesecloth, crash-landed on the ledge with loud splotching sounds.

Calib and Cecily ran forward to grab the satchels and pull them back to the other side of the door, where things were not so smelly.

Unwrapping one of the packages, Cecily revealed a perfectly serviceable pile of vegetable pastries. They were still steaming, despite being a bit crumbly and smashed from the fall. The smell of one sent Calib’s stomach into a growling frenzy.

Cecily took a bite. “Mmmm, absolute perfection,” she murmured, her ears flat against her head and her grin unmistakable.

Calib sampled one for himself. The flaky piecrust gave way to a comforting mush of broccoli, onion, and carrot. He closed his eyes to appreciate the flavor of the gravy-like broth mingling with the buttery potatoes.

“This is as good as Madame von Mandrake’s,” Calib said. But as soon as the words left Calib’s mouth, he regretted them.

Cecily looked like someone had smacked her on the snout. Her eyes filled with sudden tears. She swallowed her bite slowly and turned to Calib.

“Is Maman beside herself?” Cecily’s whiskers trembled. “Does she think I’m dead?”

Calib patted Cecily’s shaking shoulders, at a loss for what else to do in the moment. “Of course not. She’s worried, but she knows you’re smart and quick on your paws.”

“I hope you’re right,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “It’s just been so long since we’ve had a good, peaceful day. I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like not to be scared of what the next day will bring.”

Inwardly, Calib cringed. It was true; Camelot always seemed to be in danger these days. He wondered if the Saxons would ever give up their onslaught, or if this would be their new reality for decades to come.

He handed Cecily his pastry. “Go on, eat some more,” he said. “You’ll feel . . . Maybe not better, but stronger if you’re not hungry.”

Cecily nodded and bit into the soft vegetable pastry.

“Ow!” she exclaimed.

“What’s wrong?” Calib looked around, wondering if he’d missed a hidden attacker. But Cecily was staring at her pastry. In the dim light, Calib could see something gleam inside the pie. A glass vial.

Quickly, Cecily extracted it and held it up to the torchlight. Inside was a note.

“What is this?” Calib asked.

“A message from Jasper,” Cecily said, wedging her tail into the narrow opening and wrapping it around the parchment. “This is how he communicates with us sometimes. Last time, Lylas nearly choked on it.”

There was a soft pop as the message came free. Huddling next to Cecily, Calib began to read the hare’s skittish handwriting:

A Two-Legger has joined Morgan’s ranks.

Judging by his sword, he’s even more powerful than her.

“That’s just Galahad,” Calib said, a wave of worry for his friend crashing down on him. “He’s pretending to be on Morgan’s side so that he can find the Grail.”

“If you say so,” Cecily said. At Calib’s glare, she hastily added, “We better get going. Ginny’s going to cry with delight over these pastries.”

Calib nodded, and they scurried back up the passageways that led to the friendly campfires. But as he handed out the fresh food from the kitchens, he noticed that a few of the pastries seemed to have gone missing . . . and that Cecily was no longer near the glowing red embers.