The Abduction The Abduction On their way to school the next morning, Abby prodded Gabriel for details about his flight, but she became very quiet when he described the incident with Somes and the peaches.
“Poor Somes,” she remarked. “Imagine how awful it would be, living with a father who hits you for fun!”
“Yeah—and he took it out on me a few times,” Gabriel said.
“It kind of sounds like you spied on him,” Abby replied.
Gabriel reacted with surprise. He recalled his father’s diary description of Corax spying on his friend Thomas and realized how easy spying was for him to do now. He frowned, wondering if there were other changes coming over him—worse things.
Somes arrived at school with an ugly purplish bruise around his eye. As he weaved his way to his desk, he ignored Gabriel’s sympathetic glance.
“Are you okay?” Gabriel asked.
“I’m fine,” snapped Somes. “Don’t I look okay?”
Gabriel decided to let him be; but a few moments later, Somes tapped him on the back. “Aren’t you going to ask how I got it?” he said, pointing to the bruise.
“Sure,” said Gabriel reluctantly. “How?”
“Simple,” said Somes. “I was, um … reading. Yeah, reading while I was walking. Had the book right up in front of me, and bam! I walked smack into a pole. Hit me right in the eye.”
Gabriel lowered his voice so that no one else could hear. “C’mon, Somes. Nobody’s going to believe that. You hate reading anything.”
“Seriously,” Somes insisted. “That’s what happened!”
Gabriel spoke in a whisper. “Look, I don’t care what your excuse is. I mean, I do care. I’m sorry about what happened last night. Just make up something that people will believe.”
Somes blinked at Gabriel, wondering how he knew. He hadn’t seen anybody around but that raven on the branch.
On the way home, as Gabriel passed a group of sparrows twittering from the bush in his neighbor’s front yard, the birds suddenly quieted down. It was just the way a group of kids talking about you might fall silent as you pass them. One of the sparrows fluttered off the bush and dropped a slip of paper before him. Gabriel caught it in his hand.
Written on it was a familiar name, with an address. On the reverse side was a note:
My dear lad, I have your musical friend Miss Baskin with me and wish to arrange her safe return as soon as possible. It might be a good idea, on your way to my apartment, to bring the item from that remarkable desk that will help us in our urgent quest.
Sincerely yours,
Septimus Geiger
Gabriel recalled the cunning expression on Septimus’s face as he left Gabriel’s house. Septimus must have realized how he could use Pamela to get what he wanted.
Aunt Jaz greeted Gabriel at the bottom of the stairs with Trudy.
“Gabriel,” she said, “have you seen Pamela?”
He felt his stomach roll. “No—why?”
Trudy’s forehead broke into worry lines. “I’m very concerned—very concerned! I called the school. They say she left at the usual time. She should have been home an hour ago. She’s never this late!” Her shoulders quivered and her small eyes became red and moist.
“Maybe I can help …,” Gabriel offered.
Blinking back tears, Trudy replied scornfully, “You? What can you possibly do? The less you have to do with her, the better!”
“Now, now, Trudy,” said Aunt Jaz.
Gabriel retreated to the laundry room to tell Paladin what had happened. The raven already knew what Gabriel was thinking. Yes, of course, we have to rescue Pamela! he said.
I’d better get the parchment from the desk, said Gabriel.
Isn’t that just what Septimus wants you to do? warned Paladin.
Gabriel shrugged. If I can help free my father and get Pamela back home, I have no choice.
Paladin tipped his head to the boy to show that he agreed.
When Trudy was busy talking on the phone in the kitchen, Gabriel took Paladin upstairs and slipped quietly into the study. He turned on the light and heard movement behind the door. The writing desk, draped in a yellow silk robe with a purple feather boa, tore into the hall.
“Here we go again,” groaned Gabriel.
He followed the desk out, but it was waiting at the doorway. It stuck out one taloned foot, tripping him so that he tumbled down the stairs.
Furious, Gabriel rubbed the bruise on his forehead, staggered back up, and thrust his arm through the balusters, grabbing one of the desk’s carved feet.
“Look, Desk!” he said. “Pamela’s in trouble. It’s an emergency!”
The mention of Pamela seemed to change the desk’s attitude. It flapped its little wings eagerly, as a dog might wag its tail at the prospect of a walk.
Inserting the key, Gabriel whispered his question. “Now. How do I find the torc?”
Raising the lid, he saw a piece of parchment tied with red ribbon in the middle compartment. He unrolled it to find a set of verses written in scratchy lettering. It was a riddle, all right. But at that moment, a voice spoke from the staircase.
“Gabriel, what are you looking at?”
It was Aunt Jaz. When Gabriel explained about the note from Septimus and his plan to rescue Pamela, her boomerang eyebrows knitted with worry. “My dear, are you sure this is something you should be doing?”
“Well, I got Pamela into this mess,” he said. “Who else can help her but me?”
Aunt Jaz nodded. “You know, that’s exactly what your father would have said.”
It felt good to hear this. Perhaps, Gabriel thought, he could bring Pamela back and help free his father. That would be amazing.
Aunt Jaz threw the window open. “I think it best if Trudy doesn’t see you leave. She doesn’t have a—”
“Flexible mind?” suggested Gabriel.
“Exactly!” replied Aunt Jaz.
In minutes, Paladin and Gabriel were high above Manhattan. This evening the city resembled a mysterious amber jewel—streetlights glowed through a faint mist, all the traffic noise was muffled, and the air felt charged and ready for something fantastic to happen. The boy and his raven flew over the dark rim of Central Park, looking for the first building on the corner: One West Seventieth Street.
A rolling mist circled the apartment building, lapping at its edges like waves around a lighthouse. On the rooftop was a terrace. Paladin alighted on its wall. A large fireplace glowed brightly through open french doors.
Gabriel separated from Paladin. He shook his legs to straighten them; then Paladin perched on his shoulder and the two entered a room with a roaring fire and a vast stone mantel that seemed more suitable to the residence of a duke or king. The white raven had a very cozy spot on a brass perch beside the fireplace.
“Welcome, welcome, welcome!” said Crawfin, his eyes glittering.
Septimus leaned forward from a great leather armchair, his face red and devilish in the firelight. “Welcome indeed!” he said. “What a pleasure! Come in, come in!”
As Gabriel’s eyes adjusted, he noticed the walls were lined with bookcases and framed maps. An enormous globe of the earth occupied the center of the room. It was immensely detailed—there were oceanic trenches, rugged mountains, and islands poking like barnacles from the seafloor.
“Do you like it?” said Crawfin. “It comes in very handy in our line of work.”
“What’s that?” Gabriel replied.
Septimus poured himself a glass of golden liquid from a crystal decanter. “We travel the world in search of rare jewels, exotic medicines, and unusual creatures. Crawfin obtains them …”
“… and Septimus,” continued Crawfin, “always gets a good price!”
Gabriel guessed that Septimus probably did business with Mr. Pleshette, whose shop was full of curious items from all over the world. Something about Septimus’s expression seemed to imply that these objects weren’t always found in honest ways.
“I’ve been wondering—why did Corax imprison you, anyway?” asked Gabriel.
Septimus and Crawfin exchanged a cautious glance.
“Let me assure you of one thing,” said Septimus severely. “I didn’t steal anything!”
“And even if he did, no one can prove it,” Crawfin added.
“All I did was sell him an item that didn’t work properly.” Septimus shrugged. “You don’t throw someone in prison for selling a broken vacuum cleaner, do you?”
“You sold Corax a broken vacuum cleaner?”
“No, a necklace.”
“A very expensive necklace that you promised would grant wishes.” Crawfin smirked.
“I hoped it would grant wishes. It was silver, just like the real one,” Septimus said indignantly.
“It didn’t grant a single wish, but it did give Corax an ugly rash and a smell like rotten eggs. After he recovered, he threw Septimus in prison with your father,” chortled Crawfin, provoking a nasty look from Septimus.
“So why did he set you free?” Gabriel asked.
“Aha!” said Crawfin. “Septimus promised to—”
Septimus closed his hand on the bird’s beak to silence him. “Never mind that! I mean to help your father escape, dear lad. Now, did you bring the riddle that reveals the torc’s location?”
“That depends,” replied Gabriel. “Where is Pamela?”
“Crawfin, send her in!” Septimus replied, releasing the white raven’s beak.
Crawfin uttered an indignant throk, flew across the room, and landed on the handle of a door. It opened to reveal Septimus’s library, and Pamela, looking weary and disheartened.
“Are you okay?” asked Gabriel.
“Gabriel! Paladin! I’m so glad to see both of you!” she replied, running to them. “I’ve been so stupid. I trusted them when they promised to make me a raven’s amicus—”
“That’s what they promised?” interrupted Gabriel angrily.
Septimus put a hand to his chest. “I certainly tried!” He looked into the library. “Hobblewing! Where are you?”
A raven with bent tail feathers and a limp wobbled unsteadily across the floor. Ravens were proud birds, but there was something meek and unfortunate about this one. It offered a riddle in a timid voice.
“Whenever I come near, you wave, and yet we are not friends. Who am I?”
“Hmm,” said Paladin. “Wave at you but we are not friends. I know! You are a fly!”
The two ravens broke into a rusty laugh, then shared a quiet conversation. Eventually, Paladin returned to Gabriel, looking upset.
“This unlucky raven was captured by Pleshette before he hatched! Never even saw his mother! Imagine the fellow’s life, Gabriel. Born alone in a cage, never learned to fly, no friends but that horrible shopkeeper. Trapped and alone with no companion! What could be worse for an orphan?”
“Terrible,” Gabriel agreed.
Pamela looked at Hobblewing. “Is there anything we can do for him?”
Gabriel glared at Septimus, who fussed with his shirt collar. “Pleshette assured me this raven was one of his best.…”
“This bird needs his freedom,” said Gabriel. “Let Hobblewing go, Septimus. And Pamela must also—”
Crawfin interrupted. “You were going to bring us something in return. The riddle that will lead us to the torc.”
“Exactly,” continued Septimus. “My boy, all I’m trying to do is get your father out of prison.”
Gabriel wondered again how he could possibly trust these two.
I don’t trust them, either, agreed Paladin.
Yes, but I have to find my father, Gabriel reminded him. That’s the most important thing. If there’s even a chance that they can help us free him, Paladin, I think we have to take it. Don’t you? Wouldn’t you do the same thing if you could get your mother back?
Without a doubt! Paladin replied.
So Gabriel demanded that Septimus send Pamela home in a taxicab, but to be sure the promise was kept, he asked Paladin to accompany her.
Consider it done, the raven replied. I’ll return as quickly as I can.
Crawfin grudgingly agreed to give Hobblewing flying lessons. Although Pamela was glad to have Paladin escort her, she asked Gabriel why he wasn’t coming with them.
“So I can keep my part of the bargain,” he explained.
“What’s that?”
“To solve a riddle, of course.”