25.

A Penguin Is an Island

W hen Bolt awoke on the floor of Blackburn’s apartment the next morning, he had no recollection of how he’d gotten there. But that was typical. Bolt tended to only remember bits and pieces of his penguin nights, and was almost always surprised to find where he awoke the next day. A big plank of wood had been hammered over a large hole in the front door, but wisps of snow blew in through the cracks. Wet webbed footprints led from the repaired door straight to Bolt. His clothes were in tatters, and he shivered under a scratchy blanket. But it wasn’t the cold that made him shiver—werepenguins couldn’t feel cold. It was the few memories he held.

Rule with us!

The menace in those words! The force! The Earl’s evil ways were planted into Bolt’s mind like a stubborn and unwelcome weed. Mind control could take root, just like that.

Bolt also remembered the effort it had taken to cast that maliciousness away.

Rule with us, Bolt!

How had the Earl known Bolt’s name? It was almost as if he had been expecting Bolt. But that was impossible.

Bolt had been hearing a voice in his head for days now, maybe longer. He had thought that voice might be the Earl’s, but now he knew it sounded different, lower pitched and more intense. Maybe that other voice was just Bolt’s fears.

Annika sat at the kitchen table. “Did you have a good night?” she asked.

“Not really,” Bolt muttered.

The door to the pirate’s bedroom swung open. Black-burn wore the same pirate outfit from the day before, or perhaps he had multiple sets of the same clothes. He tossed a pile of laundry at Bolt. “These aren’t fancy pirate threads like mine, but they’ll do. Get dressed, and then ye have some explaining to do.”

Bolt covered himself with the blanket as he put on his new clothes. Neither the plain black pants nor the matching plain black T-shirt were ripped, and it had been a long time since Bolt had worn clothes that weren’t torn. He would need to remember to change out of them before midnight.

Blackburn and Annika waited for Bolt at the kitchen table, sipping tea and eating English muffins. Neither appealed to Bolt, but he had eaten plenty of fish during the night.

“So, yer a werepenguin,” Blackburn said. “It’s not a bad secret weapon, I must say. Better than a cotton ball, for sure. But it won’t be easy keeping something like that a secret for long.”

Bolt nodded, and didn’t say anything about the Earl. Why add to Annika and Blackburn’s worries? Bolt had enough worries for all three of them. But he did share his other interesting discovery.

“A were-gull?” Annika asked while tearing off a piece of her muffin. “We have to fight her, too?” She put the muffin piece in her mouth.

“I don’t think so,” said Bolt. “She didn’t seem evil.” He remembered her laugh, which seemed more happy than rotten.

“How can you be sure?” asked Annika, in between chews.

“I can’t, I guess,” said Bolt. “But she didn’t attack me, so that’s a good sign.”

“That gull creature is the least of our problems,” said Blackburn. “Ye still need to stop the Earl.”

“You said you knew someone who could help?” Annika asked him, and then began coughing.

“You should finish your muffin before asking questions,” Bolt suggested.

“Aye, I know of someone who might have the answers we need,” said Blackburn. “Omneseus, the seer. But it won’t be easy to get to him.” Both Bolt and Annika leaned in to hear more. “Ye’ve heard of him, aye?”

Bolt and Annika shook their heads.

“Some say Omneseus knows everything that ever was,” Blackburn continued. “Others say he just has a really good set of encyclopedias. Who knows? But he will know how to defeat the Earl, and other tidbits such as why people can’t keep their eyes open when they sneeze.”

“I’ve always wondered that,” admitted Bolt.

“The nose and eyes are linked by cranial nerves, so when we sneeze, the impulse travels to the brain and to our eyelids, which causes us to blink,” said Annika. “But some people do sneeze with their eyes open. It’s just a myth that you can’t.” Bolt looked at her, impressed. “We once kidnapped an eye doctor.”

Bolt jumped up, fueled by a faint sense of hope that he hadn’t felt a moment ago. The Fortune Teller in Brugaria had given him the cryptic clue he needed to defeat the Baron. Seers were like fortune tellers, but better. He strode toward the door. “Where does Omneseus live?”

Blackburn did not leave his seat. “I said it would not be easy to get to him, aye? Omneseus lives on the island of Omnescia. It’s a day’s journey by ship. Borscht!”

That final Borscht! lingered in the air as Bolt stared at the pirate, Annika stared at Bolt, and the pirate stared at his skull and crossbones flag. “I thought you didn’t have a ship,” said Bolt.

“That’s why I said it wouldn’t be easy to get to him.”

Bolt sat back down, his enthusiasm deflating. He and Annika looked at each other, glum. “But if we get a ship, I can steer it.”

“And how are we supposed to get a ship?” Bolt asked.

“I figured if ye had chests of gold and soccer balls lying around, ye probably had yer own ship, too. No?”

“No,” Annika groaned, but Bolt groaned louder.

They all stared at one another, no one saying a word.

Annika raised her arms and pumped her fists. “We don’t need any seer’s help. We’ll rush the palace!” Her bandit confidence nearly burst from her ears. “We can take them! We have Bolt, and me, and now a fearsome pirate.”

“That’s not a plan, that’s suicide,” said the pirate. He stood up and stared at himself in the mirror, fluffing his sideburns. “As much as I’d like me chests of gold, I also like breathing. We can’t attack the Earl without a plan. If we had a ship, we’d sail off, converse with the seer, sail back, and fight. But without one, we’re stuck.”

Bolt closed his eyes, his thoughts racing, trying to find a solution to their problem.

“There must be a way,” he mumbled. He thought of the palace. The moat. Their walk through town, and all the penguins they saw.

It came to Bolt suddenly. “Tell me,” he said to Blackburn. “Are you any good at playing cards? Because I have an idea, and we probably can’t lose.”