“Wasting time,” Rutger mumbled under his breath. “I’ll show you
…” The rest was too low to hear, but Master George thought he caught the words rat fink.
“First things first,” Mothball said. “Methinks we best be talkin’ ’bout Master Tick and his friends.”
Master George agreed. “Yes, yes, quite right, Mothball. Based on the evidence, I have no doubt that someone has violated Rule Number 462 and taken hostage the nanolocators implanted in our dear young friends from Reality Prime. We can track their general location, but nothing more-and even that signal is weak. We have tried repeatedly to wink them here, but they have remained out of our reach. This act violates no less than three Articles of Principles established by the First Realitant Symposium of 1972. It is outrageous, despicable, irresponsible, reprehensible-”
“We get the point,” Rutger said.
Master George slammed his hand on the table. “Yes! I hope you do, Master Rutger, because this is very serious indeed. Not only can we not wink in our most important recruits in years, but we have a renegade out there capable of such things as hijacking a nanolocator! The technology for such an act-”
“It has to be him,” Nancy Zeppelin interrupted quietly. “Has to be.”
A long moment of silence passed, broken only by the crackling fire. Master George closed his eyes. No one in the room doubted who the culprit could be. But if Reginald Chu had finally decided to use his significant technological powers to branch out and cause trouble in other Realities, then they were all in for a great deal of trouble. Until today, they’d all hoped, perhaps foolishly, that Chu would be happy ruling his own world with an iron fist.
“Yes, Nancy,” Master George finally said, opening his eyes and sighing. “We should all be quite nervous that Reginald Chu would stoop to such a thing. He obviously has plans for our new friends.”
William Schmidt cleared his throat, a wet, gurgling hack that made Master George wince. Then the old man spoke in his ghost-soft voice. “Chu’s spies must have learned of Higginbottom’s mysterious winking ability. Chu would do anything to have him under his control.”
“For all we know,” Katrina said, “Tick is strapped on a laboratory bed as we speak, his brain being examined for anomalies.”
Master George held up a hand, wanting the terrible talk to stop. “We must keep our minds on solutions, my dear associates. Solutions. And we mustn’t give up hope. Master Atticus is a special boy, as are his friends, and their recovery is our number-one priority.”
“What about all the people going crazy everywhere?” Priscilla asked. “That should alarm us a little bit more than a few missing brats.”
Mothball stood up-Master George reached out too late to stop her. She towered over everyone, her suddenly angry glare focused on Priscilla. “One more nasty word about them three children, and I’ll lop off yer ’ead, I will. That’s a promise.”
“Yeah,” Rutger chimed in. “And I’ll bite your kneecaps.”
“Please, let’s all remain calm,” Master George said. “Mothball, please be seated. I appreciate your concern for Atticus and his friends. Priscilla hasn’t met them, of course, so let’s give her time to appreciate their importance.”
Mothball sat, not taking her eyes off Priscilla, whose suddenly pale face made her look like she might never speak again.
“Now, er, we do need to talk of this matter,” Master George continued. “Sato here has put together a summary of his interviews, and the reports of people going insane are numerous, indeed. Something is very wrong, and it’s spreading throughout the Realities at an alarming rate. Almost like a-”
“Disease,” Nancy Zeppelin said. “Like a disease.”
Master George paused, studying the beautiful woman as he thought about what she said. She didn’t look back, staring at the table in front of her with a blank expression.
“Yes,” he finally said. “Yes, quite like a disease, actually. The pattern shows it spreading from a fragmented Reality-all cases link back to it eventually, with no exception. It is exactly like a disease or a virus.”
“Need a sample, then. One of the crazies,” Mothball said.
Before Master George could reply, an urgent knock rapped at the closed door from the hallway. Finally. Perhaps now they would have some answers. He stood up. “Mothball-”
The door opened before she could do anything. A wave of relief washed through Master George as he saw one of his oldest friends enter the room, though he looked like he’d just taken a bath in a pile of dirt-his overalls were filthy.
“Master Sally,” George said, smiling.
Sally grinned through his thick, red beard. “It was harder ‘an findin’ a tick on a grizzly bear, but I did it.”
“Did what?” Rutger asked, shocked.
“I found dem kids a’yorn.”
Part 2
Chapter 15
Frazier Gunn was worried about his boss.
As he walked up the winding stone staircase of Mistress Jane’s tower, enjoying the smell of burning pitch from the torches ensconced on the hard granite walls, he wondered which version of her would answer the door. The flickering, spitting flames cast haunted shadows that seemed alive, hiding and reappearing like dark wraiths. A team of seven servants maintained the torches throughout the Lemon Fortress, even though Jane probably could have lit the place using only her growing abilities in the mutated Chi’karda.
But she had her own way of doing things, and that was that.
Frazier felt a trickle of sweat slide down his right temple as he passed the halfway point. He’d been sick the last few days, unable to keep any food down, and he felt the effect of his illness now. He almost paused to rest, but his pride wouldn’t let him. He kept moving up the staircase, step by step.
His thoughts slid back to Jane’s recent mood swings-episodes of inexplicable kindness mixed in with the usual displays of anger and violence. He’d witnessed with his own eyes several of the bizarre occurrences. Just the other day, he’d almost swallowed his own tongue when he saw his boss help her servant Brainless clean up a broken dish Jane had slammed against the wall. The child’s face had paled during the incident, sure it was a trap, but when they finished, Jane apologized for losing her temper, dismissed her with a wave, and went back to work.
Frazier would’ve been less surprised to see a duck-billed platypus knock on his door and ask for tea.
Rumors of other surprising acts had spread through the castle like flames through a heat-wilted cornfield. Stories of kind words, apologies, thank-yous, compliments. Tales of Jane using her special powers to help servants lift heavy objects. It was crazy. Frazier had known this evil woman for years, and he couldn’t reconcile in his brain how it could be the same person. And yet, interspersed among these un-Jane-like anomalies, there were many moments where she exploded in rage, sometimes worse than ever before.
The whole thing was fishy, and in an odd way, Frazier longed for the days when Jane acted the tyrant every minute of every day. At least then he’d known what to expect.
He finally reached the top step, pausing to take three long breaths to calm his heart. He wiped the sweat from his face, not wanting Jane to see him so weak. After a very long minute, he finally crossed the stone landing and knocked on her wooden door.
It disappeared in a swipe from left to right, as if it had slid into the stone. It was only a trick, however, a manipulation of Chi’karda. Jane loved using her power for such trivial things, always opening her doors in creative and unexpected ways. One time she’d simply made it explode outward in a spray of dagger-like splinters, permanently scarring the poor sap delivering her mail.
Jane stood there, dressed in a simple yellow gown, her feet and hands bare. Her emerald eyes shone, almost glowing like green embers. Something was off, though. For a second, Frazier couldn’t figure out why she looked so odd, but then it hit him.