We Dine With Cannibals (7 page)

Beverly licked the back of Oliver's neck, which was her way of saying, “I am happy about this turn of events. It is most fortunate for our relationship and I will treasure your company.”

Oliver thought her tongue felt like sandpaper.

“You know what I really hate?” he said as he climbed onto the llama's back with Beverly.

“Let me guess,” Celia said as she climbed on behind him, trying not to disturb the poisonous lizard. “Is it llamas now?”

“No,” Oliver said. The llama started to make its way along the rocky slope between a giant temple and the ruins of a small stone house. Oliver scratched it behind the ears. “They're actually kind of cute. Cuter than yaks anyway.”

He looked back at Sir Edmund, who was writing frantic notes in a small book and shaking his head. He didn't even turn to watch Oliver and Celia go. “Explorers,” Oliver said. “I really hate explorers.”

OLIVER AND CELIA'S FATHER,
whom Oliver did not hate, in spite of his being an explorer, had cleaned up their apartment on the 4½th floor of the Explorers Club for the twins' homecoming, though one could hardly notice.

Piles of paper sat next to the sofa and the top of the fridge was stacked with old leather books. It was hard to find a place to put all of his maps and charts, because their apartment was filled with knickknacks and bric-a-brac and tchotchkes, which is just another way of saying a lot of stuff from all over the world. They had shards of thousand-year-old pottery and a knife made from the bones of a whale and a fanged spirit mask of the Liberian chimpanzee devil.

When Oliver and Celia's parents traveled, they never brought back T-shirts.

Dr. Navel had put his rolled-up maps in the corner between a collection of traditional Zulu fighting sticks and the Cabinet of Count Vladomir, which was a medieval torture box. He had shoved his charts into the freezer, where there was plenty of room. He cleaned all the crumbs from under the couch cushions and even discovered loose change from five different countries that no longer existed. He didn't want to throw it out, so he put it back under the cushions.

He cooked Celia and Oliver's favorite dinner: macaroni and cheese. He didn't even do anything weird to it, like adding spicy Mexican habanero chilies or fried Bolivian grubs. Dr. Navel couldn't imagine eating macaroni and cheese without spicy Mexican habanero chilies or fried Bolivian grubs, but he was willing to do anything for his children. So he made boring old mac and cheese, and he set up snack tables in front of the television.

Normally he would not allow them to eat dinner in front of the television, but it was their first night back and it was his bet that had made them
Sir Edmund's slaves. So he was prepared to let them eat in front of the TV.

He stood in front of the couch next to the steaming bowls of cheesy noodles and listened for their footsteps on the stairs. When he heard them coming, he was overwhelmed with excitement and flung open the door.

“Welcome home!” he shouted, beaming at his children. Oliver and Celia stared back at him with exhausted faces. Beverly was asleep on Oliver's head.

“We took a taxi from the airport,” Celia said.

“Oh yes, of course!” their father answered, fumbling to find his wallet. “I would have picked you up myself, but there was a problem with the Mbuti diorama at the museum and then I had to cook dinner, and that took a few tries, and I wasn't quite sure when your flight landed, and I …” He was still muttering excuses as he rushed past them to go downstairs and pay the taxi driver.

Oliver and Celia came right inside and flopped down face-first on the sofa. Beverly took over Dr. Navel's armchair in the corner.

“It must have been extraordinary to see Machu Picchu at night!” Dr. Navel exclaimed as he came back into the apartment. “Some scholars say the city was planned as an earthly mirror to the Milky Way.”

Then he saw the twins, sound asleep without having touched their dinner. He was dying to hear about Oliver and Celia's adventures—how they had nearly been impaled in Machu Picchu, how they had ridden a llama all the way to the capital city and caught a flight home on a military transport, and most of all, what they had learned about their mother and the Lost Library. Even though they had been gone for over a month doing hard labor for a very bad man, their father seemed to think it had been an enriching experience for them, like summer camp.

He wondered if he should let them sleep. He imagined they would be hungry, though. They had to eat. He coughed. He coughed again. Neither of them moved. He tried to move Beverly off of his chair and she hissed at him.

“Careful,” Oliver muttered with his face still pressed into the sofa cushion. “She'll bite.” Then he went back to sleep.

Dr. Navel had one more idea. He turned on the
TV. A rerun of
Dancing with My Impersonator
was on.

“Sorry, Corey Two, but you've been voted off!” The host smiled as a sad Corey Brandt impersonator wept into his hands. “The audience thought you were too tall and too old and too
not
Corey Brandt. Better luck next time!”

Celia and Oliver sat bolt upright.

“Is that—?” Oliver asked.

“Do we have—?” Celia wondered.

“Did we get—?” Oliver tried again.

“Is it cable?” Celia blurted.

Oliver smiled and shoved a forkful of mac and cheese into his mouth.

“I … um …” Dr. Navel blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. He looked down at the floor.

Oliver froze with his spoon in his mouth.

“Ooo sed wud et cahoo!” Oliver shouted through his mac and cheese, which either meant “You said we'd get cable” or “Who said we're in cahoots?”

The second one wouldn't make much sense, but Dr. Navel looked like he was thinking about it.

“You didn't get us cable, did you?” Celia flopped
back onto the couch cushions. She knew what her brother had said.

“You …
gulp
… promised!” said Oliver, swallowing.

“I know, guys,” their father apologized. “I meant to call the cable company, but I got distracted trying to figure out where your mother might have gone after she left Tibet. I kept finding this strange key symbol and the summer just got away from me.”

Their father didn't know about the Mnemones or what that mysterious symbol meant. Their mother thought it would be safer if he didn't know. If Oliver and Celia had thought about telling their father before, now they were really angry and definitely weren't going to tell him anything.

“This is an injustice!” Celia exclaimed. She nodded at her brother.

“Uh-huh!” he shouted. “Injustice!”

“I know, I know.” Dr. Navel shook his head. “It's just that I was so close to finding your mother. I thought that maybe, while you were gone, I'd find her again and she'd be here by the time you got back. I found three new species of dust mites
living in old books, but nothing to help me find your mother. I'm sorry.”

“Do not fear, dear Navels!” Professor Rasmali-Greenberg exclaimed as he burst into the apartment.

Professor Rasmali-Greenberg was the president of the Explorers Club and one of the most famous explorers in the world. He was considered a prince in several countries, a god in others, and had been banned from ever visiting the state of Minnesota again.

He was a very large man, and he had the world's largest collection of ties with ducks on them. Today, he was wearing a green one with orange ducks on it. He was also wearing a ring with a jeweled key on it. He was a Mnemone, just like their mother.

“Anticipating your return, I took the liberty of scheduling an appointment with the cable company to come tomorrow between the hours of ten a.m. and midnight. If all goes well, you will have cable TV installed while you are at school. Is that all right?”

Oliver and Celia considered this for a moment.

“Fine,” Celia said, scowling.

“Fine,” Oliver said, scowling too.

“Now, please tell us what you learned in South America,” the professor asked, flopping his considerable bulk on the couch between Oliver and Celia. “Did you—ahem—do the summer reading I gave you?”

“Well, we meant to, but—,” Celia began to make an excuse.

“You didn't read the books I gave you?” the professor cried.

“We were a little busy with spear-shooting death traps and stuff,” Celia said.

“This is terrible. It was not supposed to happen like this at all.” He stood again and began pacing back and forth, rubbing his fingers on his forehead like he had a terrible headache. “Oh dear … oh dear. I'm so sorry. So sorry.”

“What's the matter, Professor?” Dr. Navel asked.

“Children, you really should have done your summer reading. It would have saved you no end of difficulty.”

“What are you saying?” Dr. Navel asked again.

The professor grabbed their backpack from behind the couch and rummaged through it.

“Hey, that's ours!” Oliver objected, but the professor ignored him and pulled out two small books:
A History of the Great Scribes of Alexandria
by Claire S. Navel, PhD, and
A Guide to South American Flora and Fauna
by Ogden Navel, PhD. These were the books the professor had given them to read before they went off with Sir Edmund, that they hadn't so much as taken out of the bag.

He opened the
History of the Great Scribes
to reveal that every page was the same. Every page had one sentence typed neatly in the center:

DON'T TOUCH THE MOPS.

Then he opened the
Guide to South American Flora and Fauna.

“Apologies, Ogden,” he said as he showed that the book was hollow. There was a hole cut into where the pages should be, and from the hole he pulled out a small plastic game with little pegs and discs: Peggo Deluxe Travel Edition.

“Huh?” Oliver said.

“Huh?” Dr. Navel said.

“You knew about that death trap!” Celia shouted.

“I tried to warn you. I tried to help. I thought you'd at least open one of these books out of curiosity.”

“But we aren't curious about anything!” shouted Oliver.

“Why didn't you just tell us?” said Celia. “Why do explorers always hide the important stuff?”

The professor just shrugged. It was like asking why tigers have stripes.

“How was travel Peggo supposed to help?” Dr. Navel asked. “I'm terribly confused.”

“I had been informed that Edmund would go to the abode of the last priests of the Inca sooner or later, and I thought that maybe, if I could warn you, you'd be safe. He, of course, would not be. Sadly, I underestimated your dislike for reading.”

“You were
informed
?” Celia asked.

“I did not get to be president of the Explorers Club because of my tie collection, you know. I have informants all over the world,” the professor answered.

“But we were nearly killed!” Celia shouted. “Couldn't you have
informed
us?”

“Well, Celia, I thought I had. I thought children loved summer reading. I was obviously mistaken.”

“Excuse me,” Dr. Navel interrupted. “Could someone please tell me what is going on?”

“Your children are upset because I accidentally almost killed them with spear-throwing mummies in a death trap,” the professor said. “But I had a good reason.”