Of Sorcery and Snow (5 page)

I wasn't worried. Handling a disarm was the first move I'd seen Chase do.

Chase leaped up to catch it, kicking at Hansel's chest on the way to buy himself time.

But Hansel knew this trick too. When Chase kicked, the sword
master caught Chase's foot in his left hand and swung his broadsword to my friend's throat with his right.

The proctor rang the gong again. It was over.

“Crap,” said Chase, stomping off and scooping up his sword. He stopped beside me. “
Crap
. Have I mentioned today how much I hate Hansel?”

“You stayed in the ring longer than anyone else,” I said, trying to cheer him up, but Chase's scowl didn't soften.

As the gong sounded and the next match started, Lena tried to help us think about something more pleasant, too. “What are you going to wear to the ball tomorrow?”

Chase stared at her, mystified that he had to suffer a defeat
and
a conversation about clothes at the same time. “No idea.”

“Contacts,” Lena said. “That's what I'm wearing.”

“If you're trying to make sure someone asks you to dance, I
can
be bribed,” Chase said. “Lena, from you, I'll take a Bat of Destruction. Rory . . . maybe delivery service from the Table of Never Ending Instant Refills on a day of my choosing.”

I rolled my eyes—he knew I wouldn't mind grabbing him a snack most days anyway—but Adelaide, who was obviously eavesdropping, looked excited about this information.

Then a bell started ringing. My whole body stiffened.

A Tale must have started. Someone was going to find out what kind of Character they were always meant to become.

Or maybe,
I thought, remembering Ellie and Rumpelstiltskin's faces—
the Director is going to announce a Failed Tale
.

Every Character in the courtyard turned toward the Director's office. With all the people in the way, I didn't see the door open, but I saw the crowd ripple as kids cleared a path, stepping onto the dueling arena and jousting lanes, the tournament forgotten. The
Director walked to the podium set up just beside the Tree of Hope, like I'd seen her do dozens of times before, and everyone was falling silent, same as always. Miriam was so excited that she walked right behind the Director, so close she nearly stepped on the older Character's long purple skirts.

Even though I kind of suspected it was a Failed Tale, I couldn't help hoping too. My heart thumped hard, like it was trying to climb out of my throat.

I looked at Chase and found him looking back at me. We'd been worrying over our Tales more than usual. Most of the kids in our grade had gotten theirs in the past year. Plus, Tales were supposed to be contagious—if someone near you had one, the magic around them threw out invisible sparks that could easily ignite your own Tale.

But Chase's Tale hadn't come, and neither had mine.

“There's still a chance someone could be Red Riding Hood,” I whispered.

Chase just shrugged with a tiny grin, his way of saying,
Good luck
.

The Director took the podium, and on tiptoe, I could see her face past everybody's heads. She looked kind of pale and just as stressed as Ellie had been.

“A new Tale has begun,” she said. You could practically hear hundreds of Characters suck in a breath and hold it. “It belongs to Philip Chen-Moore, Evan Garrison, Mary Garrison, and Jamal Kidd.”

Chase's shoulders slumped a little in disappointment. Murmurs started up around us.

People didn't usually share a Tale. If they did, they were usually siblings like Hansel and Gretel. Plus, as soon as they were named,
the Tale bearers usually grinned or freaked out, and then they made their way to the podium. But no one was moving to the front.

Lena noticed too. “Why isn't anyone coming forward?”

“Must be a sucky Tale,” Chase said, looking slightly less upset.

“I regret to inform you . . .” The Director's voice wavered. The whole crowd tensed. The Director hadn't lost her cool since she got poisoned last spring. Something had to be seriously wrong, something
much
worse than just a few new wolves or a Failed Tale.

“I regret to inform you that their Tale is ‘The Pied Piper of Hamelin,'” said the Director.

“Does she just expect us to know all the Tales just like that?” said Candice. “I haven't had time to spend
hours
in the reference room like you people.”

I did know the Tale, but not from my time at EAS. When I was little, my parents used to read me a book of fairy tales, and that was the story they always skipped. It had given me nightmares. I still remembered Dad perched on my bed, the book in his hands, the shiny princess on the cover facing me. “The Pied Piper,” he'd said, and I'd shivered. “No, you're right. Too scary.”

First a piper comes to a village called Hamelin, and he promises to get all the rats out of town. The villagers agree, and the next thing you know, the piper plays his flute. The rats stream out of the houses and follow the Pied Piper. Just that first part is creepy enough for bad dreams, but then the mayor refuses to pay the piper. The piper gets ticked, and the next night, his flute sounds one more time. Kids sleepwalk out of their beds and out of the town. No one ever sees them—the piper or the kids—again.

“Last night, the Pied Piper strolled through the streets of Portland with his flute,” the Director continued.

“Maine?” asked a high schooler near the archery lanes.

“Oregon,” Miriam called back, right beside the podium. I wondered how she knew.

The Director didn't even glare at anyone for interrupting. “In the Hawthorne neighborhood, his song called the children into the rainy streets. One thousand and one in all. Philip, Evan, Mary, and Jamal were with them. They followed the piper through a nearby portal. They emerged in the Arctic Circle, where the piper led them to the Snow Queen's palace.”

Gasps ripped through the crowd. My stomach squeezed like a huge hand had closed over it.

People said that I was like Solange, and every time she did something like this, it freaked me out a little more. But it had been decades since the Snow Queen had done anything this big. When she kidnapped one thousand and one kids, most of them not even Characters, she had crossed a line, and Rapunzel would probably say that Solange was pleased with herself.

I wished Rapunzel were here. She was the Snow Queen's younger sister
and
she saw the future. If
anyone
could tell us what needed to happen next, it was her.

“Are they hurt?” Miriam demanded to know, and I remembered that Philip was her brother. Oh, wow, her emergency
was
bigger than ours.

“Yeah, the Arctic . . .” Kyle said. “Well, it's
cold
. A bunch of kids in their pajamas aren't going to last long. . . .” Then he saw Miriam's face, white and stricken, and muttered, “Sorry.”

Across the courtyard, a dark wooden door with black ribbons led to the Wall of Failed Tales, the memorial for the Characters who never finished their Tales and those who died trying. The long columns of names flashed through my mind, and I wondered if we would be adding more soon.

“They are unharmed,” the Director told Miriam gently. “Perhaps the spell helped them keep warm on their journey.”

“But it doesn't make any sense,” said a high-schooler. “Portland's a city. Why didn't anyone see a thousand kids in the middle of the street? You would think someone would try to stop them.”

“What does she
want
with them?” asked Tina.

Miriam shot them a disgusted look that clearly said,
Who cares?
“Who are you going to send to rescue them? And how fast can they leave?”

Chase went still. His father, Jack, was the champion of the Canon. He was the obvious choice for this mission, and we all knew it would be extra dangerous if the Snow Queen was involved.

“Traditionally, in the Tale of the Pied Piper,” said the Director, “the children are led away and never seen again.”

After that little announcement, the stunned silence lasted about a second. Then everybody started protesting.

“She has to be kidding,” Chase said. “It's her April Fool's joke, right?”

“She's not wrong,” Lena said. “About the Tale. But the last Pied Piper was seen during World War II—the Germans blamed a bomb. A Pied Piper nowadays . . . people are going to notice. Logic can only take us so far.”

I didn't say anything.

I just felt like . . . I had to go rescue them.

A plan exploded in my head, as sudden as a sneeze. It was so simple. I needed to sneak through the portal in Hawthorne, get to the Arctic Circle, find the kids' footprints, and track them to the Snow Queen's palace.

The Director raised both gloved hands, and across the courtyard,
EASers elbowed their friends and told them to shut up. “But luckily, another Tale has begun in answer to ‘The Pied Piper,' one that provides a solution to the kidnapped children . . .”

She glanced in our direction.

My heart thudded to a stop. I was right—I was getting my Tale.

“. . . and allows a sister to rescue her brother,” the Director finished. “Miriam Chen-Moore, congratulations. Your Tale has begun: ‘The Snow Queen.'”

Or not.

Chase glanced at me. I clapped with everyone else, but I
was
disappointed.

The Snow Queen was a good Tale. In the first one, Solange kidnapped a boy named Kai, and his next-door neighbor, a little girl named Greta, goes on a quest to the Snow Queen's palace and rescues him. No Character had gotten it in
decades
, and I'd kind of thought
I
would get it.

Miriam stepped up beside the Director's podium.

“You are allowed to pick two Companions to journey with you,” the Director told her.

Everybody knew that Chase, Lena, and I had the most experience dealing with this villain. Miriam would probably pick one of us, to help her out. Maybe two. I might still go. . . .

“Shakayla Carey and Natalie Kasprak,” Miriam said quickly.

The crowd drew aside as two eleventh-grade girls started forward—a short one with pretty skin and muscles like she lifted weights, and a tall pale one trailing along behind, a bow and quiver over her shoulder.

Of course she would pick friends from her grade. Of course she wouldn't take me or anyone else in middle school.

Miriam didn't wait for the Companions to swear to advise and
protect her. She just marched down from the podium, grabbed Shakayla and Natalie's wrists, and towed them toward the library. “We see Rumpelstiltskin next, right?”

The Director pretended that Miriam wasn't rushing the usual ceremony. “Yes. He has research to share with you and a map that will help guide your journey.”

“We need to get this show on the road.” Miriam stalked across the jousting lanes and the dueling court so fast that Shakayla and Natalie had to scamper to keep up. “Like
someone
pointed out, my brother could be freezing right now.”

“Sorry! I didn't mean—” Kyle started, obviously feeling bad, but the questers just disappeared into the library.

Like everyone else, I watched them go, but I still couldn't help feeling that Miriam had made the wrong choice.

he grocery store down the street from our house was one of those tiny upscale ones, everything bright and shiny and expensive. Its door was propped open with an enormous planter full of fresh herbs. Amy sailed right in, past the display of wine bottles and olive oil jars, to the refrigerated ready-made section. She flipped over plastic packs of ravioli to check their expiration dates.

Mom hung back, waiting for me. “What do you think? Ice cream?”

This store had the best frozen treat section in Pacific Heights, but I wasn't in the mood to pick one out. I was still a little upset Mom and Amy hadn't let me stay in the car—Lena had promised to keep me updated on the quest by M3, but we couldn't talk if Mom was watching me like this. Actually, I was still upset I couldn't stay at EAS long enough to see the questers off.