Storybound (4 page)

She circled back around to the statue of the man in the center and looked at it with fresh eyes. This Archimago had saved Story from the awful Muses. He was a Hero. She wondered how he had done it. Just then, a cluster of pirates who were staggering along and singing about the high seas bumped into her, and one of them hooked his elbow into hers and swept her along with them. She was halfway down the next corridor before he let her go, with a courtly bow and a wink of the one eye that wasn’t covered by a patch. Una watched them twirl along other unsuspecting characters until they were out of sight. That was when she noticed a crowd of kids gathered in a circle near a low door, pointing at something. She edged her way forward.

A group of boys her age were flicking burning sticks at a gray, striped tomcat. The cat ran in circles, his eyes dilated with fear. Every time the cat ran, another boy would hiss and throw a flaming missile at his face.

“Stop it!” she cried. “Don’t! It’s just a cat.”

A tall boy with spiky black hair and a pale face stepped forward. “And who’s going to stop us?”

“I am.” Una frowned at the other boys. “I told you to stop.”

“And who are you?” the tall boy asked.

“I’m Una.”

“I’m Una,” the tall boy whined. “And I want to save my itsy-bitsy weeny-ums puddy tat. Stop it.” He put his hands on his hips and notched his voice up an octave. “Stop it.” The group around him laughed, and Una felt her face burn.

“I mean it,” she said as she fingered the small dagger at her waist. Just the thought of it gave her courage. The tall boy laughed again, but Una saw his gaze shift nervously toward the dagger.

“You’re not supposed to have weapons outside of class.” His voice wasn’t so whiny anymore.

Una gave him what she hoped was a menacing look. “And you’re so worried about me following the rules, are you?” The group around him snickered.

The boy backed away. “Are you going to cry if we don’t give you back your ickle sweetest kittyums? Una must love her ittle wittle kittyums.” She said nothing, and the boy forced a laugh. “I’m sick of this anyway. Come on, guys.”

After the group had left, Una bent down and held her fingers out to call the cat.

“Back off, kid,” the cat snarled, coiling to spring at her. One ear was torn a bit, and blood had caked onto the corner.

Una froze. “You can talk.”

“Enough with the chitchat,” said the cat. “What do you want?” He sat back and licked himself with jerky little movements.

“Want?” echoed Una. “Nothing—er—I mean. You can talk?”

The cat looked her over with slits of green eyes. “Hmmm,” he said. “A Lady, I’d wager. And a quick one at that. Head of your class, are you? All right, then—Una, was it?”

Una nodded as though carrying on a conversation with an animal was the most normal thing in the world.

“I’m Sam,” said the cat. His licking became less frantic and more methodical. “Where’d those kids go, anyway? I’m telling you, I’d had enough. Just two more minutes and I’d a . . .” He swiped the air with one paw and then another, baring his teeth and growling.

“I see.” Una resisted the urge to rumple his ears. “I guess I shouldn’t have interfered then. We can go and find those guys, if you like, so you can show them a thing or two.”

The cat stopped swiping. “That’s okay.” He paused. “Er . . . thanks for your help . . . I guess . . . I—”

Una cut him off. “You’re welcome.”

“You coming or going?” Sam asked.

“Um,” said Una intelligently. “Waiting, I think. You?”

“Same. You a first-year?” the cat asked.

“I think I’m a Lady,” Una said.

“Okay.”
Sam gave her a strange look.

“What are you waiting for?” Una asked. Maybe if she kept him talking, he wouldn’t ask any more questions.

“My friend had his practical today—the Fantasy District, you know—and we’re going to find the way to dinner after.” Sam sat up very straight. “I just passed mine with flying colors.”

Una smiled. “That’s great.” Her stomach rumbled. What did he mean “find the way to dinner”?

“My practical was really hard,” Sam said. “I had to fight this other cat.” He eyed Una. “I mean, lion. It was huge, I mean we’re talking king-of-the-jungle size. He was coming at me from the right, and I went left, and . . .” Sam was swiping the air again.

“Una!” Una spun around and saw Peter running across the station toward them. “I told you to wait by the door.” He panted, bending over to catch his breath. “You . . .” Peter stopped and swiveled his head back and forth between Sam and her.

Una raised an eyebrow.
Told
me to wait?

“Una and I have just met,” Sam said. “Friend of yours? Right. Let’s find dinner. I’m starved. Peter, did you pass the examination?” Sam took off, bobbing and weaving through the crowd, so he couldn’t have seen Peter’s face. But Una did.
Uh-oh.

Sam kept talking. “I was just telling ol’ Una here about the lion. He looks worse than me, I’m telling you.”

Chapter 6

I
t was already dark when they left the station. Peter produced a small lantern from his knapsack. “Travel-size,” he said as he lit it. The tiny flame cast just enough glow to illuminate the path ahead of them. Shadows moved on either side as the light swung to and fro.

Una could hear whispered rustling and strange night noises all around. The air smelled of woodsmoke, and the wind was noisy in the branches overhead. When was the last time that she had been in a forest at night? Maybe never.

With a great crushing of dried leaves, Sam darted into the forest. Every so often he ran farther up the path and accomplished some catlike mission before returning to join them. In the beginning, Una had jumped every time the cat appeared, but the longer they walked, the more she got used to it.

“We’ll have to visit the Museum soon.” Peter broke into Una’s thoughts. “It’s the only place I can think of where we can find out about WIs without anyone getting suspicious.” He kicked at a pinecone in the path. “Students aren’t allowed into the restricted areas there, so we’ll have to find a way to sneak in.” Peter glanced over his shoulder nervously.

They were not alone on the wide path. Up ahead, dots of light swung back and forth, and bits of laughter drifted back to them on the autumn air. Una tried not to stare too openly as two girls in hoop skirts passed them.

Peter dropped his voice to a near whisper. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since my exam review. We’ve got to figure out why you’ve been Written In before the Talekeepers find out about you.”

“But why does it matter?” Una asked. “If they’re in charge, shouldn’t we just tell them what happened? I mean, if no one’s been Written In in ages, won’t they be interested?”

Sam poked his head out from a bush. “Written In?” He crouched down and sniffed in Una’s direction. “Are you kidding me?”

Peter grabbed Sam by the scruff of the neck. “You can’t say anything, Sam. We’ve got to keep her safe.”

Sam shook his head free and went back to scrutinizing Una. “And if the Talekeepers catch you? They don’t even like us to
talk
about stuff from before the Unbinding. What do you think they’ll do with an actual WI?” He sniffed attentively at a speck on her boot.

“It doesn’t matter. A Hero never deserts a Lady in need.” Peter said this last as though he was reciting a rule from class. He brushed Sam’s fur off his fingertips. “And they won’t catch me.”

“What aren’t you saying?” Una demanded. When Peter didn’t answer, she planted her feet. “Tell me why I’m in danger.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I won’t go a step farther until you do.”

Peter gave a great sigh and walked over to where she was standing. “I don’t know what the Talekeepers would do if they found you, but it probably would be bad. No one’s been Written In since before the Unbinding, and back then, it was the Muses who Wrote people In. Since the Muses were Story’s greatest enemies, you can see why people would be less than thrilled to meet one of their WI helpers.”

Sam coughed. “That’s the understatement of the age.”

Una thought of the murals she had seen in the Tale station. “You mean the horrible creatures who killed all those people?” Una took a step back. “How could you think I’m connected with them? I’m not anyone’s enemy! Before today, I’d never even heard of your Muses.”

Peter put out his hands to reassure her. “I believe you,” he said in a quiet voice. “But I’m not so sure anyone else will.”

Una’s heart sank. “Why not?”

“WIs came to Story by the old ways of the Muses.” Sam licked a forepaw and squinted his eyes at Una. “And characters are afraid of anything to do with those Oathbreakers.”

“What oaths? What happened?” Una asked, but from the way Peter and Sam were acting, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“We’d better go somewhere private if we’re going to talk about all this.” Peter looked back down the path, but no one was near them.

“I saw a good spot earlier,” Sam said, and led them through a thick bramble hedge to a cozy clearing under a low maple. The three crouched around the travel light as Peter began the story. “It all happened a long, long time ago. Back before the Unbinding, the Muses used to create Tales for all the characters.”

“What do you mean, ‘create Tales for all the characters’?” Una interrupted.

Peter fidgeted with the lantern, and the shadows shifted around them into the blackness of the woods. “They would decide on the setting and a few plot points to sketch out the story. Then, characters would enter the Tale, and what they did there—how they lived out the story—would make the Tale. After the Tale was finished, the Muses would bind the books.”

Una frowned. “But I thought you said there were no books. How can you be characters in Tales if you don’t have any books?”

“There aren’t any books now. Not since the Unbinding. But the Tales were written in bound books back then. Will you just let me tell you what happened?” Peter sounded annoyed.

Una bit back her questions and nodded as sweetly as possible.

Peter leaned back on his heels. “So the Muses, even though they had all these magical powers, promised to be the protectors of Story and to do no harm. For a long time they wrote the Tales and bound them and everyone was happy.” He folded his hands over his knees and stared down at the ground. “But the Muses broke their oaths. They attacked the characters they were supposed to protect. The mural you saw? That really happened.” Peter hurried on. “Everything went crazy for a while there. People were terrified that the Muses would come for them. There was a lot of fighting. Whole families ran away from home, and some people just disappeared. Bad things happened.”

Una’s spine tingled, and a little shiver ran over her. No wonder nobody liked to talk about the Muses. She thought about the statue she had seen earlier. “But what about Archimago? The plaque in the Tale station said he defeated them.”

“He did,” Peter said. “Archimago was a great Hero, and because he had traveled through the Enchanted Forest, he knew how to destroy the Muses. He was the first Tale Master.”

“Why does the statue show him stabbing a stack of books?”

“It’s symbolic,” Sam said, and his eyes glowed in the flickering light. “One book for each of the Muses.” He blinked slowly. “And Archimago also began the Unbinding.”

The night air was seeping through Una’s cloak. She rubbed briskly at her arms. “You keep talking about the Unbinding, but what does it mean?”

Peter stood and stretched. “The secret of Tale writing disappeared with the Muses, and there was no one who could write any new Tales. Which was fine because Archimago said that it was better not to have any new Tales at all than to have wicked Muses around. Writing Tales gave too much power. So he gathered up all the old Tales that the Muses had written and put them in the Vault. Then, he chose Talekeepers from every district to oversee how Story is run. That was the great Unbinding of Story, and there haven’t been any bound books since then, no new Tales or anything to do with the Muses.” He scuffed the dirt with one toe. “And there haven’t been any other WIs either.”

Una tried to keep her face neutral, but a knot of worry appeared instantly in her stomach. Who could have Written her In to Story?

Sam blinked owlish eyes up at Una. “A genuine WI. I never would have imagined I’d actually see one.”

“It’s pretty incredible, isn’t it?” Peter said in a hushed voice. “And to think that I found her.” He smiled down at Una. “And it’s up to me to keep her safe.”

“
Found
me?” Una stood and put her hands on her hips. “
Keep
me
safe
? I don’t need you to be my Hero, Peter. And in case you hadn’t noticed, I didn’t need a Hero in the exam, either. I was doing just fine killing the dragons by myself.”

“The baby dragons, sure.” Peter crossed his arms. “But if I hadn’t slain the mother dragon, you’d be in her belly right now.”

“I thought you said the exam wasn’t real,” Una snapped. “That we weren’t in any danger.”

“I basically saved your life.” Peter looked very pleased with himself. “Like it or not, I’m your Hero.”

Una bristled. “I didn’t need saving, and—”

“Enough already,” Sam yowled. “Whether you were in danger in the exam isn’t important. What matters is that you are in danger now.”

Peter uncrossed his arms. “Sam’s right. And I know you don’t need saving, but I like to help my friends. After all, it’s the Hero’s—”

Sam darted over and swiped at Peter’s ankle. “Drop the Hero bit,” he hissed.

Una bit back a laugh as Sam scampered off into the woods. She felt warm inside all of a sudden. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had called her their friend.

Peter rubbed at his ankle and looked ruefully after the cat. “Right. No heroics.”

“So what do we do now?” Una asked. “If Sam’s right, we’re both in danger: me for being Written In, and you for helping me.”

“Well, if no one else knows you’ve been Written In, then maybe both of us are safe.”

Una shivered. “If the Muses are all gone, who do you think brought me here?”

“I don’t know,” Peter said carefully, and started walking again. “I thought that no one else knew how to Write anybody In. But I could be wrong. That’s why we have to look in the Museum. I don’t know how else to find out what really happened. I mean, the Talekeepers keep track of everything in Story. They would know, but . . .” Peter’s voice wavered. “I’m afraid of what they might do if they thought you were somehow connected with the old ways.”

They walked on in silence. If anything, knowing more made Una feel worse. If the Talekeepers kept track of everything, surely they’d find out she didn’t belong in Story soon enough. She belonged back in her library reading a book about Peter instead of talking to him. She stopped walking. Something Peter had said didn’t make any sense.

“You said there aren’t any new Tales, but what about the one we were in—the one with the dragon?”

Peter turned but kept walking backward as he talked. “That was just an examination. It wasn’t a real Tale.” His forehead furrowed. “The Talekeepers know all the old Tales and write copies of them for the characters. So, they decided the setting and the dragons and all that. But how we acted in the exam? That’s what made the Tale. That’s what shows up in the record.”

“So
we
wrote the Tale,” Una said. Maybe she could reread the part where she first found the cave. It might have some clues about who Wrote her In
.
“Do you still have the exam papers?”

Peter shook his head. “The record is erased after the students get their marks. It’s not a real Tale, you see. Nothing permanent.”

Una hurried to catch up with him. “But without the papers, how will I get home?”

Her words stopped Peter in his tracks. Una stared at his back for a minute until Peter slowly turned around and came toward her. “Get home?” His voice sounded forced. “Well, I’m not sure. Professor Perregrin got fired before he could tell us much about WIs. But we’ll find out. If you’ve been Written In, you can probably be Written Out again.”

Una followed Peter around a bend in the path. Her heart quickened.
Maybe there is no going back
. She thought of her room at Ms. McDonough’s house, her little desk where she sat doing her homework in front of the window that overlooked the park. The grandfather clock ticking away the hours in the hall. The musty quiet that filled every room. It wasn’t that she wished she were there right now. But she would have liked to know she
could
be there if she wanted. She squared her shoulders. Peter had to be right.
If I’ve been Written In, I can be Written Out again, too. And when I’m ready, I’ll find a way back home.

Just then Sam’s furry head popped back into view. His eyes looked wild. “Any hints about finding dinner? I’m starved!”

“You keep talking about finding dinner,” Una said. “What does that mean?”

Peter’s stomach growled so loud she could hear it. “It’s sort of a tradition,” he said. “After every practical, the dorm leaders think it’s a fun prank to make us find our dinner. Usually they use enchantment to make us solve a riddle or something like that. This time it’s Basic Questing. Everyone knows you’re just supposed to keep walking on a quest until you see the lights ahead, but that’s just too simple. . . .”

Sam stopped abruptly and sat back on his haunches. “Hmmm. How to find dinner using Basic Questing?” he said. “What a Questing question. A true query for Questing questers.”

Peter rolled his eyes.

Sam didn’t seem to notice and scampered along in front of them. “Usually you can’t go another step and are thinking of your own home fires and a hot bed and a warm meal. Mmmm, fried fish and heavy cream and . . .”

“And what, Sam?” Una asked, but Sam had disappeared again. She tried hard to peer into the darkness around her. The lantern wasn’t helping. Just as her eyes got used to the dark, Peter would swing it in her direction, half blinding her. She thought of the peanut butter toast she had eaten for breakfast. Could that have happened today? It felt lifetimes away. She began to think about her favorite foods: big plates of macaroni and cheese, creamy pumpkin pie, baked potatoes piled high with onions and sour cream. Her mouth watered. She whispered, “Grilled cheese, mmmm, and some hot tomato soup.” Just then, a warm glow of light burst out up ahead on the path. She blinked her eyes and stared.

Directly in front of her a big redwood tree stretched up out of sight. Its trunk was as round as a dining room table.

“Pretty impressive, huh?” Sam’s voice spoke from somewhere around Una’s shoulders. He was perched on the lowest branch of the tree. His green eyes glowed in the candlelight, for there were candles everywhere—some nestled in tree branches, others tucked away in birds’ nests. Una even saw one on a tulip growing near the roots.

“It’s going to catch fire!” she gasped, and blew a puff of air at the red flower.

Sam twitched his whiskers. “Fairy magic,” he said. “Same as Birchwood Hall. Where’s Peter?” He stretched his mouth into a luxurious yawn. “I give him ten seconds to figure it out. Ten . . . nine . . .” He reached seven when there was a puff of glittering smoke, and a breathless Peter appeared next to them.