This Isn't What It Looks Like (12 page)

“Good. I’m happy we’ve come to an understanding,” said Max-Ernest’s mother. “And not to worry—your little brother will be
safe with us. Everything we got wrong with you, we’re going to get right this time—we promise.”

His father took his mother’s hand, smiling at her. “
He’s
not going to spend his childhood bouncing from doctor to doctor, making him a neurotic mess.”

Max-Ernest’s mother smiled back at Max-Ernest’s father, grasping his other hand with hers. “We won’t turn
him
into a nervous wreck, searching and searching for a condition that may or may not have a cure!”

Reminding himself that he was supposed to be focusing not on his own life or his brother’s but on
Cass’s, Max-Ernest tried his best not to listen to what his parents were saying. The idea that they felt they had failed with
him was somewhat upsetting, of course, even for somebody bad at feelings, but this was not the time to be upset. Right now
he had to concentrate all of his attention on the task in front of him:

Robbery.

With his parents’ attention fixed on each other, he quickly pulled the book on second sight off the shelf and put it behind
his back. He breathed a silent sigh of relief. So far so good.

“We aren’t going to be breathing down
his
neck every moment,” continued Max-Ernest’s father.

“We won’t be fighting over every second of
his
life,” continued Max-Ernest’s mother.

“Our
new
son is going to have a nice, normal childhood!” concluded Max-Ernest’s father.

“Our
new
son is going to be a nice, normal kid!” concluded Max-Ernest’s mother.

Max-Ernest swallowed. Despite his best efforts, he was unable to completely, entirely, one-hundred-percent-ly ignore his parents.
He knew they didn’t think he was normal. Otherwise why would they have spent all that time and money searching for a cure
for his condition? But it was different to hear them say it out loud.

Never mind, he told himself. A
normal
person wouldn’t be able to prevent a comatose girl from disappearing into her ancestral past. A
normal
person wouldn’t be able to save Cass. Cass didn’t think he was normal, but she didn’t
want
him to be normal, either. She was relying on him to be just who he was. She had faith in him. She had told him so. And living
up to that faith was the only thing that he should be thinking about.

His parents were beaming so hard and happily at each other that he suspected he could walk right out, book in hand, without
their noticing.

And that’s exactly what he did.

And then he ate some chocolate.

And then some more chocolate.

And then some more.

And some more.

And some…

hmmgh…

more.

C
ass stepped out of the kennels too late to see where they’d taken the Jester. Approaching the palace, she scanned her surroundings
with the Double Monocle as if it were a pair of field binoculars, but—no luck.

As for the homunculus, knowing him, Cass figured he’d probably gone in search of the palace kitchens and was at that very
moment devouring a roast pig twice his size. Unless he was too scared to stay so close to Lord Pharaoh. In which case, Cass
supposed, he was long gone.

She’d come so near to achieving her goal: to meet the Jester and ask him about the Secret. About who she was. But now she
felt further away from achieving her goal than ever. Not to mention, what kind of secret could the Secret be if it was the
Jester’s secret? It hardly seemed likely that such a nutty, moody man would hold information important to the fate of the
entire world.

Lost in speculation, Cass didn’t at first notice the maid holding a pail out the window above.

Cass got a whiff just in time to jump out of the way before the contents of the pail poured out in a long, unpleasant stream.
I won’t say what those contents were, but if you know what a chamber pot is,
you can guess. (Remember, this was before the invention of indoor plumbing.)

Cass expected there to be a great splattering next to her, but as it turned out, the chamber pot had been emptied directly
into what looked like a stone well in the ground.

The stench issuing forth from this well (if a well it was) would have been enough to make most people steer clear. But the
light coming out of it made Cass curious. Pinching her nose, she looked over the edge.

She couldn’t see much, but she could see enough. There was indeed a pool of water at the bottom, but the water was filled
with waste. From somewhere down below came the faint cries of prisoners as well as—was she just imagining it?—the even fainter
jingle of the Jester’s hat.

This royal privy, it appeared, was also the palace dungeon.

But how to get in? She could try rappeling herself down to the bottom, but then where would she land? Cass remembered lowering
herself into the pyramid at the Midnight Sun Spa, only to be greeted by flames licking at her feet. The pool of waste would
almost be worse.

Thankfully, Cass found another route. Not far away was a larger stairwell descending underground;
it almost certainly led to the dungeon. A heavy iron gate blocked her way down, but she figured if she waited long enough,
somebody would eventually open it.

Sure enough, a posse of six soldiers soon arrived with their new prisoners: two men from Anastasia’s team of bandits, their
masks now hanging loose around their necks.

“You can lock us in iron, but it is you who are slaves to the King!” shouted one.

“Think you can keep us any longer than last time? I wouldn’t bet on it!” shouted the other.

Cass felt a not entirely sensible sympathy for the bandits and briefly considered using her invisibility to help them in some
way, but she decided her efforts were best directed in the service of the Jester.

She stayed close to the soldiers until she was inside the gate, then she paused to let them get ahead.

Following in their footsteps, she found herself in a long and winding passageway that normally would have been too dark to
navigate without a torch. With the aid of the monocle, she could see every crack and crevice and had no trouble at all. Unless
you call having to avoid rats and cockroaches and one particularly large spider trouble.

She knew she was close when she had to hold her nose.

Now very dimly lit by a few candles burning on the walls, the corridor widened until it became a kind of underground rotunda
with the pool of waste in the center and prison cells surrounding it.

Not far ahead of Cass, the soldiers slammed a cell door shut on the bandits. She pressed against the wall as they passed her
on their way out.

The cell doors were made of iron, crusted with rust, and had only small openings through which to communicate with the inmates.
Cass stood on tiptoe and looked into the first cell. It was dark and difficult to see, but she was almost certain there was
no one inside.

Before she could get to the second cell, Lord Pharaoh stormed out of it, holding a candle. He was accompanied by a prison
guard.

“If you don’t tell me where that creature went, you’ll spend the rest of your days in here, I swear it!” he shouted to the
cell’s inhabitant; then he started striding away in Cass’s direction.

“I know not where your monkey went,” came the reply from the door. “I know only where you’re going. And my advice is not to
bring that cloak. You’ll be much too warm. In fact, you’ll be burning!”

Cass slunk back against the wall—but not in time. Lord Pharaoh brushed against her, jarring her arm and causing her to drop
the monocle.

Luckily, the glass did not break, but it hit the stone floor with a loud enough clink to catch Lord Pharaoh’s attention. “What’s
that?”

Cass stood frozen, her heart beating in her chest. The monocle glinted in the torchlight.

Lord Pharaoh picked up the monocle and turned it over in his hand. “How curious, a
Double Monocle
…”

And then it happened. He put the monocle to his eye and looked straight at her. “Curious, indeed,” he said with a sinister
smile.

He reached out and grabbed her arm. She tried to push him off, but he was too strong. “I thought for a second you were just
a trick of the eye. But now I see you have the trick of touch as well.”

Cass stared back at the man staring at her. Enlarged by the Double Monocle, his dark green eye looked ominous and reptilian.
She wanted to make a retort—to say something smart and stinging to this awful man—but she found she was too afraid.

“Why is it when I look at you, I think I see the future?” mused Lord Pharaoh. “You are not of this time, am I right?”

“What is it?” asked the guard nervously. “A ghost?”

Lord Pharaoh snickered. “If she is a ghost, she is but a sniveling girl ghost. There is no need to fear her.”

He tightened his grip on Cass. “This is a very intriguing glass you have…. What else do you bring from your invisible world?
Empty your pockets. Now. Or I will have the guard do it.”

Cass obeyed, but there was nothing in her pockets, save for a crumpled wrapper. Lord Pharaoh unfolded it, revealing a tiny
triangle of chocolate.

Cass let out a little gasp—it was the last uneaten bit of Señor Hugo’s special time-traveling recipe. She’d forgotten that
there was any left.

Lord Pharaoh sniffed the chocolate, then touched it with his tongue. “What is this? Some kind of spice?”

“It’s chocolate,” Cass answered, surprise momentarily overcoming her fear. Then she remembered that the New World treat had
yet to be imported to Europe.

“It is vile. But unique. I shall have to study it further,” said Lord Pharaoh, rewrapping the remains.

Cass looked for signs that Señor Hugo’s chocolate was having an effect on him—with any luck, Lord Pharaoh would fall to the
ground unconscious—but
apparently the one taste had been too small to make a difference.

“As for you—let’s throw you in with the Jester for now. Later we shall learn how best to kill a ghost.”

He lowered the monocle and inspected it briefly. “I have a distinct feeling the future will be much brighter without you,”
he concluded, replacing the monocle—this time with an expression so satisfied one might have expected him never to remove
the monocle again.

Cass choked back a sob. Without the monocle, she’d never be able to escape.

The bells on the Jester’s hat jingled in defiance of the darkness.

“Who’s there?” he asked. “Though I cannot see your face, I wouldst know what unlucky soul has entered this gloomy place.”

Cass peered around the cell, trying to make out the form of her fellow prisoner. The only light came from the small opening
in the cell door.

There was a glimmer that she thought might be one of the bells on the Jester’s hat. She crawled toward it.

“Um, hi. My name is Cassandra, but everybody calls me Cass.”

“Cass?” the Jester repeated in surprise. “You are but a lass if my ears do not lie. Why is such a child as you in a place
like this? What did you do wrong? Or is it, rather, what did you do right? If I am here, then this prison must be reserved
for the best and most bright.”

Cass giggled. Evidently, the Jester’s mood was on an upswing again.

“It’s kind of a long story, but, well, I think part of the reason is that—” She took a breath. She might as well just say
it. “I’m invisible, and Lord Pharaoh wants to find out why.”

The Jester laughed. “’Tis a good joke but no real riddle. We are all invisible in the dark. Come now, tell me the true story.
Or if not true, then at least a better one.”

“No, really, you wouldn’t be able to see me even if there was light. See, watch. Let me take your hat—”

By now, Cass had located the Jester. Before he could protest, she pulled his hat off his head.

“Look, see how that little bit of light is shining on this bell. Now, feel my hand. It’s there, right? Now I’m moving my hand
over the bell. See how there’s still light on it? No shadow.”

“A nice trick, I admit,” said the Jester, impressed.
“If you can do this sort of magic in the daylight, we might put on a show together.”

“It’s not a magic trick. That’s my friend Max-Ernest’s department.”

“He must be a great magician, your friend. Does
he
want a partner? I will give him one coin for every ten we make. Oh, I’m feeling like a rich man already, I shall make it
two—”

“Forget about Max-Ernest. He’s a really difficult partner—trust me, I should know. The point is, the light shines through
me because I’m invisible.”

It was important that she convince him, Cass decided. For one thing, she didn’t want him to die of shock if the cell was ever
illuminated and he couldn’t see her. On a more practical level, if he first accepted the fact of her invisibility, it would
be easier to make him believe what was even more unlikely—that she was a visitor from the future.

“Here, now I’m putting my hand over your eyes and you can still see, right?”

The Jester didn’t say anything, just nodded.