Into The Mist (Land of Elyon) (4 page)

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We thought she was through with us, but there was one last thought on her mind. "Give me the paper."

I looked at Thomas and he nodded, indicating that I should waste no time handing it over. Both of us were quite convinced that it would take only a moment's hesitation to turn Madame Vickers to violence once more.

Madame Vickers saw what was on the paper and laughed. "There's no hope you'll ever go there, no hope at all. I won't have you daydreaming about some stupid adventure far away from here. That will never happen!"

As she turned to go, the paper clutched in her hand, she said to Finch, "Next time bring the dogs and show these filthy boys no mercy."

She turned just one more time in our direction and yelled so loud her voice cracked like a whip on the wind. "Back to work!"

After we were sure they had gone far away, Thomas and I sat down next to each other. We pulled up our pant legs and examined our bare knees, something we'd done a thousand times before. My face felt like it was swollen to twice its normal size, and when I talked, the words came out like a slur.

"Did you see that, Thomas? Did you see what I saw?"

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Thomas craned his head around and looked up at Madame Vickers's House on the Hill with a cool smile.

"Our time here has come to an end, brother. But we won't be leaving until the two of them know for certain how rude it is to hit a boy across the head with a saddlebag."

For once I was giddy with excitement at the thought of the tricks Thomas had cooked up to torment Finch and Madame Vickers.

I had a feeling the biggest trick of all was soon to come.

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***

CHAPTER 4

OF KNEES AND MARKINGS

I don't think a person has really sat and listened to a very good story in the right way until they've done so with someone like Yipes, someone for whom the real world and the story being told switch places. It's the 'Warwick Beacon, the Lonely Sea, and the man before us who are the story, and the story of the two boys under the rule of Madame Vickers and Finch that is real -- so real that one feels the saddlebag against the side of the head, and flies into a rage at the injustice endured by two young brothers.

"That woman!" yelled Yipes. He was beside himself, shaking with anger. "That woman and her terrible son! And those dogs!"

It's hard not to enjoy it when your closest friend is carried away on the wings of a story, and both Roland and I began to laugh. This seemed to bring Yipes back to us, though a glimmer of the House on the Hill remained in his slightly narrowed eyes. He jumped to his feet and gathered the empty cups.

"I'll fetch one more cup of tea for the three of us and another loaf of bread." He started for the stove and then stopped short. "Will you show me your knees when I get back?"

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Both Yipes and I held our breath, waiting to see what Roland would say. He made us wait, plying the wheel between his hands, and then he gave us a nod and a wink before Yipes darted off to fill the cups and get the bread.

When he returned, Yipes carefully set the cups on the deck and broke the bread into three pieces. He hunkered down with his cup of tea, blowing off the steam, and I noticed the wind had picked up just a little.

"We should draw down the smaller sail, the one at the very top," said Roland. "We're a bit fast for my taste today."

Yipes shivered from head to toe and his tiny mustache quivered back and forth at the thought of having to wait another second before returning to the story. It took all of his will to set the steaming cup down and stand back up, prepared to do the captain's bidding. He raced across the deck and scampered all the way up the mast until he reached a wooden perch where the topsail could be drawn down.

"Did you really need that little sail taken down?" I asked.

"No, not really," replied Roland. "But I can't help driving him mad at least twice a day. It keeps my spirits up."

Yipes slid down the mast and ran across the deck to rejoin us, careful to avoid the bread and the teacups as he sat back down. He picked up his tea and cradled it gently in his lap, staring intently at Roland's legs behind the wheel of the Warwick Beacon.

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"Let's see those knees," he said, a twinkle of great expectation in his voice.

It appeared as though Roland thought about whether or not there was another silly errand he could send Yipes on before proceeding, but coming up with nothing very interesting, he decided it was as good a time as any to go on with his story. He stepped out from behind the wheel, locking it with a wooden pin as he came around, and knelt down in front of Yipes and me.

"That piece of paper, the one we found in the saddlebag," began Roland, looking intently at the two of us, "there was time enough for us to read it before Madame Vickers snatched it away."

"What did it say?" Yipes was about to keel over from anticipation, and the slightest pause from Roland sent him into a fit. "Out with it!"

Roland smiled and, standing just a little, began to roll up his pant legs until they were over his knobby knees. He was quite a burly man, and his legs were covered in a lightly colored mat of furry hair. Yipes and I both leaned in close so we could clearly see his knees.

There appeared to be a very old image directly above his kneecaps. It was dark brown -- like a birthmark -- but it was also perfect in its shape and form, as if it had been put there by someone. The markings were all of circles, interconnecting and darting back and forth between his knees. Roland touched his knees together and the two halves became one.

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[ILLUSTRATION: The marking on Yipe's legs.]

"You've got an awful lot of hair. I can hardly see past it," said Yipes, intent on discovering all he could of the strange markings. He reached his hand down and tried to touch Roland's leg and Roland gave it a quick slap.

"No touching the captain's hairy legs. That's not allowed."

"But what does it mean?" cried Yipes. "All those circles, darting around as if they've got no home."

Roland pulled himself up to his full height and rolled down his pant legs, going back to the wheel. He pulled the wooden pin out and took control of the Warwick Beacon again.

"Thomas had markings on his legs as well," he said.

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"Only his were all squares. If we sat across from each other when we were young, all the squares and all the circles became connected. We looked at it for years, trying to understand what the markings meant and from where they had come, but we could never figure it out."

Roland paused, taking one of his hands from the wheel and scratching at his ear.

"Until we found that piece of paper at Madame Vickers's House on the Hill."

Yipes and I looked at each other with wide eyes, feeling sure we were about to be let in on a fantastic secret. We watched as Roland took his logbook out of his pocket and opened it to a certain page. He handed the book over -- something he'd never done before -- and Yipes quickly reached out and snatched it away.

"Careful with that!" cried Roland. "If it goes overboard we won't know where we're going or how to get back."

Yipes was suddenly aware that he had in his hands a very important item that he didn't care to be responsible for. He thrust it into my hands and leaned in close, where the two of us spied a drawing on the left-hand page.

"As close as I can recall, that is a reproduction of the piece of paper we found in the Mingleton's saddlebag at the House on the Hill," said Roland, gazing off into the horizon.

Yipes and I looked carefully at the page, reading the words and spying the image of the square and the circle

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put together. It was uncannily like the one we'd just seen on Roland's knee.

"If you want to know the meaning of those words and that image before the sun sets, we best get back to our story," said Roland. "Take up your bread and your tea and I'll tell you what happened that night at Madame Vickers's House on the Hill."

[ILLUSTRATION: A piece of paper that reads: WESTERN KINGDOM

WAKEFIELD HOUSE

FAILED!]

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***

CHAPTER 5

The Toll of the Bell

For the rest of the day Finch kept the dogs on their long leashes and let them stray between the piles of trash. He set us all to picking through the same giant stretch of rubbish, where he could keep a watchful eye and sic Max and the Mooch on anyone who slacked off. There was nothing in the world like the thought of two very big, very mangy dogs tearing at your ankles to make a boy work faster.

Thomas and I whispered of a great many things as the day passed. We whispered of the symbol on our knees and how it had matched that of the image on the piece of paper from the saddlebag. We wondered aloud what the words on the piece of paper had meant -- Western Kingdom -- Wakefield House -- Miss Flannery -- FAILED! We wished we could have the paper back again, to try to find something else written there that might enlighten our search for answers. We also spent a good deal of time talking about the bell that would soon toll and how we needed to escape what was likely to be the beating of our lives. On this topic Thomas was the primary planner, having spent hours and hours thinking

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about what he might do to Madame Vickers and Finch should we ever find a way to leave the House on the Hill for good.

"One thing is for sure," I said after some thought. "We simply have to go to the Western Kingdom, by whatever way possible, and seek out the Wakefield House and Miss Flannery."

On this point we agreed, and soon we were planning our escape in hopes of making our departure before the sound of the bell drifted over the hill of garbage. Throughout the morning, Thomas secretly darted back and forth between the younger children, calling in every favor he'd saved up for just such a time as this. Our stomachs rumbled as the noon hour approached and the dogs became excited as Madame Vickers strode down the winding path with two bags slung over her shoulder and a dirty old jug in her hand.

When she arrived, she stared boldly at the group of us and seemed to take some pleasure in tossing one of the bags in our general direction. The bag burst open when it hit the ground, revealing a block of moldy cheese and two loaves of hard, stale bread. Max and the Mooch bolted forward, yanking their leashes from Finch's hand, and pounced on the food. They began by tearing the cheese to pieces, making such an awful sound of growling and slobbering and chomping that not one of us had even a

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tenth of the courage it would have taken to reach in and try our luck at grabbing something for ourselves. When all the cheese was gone, each of the dogs chomped down on a loaf of bread and, growling viciously in our direction for good measure, returned to lie down by Finch and eat the rest of our lunch.

"Next time you'll need to be quicker," Madame Vickers said with a sly grin, as though she'd been imagining the scene that had just taken place and was glad to find it playing" out as she'd hoped. "I suppose now you'll have to go without food until dinner."

She turned to Finch and handed him the other bag and the jug she'd carried down the hill. We all watched him open the bag and take out a fresh loaf of bread, a glorious-looking red apple, and slices of delectable-looking orange cheese. "Enjoy your lunch, Finchy. And do keep a close eye on that one." She pointed at Thomas. "Who knows what he'll try next!"

She started up the hill, then yelled back over her shoulder, "Give them the jug when you've had all you want. They'll work faster if they're not too thirsty."

Finch nodded and took a bite of the apple, savoring the crunchy sweetness. None of us moved as the dogs choked down the last of our bread and

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Finch guzzled from the jug. When Madame Vickers had gone far enough up the hill that she could not hear Finch any longer, he looked us up and down where we stood and took another bite of the apple.

"Back to work with you!" he screamed, sputtering apple juice down his chin and wiping it with a grimy arm. "The next one of you fools to find something of real value gets the core of this apple. But it must be small enough to fit in my pocket. A ring or a coin will do just fine."

He went on eating the apple, and Thomas moved closer to the new boy, Jonezy, as if to secretly whisper to him. Jonezy was smaller than the rest, too frail to be working on a hill of garbage all day without food or water. He had been quiet and seemed to be afraid of the other boys, though no one had bothered him.

Thomas reached down into one of his own mismatched shoes, a shoe of brown leather found on the hill. He dug around the edge of the shoe, which was easy for him to do, because the shoe was several sizes too big and there was lots of room to get his fingers in along the sides. When his hand emerged there was an old silver coin between his fingers.

"Have you got anything good yet?" asked Thomas. The boy dug nervously into his bag and pulled out a twisted piece of metal, the spine of a