The Blackhope Enigma (5 page)

Blaise ignored him and was almost through the third section when he heard the click of heels coming toward the Mariner’s Chamber. He desperately hoped it was not his father.

Keep going
, Blaise said to himself and whispered, “Chiaroscuro, chiaroscuro.”

The steps came closer as he rounded the last turn. He stood in the middle of the labyrinth, eyes drooping, his body growing as light as vapor. The world went cotton-ball white around him, and he felt himself drift away.

Blaise disappeared.

“What the —?” The two detectives were sweeping their arms through the empty space just as the chief inspector stalked into the Mariner’s Chamber.

“What’s going on here? They told me you were questioning the boy,” he said. “Where is he?”

McNeill’s face was strained. “He was just here talking to us, sir. He was showing us what the kids did, and he just vanished into thin air!”

The chief inspector growled, “You mean he disappeared from under your nose?” His voice grew more irate. “Have this room closed off. I don’t want anybody else in here until we’ve figured this out!”

He was so busy barking out orders, neither he nor the others noticed the tiny burst of light near the bottom of
The Mariner’s Return to Arcadia
.

D
ean trudged along the road out of the city. The stillness of the cattle and the motionless trees here were not as eerie as the streets he had just left. He had no idea where he was going, but at least he had escaped the frozen people with half faces.

The road became a narrow path by a grove of trees. Dean gazed at the high hills in the distance. They were at the back of the painting, he remembered. But what was behind them? The way out?

Dean picked his way through the trees into a field of stone boulders at the bottom of the hills. The path petered out at a dark cleft between two tall boulders. He moved closer. The cleft was wide enough to squeeze through. He peered into the inky darkness, sniffing the air while trying to decide whether it was a good idea to go in.

Sunni was running through the fields after Dean. She had lost sight of him sometime earlier, but as there was only one road, she was certain she would catch him eventually. At the start of the grove, she pulled the lavender-striped scarf from her neck and tied it around a tree trunk as a marker.

Picking her way through the trees, she caught sight of a familiar red blob. Dean was leaning against a boulder with his back to her.

“Dean!” she yelled, hurling herself toward him, her ponytail loose and flying in wavy tendrils.

Dean whooped with relief. He tackled Sunni and gave her a messy hug. “What took you so long?”

“Charming,” said Sunni. “You’re lucky I figured out where you were. I bet you don’t even know how you got here.”

“No. I must have blacked out or something. I woke up here with those frozen zombies and food you can’t eat. I wish Mom had never made me go to Blackhope with you.”

“So do I,” Sunni said with a sigh. “If you walk around that labyrinth in the floor and say the word
chiaroscuro
, it transports you into the painting. But I don’t know how to get us out.”

“You don’t?” Dean hung his head. “But you told my mom and Ian, right? They’ll come and get us, won’t they?”

“I didn’t tell them anything. I came straight in after you.”

“So, they don’t know we’re here?”

“No.” Sunni saw his incredulous look, and her anger rose. “Well, they were never going to believe me, were they, so what was the point of telling them?”

“That’s just brilliant. Nobody knows where we are,” Dean spluttered. “We’re doomed.”

“You’re right. Doom is the option I always go for.” Sunni kicked at some loose stones. “Like you weren’t doomed before I got here?”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell anyone. Any grown-ups.”

“Do you know any grown-ups who specialize in getting kids out of paintings?”

“No one else knows where we are,” Dean bellowed. “Because of you!”

“For your information, Blaise knows. He was there.”

“That guy you were with?”

“Yeah,” said Sunni. She didn’t add,
And I told him not to tell anyone
.

Dean let out a long breath. “Maybe he won’t be as dumb as you and he’ll get help. Maybe all we have to do is wait.”

Sunni slumped back against the rock face, glaring at the sky.
Maybe. Maybe not
.

“I’m starving,” said Dean. “You got any food?”

Sunni rooted around in her backpack and handed him her last piece of chocolate. “That’s it.”

He shoved it into his mouth and practically swallowed it whole.

“What’re we going to eat now?”

“Forget about your stomach,” answered Sunni. “Let’s find the way out.”

“We’ve got to stay here so they can rescue us.”

“Who knows how long that will take?”
If it happens at all
, Sunni thought. “Let’s try getting ourselves out.” She gestured at the slit in the rock. “This must lead somewhere. There are no other roads.”

“It’s dark in there.”

“Yeah, and . . . ?”

“I don’t want to go in.”

“Stay here, then,” she said. “Though I would have thought you’d be used to creepy caves from all your monster and demon games.”

“But this isn’t a game,” he said. “This is real.”

“That’s right: it is real. We can’t just skip the scary bits.” Sunni pushed through the opening, waving her arms in front of her. “Besides, what if the way home is just around the corner?”

They inched through dense, heart-stopping darkness. In the distance was what looked like a bright white door cut out of a black wall. Sunni tiptoed toward it, puzzled by its brilliance.

“Is it snow?” whispered Dean. “A blizzard?”

“I haven’t a clue.”

The door was just wide enough for Sunni to walk through. She and Dean emerged into the light like rabbits from a winter burrow.

There was nothing here except whiteness. No objects, no colors, only brilliant whiteness.

Sunni took a few steps and bumped into what appeared to be some sort of wall. There was no edge where it met the ground. She turned around. The door they had come through was now just a black slit.

“This is giving me a headache,” Sunni said, feeling around the black shape. “There isn’t a wall. But then there is a wall.” She ran her hand up and down the whiteness. “It feels rough.”

“It’s got streaks in it,” said Dean, sticking his nose up against it. “Like when your dad painted the kitchen table.”

“Dried paint.” She could make out great whorls and swirls, as if a huge paintbrush had sloshed white over everything. She edged sideways along the wall that wasn’t a wall. “This is like an alleyway. Come on, let’s just see where it goes.”

Dean followed her, peering back at the black doorway in case it disappeared, until Sunni pointed and said, “There!”

A misty shadow loomed in the whiteness, shining through as though it was wrapped in lace curtains. For the first time in ages they felt a breeze.

“It looks like the trees in the fog on that day we went to Gran’s last month. Remember? She called it a pea-souper,” said Dean.

“Yeah. And you know what else it looks like? Like when I did a painting on a canvas and really messed it up, so Mr. Bell gave me some white paint to cover it and start again. It didn’t quite hide everything until I’d done three coats.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Maybe Corvo did the same thing. He painted something and then covered it over with white paint,” said Sunni, heading toward the shadow.

“Because he made a mistake?”

“I don’t know.”

As they came closer, they could make out a deep gray tree trunk bleeding through the whiteness, its lower branches framing a patch of bare earth and scrubby bushes below.

“Come on,” said Sunni. “This could be the way out. Maybe Corvo was trying to hide it.”

“I dunno,” answered Dean, pulling back.

“Do you want to go back to the frozen zombies instead? Look, we can find our way back there if we need to. The path only leads one way.” Something struck her. “Just like the labyrinth.”

“I wish I’d never walked on that thing,” Dean muttered.

Together they stepped onto the patch of ground beneath the tree. As they moved forward, the whiteness thinned out and Sunni and Dean found themselves in a green wood. It rang with bird songs, and the leaves rustled in a gentle breeze. The sky was the same blue as the one in the world they had just left, but this time clouds were moving across it. The sun was low, and the shadows gave them the feeling that it was afternoon.

“This place is alive,” Sunni said in wonder. “Things are moving.
Inside
a painting.”

“Maybe we’re out of the painting now. There’s wind and sounds.” Dean looked around for anything he might recognize. “Maybe we’re home, Sun.”

“Not unless we skipped winter. It’s warm here.” Sunni picked a wildflower and stroked its petals. They felt silky, like real petals. Its fragrance was delicate, though not like any flower she had ever smelled before.

They moved along on a path lined with ferns, through groves of swaying trees. The sun sank a bit lower, sending even longer shadows across the glade they passed through. The birds grew quiet or fluttered away. Dean looked uneasy and pulled his jacket around him, even though the air was warm.

“What’s up?” asked Sunni in a low voice. Dean had huddled against a tree.

“I’ve got a feeling we’re being watched,” he whispered. His eyes were riveted on dark shadows among the ferns.

Sunni was straining to see when they heard a new sound.

“One is one and all alone, and evermore shall be it so!” sang a deep voice.

The voice dropped for a moment and then burst out again. “Five for the symbols at your door, six for the six proud walkers! Seven for the seven stars in the sky, eight for the April rainers!” Now they could see a man in the distance, heading toward them.

“Green grow the rushes, Oh!” the voice boomed as its owner thrashed into the glade. “Oh, I say, Inko, well spotted!”

Before them stood a man wearing slim trousers and a long blue coat, a top hat sitting jauntily on his blond head. He looked like someone from the TV programs Dean’s mom loved, where snooty men rode around on horses and women sat in mansions waiting for one to propose.

The man tipped his hat, careful not to come too close. His eyes were bright with excitement. “Good day to you. Hugo Fox-Farratt at your service.” He nodded toward the ferns behind them. “And Inko, of course.”

A shorter, smiling figure stepped into the clearing and Dean recognized the face he thought he had seen among the ferns. It belonged to a barefoot boy of about his age. He had shaggy dark hair and wore a loose shirt covered by an embroidered vest. His baggy trousers were bound at the waist by a red cloth, like a pirate’s.

“D-don’t hurt us!” Dean stammered.

“Young sir, I have no intention of hurting you!” Hugo was horrified. “Heavens, that is the last thing we should wish to do. You have found Arcadia — and so few have of late. May I ask who you are?”

“I’m Sunniva Forrest,” said Sunni as calmly as she could. “This is my stepbrother, Dean Rivers. We’re here by mistake, and we’re looking for the way out.”

Hugo looked surprised. “Sunniva,” he said thoughtfully. “That is an unusual name.”

Sunni rolled her eyes ever so slightly. “My mother was Norwegian,” she replied.

“Well,” said Hugo, “I have not heard of anyone arriving here by mistake before. It is a difficult task to guess the password. Yet despite your youth, you have cracked it.”

He paused for a moment. “Or perhaps you are the accomplices of some great personage, sent ahead to survey this place? You would not be the first.” He nodded at Inko. “There is no sense in lingering here. Come, we will take you to the palace for a meal. We can speak freely once we are there.”

Sunni remained where she was. She studied the man for signs of a shifty look or a fake smile. But his gaze was straightforward and his geniality seemed genuine.

“How do we know we can trust you?” she asked.

“I might ask the same of you,” answered Hugo. “Let me put it this way. Of all those you are likely to meet here, we are the least threat to you. And if we leave you in this glade, your safety cannot be guaranteed.”

“How is it not safe here? Who is —?”

“I will explain everything at the palace,” interrupted Hugo. “I offer you my word as a gentleman that you will not be harmed.”

Sunni and Dean exchanged a glance and a hesitant nod. “Don’t let them split us up,” she whispered as they moved away from the tree and followed Hugo.

“This way,” said Hugo, leading them deeper into the grove of trees, with Inko bringing up the rear. “It is not far.” As they thrashed past overgrown greenery, he called out in a jolly voice, “By Jove, it has been some time since anyone found his way in. In fact, I believe I was the last one until now.”

“But why are you still here?” Sunni asked. “Don’t you know how to get out?”

“Ah.” Hugo paused. “That is rather a good question. And one that I have not yet answered definitively.”

“You’re stuck in here, too?” asked Dean.

“Hmm . . . stuck. Not exactly the word I would use, but, yes, this is where I have ended up.”