The Wrong Side of Magic (12 page)

“Um, okay.” Hudson wasn't sure why the bee wanted to change Charlotte's name. “So we need to go to the Cliff of Faces to find out where the princess is? Is that all you have to tell me?”

The bee flew off the daisy, circling upward. “If you succeed, your name will be Boudewijn, which means bold friend. Right now you are only named Hudson, which is a muddy river in the Land of Banishment. An unfortunate name, really.”

Maybe. But Hudson still preferred it to Boudewijn. He thanked the bee, put the fruit back in his pockets, and left the garden. The evening was colder now, and the chill pressed against his jacket, looking for openings.

He ran down the street, retracing the way he'd come. He was slower now, too tired to go very fast. When he was nearly to the city wall, he pulled out the bell and rang it. “I need a fairy to cross the river.”

Moments later, a glowing figure zipped in front of him. The same blue fairy held her wand aloft. “Ready for departure?”

“I guess so.” He reached in his pocket to find the marblelike museling.

The fairy put her hands on her hips, bobbing up and down as she hovered in front of him. “If you want to guess about things, you need to go the other direction. The politicians and advisers work in the castle.”

Hudson found the museling and held it out to the fairy. “What I meant is, yes, I'm ready to go.”

“All right, then.” The fairy flicked her wand, and the museling floated over to her, shrinking. She plucked it from the air, put it in her mouth, and smiled as she savored it. The light around her pulsed stronger. “Thanks for flying Fairy Riverside Travel!”

With a wave of her wand, Hudson felt himself contracting, transforming into a bird again. Instead of fingers, feathers sprouted from his hands. And then he had no hands or arms at all, only wings. He shot up into the night air.

It was more fun this time, now that he knew what to expect. He liked the feeling of sailing upward, liked the way he could glide through the air. He flew over the wall, and with a few more beats of his wings, he soared over the river. He spotted Charlotte right away. She stood by the riverbank, her jar of hope held high and bright.

He sailed over to her and hoped she would tell him that a trip to the Cliff of Faces would be quick, easy, and not dangerous.

 

7

WHEN HUDSON TRANSFORMED
back into a boy, he stood in front of Charlotte with his arms crossed. “You know, you shouldn't go around changing people into birds without their permission.”

“I didn't change you into a bird,” she said, as though the technicality mattered. “The fairy did. And I don't know why you're upset about it. I'm the one who had to pay the muselings.” She made an impatient rolling motion with her hand. “Did the bee tell you where to find the princess?”

“She said the Cliff of Faces has that answer.”

Perhaps it was just the light from the hope jar, but Charlotte seemed to grow paler. “The Cliff of Faces?”

“Is it hard to get there?” he asked.

She took a deep breath and then sighed. “I suppose if rescuing the princess was simple, someone else would have already done it. We have to expect this quest to be hard.” She picked up her backpack from the ground and slid it onto her shoulders. “We'd better set up camp for the night. Let's go back to the forest. It will be safer there.” She turned and started back on the path in that direction. “Tomorrow we'll ask the unicorns to take us as close to the Sea of Life as they can. The Cliff of Faces is on an island there.”

Hudson picked up his backpack and followed her. He didn't exactly look forward to spending more time with the unicorns. “Could a fairy get us there?”

“Not for muselings.”

“What exactly is a museling?”

“A memory of something good happening.”

Hudson looked at her to see if she was serious. “Why do fairies want memories?”

Charlotte raised an eyebrow at him, as though he should know. “What else do people have that's really valuable—that makes them happy? Fairies don't need gold or silver, but they do enjoy a good memory. Which is why if you don't guard your memories, fairies will steal them while you sleep.”

“Like what—they wave their wand and suck them out of your head?”

“Pretty much.”

Hudson shuddered and glanced over his shoulder to the place they'd met the river fairy. He didn't see her. He could only make out the dark shapes of trees and bushes. “I'm glad that doesn't happen in my land.”

Charlotte laughed out loud, not even trying to hide her amusement for politeness' sake.

“It does?” he asked incredulously.

“It happens mostly in your land,” she said, “because your people hardly guard their memories at all. Do you remember your fourth birthday party or the first time you blew bubbles?”

Hudson thought about it. “No.”

“How about the first time a dog licked your face?”

“No.”

She shook her head sadly. “Fairies are terrible thieves, really.”

Hudson stopped for a moment and just stood there, wondering what other memories the fairies had taken from him. Was there anything important? Maybe memories with his dad? It totally ticked him off. When Hudson started walking again, he strode along beside Charlotte silently, remembering everything he could about his dad—his wide grin, his deep voice, the way he used to pick up Bonnie and twirl her around the living room. He'd volunteered as Hudson's baseball coach and used to take him to a batting cage to practice his swing. “How do you guard your memories so fairies can't take them?”

“Writing things down is the best way. That's why people keep journals. Taking pictures helps, too.”

Journal writing. It sounded sort of like schoolwork. Then again, Hudson didn't want to forget anything else, at least not the important stuff. When he got back home, he would get a journal. “So what memories did you give the fairies?”

“Ones I don't care about anymore.”

“How do you know that if you don't remember them anymore?”

Charlotte reached into the side pocket of her backpack and took out a small notebook. She flipped it open and held her hope jar over it so she could read the page. “The red museling was the first time I met Isabella and Macy. They smiled and told me they hoped I liked school. It made me happy, but…”

Hudson knew what Charlotte didn't say. But it didn't stay that way. As soon as Charlotte started saying weird things, Isabella and Macy made fun of her just like everybody else. No wonder she didn't care about losing that memory.

Charlotte must have mistaken Hudson's dismay for worry. “I still have ten more muselings to use when we need fairy help again. That's what I was doing with the calculater while you were packing up your supplies from home—making muselings.”

“Oh,” he said. “That's good.” Only it didn't feel good. What happened to a person if they lost their happy memories?

For a long while, neither of them spoke again. They just hiked past fields of shushing grain and listened to its soft murmur. Finally, they made it to the forest. Charlotte cast one last look over her shoulder at the farms and their cottages. “People used to open up their homes to needy travelers. Not anymore, though. No one trusts anyone else. You don't know who might report you to the king's men.” She turned back to the forest, holding her jar high so she could make her way around the trees. “King Arawn and Princess Nomira never paid spies to find out who disagreed with them. Everything will be better when she comes back.”

Arawn and Nomira. Such odd names. Which reminded Hudson that he hadn't finished telling Charlotte everything the bee had said. He relayed the rest, including the bee's proposed name changes. “Do you think Boudewijn fits me?” he finished with a laugh.

“I hope so,” she said. “Logosians need a bold friend.”

“I'll stick with Hudson.”

Charlotte slipped off her backpack and walked to a spot on the ground that was mostly clear of plants and rocks. “We have many names during our lives. When my father and I came to the Land of Banishment, he gave me the name Charlotte and took the name Lysander. Both names mean freedom—because my father and I are free from King Vaygran's grasp.”

Hudson tilted his head at her. “Charlotte isn't your real name?”

“Yes, it's my real name. I'm still free.”

“What was your name before that?”

She unzipped her backpack and rifled through it. “Erica. So now I'm Erica Charlotte Colette. Or at least I'll be Colette once we're successful.”

Hudson set down his backpack and pulled out his miniature sleeping bag and pillow. “Your dad's name is Lysander? I thought it was Fantasmo.”

“It is. Lysander Fantasmo, because he's fantastically free. Before we came here, he was Aziz Fantasmo—fantastically powerful.”

Charlotte set her things in a row, including her stuffed animals: an eagle, a falcon, a tiger, a wolf, a squirrel, and a polar bear. She took out the compactulator and pushed a button, and her possessions grew back to normal size—except for her stuffed animals. Those grew bigger. Life-size.

They moved around, stretched their legs, and swished their tails. The eagle and falcon flew from the ground and landed on nearby tree branches. The tiger sauntered over to Charlotte, purring as she rubbed her face against Charlotte's arm. The wolf scratched his ear, and the squirrel scurried up a tree trunk. The polar bear loped around the area, sniffing at the foliage on the ground.

Hudson eyed the animals with his mouth hanging open in surprise. “How did you do that?” He took a step backward from the polar bear as it lumbered by. “Are those things safe?”

“Of course they're safe. They're my shabtis.” Charlotte pointed the compactulator at Hudson's things. His pillow and sleeping bag immediately grew to their original size.

“Shabtis?” he asked, still keeping his eye on the bear.

“Figurines in one realm that become magical helpers when you go to another realm.” She pointed the compactulator at his backpack, pushed a button, then put the device away. “That's the whole point of stuffed animals, isn't it?”

Hudson didn't answer. He was too busy gaping at his pack. His penguin, the one Bonnie had given him for Christmas, had grown full size. It crawled out of his backpack and brushed itself off. Well, brushed itself off as well as it could with stubby little wings.

Charlotte clapped her hands to get her animals' attention. “We need to set up our camp for the night. Blaze, Flash, and Meko”—the tiger, wolf, and squirrel perked up their ears—“I want you to stand guard while we sleep.

“Bolt and Striker”—Charlotte looked up at the eagle and falcon—“watch from the treetops. When it's almost morning, fly around and find some food for breakfast.

“Chancellor,” she said, petting the polar bear's furry white neck, “it's cold, but if I could sleep next to you, I'm sure I'll be warm enough.”

The polar bear nudged Charlotte's hand affectionately. “The ground is too hard for you,” he said in a deep, growly voice. “I'll lie on my back so you can sleep snugly on my stomach.”

She leaned toward the polar bear and gave his nose a kiss. “Thank you. You're so sweet.”

The bear lay down and stretched out his arms to make room for Charlotte.

Hudson's penguin waddled over to his side. “Don't look at me,” the bird said. “I don't do snuggling.”

Hudson didn't reply to that comment. He was transfixed watching Charlotte's animals disappear into the forest to do their tasks. “If you already had birds who could run errands for you, why didn't you send one of them to talk to the bee?”

Charlotte laid her sleeping bag onto the polar bear's waiting stomach. “Shabtis can help and protect you, but for magic to work, you've got to do the important stuff yourself.” She laid her pillow under the bear's chin. He stretched happily, nearly purring with the attention. “My father says the first thing a wizard learns is that anything worth doing takes a sacrifice of some sort.”

Hudson unrolled his sleeping bag. “We're not wizards. We're two kids who should take all the help we can get. I say we send your birds to find answers at the Cliff of Faces. They'll be faster, and we'll be safer.”

Charlotte kicked off her shoes and climbed into her sleeping bag. The polar bear draped his paws across her sleeping bag so it didn't slide around. “It doesn't work that way. An acorn gets help from the sun and rain, but it's the one who has to break its shell and push to the sky. The sun and rain can't do that for the acorn.”

“We're not acorns, either,” Hudson said, even though he knew it was no use. Charlotte wasn't going to see reason. She shut her eyes and turned her face away from him.

He sighed and wondered how long it would take them to get to the Cliff of Faces. His mom was probably already worried because Hudson had disappeared. Could he and Charlotte possibly find the princess before Thanksgiving? His dad would be home by then. Hudson kicked off his shoes and climbed into his sleeping bag.

On the bright side, they had some cool animals to help them. Or at least Charlotte did. He had a penguin. It stood at Hudson's feet, absentmindedly grooming its feathers.

“So, penguin—” Hudson started.

“My name is Pokey,” the penguin said.

Pokey? All of Charlotte's animals had cool names. Hudson shook his head. “I never named you that. You need a better name. Something like Phantom or Freeze.”

The penguin let out an offended sniff. “Bonnie already named me. When you're not around, she comes into your room and plays with me. And by the way, she also knows about the candy you hide in your underwear drawer.”

“You're
my
penguin,” Hudson insisted. “And I never named you Pokey.”