Chapter Fourteen

FOURTEEN

Later that morning, Harriet Marblemaw was released from the guesthouse. The windows turned from plastic to glass, and the front door swung open just as Miss Marblemaw decided that throwing her entire weight against it might do some good. Unfortunately for her, she missed the door completely and nearly fell down the porch steps.

“Ah,” Arthur said, standing in front of the house, hands clasped behind his back. “Miss Marblemaw. I wondered where you’d gone.”

“You imprisoned me,” she snarled, spittle flying from her mouth. “That sprite used magic against me without my permission! I will see her jailed for this!”

Zoe stepped out from behind Arthur, causing Miss Marblemaw to squeak. “You have my most sincere apologies,” she said. “I fear that we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. Thankfully, I have something for you to help make up for it.”

“I highly doubt anything you could give me will make up for your transgressions,” Miss Marblemaw said.

“And here I thought you’d appreciate a demonstration from one of the children, so you can see what they’re capable of. If that’s not—”

“No, no,” Miss Marblemaw said hastily. “You’re right. It’s important I see what they can do.”

Without looking away from the inspector, Arthur raised his voice and called, “Phee! Would you join me for a moment?”

She stepped out of the forest, bouncing an orange in her hand. She cast a cool glance at Miss Marblemaw before joining Arthur and Zoe.

“Why isn’t she in class?” Miss Marblemaw asked.

“Since we are nearly six months ahead of schedule with regards to their education,” Arthur said, “we’ve decided to give the children a day off to pursue their own interests.”

“I was communing with nature,” Phee said. “Listening to the trees.”

Miss Marblemaw looked like she didn’t believe her, but let it go. “I see. And you have a demonstration for me?”

“I do,” Phee said. “You ready?”

Miss Marblemaw snorted derisively. “I doubt all this fuss is necessary. If you’re going to do something, then do it. I don’t like to be kept waiting, especially when it appears efforts are being made to keep me from doing my job. But yes, show me a tree, or whatever it is you do.”

Phee smiled, tilting her head. “As you wish.”

As if she were bowling, Phee brought her arm back before swinging it in an arc. The orange hit the ground, bouncing and rolling toward Miss Marblemaw. The moment it left Phee’s hand and bounced on the earth, the peel split, tiny brown stalks with green leaves bursting through. As it rolled closer to Miss Marblemaw, the stalks became thin branches, scrabbling along the ground like the recently departed scorpion known as Beelzebub. By the time it came to a stop at Miss Marblemaw’s feet, the orange was a bundle of leaves and roots.

Miss Marblemaw peered down at it, mouth turned down. She tapped the leaves and roots with her foot. “Is that it? That’s what you can—”

The orange exploded outward and upward, the ground quaking beneath their feet. A tree shot up in front of Miss Mar blemaw, at least twenty feet tall, the trunk thick and sturdy. The trees’ leaves were a deep, shiny green, surrounded by heavy oranges hanging from its branches. It took less than three seconds for the tree to reach its full height, the sound of its creation a loud, thundering roar. Miss Marblemaw was knocked against the porch, sliding down the steps until she landed on her rear on the ground.

“Oh no!” Phee cried, slapping her hands against her cheeks. “ That certainly wasn’t supposed to happen! Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Miss Marblemaw snapped, pulling herself up, much of her hidden by the branches of the tree. She looked it up and down before plucking a fat orange off it. Using her thumbnail, she pierced the orange, juice squirting out onto her knuckle. She squeezed it tighter until it squished between her fingers, pulp and juice falling to the ground. She dropped the ruined fruit, wiped her hand against her side, and said, “Thank you for that demonstration. You have proven that if the day comes when there is a country-wide shortage of fruit, we now know who will rectify the situation immediately. You get one courtesy point.”

“I used a fruit grenade and you gave me a courtesy point?” Phee demanded.

“A fruit what ?”

“Uh,” Phee said. “I said fruit marmalade . Because everyone knows that fruit can be made into—”

“ Two courtesy points,” Miss Marblemaw said. “And I won’t hear another word about it! You earned it, child.” She smiled. “Make sure you tell the other children how well you’re doing. I bet that’ll make them so jealous of you.”

“I’ll get right on that,” Phee said flatly.

“I knew you would! Now, let’s go see what everyone else is up to, shall we? After all, we’ve wasted enough time with this… display.” She rounded the tree, and without looking at Phee, Zoe, or Arthur, headed for the house.

“It appears Miss Marblemaw has taken a lesson from our own playbook,” Arthur said. “I feel as if I’ve just been stabbed. Not with kindness, per se, but whatever she considers to be the equivalent.”

“Too little, too late,” Phee said.

Or so they’d hoped. Unfortunately for the residents of Marsyas Island, Harriet Marblemaw proved to be adept at rolling with the punches. Either that, or she was on to them, and wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

Take, for example, Monday afternoon, when she decided the best use of her time was to convince Theodore that seeing his hoard was not only necessary but could help her colleagues back at DICOMY have a better understanding of wyvern culture. Theodore, for his part, chirped that he’d rather sit on a sea urchin than show her anything and that he was going to spend the afternoon pointing out garbage. Since Miss Marblemaw was not fluent in wyvern, she thought he’d agreed.

As such, she spent the next three hours following Theodore. It took her nearly the entire time to realize he was not, in fact, taking her to his hoard but instead chasing a fly that had found its way inside. She came to this conclusion when the fly landed on her forehead, and Theodore launched himself at it. By the time Miss Marblemaw had stopped yelling in outrage, Theodore had eaten the fly and found a spot in the sun next to Calliope, stretching out and curling his head against her stomach. The thing of evil licked his ears as he closed his eyes, rumbling lowly in his chest.

“ Three courtesy points!” Miss Marblemaw said in a shrill voice, her hair in disarray. “You’ve earned them! Make sure to tell everyone you know!”

At Monday’s supper, Talia decided that Miss Marblemaw needed to sit right next to her. “I wanted to talk to you,” she said, patting the chair.

“Oh, that sounds splendid,” Miss Marblemaw said, sounding rather excited for reasons Arthur was sure weren’t aboveboard. “As it turns out, I have something I’d like to ask you as well.”

“Of course you do,” Linus muttered, handing a basket of rolls over to Sal.

Miss Marblemaw took her seat next to Talia, turning to face her. “You are a very pretty girl.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Talia said as she shoveled green beans onto her plate.

“I’m so glad you said that, because it turns out I do have something to say that you don’t know.”

“Really?” Talia asked dubiously. “I know a lot.”

“You know some things,” Miss Marblemaw said. “As I said before, it’s unseemly for a lady to be braggadocious.”

“We’re so lucky you’re here,” Phee said. “Otherwise, how would we know anything?”

“Exactly,” Miss Marblemaw said. “Which is why I think Talia should consider shaving off her beard.”

Silence, only interrupted by Chauncey whispering, “Uh-oh.”

Miss Marblemaw continued as if she hadn’t just committed a dangerous faux pas. “After all, a proper lady does not have facial hair, or body hair of any kind. Though the upkeep can be time-consuming, it is important. How else are you going to one day find a husband?”

Talia stared at her. “I’m only two hundred and sixty-four. I’m going to wait until I’m at least four hundred before I start thinking about what babes I want to date.”

“Be that as it may, best practices start now,” Miss Marblemaw said. “Perhaps we can do it together!”

“Or,” Talia said, “we don’t do that and I pretend that what you said wasn’t offensive.”

“That’s because it wasn’t,” Miss Marblemaw said with a sniff. “That’s the problem with the world today. Everyone is so ready to be offended by just about anything.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be the one to decide what is or isn’t offensive to a person in the community you’re denigrating,” Sal said. “Do you even know why gnomes have beards or what they symbolize?”

Miss Marblemaw flicked her hand at him dismissively. “I highly doubt that a beard on a girl is meant to do much of anything aside from making others uncomfortable.”

“And that’s somehow Talia’s fault?” Phee asked. “Seems to me that instead of getting her to change, you should talk to those other people and tell them to mind their own business. Talia’s beard has nothing to do with them.”

“That’s absolutely correct,” Arthur said with a nod. “After all, the length and level of luxuriousness of a garden gnome’s beard is directly related to the well-being of their garden. The healthier the garden, the longer and thicker the beard. But then, as an inspector for DICOMY and undoubtedly an expert in all things magical, you don’t need us to tell you that.” He smiled at Talia. “Have I mentioned how beautiful your beard looks as of late?”

“I know, right?” Talia said. “One hundred brush strokes, every night. Papa’s getting really good at it.”

“Tonight, two hundred brush strokes,” Linus said. “Just to make sure.”

Miss Marblemaw chuckled, though it had an edge to it. “That’s so… special. However, I think Talia should consider her future rather than putting all her focus on a garden. Perhaps we could find a nice dress for you to wear. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? Something with, oh, I don’t know, pink lace, and your hair done up in pigtails. And by shaving your beard, everyone would get to see those chubby cheeks!”

“That would be so fun !” Lucy said. “You know what would make it even better? If Miss Marblemaw led by example and shaved her mustache!”

Miss Marblemaw’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t have a—”

Except she did. Lucy said, “Flora bora slam!” and a long, brown handlebar mustache appeared on Miss Marblemaw’s face, neatly trimmed, the ends curled into a little loop. “Now you get to have facial hair too!”

Miss Marblemaw didn’t detonate as Arthur expected her to. Instead, she stood slowly from the table, her mustache stiff above her lip as she smiled furiously. “Remove it.”

Lucy shrugged. “Okie doke. Satan appease me!”

The mustache wriggled but otherwise remained as is.

“Oops,” Lucy said. “So, here’s the thing. I’m only seven years old, and still learning. I’m just a little guy!”

“And?” she said, shoulders stiff.

“ And, ” Lucy said, drawing out the word for a good five seconds, “that means I sometimes do things I don’t mean to. Like giving you permanent facial hair that no matter how much you shave will regrow within six hours, six minutes, and six seconds. My bad!” He blinked innocently at her with wide, angelic eyes. “But good news! You sort of make it work if you squint and tilt your head and look in the opposite direction.”

Miss Marblemaw paled. And then she ran from the kitchen. A moment later, they heard the front door thrown open, bouncing off the front of the house.

“Do you think she liked it?” Lucy asked. “Is that creamed corn? Oh my God, I am going to eat so much of it .”

“Lucy?” Talia said.

“Yeah?”

She threw a roll. It bounced off his head. “Thank you.”

“I love your beard,” he told her. “It makes you look badass.”

They waited for Linus or Arthur to scold them for language. Instead, Linus said, “I agree. It is very badass.”

“Ooh,” Chauncey breathed. “Can I curse now too? I got a good one!”

“You get one,” Arthur said.

“Oh my goodness,” Chauncey whispered. “I didn’t think you’d say yes.” He looked around, and then blurted, “Knobby jezebel!” before slapping his tentacles over his mouth.

Lucy fell out of his chair. “Holy crap, Chauncey!” he said, pulling himself back up. “That was devastating . Good thing Arthur said you could do it, because I think that was the worst thing I’ve ever heard anyone say about anyone .”

“I didn’t mean it!” Chauncey wailed. “I take it back!”

“Chauncey,” David said, “I heard Miss Marblemaw talking. She said bellhops have the easiest job in the world and that anyone with half a brain could do it.”

“That knobby jezebel, ” Chauncey hissed.

“I said once, Chauncey,” Arthur murmured gravely. “I don’t know if my heart could take that again.”

“I promise,” Chauncey said, tentacle over his heart (which was near the bottom of his body). “I’ll never do anything like that again.”

“She also said that bellhop caps look bad on everyone,” David said as Lucy whispered in his ear.

“Arthur?” Chauncey asked.

“Yes?”

“Can I ink Miss Marblemaw?”

“I would never propose such an action,” Arthur said. “However, I am of the firm belief that if one must ink, one must be allowed to do so without interruption.”

“She’s gonna be so mad when she finds out about my nocturnal emissions,” Chauncey said. “I can’t wait .”

Linus sighed.

On Tuesday, two things of note occurred.

First, Miss Marblemaw sat in on the morning’s lessons, bits of red-stained tissue paper blotting the area around her mustache. True to Lucy’s word, it appeared she’d tried to shave it off, only to have it regrow into the same shape and length it’d been the day before. She didn’t mention it, even when Talia greeted her and said she’d be willing to share the soaps she used on her beard.

Instead, Miss Marblemaw took a seat in the rear of the room, her clipboard in hand. She looked at each of them expectantly. “Are we just going to sit here, or are you actually going to begin the lesson?”

“Before we do,” Lucy said, “I mustache you a question. Would you like a cup of tea?”

“No,” she said, crossing one leg over the other. “What I want is for you to take your seat and for Mr. Baker to prove that he is fit to educate children. And David, since he seems to be interested in child-level knowledge even though he’s lived for almost five decades. Forget I’m even here.”

“You never stop learning,” David said. “That’s what I always say.” He folded his hands behind his head, leaning back in his chair. He almost tipped over, but acted like he’d done it on purpose. “Careful, kids! Get a question wrong, and Miss Marblemaw might try and assault you like she did me.”

“I did not assault —”

“I thought you said you wanted us to forget you were here?” Sal asked. “Kind of hard to do that when you keep interrupting our class. Everyone, face forward. Forget Miss Marblemaw exists.”

“Who?” Phee said.

Though Arthur had other things to see to—such was life on the island—he didn’t dare let Miss Marblemaw out of his sight. Linus was more than capable of handling her on his own, but Arthur thought it wouldn’t hurt to remind Miss Marblemaw they were watching her as much as she was watching them.

The lesson proceeded with minimal interruption, usually from Miss Marblemaw coughing pointedly or clearing her throat when Linus or the children said something that she obviously did not approve of. Linus attempted to ignore her, but the longer the lesson went on—going from the wide and mysterious world of mathematics to history—the more Miss Marblemaw made a nuisance of herself, muttering under her breath as she scribbled on her clipboard.

They were reaching the end of the hour—almost time for mid-morning break—when Linus said, “History is full of different people making the same mistakes over and over again, never learning from the actions of those who came before them. Time can sometimes prove to be a vicious circle in that regard. People in power attempting to tell others how they should live their lives, but only in the bounds of what they consider acceptable. Gatekeepers who believe it is up to them to decide what is morally correct or not. One could argue that—”

“One could argue about anything, ” Miss Marblemaw said loudly. “Some people think their little complaints mean more than the safety of an entire race of people.”

“And what race would that be?” Sal asked. “Last I checked, even if we’re different, all of us are people.” He arched an eyebrow. “Unless you mean the literal definition of the word ‘race,’ which is a concept used to describe a group of people according to different factors, such as ancestral background, social identity, and visible characteristics… such as skin color.”

Miss Marblemaw blanched. “That’s not what I—I am accepting of all —how dare you imply that I—” She stopped, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. When she opened her eyes again, they were clear above a thin smile. She stood, sweeping her way to the front of the class. “Children, regardless of what you might have heard, the world isn’t as dark and cruel as certain people want to make it out to be. How could it be, when we have museums and art and music— music, Lucy. Don’t you love music?”

“Oh, yes,” Lucy said. “The deader, the better.”

“See?” Miss Marblemaw said, left eye twitching. “It looks as if Lucy and I have found common ground. Who would have thought that possible even three days ago? That’s what this is all about. Setting aside our differences and coming together in the spirit of— Where are you going?”

The children had started packing up their books and papers, standing and walking toward the rear door. David led the way, arms above his head as he wiggled his hips, sliding out of the room backward, giving Miss Marblemaw a little wave of his fingers.

Sal was last, Theodore perched on his shoulder. He looked back at Miss Marblemaw and said, “Class was over the moment you started talking.” And then he left.

“Linus,” Arthur said as Miss Marblemaw spluttered, obviously gearing up for a meltdown. “You look parched. Shall we have our morning tea in the gazebo?”

“That sounds perfect,” Linus said. “Perhaps a little cake, if there is any left.” He joined Arthur at the rear of the class. Joining hands, they walked toward the door.

“DICOMY will hear of this,” Miss Marblemaw called after them.

Arthur paused at the doorway, glancing back at her over his shoulder. “If you need to contact Rowder again with your special briefcase, feel free to use the kitchen rather than lugging it all the way to the beach. While you’re here, our home is your home. Now, Linus, I seem to remember I hid some tea cakes away for such an occasion.”

“So long as Theodore hasn’t sniffed them out,” Linus said.

“The nose on our son.”

“Indeed.”

They grinned at each other and left Miss Marblemaw behind.

The second event of note occurred a short time later. Linus and Arthur sat in the gazebo, sipping peppermint tea, a plate of toasted currant tea cakes stacked in front of them on a tray next to a pewter pot. In the woods beyond, Phee and Chauncey were searching for pine cones (“It’s not a problem! Don’t look at me when I eat them!”). From an open window upstairs, Frankie Valli wailed that he’d told his girl they had to break up, thought she’d call his bluff, but she said to his surprise, big girls don’t cry. Lucy screeched along, David’s laughter loud and infectious. They waved to Sal and Theodore, Sal carrying a thick book, Theodore walking beside him, wings flapping, chattering away as they headed for their usual tree on the other side of the house.

Talia was in her garden, coming over every now and then to show them the large pile of weeds she’d pulled, and to remind them that anyone sitting in the gazebo must give compliments to the plants in the garden at random intervals.

“Zoe?” Linus asked quietly as he sipped his tea. Then, raising his voice, “I do love how the roses looked this morning!”

“She’s working on something,” Arthur said. “Being rather secretive about it. Look at the blooms on those petunias! Fantastic!”

“She’ll come to us when she’s ready,” Linus said. “That being said, I’m curious about what she’s doing.”

“As am I,” Arthur said. “But we will trust her as we’ve always done.”

“Is it terrible of me to say I’d give almost anything to be a fly on the wall if and when she meets with Marblemaw?”

“Certainly not,” Arthur said. “For I would like the same. But they can’t say I didn’t warn them about being woefully outmatched.”

“Too right,” Linus said. He sipped his tea again, smacking his lips. “Ah, that’s the ticket. Nothing like a good cuppa on a pretty afternoon. Oh, look, our guest. And she’s…” Linus sighed. “Oh dear.”

Arthur turned his head to see Miss Marblemaw marching up the garden path. Around her mouth and nose, a pink-and-green scarf, leaving only her eyes and forehead visible. She grimaced at the flowers on either side of her, snatching her hand back when a yellow tulip had the temerity to brush against her.

As such, she was distracted, and did not see Arthur and Linus in the gazebo. They didn’t call out in greeting as she stomped by them. Instead, Arthur lifted his cup and took a long drink, throat working. Pulling the cup away, he said, “Should we warn her?”

“Talia? If you think we should—”

“I meant the inspector.”

“Oh,” Linus said. “No. Here. Have a cake.”

Arthur did. He bit into it just as Talia said, “Oh, look who it is! Miss I-Don’t-Like-Pollen in a garden practically made of pollen.”

“I am allergic, ” Miss Marblemaw said. “It is a very serious issue that should not be made light of.”

“Oh, my apologies,” Talia said, and Arthur chuckled, picturing the sweet, innocent smile on her face. “That must be so awful to be allergic to pretty things. It would make sense if you found yourself allergic to me.”

“Speaking of pretty things,” Miss Marblemaw said with a sniffle. “I was wondering if you’d given further thought to what we discussed.”

“You’ll have to remind me what that was,” Talia said. “You talk a lot, and I don’t always pay attention.”

“Really? Do you find yourself struggling to focus?”

“No,” Talia said. “Though I can see why you thought that. I was only talking about you.”

“I do love peppermint,” Linus said. “Reminds me of the holidays. Lights and garlands and good cheer.”

“As it should,” Arthur said. “I’m fascinated by the idea that senses are tied to memory.”

“Your beard,” Miss Marblemaw said, sounding as if she were speaking through gritted teeth. She sneezed twice in quick succession. “Giving consideration to shaving it off. I just know there’s a beautiful little girl under all that hair.”

“Can you hand me the trowel?” Talia asked. “No, the trowel. That’s a spade . And that’s a hose. Do you not know what a trowel is? There seems to be a lot you don’t know. I got it. Can you stand back a little? I’m about to dig really fast, and dirt goes everywhere.”

True to her word, Talia began to dig, the sound of her trowel striking the soil like music to Arthur’s ears. Knowing how quickly she worked, Arthur wasn’t surprised when, ten minutes later, she seemed to have finished. “There,” she said. “That should do it.”

“A hole?” Miss Marblemaw asked. “Why would you dig a hole that large? You already have one over there.”

“That’s for Papa,” Talia said. “In case he goes back on his promise to help me finish weeding the garden.”

“An effective threat,” Arthur said.

“Quite,” Linus replied. “She even put a breathing tube in mine in case I somehow come back to life.”

“She thinks of everything,” Arthur said.

“What’s the other hole for?” Miss Marblemaw asked.

“I’m so glad you asked!” Talia said with a chuckle. Then her voice dropped dangerously. “It’s a grave where I’m going to bury you if you ever try to tell me to shave off my beard again.”

“I beg your pardon?” Miss Marblemaw said in a high-pitched voice.

“Fun fact!” Talia said cheerfully. “You don’t get to tell other people how they should or shouldn’t look. It’s rude. Just because you don’t like something doesn’t mean others won’t appreciate it. I like how I look. And honestly, you’d think with the mustache you have, you’d be a little more accepting of girls with body hair.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to dig a grave, ” Miss Marblemaw snapped.

“Actually, it does,” Talia said. “Now, be a good inspector and climb inside, won’t you? Here, let me help.”

A moment later, Miss Marblemaw stormed from the garden, her hair in disarray, front covered in dirt.

“Did you enjoy Talia’s garden?” Linus asked as she passed by the gazebo.

She stopped, turning slowly to glare at them, mustache wilted as if she’d replaced it with a thick noodle.

“I don’t think she did,” Arthur murmured, sipping his tea.

“That’s unfortunate. Would you share another cake with me?”

“It would be my honor.”

“Brilliant.”

Miss Marblemaw bellowed, “Courtesy points! Courtesy points for everyone!” And then she stomped her way out of the garden.

On Wednesday afternoon, Chauncey arrived late to supper, loudly proclaiming that he had made a startling discovery that had nothing to do with being able to talk to fish or nocturnal emissions. They turned toward him as he posed in the entryway, tentacles on his hips.

Miss Marblemaw skulked in the shadows, clipboard firmly in hand. She was not in the best mood, seeing as how she’d woken up that morning to find her mustache had turned a sickly shade of yellow, giving her the appearance of having a severe infection.

“What is it?” Sal asked.

Chauncey waited a beat—for drama—and said, “I have become a man.”

“Whoa,” David said. “That’s awesome. How did you do that?”

“There I was!” Chauncey said, oozing around the table, tentacles trailing along the backs of chairs. “Minding my own business, standing in front of the mirror in my room inspecting every inch of my body.”

“Ew,” Phee said. “Some things should be kept private.”

“That’s why I was doing it in my room,” Chauncey explained, stopping behind Linus’s chair. “But this is something that must be shared. Because I found this .” He lifted his right tentacle above his head. And there, in what served as his armpit, was a single white hair, about half an inch in length, curled at the tip.

Lucy stood on his chair, bent over with his hands flat against the table on either side of his plate. “You got armpit hair? That’s not fair! I want it too!”

“That’s right!” Chauncey crowed. “I have armpit hair, which means I’m a man! As such, you might see me carrying a briefcase or getting on important conference calls to talk about business and other adult things. But fear not! I’m still young at heart.”

“Careful,” Talia warned. “Miss Marblemaw will probably try and make you shave it off.”

“No!” Chauncey cried, lowering his tentacle, tucking it against his side. “You can’t have it. I grew it all by myself and it’s mine .”

“I can’t believe Miss Marblemaw wants to take Chauncey’s armpit hair,” Phee said.

Miss Marblemaw said, “I never —”

“What would she even do with it?” Sal asked.

Theodore was of the mind that she’d use it to stuff a pillow.

“Never!” Chauncey yelled. “That’s weird!”

Miss Marblemaw stepped out of the shadows. “If you’d let me finish, I’m trying to tell you that I wouldn’t—”

Chauncey shrieked and flailed, running around the table. “She’s after me!”

Miss Marblemaw was not, in fact, chasing Chauncey, given that he kept running by her every time he circumnavigated the table. It went on as these things sometimes did, meaning far longer than was necessary. It ended when Miss Marblemaw stepped in front of Chauncey, and said, “If you would just listen to me, your armpit hair is—”

Chauncey scream-sneezed quite spectacularly, and Miss Marblemaw was coated from head to toe in dripping black ink. Silence fell in the dining room, the only noticeable sound the plink, plink, plink of black droplets on the floor. Behind her on the wall as if flash-fried: a perfect outline of her figure, ink splattered around her. Miss Marblemaw stood there, mouth agape, ink coating her tongue and teeth.

Lucy laughed. “Well, look at me being wrong for the first time in my life. I guess Chauncey was right when he said his nocturnal emissions don’t always happen at night. I love learning!”

Miss Marblemaw let out a slow, creaking moan.

“Can I teach you something else?” David asked. “See that spot on the wall where no ink hit but you can still see her shape? That’s called negative space. I learned that when I was training to be a private detective. It’s how they look at blood splatters.”

“And now I’ve learned something today,” Arthur said. “Thank you, David. Miss Marblemaw, would you like a napkin? I have several if you think that would help.”

Miss Marblemaw didn’t speak. Instead, she squished with every step she took out of the dining room. A moment later, the front door opened and closed.

“Children,” Linus said. “This seems like a teachable moment. What did we learn?”

“That you should never try and steal Chauncey’s armpit hair,” Talia said.

“It’s still there,” Chauncey said, lifting his arm and showing it off.

“ And you shouldn’t tell a girl she should shave her beard,” Lucy said. “Especially when it’s none of your business.” He glanced at Linus. “Also, I’m sorry we made fun of your mustache when you grew it. You’re not like Miss Marblemaw.”

Linus chuckled. “It’s not quite the same, but thank you, Lucy. That was very kind of you. Now, who wants dessert? I heard a rumor there’s cobbler. Peach, in fact.”

“What’s a guy gotta do to get a courtesy point around here?” Chauncey harrumphed. “Grow two armpit hairs? That’s impossible.”

On Thursday afternoon—the sky a sheet of clouds that promised a good soaking later on, the sea flat, calm, reflecting the stone gray from above—Sal got his turn. Shortly after lunch, Calliope began meowing loudly, rubbing against his legs in an insistent manner. It did not take one versed in feline to know what she wanted. Calliope, for how evil she could be, loved fiercely, and while Linus was her person, it could be easily argued that extended to Sal as well. The first time he shifted in front of her into his Pomeranian form, she’d frozen, ears flat against her skull as she hissed, tail taut. But then her nose had started twitching, and she’d craned her neck toward him. She’d blinked once, twice, and then pounced on him, cleaning his ears. When she’d finished, she’d climbed off him and nudged him toward the front door. For the next three hours, she’d tried to teach Sal how to hunt, crouched low in the grass as a bird flitted in the low-hanging branches. They didn’t get the bird, but that didn’t seem to bother Calliope. The entire way back to the house, she’d chattered away, undoubtedly telling Sal he’d do better next time.

After that, barely a week would go by without Calliope wanting Sal to shift. Though she seemed to prefer his human form (after all, a Pomeranian did not have a lap on which she could sit comfortably), Calliope seemed to think Sal was her child, and woe betide anyone who tried to interfere with what she considered hers.

Unfortunately for Miss Marblemaw, she learned this firsthand.

Sal’s shifted form was a thing of beauty: small, the size of a decorative throw pillow, with a thick coat of off-white around his head, changing into a rusty orange that extended down his back and legs. His whiskers were black, his eyes dark and intelligent. Discarding his clothes in a pile on the kitchen counter, he began to chase after Calliope. They ran through the house, Arthur grinning at the sound of toenails clicking along the floor as they went up and down the stairs, Sal barking happily.

Their game of tag lasted a good twenty minutes before it ended quite dramatically.

Arthur was putting away the last of the lunch dishes when he heard Miss Marblemaw shout, “Are you chasing that poor cat? You there! Leave her alone!”

He hurried from the kitchen, only to find Sal and Calliope sitting on the stairs, six steps up. Miss Marblemaw stood in front of them, glowering. Calliope’s head was cocked, eyes narrowed. Sal was panting, little pink tongue hanging out. As Miss Marblemaw reached for Calliope, he began to growl, quivering lips pulled back over sharp teeth. She jerked her hand away. Sal went back to panting, and Arthur thought he might be smiling.

Miss Marblemaw extended her hand again slowly.

Sal growled.

She pulled it back.

He panted and smiled.

Then she made a fatal mistake. Instead of going for Calliope, she went for Sal, saying, “You should be outside when you’re like this. Dogs in the house! Filthy creatures, their noses always buried in trash or their own behinds. And traumatizing this poor, innocent cat? No, no, no .”

Arthur said, “I really wouldn’t do that if I were—”

Too late. The moment her hands got within six inches of Sal, Calliope proved herself to be the protector Arthur had always thought she was: she launched herself at Miss Marblemaw, claws on all four paws extended. She landed on Miss Marblemaw’s front, climbing her way up to the inspector’s head. Once Calliope was face-to-face with Miss Marblemaw, she brought a paw back and slapped her, leaving three small scratches on her cheek. Miss Marblemaw’s eyes widened as Calliope leaned close, a low and dangerous mroooowr crawling from her mouth, teeth on full display.

“Miss Marblemaw,” Arthur said in a hushed voice. “Whatever you do, do not look like you’re challenging her.”

Miss Marblemaw nodded tightly. Then she smiled and said, “I’m not challenging you. I just happen to know best when it comes to—”

Wrong thing to say. Calliope’s paws were a blur as she attacked, Miss Marblemaw shrieking and spinning around as she tried to pull the cat off her. Despite her best efforts, the inspector proved to be no match against a cat who had taken umbrage at her views on dogs and their place in a home.

For his part, Sal proved to be an exceptional teammate, going to the front door and pulling on a piece of fabric Arthur had tied to the handle for the times when his son wanted to go outside and was in his shifted form. The door swung open, and Calliope battered Miss Marblemaw until she stumbled onto the porch. Mission accomplished, Calliope jumped off her, landing perfectly on the ground. She stepped back inside the house and sat shoulder to shoulder with Sal.

Arthur stood above them in the doorway, looking out to Miss Marblemaw. “Leaving already? I do hope it’s nothing we said.”

Face scratched up, her mustache missing more than a few hairs, Miss Marblemaw said, “That thing isn’t a cat! It’s a demon spawn on four legs and I won’t—”

“Did someone say demon spawn?”

Miss Marblemaw whirled around to find Lucy standing behind her. She put her hand to her throat. “Where did you come from?”

“Hell,” Lucy said. “What happened to your face?” He leaned over, peering around her. “Oh. I see. You messed with Sal. Yeah, you shouldn’t do that. Calliope doesn’t like it when people do that.”

“Rabid!” Miss Marblemaw said. “For all I know, that cat is rabid, and I—”

“Should probably seek medical attention immediately, just to be safe,” Arthur said. “Luckily for you, the village has a wonderful health center that treats everyone, regardless of whether they are magical. I’ve heard the course of injections after a suspected rabies attack is not a pleasant one, so if you must cut your visit short, we’d understand.”

“You won’t be rid of me quite so easily,” she said. “And if I did so, they would come for the cat.” She grinned as a trickle of blood slid down her cheek. “Do you know how they test for rabies? They take the head.”

“Wow,” Lucy said, impressed. “What are you going to do without a head? Walk into stuff? Yeah, I bet you’ll walk into stuff. If it helps, I can take your head right now so you won’t have to sit in a waiting room. Here, just let me—”

Miss Marblemaw hurried toward the guesthouse, glancing balefully over her shoulder. “You haven’t heard the last of this!”

Calliope purred as loudly as Arthur had ever heard her.

It had begun with Lucy; he could see that now. It had never been about Arthur himself, or the other children, not really. Lucy was the ultimate prize: a weapon without equal, a tool and nothing more.

It had begun with Lucy; therefore, it seemed fitting that it ended with him too.

On Friday afternoon—classes over for the week, the weekend brimming with the whispers of adventure—Lucy had his wildest dreams come true.

He got to make sentient mud men.

Arthur sat in his office next to Zoe. Across from them, Miss Marblemaw, finally accorded the meeting she’d seemed so interested in upon introduction to the island’s sprite. It was not, in Arthur’s approximation, going well for Miss Marblemaw, seeing as how her opening salvo had been to once again stress the importance of registering with DICOMA.

Granted, Arthur wasn’t quite paying attention to Miss Marblemaw, though through no fault of his own. Zoe had arrived before the inspector and proceeded to drop a bombshell on Arthur. To say he was stunned would have been inadequate. Zoe’s secret—the plan she’d hinted at more than once—did not defy logic; quite the opposite. It made so much sense that Arthur couldn’t believe he’d never considered it before. But here, now, sitting next to Zoe, he had to keep himself from laughing hysterically.

“No,” she said. “And it’ll be no when you ask tomorrow, and the day after that, ad infinitum. You have no jurisdiction here.”

“I am an inspector for DICOMY,” Miss Marblemaw said. “I think you’ll find that my jurisdiction extends further than you imagine. But let’s not get hung up on pesky little details. I have questions. First, I understand that you don’t reside in the main house. From what I’ve been able to gather, you have a separate home that the children visit whenever they wish. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

She nodded, making a note. “I’ll need to see the residence.”

“No.”

Miss Marblemaw squinted at Zoe, her mustache frayed and bristly. “No?”

Zoe shrugged. “No.”

“You can’t say no.”

“I just did.”

Miss Marblemaw sighed. “Is it too much to ask for the adults in this place to actually act like adults? You are being petty, Miss Chapelwhite.”

“Or,” Arthur said, “she’s had centuries of experience with people like you who’ve made false promises, only to renege when it actually counted.”

Miss Marblemaw clucked her tongue. “Pity. I thought you’d listen to reason. It seems I was mistaken. I suppose it would be pointless of me to ask my remaining questions, seeing as how I’ll get either stonewalled or lied to.”

Zoe smiled, razor sharp. “That might be the smartest thing you’ve said since your arrival.”

“I know you think little of me,” Miss Marblemaw said. “Thankfully, likability isn’t a requirement for these inspections. My job isn’t to come here to make friends. As listed in the RULES AND REGULATIONS, my job is to ensure that the children are being well cared for, and—”

“I can’t tell if she truly believes that, or if that’s what she’s been told to say,” Zoe said to Arthur.

“She’s no Linus Baker,” Arthur agreed, touching the ring on his finger.

Before Miss Marblemaw could retort, they were interrupted when Lucy burst into the room, covered head to toe in mud. He skidded to a stop, mouth hanging open. It snapped closed when he saw Miss Marblemaw. “Uh,” he said, eyes darting side to side. “I haven’t done anything I wasn’t supposed to, and the only reason I came running in here was because I wanted… to see… how fast… I… am?” He grinned. “Yep, that’s all it is!”

“What have you been doing ?” Miss Marblemaw said, aghast. “Did you track mud through the entire house ?”

Lucy looked down at the muddy footprints leading into the office. “Huh. I guess I did. Weird.”

“Lucy,” Arthur admonished gently. “We’re in the middle of a meeting. Please don’t be rude. Can you wait?”

“Oh, yeah,” Lucy said. “I totally can. Forget I was even—

From somewhere downstairs, a cry that could only come from a beleaguered Papa: “ LUCIFER BAKER-PARNASSUS .”

“Uh-oh,” Lucy said. “And also, aw. I love that name.”

“Lucy,” Arthur said.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “I’ve got some ’splaining ta do.” He brightened. “But! I think when you see what I’ve done, you’ll be impressed.” He turned toward Miss Marblemaw, smile widening, causing the drying mud to crack on his cheeks. “As will you, Miss Marblemaw. I made them especially for you.”

“Made what?” Miss Marblemaw asked, face pinched as if she’d just stepped in leavings from a dog.

“Come and see!” he said, giggling as he skipped from the room, footsteps squishy on the floor.

“Shall we?” Arthur asked. “I’m sure Zoe wouldn’t mind pick ing this up at a later time.” He didn’t flinch when Zoe kicked him underneath the desk.

“This had better not be a distraction,” Miss Marblemaw warned. “You’re already skating on thin ice, Mr. Parnassus.”

“Good thing I can fly,” he said, extending his hand to Zoe. She took it, letting herself be pulled up, her wings unfolding. She put her arm through his and they walked around the desk to the door, each of them shaking their head at the little footprints left in the carpet. Stopping in the doorway, Arthur glanced at Miss Marblemaw. “Coming?”

Miss Marblemaw stood slowly. “The child had better not have done anything… illegal.”

Arthur laughed. “What kind of monsters do you take us for? Don’t answer that. We already know.”

As they left Miss Marblemaw spluttering behind them, Zoe whispered, “I’d forgotten how much of a bitch you can be when you put your mind to it.”

Arthur kissed her hair. “What a lovely thing to say.”

To say the mud men were a surprise wouldn’t quite be correct; the evidence of their existence was plentiful. First, Lucy had attempted such a thing before. Second, Lucy had entered the office covered in mud.

Your honor, the prosecution rests.

Going outside, Arthur was further unsurprised to find the rest of the children standing next to Linus, his hands on his hips, head cocked as he frowned at the sight before him: Lucy pacing, jabbering away at a mile a minute, hands thrown up as he moved back and forth. It was quite the sight to see, especially when Lucy stopped his explanation to shore up the left leg of one of several six-foot mud men.

“There,” he said, pulling his hands away. “That should hold for a little while.”

“You made mud men ?” Linus asked, eyes narrowed.

Miss Marblemaw started coughing roughly when the mud man looked down at Lucy and said, “Muuuuuuud?”

“That’s exactly right, Janet,” Lucy said. “Papa is being rude by not respecting your pronouns.” He looked up at Linus, shaking his head. “For shame, Papa. Janet is a mud woman . Barry and Turnip are mud men.”

“Muuuuuuddddd,” Janet said, voice thick and wet.

“Mud mud mud,” Barry said.

“I say, chaps,” Turnip said, face running with filth. “There I was, lying in my bog minding my own business with the worms and microbes when all of a sudden, I found myself tall and thinking of things I can’t quite explain. What is happiness?” A piece of his head sloughed off onto the ground with a wet splat.

“I love you, Turnip,” Lucy said, swaying side to side.

“This is unacceptable , ” Miss Marblemaw snapped, pushing her way through the children. “You can’t just give dirt life .”

“Actually,” Talia said, “dirt is teeming with life, so. You can trust me on that because I’m an expert.”

“She’s right,” Phee said. “Everything has life in it.” She sneezed. Strangely, it sounded like except DICOMY inspectors .

“Semantics,” Miss Marblemaw said with a ferocious glower. “I can’t believe I have to be the voice of reason here. Can’t you see how—how blasphemous this is?”

“Your definition of blasphemy is very different from ours,” Talia said.

“That’s an understatement,” Sal said.

“They’re just mud,” Chauncey said, gazing adoringly up at Barry, who poked his own face, muddy finger sinking all the way in. “There’s nothing wrong with mud.”

“There is when it’s given sentience , ” Miss Marblemaw retorted. She glared at Arthur. “Are you just going to stand there and let this happen? For someone who claims to want to be a father, you sure are doing everything to keep that from happening.”

The fire rose within him again, insistent, furious at the temerity of this person. But it did not burn as fiercely as it had even a few days ago.

Which was why he said, “Madam, I am already a father. Not even one such as you can take that away from me.”

“Hello, there!” Turnip called, looking at David. “You seem like a fine fellow. Can you help me? Why is it that a goose can be geese but a moose can’t be meese?”

“No one knows,” David said. In a lower voice, he whispered, “Turnip talked to me. I love this place.”

“Can’t I?” Miss Marblemaw asked. “Because I thought that’s exactly what my position allows.” She pulled herself to her full height as the mud men and woman turned toward her. “You think yourself so smart, Mr. Parnassus. And you are, I’ll give you that. However, your intelligence has blinded you to the reality of your situation. You see these children as nothing but that: children. And while they certainly are young, it is becoming abundantly clear that your control over them is nothing but an illusion. Children running amok without supervision—”

“I’ll give her that,” Lucy said. “I amok all over the place.”

“—and that doesn’t even begin to cover what you’re teaching them. How could they possibly hope to have any success in life when you fill their heads with fanciful talk of a future that will never be? You are doing them a disservice. You and Miss Chapelwhite and Mr. Baker. You flout DICOMY guidelines as if they don’t pertain to you, you insist on including classroom materials and studies that aren’t sanctioned. In all ways that matter, you are an employee of the Department in Charge of Magical Youth. Or have you forgotten that?”

“I haven’t,” Arthur said as Turnip exclaimed over the color of the sky, saying he’d never seen anything so blue. “Thank you for bringing that up. I’ve been meaning to speak to you about it.” Zoe squeezed his arm, a silent gesture of support. “I hereby tender my resignation as master for the Department in Charge of Magical Youth.”

Miss Marblemaw gaped at him. “You what ?”

“He quits,” Linus said, marching by her to stop in front of Arthur. “Well played, my love. Let me be the first to congratulate you on such a tremendous decision.” He kissed Arthur soundly as the children hooted and hollered.

“I don’t like her,” Turnip said to Barry and Janet. “She reminds me of that raccoon who won’t stop defecating in our swamp.”

“Mud?” Barry asked.

“I agree,” Turnip said. “She might even be that raccoon in disguise. I’m not quite sure if raccoons can take human form. She certainly looks like a raccoon pretending to be human.”

“ Mud, ” Janet said, punching a fist into her palm.

“You pooped in their swamp?” Chauncey asked Miss Marblemaw. “Can I tell you a secret? I pooped in the ocean and pretended it came from a dolphin, so don’t feel too bad.”

“I knew it!” Phee yelled.

“You did not!” Chauncey yelled back.

“You can’t quit,” Miss Marblemaw snapped.

“Funny, then, that I did just that,” Arthur replied. “I am not beholden to DICOMY. None of us are.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong,” Miss Marblemaw said. She shook her head. “I’ve seen enough. From the moment I stepped foot on this island, all you’ve done is lie and obfuscate to hide the truth behind your pretty words.”

“Papa?” Talia asked, tugging on his hand. “Why is Miss Marblemaw flirting with Dad? Doesn’t she know he loves you almost as much as he loves us?”

“Your dad is quite the catch,” Linus said. “It’s the socks, you see.”

Miss Marblemaw’s face was the color of an overripe tomato. “I’m not flirting . I’m trying to— No. I won’t be pulled into your ridiculous word games again. You can’t trick me. None of you can. I see you for what you are. You are an infection spreading unchecked, sullying the hearts and minds of those you claim to care for, filling their heads with ridiculous nonsense. When are you going to tell them the truth? When are you finally going to be honest with the children?”

The phoenix awoke, offended by this woman who continued to breathe their air as if she had any right to. Arthur was in control, but it was close.

But the response did not come from him.

It came from Sal.

“Honest?” he said, stepping forward, Theodore growling on his shoulder. “You’re going after him for honesty ? Who the hell do you think you are?”

Miss Marblemaw turned her head slowly toward him. “Excuse me?”

“Arthur Parnassus was the first person in my life to be honest with me,” Sal said. “He was the first person who made me believe that I could be anything I wanted to be.”

“And that is a lie, ” Miss Marblemaw retorted. “Bellhops and writers and whatever else you all think you are. Do you believe the world will accept you outside of your little bubble? If so, you are in for an extraordinarily rude awakening. No, you must know the truth. You can’t—”

“I’m already a bellhop,” Chauncey said.

She blinked. “What?”

“You said whatever we think we are,” Chauncey said patiently. “But I don’t think I’m a bellhop. I am one, and at a three-star hotel.”

“He’s right,” Sal said as Theodore nodded. “Chauncey’s the best bellhop I’ve ever seen. Phee is smarter and stronger than the rest of us put together. Talia’s gardens have appeared in magazines across the country. Theodore probably has the largest collection of buttons in the entire world . Lucy made mud people. Mud people. Do you know how awesome that is?”

“Ain’t nothin’ to it,” Lucy said, blowing on his knuckles and rubbing them against his chest.

“And what about David?” Miss Marblemaw asked. “Shouldn’t you talk about him? Oh, wait. That’s right. He’s not a child, but a man! A short man who doesn’t act his purported age?”

“Why are you so obsessed with me?” David asked. “I mean, I get it. Look at me: I’m fluffy and a world-class actor. But still, you’re going a little overboard. I’ll have to call my agent and see about a restraining order.”

Sal continued to stare at Miss Marblemaw as Theodore snorted. “How many orphanages have I been to?”

Miss Marblemaw blanched as she began to riffle through the pages on her clipboard. “I… er, I have it—”

“Five,” Sal said. “What does Lucy love most in the world?”

“I… don’t—”

“Come on, Miss Marblemaw,” he said. “You say you know what’s best for us, so surely, you’d know about us, right? Because knowing what’s best implies you know the important things about us. And hell, I’m practically giving you this one since Lucy already mentioned it. You know it? No? The answer is dead-people music. What do gnomes call their communities?”

“This is pointless —”

“A donzy,” Sal said, cool as all get-out. “How many languages can Theodore understand?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued. “Four. English, Gnomish, Wyvern, and Spanish. And how about Chauncey?”

“I have many secrets,” Chauncey said.

“How many books did he read about the art of being a bellhop? Sixty-seven. What is Phee’s favorite kind of tree? Dragon blood.”

“Because they have red pitch, and originally only grew in Yemen and along the Arabian Sea,” Phee said. “I’m gonna try and grow one here. They look so creepy, I love it.”

“You ever get the feeling you became sentient right in the middle of something?” Turnip whispered to Barry and Janet, who both nodded.

“You don’t know the first thing about us,” Sal said. “You claim to, but you don’t. Even when you first met us, you tried to get us to say something we didn’t like about living here. You showed your hand before you even knew the game had started.”

“This isn’t a game, ” Miss Marblemaw said.

“Then stop treating us like pawns on a chessboard,” Sal coun tered. “You were never going to let us stay here. Admit it. You talk of honesty, but you don’t know the first thing about it.”

“Oh snap,” Lucy said. “Felt that right in my chest.”

“I know enough,” Miss Marblemaw said. “More than you, to be sure. You are a child, and don’t know any better, so it’s to be expected.”

“Okay,” Phee said. “So we’re kids. Why have you never asked what we want?”

“Because,” Miss Marblemaw said, condescending and smug, “you can’t know. You are far too young to understand the ramifications of—”

“Being abused?” Sal asked. “Getting locked in a room without food or access to a toilet? Finding a way to sneak out to try and get something to eat, only to be slapped across the face for doing so? Biting my attacker because I was scared ? Being told that I was a monster for spreading my magic? Being forced to stay in my shift and wear a muzzle? Tell me, Miss Marblemaw, tell me what I’m too young to understand. Tell me exactly what I’m missing, because all I see is a person trying to take us away from the only place we’ve ever felt safe.”

“Because you don’t know any better!” Miss Marblemaw cried. “This place—this farce is not the real world. This is nothing but an illusion created by a man with a personal vendetta. What happens when you age out? Do you really think you’ll be prepared for what you find in the real world?”

Sal shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. Regardless, I know I’ll always have a home to come back to. Take us. Right now. See what happens when you try.”

Miss Marblemaw took a step back, only to bump into Turnip, who said, “Pardon me, ma’am. Got some of me on your back.”

She jumped at least three feet in the air. She craned her neck to see her mud-coated back, spinning in a slow circle. She must have realized she still had an audience, because she whipped back around to face them. “It won’t only be me,” she said. “Not here. Not now. But soon. That’s a promise. And there’s nowhere you can run that we won’t find you.”

“I’ve had quite enough,” Arthur said, stepping forward. “Lucy, be a dear, would you? I’d like all of Miss Marblemaw’s possessions brought from the guesthouse. Her time with us has been cut short, and she will be departing immediately.”

“I’m not going anywhere, ” she snarled. “I am here until Wednesday, whether you like it or not.”

Lucy said, “Ella Fitzgerald skibbidy bip!”

The front door to the guesthouse burst open, and Miss Marblemaw’s suitcase and metal briefcase came rolling out, tumbling end over end, kicking up dust and bits of grass. They came to a stop next to the inspector, who ignored them, her gaze trained firmly on Arthur. “This won’t end well for you. Surely you see that.”

Arthur tilted his head. “So I’ve been told my entire life, and here I am, still standing.” He spread his arms on either side of him. “You want to take from me? See how far you get. I am many things. A man. A phoenix. Pawn. Survivor. Husband-to-be. Former master. Those pale in comparison to the title I hold above all else.”

“And what’s that?” Miss Marblemaw asked, a nasty curl to her voice.

“A father,” Arthur said. “And you have caused my children distress, fear, and pain. I warned you when you arrived what would happen if you didn’t abide by my rules. You chose not to listen. Now it’s time to reap your just rewards.”

“You have no authority over me,” Miss Marblemaw said coldly. “Even if you somehow force me from Marsyas, I will return in greater numbers, and by hook or by crook, your dream will die the death it should’ve mercifully received years ago.”

“By crook,” Linus said. “Honestly.”

“It’s as if she doesn’t hear herself,” Arthur replied.

“We certainly heard her, didn’t we?”

“That we did.”

Zoe glanced at Miss Marblemaw and beyond. “Turnip, would you like to help? It’s okay to say no if you don’t want to.”

“What would you have of me, your majesty?” Turnip asked, bowing low. Barry and Janet did the same, dripping bits of themselves onto the ground.

“ Majesty? ” Miss Marblemaw exclaimed. “She’s nothing but a sprite .”

“Harriet Marblemaw has come to our home with nefarious designs,” Zoe said. “It’s high time she departed. Take her to the docks. Barry, Janet, please grab her belongings and follow me.”

Miss Marblemaw didn’t have time to escape before Turnip wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off the ground. She bellowed furiously, kicking her legs to no avail. Turnip’s hold on her was far stronger than she could ever be. Janet picked up the metal briefcase, and Barry hoisted the suitcase.

“Children,” Linus said, “let’s go see about your afternoon snack, shall we? Everyone wave goodbye to Miss Marblemaw.”

“I’d like Lucy to come with us,” Arthur said. “Just in case.”

“Yep, yep,” Lucy said, rushing past Arthur to catch up with the mud people and Zoe, Miss Marblemaw threatening anything and everything. Arthur nodded at Linus as he herded the other children toward the house, all of them talking excitedly.

The mud people proved to be light on their feet, strides long and sure. However, Arthur noticed that if they got too far ahead of Zoe—not Lucy—they’d slow down, letting her catch up. Your majesty, Turnip had said. He knew. Somehow, he knew. Be it the magic of the island itself, or the light that emanated from Zoe Chapelwhite, somehow, Turnip knew what Arthur himself had only learned shortly before.

Miss Marblemaw continued her threats as they made their way down the winding dirt road, Lucy picking up piles of mud that had fallen off his creations and slapping it back on while jogging to keep pace. By the time they reached the docks, the salt road to the mainland had already formed, nearly two miles of solid ground across the sea. As he reached the end of the dock, Turnip carefully set Miss Marblemaw on the road. She reached up to slap him, but he grabbed her wrist midflight, leaning over the dock as he pulled her closer. “I do not like being struck,” he said before letting her go. She stumbled onto the road, the salt creaking beneath her feet.

Barry and Janet tossed her belongings after her. They skittered a few feet away onto the road, the briefcase almost falling into the ocean as Arthur and Lucy joined them.

“You have made a grave mistake,” Miss Marblemaw said, raising a trembling finger toward Zoe. “People will suffer because of your war against decency.”

Lucy cocked his head as he looked down at her. “Why do you hate us so much? What did we ever do to you?”

She scoffed. “Hate? Hate? It’s not about hate. It’s about ensuring the future of humanity, something you are destined to destroy.” She took a step toward the dock. Lucy didn’t blink. “You, boy. Surely you see that. In that withering husk you call a soul, you know as well as I do that it’s only a matter of time before you decide to install yourself as the supreme ruler.”

Lucy laughed. “Why be supreme when you could listen to the Supremes instead?” His shoulders and hips began to wiggle. “ Stop! In the naaame of love. Be-fore you breeeaaak my heart! Think it oh-oh-ver .” He bowed.

Zoe and Arthur and the mud people applauded.

Miss Marblemaw did not. She growled and attempted to climb back up onto the dock, only to have Zoe wave her hand, sending her sliding back along the road. She stood with Turnip, Janet, and Barry on either side of her. “Harriet Marblemaw,” she said, voice deep. “You are hereby banished from Marsyas Island. No longer will you be able to step foot on our shores.” She lifted her hand near Turnip’s mouth, wings fluttering. “Spit, please.”

Turnip did as asked, spitting a glop of mud into Zoe’s hand. She closed her fingers around it, and when she opened her hand once more, a small seashell sat on her palm, orange and white. Bringing her hand to her face, she blew on the shell. The surface rippled before it hurtled from her hand toward Miss Marblemaw. The shell struck the inspector in the forehead, sinking into her skull. She blinked once, twice, three times, dazed, eyes unfocused. The shell reappeared out the back of her head and disintegrated, the powder blowing away on the wind.

“With that,” Zoe said, “you’ll be unable to come to our island again. You have forty-five minutes until the salt road collapses back into the sea. If I were you, I’d make use of that time, unless you feel like going for a swim.”

Miss Marblemaw did not listen. As if she had all the time in the world, she pulled herself upright, smoothed out her clothes, and then attempted to climb up the side of the dock. The moment she touched a support post, she snatched her hand back as if burned. She tried again. Same result.

Zoe crouched down on the dock above her. “Banished. Permanently. Any attempt to breach the island will result in unimaginable pain. You may think you can push through it, but let me assure you, that wouldn’t be in your best interest. You’d be dead before you stood on my sands.”

“The government will —”

“Forty-three minutes,” Zoe said. “Tick, tock.”

The last they saw of Miss Marblemaw was when she picked up her luggage and began marching down the road. They waved. Miss Marblemaw did not wave back. Eventually, she was nothing but a smudge on the horizon.

“Lucy,” Zoe said, “I think it’s time we let the mud people go.”

“But why ?” Lucy said. “I love them!”

“Muuuuud,” Janet said, cupping his cheek with one hand.

“And we love you,” Turnip said. “In my short albeit eventful life, I have seen things that defy imagination. For example, why is your mud pink and not wet? Do not tell me; I wish to ponder this until I arrive at an answer.” He turned toward Zoe and bowed. “Your majesty, the mud has proven its loyalty. We ask that you allow us to live in the forest. Janet, Barry, and I will tend to the bogs and swamps, and they will be the muddiest in the entire world. Our gift to you.”

Zoe smiled. “Perfect. I accept, and with my gratitude. I hereby give you and Barry and Janet the titles of the official mud representatives of Marsyas Island. Should you require anything to see your dreams realized, all you must do is ask.”

“I think I’ll miss you most of all, Barry,” Lucy said with a sniff. “You always know the right thing to say.”

“Mud mud mud,” Barry said.

“See? Like that .”

“Brother,” Turnip said, taking Barry’s hand. “Sister.” He grabbed Janet’s hand. “It’s time for the mud people to do what we do best. Create more mud. Onward! Adventure waits for us all!”

The mud people walked down the dock. Hitting the tree line, Turnip glanced over his shoulder. Well, he tried to glance over his shoulder, but he missed the mark and his head turned completely around. “Lucy!” he called. “Thank you for never giving up! You will always have a friend amongst the mud people.” With that, they disappeared into the thick forest.

“Can I go visit them?” Lucy asked, wiping his eyes.

Arthur ruffled his hair. “Anytime you wish. All you must do is ask. Come. Let us see what the others have gotten up to.”

Eyes dry, Lucy shouted, “Hurray! Can I have seven—no, wait, thirty biscuits when we get home? The peanut butter kind that Linus makes with the little fork marks on the top.”

“I believe that can be arranged. You’ve earned it.”

He took off down the dock, his little feet smacking against the wood. Just when Arthur thought they’d seen the last of him without biscuits in his mouth, he stopped and turned around. “You know,” he called to them, “I always hated the word ‘master.’ Maybe it’s time we left it behind?” And with that, he took off once more, visions of warm biscuits undoubtedly on his mind.

Zoe burst out laughing. “Your children.”

Arthur smiled. “Aren’t they wonderful?” He extended his arm toward her. “Your majesty.”

She punched him gently on the biceps. “Shut it, Parnassus. Call me that again, and I’ll banish you .”

“I believe that.”

She took his proffered arm.