Milo and the Dragon Cross Page 5

  Milo pricked up his ears. (Bori didn’t. A veteran of many speeches by the mayor, he was settling in for a nap beside Milo.) Milo hoped to hear some sort of definitive explanation for this odd undertaking that he found himself caught up in. Perhaps if he listened closely, he would get a clue.

  “As you know, only the most accomplished of the wizardly are invited to come to participate.” (Milo was baffled by this because he was not of the wizardly trade, and he could not recall an invitation of any sort.) “And only the greatest can hope to finish the contest. They compete purely for the prestige of the competition and the reward of joining such a prestigious group.”

  “Surely you win something,” Milo commented quietly to himself.

  He startled at a bright, girlish laugh right next to him. He turned to look, but no one was there.

  “No need,” a melodious voice that matched the laugh continued. “If you can win the Magical Scavenger Hunt, why would you need riches, fame, or any ordinary prize?”

  Milo jerked around trying to find anyone close enough to be the voice. He thought he felt the tiniest, faintest brush of warm skin, but there was no one there. Not there, or anywhere else nearby. No one.

  Almost before he decided that there was something wrong with his hearing, the voice gave a light, tinkling laugh.

  “There’s nothing wrong with you. I’m right here.”

  Right here? There was nothing there!

  “What...where...who are you?” Milo asked, completely baffled.

  “I’m Stigma, and I’m a contestant. The one you couldn’t find just now, although I can’t be named the thirteenth one because you’re the thirteenth one.”

  “Who...where...” He wasn’t expressing himself too well.

  “I’m invisible. Nevertheless, I’m here, and I’ve been here all along. Perhaps we’ll have a chance to talk more later, but for now we should listen to the mayor.”

  The mayor, of course, had been talking the whole time that Milo’s attention had been hijacked by a person who wasn’t there, but really was there but was invisible. So Milo had missed a lot of what the mayor had said. Sort of what happened to him when a teacher at school was talking and he was hearing the words but somehow they wouldn’t stick in his mind.

  He knew that the mayor was talking about the Hunt and how everyone should do their best, play fair, and so on, but that was about it. He wouldn’t be able to pass a pop quiz on it. He kept thinking about who could be standing next to him.

  He thought he could see a slight shimmer in the air where he’d heard her voice, but he couldn’t be sure. He wondered if he might reach out to try to touch her, but that seemed impolite. The temptation was strong, though.

  “And so the contest is run,” the mayor was saying, “not by how swiftly or elegantly or knowledgably a contestant completes each portion of the Hunt, but by what the contestant has accomplished by the end of the Hunt.”

  Milo’s ears did prick up at that. Bori’s didn’t. He was still napping.

  “That means that being the first to return to the Kingdom of Odalese may not be the most significant thing. It can be, but as it has been on many occasions in past Hunts, the last one to return is named the leader. A panel of judges, most of them from past Hunts themselves, makes the final judgment. Magical skills and abilities do not ensure success. It is the way in which those skills and abilities have been employed that makes the Hunt a superlative expression of the magical art.”

  It still didn’t tell Milo much about what he wanted to know. He needed practical information, like where the starting line was. But what the mayor was saying was something, and something is better than nothing.

  Which drew his attention back to the empty spot next to him where he presumed the invisible contestant still to be.

  “Do you understand what she’s talking about?” he asked the empty air.

  “No, not really,” said the voice. “How could one know until one has been through the Hunt and discovered all the clues? They’re never the same, you see, so you can’t know ahead what to expect. They might not even be the same for you as they are for me. The only thing that counts is that you get from one clue to the next until you end up back here. Then the judges ask what you have found and you tell them, and they decide if you have completed the Hunt.”

  That made sense to Milo, though it sounded like a strange sort of game. But then, everything was pretty strange already.

  “How do you know what to look for?” he asked his inapparent companion.

  “Shhh!” she said. The mayor had reached the point of introducing each of the players.

  “In the order of their registration, may I now give you the 77th Hunt’s contestants!” she called out in a ringmaster’s voice.

  The crowd cheered. The mayor continued when she could be heard again.

  “Ali-Sembek, of Qutan!”

  Ali left his winged horse with the squire and mounted the podium to the applause of the crowd.

  “Tivik, of Macassar!”

  Looking dangerous and half-crazed, the wild man took his place on the stage.

  “Lute, of Lyonesse!”

  As each contestant mounted the podium, the ones yet to be called moved forward to be in position for their turns.

  “Sarakka, of Pohjola!”

  “Wei Jain, of Tuliang!”

  Milo moved forward, too, drawn by the vacuum on the ground as the podium filled.

  “Vianna, of Tarxien!”

  “Obeah Reah, of Sofala!”

  “Aulaires, of Acrotane!”

  Milo studied his hands so he wouldn’t stare as the resplendent Aulaires took the stage. He noticed that his fingers were trembling in anticipation of his turn to take the podium.

  “Braenach, of Dowth!”

  The shape-shifter mounted the podium, looking like himself, or what he presumably looked like when he was in the shape of a rather handsome man.

  “Stigma, of Cumae!”

  Milo thought he felt motion near him, but he saw nothing but the empty steps that led to the podium. Then a robe held by someone at the back of the stage swirled and then settled to reveal the shape of a woman, but one with no head.

  Count Yeroen, who was still left on the ground with Analisa and Milo, noticed their looks of bewilderment.

  “If either of you pups were better acquainted with the magical community, you would realize that Stigma has just wrapped herself in the cloak to make herself visible, but because her head is still bare, you can’t see it. Only the parts of her that are clothed can be seen.”

  Milo suddenly thought of the soft, warm touch of skin when she first spoke to him, and blushed as he simultaneously re-evaluated Aulaires’ at least partial style of dressing.

  “Count Yeroen, of Avebury!”

  Yeroen mounted the stage with grand style and inflated dignity, leaving the two youngest contestants as the last to be announced.

  “Analisa, of Annwn!”

  Milo was left on the ground alone. Bori got himself ready to stand beside Milo, tail high and ears turned up toward the podium.

  “And lastly, our thirteenth contestant, Milo, of... of...”

  Milo swept Bori into his arms and gave him a place on his left shoulder as he climbed up the steps, mind racing for where he should say he was from. An idea hit and he spoke it as he came into place alongside the mayor, recalling the slogan that his home state used to identify itself.

  “The Land of Enchantment,” he told her.

  “...of the Land of Enchantment!” she announced triumphantly.

  The crowd, who had applauded each contestant warmly as they were announced, exploded in cheers. Milo wasn’t sure if he should take this as approval of him—why should they?—or approval for all the contestants, since he was the last.

  “Now that all the contestants have been introduced,” the mayor continued, to even greater applause, “let the Hunt begin!”

  She turned to welcome an old man wearing white robes. He had long white hair and a white be
ard, and he carried a tall oaken staff.

  “I give you Lord Barenton, the chairman of the judges of the Magical Scavenger Hunt, and winner of the 74th Hunt. He shall announce the first clue for the contestants.”

  “You will seek,” his voice rang out, more like steel on steel than that of an enfeebled old man, “the first clue: the Tor Vitrea, the Tower of Glass!”

  3

  Milo Gets Off the Starting Line

  As soon as Lord Barenton announced the clue, and well before the crowd stopped cheering, the contestants flew into action, some of them quite literally. Sarakka rose straight up into the air on her evergreen branch and in less than a minute was no more than a tiny speck up in the blue sky. Ali had to but spring onto the back of his winged steed and with a powerful beat of wings that sent dust and small children swirling, rose into the air, gone almost as quickly as Sarakka.

  Obeah Reah came off the podium and marched to her camp where she took out some knuckle bones—Milo hoped they were from a pig and not human—from a silken bag, tossed them on the table, and studied them. Then she packed her things together and tied them up in a kerchief, sprinkled a powder around herself in a circle, and was gone.

  Count Yeroen waved a wand that either created a mist or congealed the very air into a cloud that then rose away into the sky.

  Analisa had her broom. “So long,” she told Milo. “Good luck.”

  “Wait!” Milo called after her. “Where is this Glass Tower”—but she was gone, leaving him standing alone on the rapidly emptying field.

  Braenach changed into an eagle, Stigma shed her cloak and vanished by means that gave no trace of technique, and Tivik loped away on all fours like a wolf. Aulaires—well, Milo had no idea how she got away because he didn’t look. Even the crowd had dispersed by the time Milo and Bori got around to departing. Milo looked at Bori.

  “What do we do now?” Milo asked the cat. “I don’t have the slightest idea where—or what—this Glass Tower thing is. Do you?”

  “Meow,” Bori replied, with a dismissive inflection and a certain flip of his tail that added to his remark.

  “I thought you were here to help me,” Milo said peevishly.

  “Yes, when I can,” Bori answered, as airily as his meow had been. “You’re the contestant.”

  “Do you at least have a suggestion?” Milo asked.

  “Let’s take a look at the situation. The first clue has something to do with a glass tower. Barenton called it Tor Vitrea. So it must be a definite place or thing. Everyone but us took off, presumably because they knew what it was. Right? So I suggest we find that out first.”

  “Like, duh!” Milo said, exasperated.

  “Well, do you have a better plan?”

  “No,” Milo said, even more glumly.

  “Then let’s go to the library,” Bori suggested, and set off, tail high, clearly full of himself. Milo had to tag along.

  The library was one street back from the Square, on the opposite side of the building that contained the Mayor’s office. As they came into the hushed interior with its smells of old books and waxed wooden bookshelves, Milo opened his mouth to ask Bori a question. A sharp look from the librarian made him close it again. Bori went straight up to her.

  “We would like information on the Glass Tower,” he told her after hopping up onto her desk.

  The librarian smiled sweetly and nodded. “Do you have a specific glass tower in mind?” she asked in a near whisper.

  “Are there many?” Milo responded. “I mean, other than the one the Mayor sent the Hunt contestants off to find?”

  “Oh, then you must mean the Glass Tower. It’s been written about extensively, although I don’t believe anyone knows exactly where it is or if it actually exists outside of mythology. Selton recently published a book arguing that the Glass Tower, the Tor Vitrea, is actually a folk name for the Krystalien Geberge, of Upper Pharcia, and that the stories about it originate in Old Pharcian, but most scholars consider it to be pure folklore,” she told him.

  This sounded bad to Milo. “Then can we look at what you have on the topic? I’m supposed to go there, you see, and I don’t know anything about it.”

  She gave him an odd look. “The tales of the Glass Tower appear in everything from fairy tales to scholarly literature. If I were to bring you everything in the library where it’s mentioned, you would have more material than you could read during a ten-year sabbatical.”

  Milo stopped to think, wishing for a computer and access to Wikipedia. “Then could you pick out a book for me that you think would give a general overview?” he asked as politely as he could.

  She smiled, and gestured them to find a place at one of the long tables in the reading room behind her desk.

  While they waited, Milo whispered to Bori. “I never read anything about the Glass Tower, and I like reading about stuff like that.”

  The silence in the place was impressive. Milo could hear the rustle of a page being turned two tables away, and the crisp plop of a book being laid down on a table by another reader. Someone’s subdued cough echoed through the galleries like a rumor. A man sitting on the opposite side of the table from Milo and Bori, and three chairs down, sat with head bowed into a thick volume opened before him. Apparently he was fast asleep.

  The librarian returned, carrying two heavy books, one with a rather worn leather cover and the other with a dark green one. Her tweeds rustled softy, and her footsteps echoed in the hushed room.

  “Thank you,” Milo whispered as she piled them on the table before him.

  She smiled at him again. “Let me know if you need anything else.” She returned to her desk with quick, efficient steps.

  Milo stared at the thick volumes, feeling his heart sink. He opened the worn leather one first. The print was tiny and antique, crowding each page in two dense columns. “It’ll take ten years to read just this one,” he said with a groan. “Everybody will finish the whole hunt before I can finish the first chapter.”

  “Not necessarily,” said the man from the other side of the table, in a lowered voice. The librarian shot him a harsh look.

  Milo saw a flute poking out of his coat pocket as he rose and moved directly across the table from Milo.

  “They have to find it first,” the man commented.

  It was Tinburkin.

  “Do you know where it is?” Milo asked.

  “That’s not important,” he answered. “What is important is that each of the contestants must be able to identify the clue and use it to discover the next one.”

  “How can I go about doing that?” Milo complained. “I don’t even know what it is.”

  “Every schoolchild has heard of the Glass Tower,” Tinburkin answered.

  “Maybe so, if they live in the Kingdom of Odalese,” Milo retorted. “But not in...where I’m from.”

  “The Land of Enchantment?” Tinburkin grinned. “Then I’ll tell you a story. It’s a well-known tale, so I won’t be breaking any rules if I repeat it for you. The Glass Tower is a place that can be found only by one who either knows how to look for it, which is very rare, or one who has the right attitude to find it. I’m sure there’s a long chapter in that book there”—Tinburkin tapped the cover of the one Milo had opened—”that discusses those requirements at great length, even though it’s quite simple in reality. The Glass Tower is located in a realm ruled by the Fisher King, who is the guardian of a great secret. You can get to the Glass Tower only by his invitation, but you must find his hidden kingdom first if you are to get his permission.”

  “I’ve read stories about the Fisher King,” Milo said excitedly. “He’s the guardian of the grail that King Arthur’s knights were always looking for!”

  He must have said this too loudly, because he caught the librarian’s attention. Instead of putting her finger to her lips in a shush, she sprang from her desk with a deafening shriek, pouncing like an eagle on a rabbit. Her face was contorted into a glaring attack, all mouth and sharp teeth.

&n
bsp; Needless to say, it startled Milo into speechlessness. He toppled over in terror as she launched at him. She no longer looked human. But then just as quickly she looked like a librarian again, standing in front of him with her hands on her hips.

  “I won’t tolerate this racket in my library!” she chided. “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave!”

  Heart pounding and weak-kneed in fright, Milo was all too happy to get out of there. Only when he was outdoors again did he remember Tinburkin. Thinking back, he couldn’t recall seeing Tinburkin anywhere as he and Bori hurried out the door.

  “What happened?” he asked Bori breathlessly, looking up and down the street to see if he could locate Tinburkin.

  “The librarian is a banshee,” Bori explained.

  “A banshee? Jeez, she must have scared everyone in there half out of their wits, screaming like that.”

  “Actually, no one else heard a thing. It was meant for you.”

  Milo’s ears were still ringing. He wasn’t sure if he completely trusted Bori’s explanation.

  “Where’s Tinburkin? Did you see where he went? I need to find him.”

  “You won’t. You can find him only when he’s looking for you, not when you’re looking for him.”

  “That’s too weird,” Milo said in exasperation. “I’m getting awfully tired of all this...this magical stuff. Now how can I find out about what he was telling me?”

  “If he left, then he’s already told you all he intended to tell you,” Bori suggested, rather distracted by a large dog on the other side of the street. “Let’s go someplace else.”

  Judging by the way Bori’s tail was swelling, Milo thought that leaving the area before the dog caught sight of the cat was a good plan. Another consideration for Milo was that he was feeling hungry again, and eating something before going off to search for the elusive Glass Tower was a reasonable idea. You never knew if there would be much opportunity for eats once they left the Kingdom of Odalese.

  Over lunch, Milo brought up another concern. “Bori,” he asked the cat, “how are we going to get to the tower? Everybody but me has a means of travel. I’ve got squat. We can’t really walk there, can we?”