Kendra Kandlestar and the Crack in Kazah (8 page)

IT WAS ONE OF THOSE MOMENTS that sent the crowd into a stir. You know the type of moment, like when your principal suddenly makes a surprise announcement during assembly and everyone begins to whisper and murmur all at once. And Burdock loved it. This Kendra knew just from watching him strut across the platform, his chest puffing with importance. Roompa, on the other hand, looked completely flustered—
Just like Ratchet,
Kendra thought.

“Master Burdock,” Winter Woodsong said, “this is a most serious accusation.”

“I speak the truth,” the arrogant wizard hissed, passing Roompa’s wand to her. “Look, his Eenwood is covered with a powdery residue. And we all know Roompa experiments with all sorts of ridiculous potions and powders. I suspect he’s tried to magnify the magic of his wand.”

“Hmm,” Winter murmured.

Kendra looked over at Burdock. He looked so pleased with himself that she wanted to kick him in the shin or zap him with her wand—anything to wipe that smug expression from his face. But it was Gayla who took action. In the beat of an Een’s heart she was up on stage, confronting Winter Woodsong.

“No!” the girl blurted. “Don’t listen to him! Burdock is the one who cheated!”

“What!?” Burdock growled, his one eyebrow twitching. “My dear, you’re just upset because you lost.”

Gayla whirled around and glared at him, a look that could stop a giant in its tracks. “I’m not your dear,” she snapped.

The frenzied conversation from the crowd grew louder; Winter had to bang her staff against the stage to quiet them.

“Young Griffinskitch,” she said. “It is a serious affair to accuse a wizard of Een.”

“But
he’s
accusing Master Ringtail,” Gayla protested.

“That is Master Burdock to you,” Winter declared. “And he is an equal of Master Ringtail.”

“A wrong is a wrong,” Gayla said. “No matter
who
commits it.”

“Indeed,” Winter said (though not unkindly, in Kendra’s opinion). “So we shall let the elders decide this matter, in the privacy of the Elder Stone.”

“No!” Gayla exclaimed, grasping Winter’s wrist. “I’m telling you, Roompa won fair and square. Burdock is the liar and cheat!”

“ENOUGH!”

It was Uncle Griffinskitch. All this time Kendra had been tugging furiously on her braids, her eyes locked on Gayla, but now she turned to see her uncle bustling through the crowd. His ears were burning red with rage.

“Eek!” Oki squealed, tightly clutching Kendra’s sleeve. “This is all my fault! Oh, why did I tell Gayla to join the match?”

Uncle Griffinskitch quickly took to the platform and Kendra suddenly realized just how strong and imposing he looked. He hadn’t bothered to costume himself at all for Jamboreen, and his dark grey beard and somber clothes stood in strong contrast to the colors that filled the stage.

“Gayla!” he growled.

But the Teenling girl paid him no mind. “Listen,” she pleaded, still clinging to Winter Woodsong. “I’m telling you the truth.”

“Humph,” Uncle Griffinskitch grunted, grabbing Gayla by the shoulder and pulling her away. “Forgive my sister, Mistress Woodsong. She knows not her place.”

“If it’s to keep my mouth shut when I see someone doing wrong, then I know it well enough!” Gayla retorted, wrenching free of his grasp.

Uncle Griffinskitch glared down at her, his nostrils flaring. “You will apologize to Master Burdock.”

Gayla looked at her brother with an expression of horror painted on her face. Even from afar, Kendra could read the message in Gayla’s eyes. It said:
Please don’t make me do this.

But Uncle Griffinskitch was not about to be defied. Something passed between them. At last, after a long tense moment, Gayla hung her head in defeat.

“I-I’m sorry, Master Burdock,” she blurted—then before another word could be said, she turned and fled from the stage, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I’m going after her,” Kendra told Oki. She lifted her robe to dart through the crowd—but she only made it two steps before a firm hand pulled her to a halt. She looked over her shoulder. Like a lightning bolt, Uncle Griffinskitch had managed to catch her.

“Let her go,” he said.

“She’s upset!” Kendra protested.

“Aye,” Uncle Griffinskitch grunted sadly. “Aren’t we all?”

Kendra cast a helpless glance in Oki’s direction. “
Shuckleberries,
” he murmured in response. “I guess this Jamboreen is over.”

Kendra and Oki slept in a proper bed that night—but not for long. Uncle Griffinskitch had them up at the crack of dawn, only a few hours after they had gone to sleep.

“If you’re going to stay in my house, you can earn your keep,” the ornery wizard grunted, as he finished the last of his dandelion tea. “The mousling can accompany me today when I go to the Elder Stone; I must attend the trial of Master Ringtail and I may need someone to run messages for me. Can you do that, mousling?”

Kendra knew the last thing Oki wanted to do was spend the day with Uncle Griffinskitch, but the little mouse managed to squeak, “Y-yes, sir.”

“As for you,” Uncle Griffinskitch said, turning his steely gaze to Kendra, “you can clean the house.”

“What about Gayla?” Kendra asked.

“Humph,” the wizard grunted in an anxious, worried type of way. “She didn’t come home.” Then he looked sternly at Kendra. “Do you know where she is?”

Kendra shook her head, nervously twisting her braids.

“She must go before the elders and formally explain her accusation of Master Brown,” Uncle Griffinskitch said. “If she returns home then tell her to immediately go to the Elder Stone. May the ancients help her if she does not!”

Kendra nodded and Uncle Griffinskitch shunted Oki out the door, leaving her all alone in the kitchen. Only a day ago, Gayla had been dancing across the floor, singing merrily, but now the house felt cold and somber, quiet as a tomb.

Kendra sighed and began tidying up the kitchen, her mind fretting. It only took her an hour to clean up the bottom part of the house; then she began scrubbing the long staircase that led to the upper chambers.

She had made it only halfway up when she suddenly noticed that one of the paintings on the wall was askew. It was an enormous portrait of an ancient Een wizard (Kendra couldn’t remember who he was, just that he was some long-dead ancestor). Kendra had always disliked the picture, but now, as she reached for the heavy wood frame, she realized that it wasn’t crooked at all. It just looked that way because it was angled towards her, like a door that had been left slightly ajar.

Strange,
Kendra thought as she wriggled her fingers behind the frame. She tugged, and sure enough, the painting swung towards her, creaking ever so quietly on a pair of hidden hinges.

It
was
a door.

A strange mixture of scents reached Kendra’s nostrils: dust, incense, and decaying parchment. Kendra instantly knew she had found entry to her uncle’s study. It was a private place, one that the old wizard kept hidden with secret doors and passageways. Kendra had managed to find her way in a few times as a child, but Uncle Griffinskitch was careful to relocate the door every few months. This particular portrait was an entryway that Kendra had never before discovered.

Why would he leave it open?
she wondered.
It’s not like Uncle Griffinskitch to be so careless.

She couldn’t resist the temptation to enter. Casting a weary glance over her shoulder, she tiptoed inside.

A long, narrow staircase spiraled up towards the top of the tree. Kendra began the climb, carefully feeling her way in the darkness. With each step the smells grew stronger, but it took a few minutes for her to reach the chamber itself. It was a gloomy place, utterly quiet. Row upon row of bookshelves towered over her head. More books could be found on desks and ledges, arranged in high piles. Here too were scrolls, parchments, and even a tusked skull:
An Unger,
Kendra thought with a shudder.

Suddenly she heard a noise, like the flip of a page, and it caused her to gasp—though she managed to catch the sound in her throat. Someone was in the room.

Kendra slowly turned and peered around one of the bookshelves.

It was Gayla.

She was sitting at a tall desk where an enormous book lay open before her, and she was reading it quietly to herself, tracing the lines of text with one long finger. She seemed completely lost in her own world, and for a moment Kendra just watched her. Then Gayla reached into her robe and lifted something to the faint light.

Kendra cried out in surprise. Gayla looked up, wide-eyed and startled; in her hand, brooding dark and purple, was the Kazah stone.