The Order of Odd-Fish (39 page)

Jo closed her eyes. She had done it.

The cocktail party before the Grand Feast was supposed to be subdued, but it quickly got out of hand. Even though the lodge was still draped in black in mourning for Aunt Lily, everyone was so happy and relieved for Jo that all somberness was swept away by a giddy hilarity.

The faces and voices passed by Jo in a whirl. Somewhere inside, she had given up any hope of ever seeing any of the knights or squires again, so even the sight of Albert stuffing his face with cheese and crackers made her unexpectedly emotional.

“What?” said Albert, crumbs falling from his lips.

Everyone wanted to hear Jo’s story, but she could still hardly manage a whisper, so she had to be content to sit while everyone came and went, talking to her. Only one thing bothered her—Ian. He was nowhere to be found, and she was afraid to ask after him.

Meanwhile, Nora and Audrey had swooped down on Jo and, after hugging her so hard that she felt her bones might break, immediately plunged into a frenzied dialogue that Jo could barely understand.

“You should’ve seen yourself the past couple of weeks!” said Nora in her high-pitched gasp. “Every time I came into your room you had changed into something else! One day you looked like you were made out of, I don’t know, a billion crumpled-up little squids! Then a couple days later you had become like a…what…a kind of…what, Audrey?”

“A fish monkey?” said Audrey.

“
Exactly!
A slime-leaking fish monkey! We had to change your sheets, like, once an hour or so! You smelled like rotten cheese and gasoline! Dame Isabel was in heaven! What did it feel like, Jo, huh?” Nora shook away her long tangled hair and her eyes emerged, huge and bright. “What happened?”

“Give her a break, she can barely speak,” said Audrey. “By the way, Jo, they asked me to act in another drama about you, about your adventures in Eldritch City. Like a
Teenage Ichthala—the Sequel.
”

Nora looked confused. “But who would play
you
then, Audrey?” A bolt of pleased surprise went through her face. “Wait…who would play
me
?”

“But I told them no,” said Audrey. “Anyway, I’m not an actress anymore. As of last week…”

“Audrey’s an Odd-Fish!” said Nora.

Jo stared at Audrey, her mouth open.

“Yep, I’m Dame Myra’s squire now,” said Audrey. “Turns out she’s wanted a squire for years and was just too shy to request one. I’m moving into the lodge tomorrow!”

Audrey and Nora were soon shoved aside by other squires and knights who wanted to see Jo—Phil and Daphne wanted to tell a long story about flying their ostriches against the All-Devouring Mother, Maurice was smiling and continually saying “good work, good work,” even after everyone had stopped listening to him, and Dugan kept running back and forth with drinks and appetizers for her. There were so many questions Jo wanted to ask, but it hurt to speak; she felt like someone had scoured her throat with sandpaper. Still, her strength was coming back, bit by bit, and soon she found she could even hobble around the room.

Meanwhile, Sir Alasdair hauled out the urk-ack and played it for a couple of songs, with the cockroaches’ band accompanying him, but it was so bad that everyone shouted at them to stop, especially when Sir Festus started singing. At one point Dame Isabel approached Jo and stiffly conceded, “I can’t say I approve of all the lies, but then again you did save the world, so I suppose it evens out in the end.” Dame Myra had strewn the lodge with curling ivy with luminous berries, and Sir Oort was hanging from them like a white-furred monkey, hiccupping and swinging from vine to vine, as Dame Delia chased him with a broom; Jo noticed that even Ken Kiang was there, although he seemed somewhat befuddled, trapped under the colossal Hat of Honor.

“I’m not quite sure what’s going on,” said Ken Kiang, who was barely visible under the hat, his voice muffled. “Apparently I am now a knight. I suspect somebody, somewhere has made a tremendous error, and I have a creeping feeling it might be me. Er…I can’t move.”

Just then Sir Oliver, Colonel Korsakov, and Sir Festus came roaring and singing around the corner, knocking Ken Kiang over. After hasty apologies Sir Oliver said, “By the way, Jo, I forgot. I have something that belongs to you.” He fished in his pocket and took out a silver ring. “I think you can wear this openly in Eldritch City now.”

Jo held the ring in her trembling hand, turning it over, looking where it said
JO HAZELWOOD
on the inside. She remembered how she had felt when she first saw the ring, back in the ruby palace, when the ring had felt like a promise. It seemed like a hundred years ago.

“By the way, Jo,” whispered Colonel Korsakov with childlike wonder, “what was it like inside the All-Devouring Mother’s digestion?”

Sir Oliver said, “Time enough for that later, Colonel. The girl can hardly speak.”

“Of course…but one day, over a roast beef and plum pudding, I’d love to hear the tale…”

Sir Festus cut in. “And for my part, I’ll tell Jo about how I fought against the All-Devouring Mother! It’s a heroic yarn, of course, with plenty of derring-do, such as when I—”

“Wait,” rasped Jo with difficulty. “How
did
you all get to fight? Dame Isabel said you had all been locked up in prison.”

“Quite so,” said Sir Festus. “But it seems someone in the Order of Odd-Fish was owed a favor by Oona Looch. No sooner were we incarcerated than Oona Looch herself came around, bringing all our weapons and armor, demanding our release. Raised quite a fury. I recall her holding the police chief up by his ear, five feet off the ground, when—”

“When the Schwenk came.” Sir Oliver glanced over at Korsakov. “For some reason the Schwenk came blasting out of nowhere, with all the ostriches flapping after it, and broke us out of jail. Very inspiring.”

“Of all the unutterable cheek,” fumed Colonel Korsakov. “Now I’m in debt to the beast.”

Sir Festus said, “Funny thing about the Schwenk. I think it
likes
being hunted.”

As Sir Festus and Colonel Korsakov began a loud, boozy debate about the psychology of the Schwenk, Jo glanced around—and happened to spot Ian, creeping past a hallway on the other side of the room, skirting the edges of the party.

Jo felt her heart twist. Why wasn’t he celebrating? She tottered across the room toward him, holding herself steady on couches or tables, passing Maurice and Phil, who were trying to wake up an already unconscious Sir Oort, and a group of cockroaches excitedly passing around copies of the
Eldritch Snitch.
After a long, painful trek to the opposite hall, she finally made it to where Ian had been—but he wasn’t there. Jo turned around in a painful circle, confused and hurt. Was he avoiding her?

Then she glimpsed Ian again, on the other side of the room, jogging down the opposite hallway. Jo groaned, heaved herself up, and staggered back into the party, stumbling and weaving through the knights and squires, her legs numb and clumsy.

Just then Sefino climbed on top of the piano, clearing his throat and taking huge gulps from a suspicious-looking bottle. Jo winced, for she knew what that throat clearing meant: he was going to make a speech.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” proclaimed Sefino. “I hold in my hand a newspaper—”

“You hold in your hand a bottle of whiskey,” Albert pointed out.

“I hold in my
other
hand a newspaper,” continued Sefino, waving it about. “And I am gratified to announce that we butlers of the Order of Odd-Fish have finally received our just due from the
Eldritch Snitch.
Though I once doubted I would ever say this, Chatterbox has redeemed himself, and I can confidently declare that our epic feud with the
Eldritch Snitch
has at last reached a happy resolution.”

“What did they write?” said Daphne.

“It’s at the end of the article detailing Jo’s little misadventure with the All-Devouring Mother,” said Sefino. “I direct you to the final paragraph. I shall allow Sir Oliver the privilege of reading it aloud.”

“Honored, I’m sure,” murmured Sir Oliver. He put on his glasses and read, “
During the battle between the All-Devouring Mother and the Order of Odd-Fish, the Odd-Fish butlers were to be found in a local tavern, carousing, capering, and consuming to excess, according to eyewitnesses. The butlers were reprimanded for disorderly conduct by the Eldritch constabulary, and Sefino was charged with public indecency.”
Sir Oliver looked at Sefino. “This doesn’t seem quite so…”

“Read on, read on,” said Sefino airily.

“Ah…yes, the last sentence.
Although a disgrace to Eldritch City in general, and the Order of Odd-Fish in particular, it will be noted the butlers all wore irreproachable ascots.
”

“Vindication!” roared Sefino. “There
is
such a thing as justice, after all.”

By this time Jo had managed to hobble across the common room to the hallway where she had seen Ian. Again he was gone. Jo leaned up against a banister, breathing hard. She could hear the babble of the party, she even heard Nora asking where she had gone to, but she was too tired to make it back. She sat on the floor in the dim hallway, alone, and then the bell rang for everyone to change into their feast robes and come to the banquet room. Footsteps pattered up and down the halls, and she only heard the squires coming and going from the closet where they changed into dining gowns. She could hardly summon the energy to make it there.

The bell rang again, far away, in the banquet hall. Jo picked herself up; she couldn’t spend the rest of the night lying in a dark corner while everyone else was whooping it up in the banquet hall, and soon the knights and squires would start to worry. Her body aching all over, she started toward the squires’ closet to change into her own dining gown. The last few steps, and she grabbed the doorway, pulling herself into the closet.

Ian was in the shadows.

Jo stopped, too surprised to speak. Shouts and hoots buzzed down the hall, but in the closet it was silent. It was almost too dim to see. Jo couldn’t even tell what was in Ian’s eyes.

“Where have you been?” said Jo, out of breath.

Ian did not speak for a few seconds; then he said, very quietly, “I was out of the lodge when you woke up.”

They stood in the dark and Jo had no idea what to say. She couldn’t see his face, couldn’t read him.

Finally Ian said, “I heard about your aunt, Jo. I’m sorry.”

Jo stared into the darkness. He sounded like he was sorry. She wanted more than anything to touch him, to make up with him, but she couldn’t find the words, couldn’t find the energy.

“Ian, are you still…?”

Ian didn’t say anything.

Jo came closer to Ian. “You don’t…still blame…”

She saw, in the darkness, Ian’s lip curl. Too late, she saw he had a gun.

Ian shot her.

There was an ear-breaking POW and Jo reeled away through a haze of blue smoke, staggering backward.

She blinked, startled. She was still standing. She looked around, then down, and through the swirling blue dust she saw what had struck her: a little rolled-up piece of paper.

Ian said, “I set it for maximum sincer—”

With a hilarious shriek Jo flew at Ian and knocked him down, crushing the Apology Gun as they tumbled backward together. She hit him until her arms couldn’t hit anymore, and Ian lay back, laughing, and she stopped trying to beat Ian up and just collapsed on him, out of breath.

A minute later Jo got off him, embarrassed but still smiling. Ian got up and offered his arm. She took it, and together they went back into the party. She couldn’t stop smiling.

Ken Kiang stepped outside.

It was all too much for him. The smoke, the lights, the laughter, the dancing…he had to breathe some cold night air and clear his head.

He was finished with Eldritch City. It was time to go back. He’d done what he’d meant to do—he had fought against the Belgian Prankster—and even if he wasn’t the one who had defeated him, well, at least he had helped, or…

But no. Ken Kiang knew he was deluding himself. He had to admit that
everything
he attempted had ended in failure. He couldn’t pull off being evil; he couldn’t kill the Belgian Prankster; his musical was horrible; he had even been fired from the Municipal Squires Authority. And yet here he was, unexpectedly at the happy ending, and why? Ken Kiang knew he didn’t deserve it. The whole thing was infuriating.

And yet Ken Kiang had to admit he liked this place. Despite himself, he liked the knights. He was happy. He could almost imagine being happy here for some time.

Many times, Ken Kiang had heard the saying “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.” It would be too tidy to say that for Ken Kiang, the road to heaven was paved with bad intentions. Still, his intentions had always been the worst; yet now he was as close to happiness as he was ever likely to get.

Ken Kiang hesitated. He took a breath.

And then Ken Kiang—no; Sir Ken—walked back inside.

The lights at the Odd-Fish lodge stayed on late that night. The feast went on and on, nobody wanted it to end; course after course came out, borne by troops of dancing cockroaches, and as the wine was poured around, Sir Oliver proposed a toast to Aunt Lily, and Dame Delia quickly followed with a salute to Sir Oliver, and another toast to Aunt Lily; whereupon Colonel Korsakov leaped up and bellowed an emotional toast of his own to Aunt Lily’s memory, along with affectionate respects to Dame Delia and Sir Oliver, and indeed all the Odd-Fish, which was received with warm applause—Jo was certain there was no group of people in the world so fond of toasting each other. It seemed everyone had a favorite story about Aunt Lily, told to laughter, applause, and some tears, and for the first time Jo understood how much the Odd-Fish had loved Aunt Lily and already missed her. Then Audrey stood up, her blond hair glowing and her droopy eyes sweeping mischievously around the room, and proposed a toast to Jo, which was immediately seconded by Nora’s breathless squeak, and the rest of the squires, who shouted “Hear! Hear!” and banged their silverware against their glasses. And just when Jo thought she might die of embarrassment, Ian rose and quietly proposed a toast to the entire Hazelwood family, Sir Martin and Dame Evelyn included. The table broke into applause, and the toasting knights and squires became more and more extravagant and violent, crashing their glasses together, sloshing their drinks, pounding their silverware and leaping on chairs in transports of sentiment. Drinking songs started up, raucous and incomprehensible, with Sir Festus standing on the table and conducting the Odd-Fish with broad, slashing sweeps of his arm while Cicero vainly protested and tugged on his robe. Then the cockroaches’ band cranked up, chairs scraped back and clattered to the floor, and all the knights and squires were suddenly dancing, and Jo whirled and weaved through the capering knights and squires, flung from Maurice to Nora, and from Nora to Dugan. The knights snaked past, arms locked in high-kicking rows of purple-stockinged legs, and Jo grabbed Audrey and threw her at Phil, hooting and ducking a glass just before it smashed on the wall behind her.