The Crown of the Bandit King Page 7

  “Whoa,” Deeter said at last.

  “Think of it!” The Ragman’s gaze drifted up to the ceiling. “Any time I wanted to know if LuckySmith was going to place a bet, I could ask the Magic Eight Ball, give it a shake, and it’d tell me the answer. I could ask if LuckySmith was going to bid over a certain amount. I could even ask whether it’d be best to start low or to go right for the throat! What an edge that would give me!”

  “Mr. Ragman, sir,” Sweet Pea said, “perhaps it would be better if the three of us went to find the Magic Eight Ball together.”

  “What?” the Ragman asked. “Why on earth would I send three of you when any one of you could do the job alone?”

  “Well sir, as you know, Collectors have been sending their Finders for decades to locate the Magic Eight Ball, but none have succeeded. Some Collectors have even declared it to be unfindable. Now, maybe one of us might eventually discover its whereabouts. But that would take time. Months. Years, even. Time that you could be using to outbid LuckySmith. If all three of us searched together, I bet we could have it for you right away.”

  The Ragman tapped his fingers against his lips like he was playing the piano on them. “I admire your wisdom and cunning, Sweet Pea. Brilliant! I’ll send the three of you! And if you succeed, there may be some small reward Collectibles in it for you as well. I want that eight ball!”

  Deeter grinned. “Reward? Like maybe the Number Two Pencil, or the Green Shoelaces?”

  “Well….” The Ragman scratched his ear. “I’ll consider it. However, that does remind me. Speaking of rewards.”

  He reached into his pants pocket, but whatever it was he pulled out, he held it tightly in his fist so no one could see. He offered his fist to me.

  “For finding The Complete Encyclopedia of Counterfeit and Fraudulent Collectibles,” he said, “and for an overall job well done….”

  Good thing he hadn’t heard about the basketballs, or the little white dog, or the library fire.

  “I hereby reward you for your efforts with this token of my appreciation.”

  He opened his palm flat to show me a bright red kazoo.

  “Cool!” Deeter exclaimed.

  I accepted the kazoo from the Ragman, who beamed at me.

  “See?” he said. “Working for me isn’t so bad. The job has some payoffs.”

  Payoffs? Seriously? I’d lost everything and everyone I loved, I’d been blamed for something I didn’t do, I’d been nearly killed over some stupid book, and now he was talking to me about perks?

  “Use it well!” he said with a wink, and then he left the room.

  “Wow, can I give the kazoo a try?” Deeter asked. “Please!”

  It was definitely a Collectible—my hand tingled as I held it—but come on, a magical kazoo?

  “What’s it for?” I asked.

  “The Red Kazoo lets you imitate voices,” Deeter said. “All you gotta do is think the words you want to say in the voice of the person you want to say it. Then you blow into the kazoo, and the kazoo takes care of the rest. Obviously, it only works if you’ve heard the voice before.”

  I pressed the kazoo against my lips and blew. “Ah, man!” came out the other end, and it sounded exactly like Deeter, just like I had thought it in my head.

  A huge grin appeared on Deeter’s face. “Let me try!”

  I gave it to him, and he put it to his lips. When he blew, a voice like the Ragman’s said, “I’ve just wet my pants!”

  We both laughed. Not bad. Even I had to admit this Deeter kid had style.

  “When you two have finished playing games,” Sweet Pea said, “I’d like to remind you that we have a job to do.”

  “Hey,” Deeter said, handing me back my kazoo, “why’d you volunteer us to go find the eight ball? Everyone knows that’s a fool’s hunt.”

  Sweet Pea uncovered The Book of All Words from beneath the sofa cushion. “It was a ruse to buy us time. We have to investigate who was trying to steal The Book of All Words. We have our names to clear.”

  Deeter shrugged. “My name’s fine.”

  “No, it isn’t. The newspaper article only said that one of the Ragman’s Finders was the thief. It didn’t say which one. Now every Artisan on the planet is convinced you might have had something to do with the theft. Think finding Collectibles was hard before? Just wait. Especially now that there’s a reward offered for the culprit.”

  Deeter punched me in the arm. “Thanks a lot, Rookie.”

  “Ow! Like you would have done any better!” I said.

  “I would’ve known better than to make trouble! And now I’ve got to go and clean up your mess!”

  “Do you see me asking you to? You want to stay here? Fine! I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help!”

  “Enough!” Sweet Pea said. “Fighting will only make things worse. Besides, I have an idea.” She rested her hand on the book’s cover. “Book of All Words, please show me a copy of The Complete Encyclopedia of Forbidden Collectibles.”

  “Are you out of your mind!” Deeter said. “Do you have any idea what the Artisans would do to us if they knew we’d read that?”

  Sweet Pea flipped through the book, ignoring him. “Found it. The Bronze Crown. Maker: unknown. Date of creation: unknown. Origin: likely Macedonian. First known possessor: Alexander the Great. Last known possessor: The Bandit King.”

  “The Bandit King? Who is that?” I asked.

  “It doesn’t say, exactly. There’s a second name listed beside it, though. In fine print, it says AKA John Ketter.”

  “Who is John Ketter?”

  Sweet Pea gave me an exasperated look.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I won’t interrupt again.”

  She cleared her throat and continued reading. “Last known occurrence of usage: May 1, 1885. Current location: unknown. Classified forbidden by the Artisans’ Council with special recommendation from the Higher Authorities in 1886. Special abilities include….”

  Her eyes got really, really wide.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  She put the book down, and then she looked at Deeter and me.

  “We’re in a lot of trouble.”

  “Shoot. Don’t need a book to tell us that,” Deeter said.

  “No, you don’t understand. The Bronze Crown allows whoever is wearing it the power to make people obey the wearer’s commands.”

  “So, I could command you to do a thousand jumping jacks or a thousand cartwheels, and you’d have to do it,” I said. “Is that what you mean?”

  “Doesn’t sound so bad.” Deeter chuckled. “I could order the Ragman to pick his nose while standing on his head singing nursery rhymes.”

  That’d be a sight I’d love to see for myself. Deeter was annoying, sure, but maybe he was capable of the occasional stroke of genius, too.

  “This is serious, you guys!” Sweet Pea said. “In the wrong hands, the crown could be a terrible thing. Someone could enslave you for life and command you to do all sorts of horrible acts, like vandalism or theft or murder.”

  “I wouldn’t do it,” Deeter said.

  “Then you’d die. The power of the crown is so strong that resisting it eventually strains the body too much and causes a stroke or a heart attack. The crown’s magic is unbreakable and irresistible.”

  Finally, it made sense what Sweet Pea was trying to say.

  “With that kind of power,” I said, “a person could rule the world.”

  Sweet Pea closed The Book of All Words and folded her hands on her lap.

  “Exactly.”

  “So all we gotta do to find the culprit is figure out who’s got plans for world domination.” Deeter snorted. “That should be easy.”

  “I think we can safely rule out any of the Artisans,” Sweet Pea said. “They don’t generally bother with other Artisans’ Collectibles, especially forbidden ones. They’re too busy with their own. That leaves the Collectors.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Deeter rolled his eyes. “That narrows it down a l
ot.”

  “We can probably rule out the Ragman, too. I’m pretty sure we would have noticed if he was up to something like this. Besides, I doubt he’d have the guts to risk so much. Most Collectors wouldn’t. It must be a rogue Collector.”

  “A rogue Collector?” I asked.

  Listening to Deeter and Sweet Pea, I was starting to feel pretty stupid.

  “Sorry,” Sweet Pea said. “I forgot you’re new. There are rules that every Collector swears an oath never to break. It’s the only reason why they’re allowed to collect so many magical items without interference.”

  “Let me guess. Having forbidden Collectibles is against the rules,” I said.

  “So is taking over the world,” Deeter added. At first, I thought he was kidding. Then I realized he wasn’t.

  “Right,” Sweet Pea said. “So some Collector has decided to break the Collector’s Oath. Some Collector’s gone rogue.”

  “The question is,” I said, “how do we find him? How do we catch him?”

  But none of us knew.

  Chapter 9

  The Gold Doorknob

  You’re rather young to have an enemy.

  In my dream, I was standing in the aisle of forbidden books, holding the Professor’s map in my hands. Above my head, the single light bulb flickered twice as the map’s words appeared on the nearest bookshelf. And as if that wasn’t strange enough, the aisle of forbidden books wasn’t in the Librarian’s library. It was on a stage, like at a theater.

  “Map?” I said. “Please help me find the rogue Collector.”

  I waited for the map’s golden arrow to point the way, but it didn’t.

  Then I heard barking. Loud, too. Somewhere nearby. So I followed the sound, right to the edge of the stage. The rows and rows of theater seats beyond the stage lights faced me, silent and empty like ghosts. Finally, the map’s words appeared on one of the front row seats.

  The best way to find the right answers is to ask the right questions.

  The red stage curtain shifted as if something was moving behind it. But when I ran to that side of the stage, there was nothing.

  “Map, please!” I cried. “Who is the rogue Collector?”

  The map’s words appeared on the curtain.

  Are you sure that’s the right question?

  Barking again. This time off stage. I expected to see the little fluffy white dog there. Instead, I saw a golden retriever.

  “Caspian?” I said.

  It was my dog. It had to be. Then Caspian growled, but not at me, so I turned. Caspian was growling at a man who stood behind the curtain, waiting for his cue. The shadows obscured his face too much for me to recognize him—I could only see his smile. In his hands, he held the Magic Eight Ball, which he tossed in the air a few times.

  “Want to play fetch-the-ball?” he asked.

  He tossed the Magic Eight Ball in my direction. It bounced twice, then rolled to a stop right in the center of the stage. Beside it, the map’s words appeared.

  Ask the right question, young scholar.

  I woke up.

  Great. Even my dreams were taking weird to a whole new level.

  I couldn’t sleep after that. There was something I’d missed, something important. Was it something I’d seen in the library? Something I’d read in the newspaper?

  So much for a good night’s sleep.

  As soon as the sun rose, I went down to the living room. Maybe food would help me think. Sweet Pea was already there at the table with breakfast laid out. She was wearing a purple dress and munching on a bowl of corn flakes. In front of her, The Book of All Words was open, and she was flipping through its pages.

  She looked up when I entered the room. “Good morning. Sleep well?”

  “Naw.” I sat next to her at the table and helped myself to some toast. “I couldn’t stop thinking about the Bronze Crown, or the rogue Collector.”

  “Me neither. So I came down here for breakfast. I’ve been looking through past issues of The Artisan Times, just in case there might be some clues.”

  “Any luck?”

  “Nothing. The week before the library fire was pretty dull for the Artisans. That Monday, the Gardener won first prize for growing a watermelon the size of a school bus.”

  The piece of toast I was about to eat didn’t quite make it to my lips. I just sort of held it stupidly half raised in the air with my mouth hanging open.

  “For the Artisans, that’s dull,” Sweet Pea said. “Welcome to the world of magic.”

  She thumbed past a couple more pages.

  “Here it says that the Park Ranger has announced the date and location of 544th annual Artisans’ summer picnic. Exciting, huh?”

  I tried to imagine a bunch of Artisans, like the Professor and the Librarian, dressed in bathing suits, running through park sprinklers and eating warm potato salad.

  I set my toast back down on my plate. “What else?”

  Sweet Pea turned another page. “The Critic wrote a really nasty review of a theater performance of Richard the Third. See? Pretty boring, really.”

  “Richard the Third?”

  Why was that familiar?

  “Yeah. It closed after only one night. Probably thanks to the Critic’s review. She was pretty vicious.”

  Deeter came into the room and stood near the doorway.

  “You’re wearing a dress?” he asked. “You never wear dresses.”

  Then he started giggling.

  “Shut up, Deeter!” Sweet Pea looked like she was about to throw The Book of All Words at him.

  “I think you look nice in a dress,” I said.

  “Really?” Sweet Pea glanced at me.

  “Um, yeah.”

  I’m not sure whose face turned redder, hers or mine. Deeter giggled even louder. I cleared my throat.

  “Look, I’ve been thinking about a plan,” I said. “The Magic Eight Ball—does it answer any question you ask it?”

  “Theoretically, yes,” Sweet Pea said.

  “So, if I ask it about the Bronze Crown, or about the rogue Collector, it’d give me the answer?”

  Sweet Pea sat up in her chair. “I suppose it would.”

  “And if I ask it how to defeat an enemy, it’d answer my question about that as well?”

  “Brilliant.” Sweet Pea grinned. “Not only could we know the identity of the thief, we could also know how to stop him.”

  Well, that too. If the Magic Eight Ball could help me solve both this mess with the Bronze Crown and my troubles with the Ragman, then the sooner I could find it, the better.

  Deeter stopped giggling. “Wait. Are you two serious? You actually want to find the Magic Eight Ball? That’s not a plan. That’s just stupid. Pea, why are you listening to the new kid’s ideas? He don’t know nothin’! It’s his fault we’re in this mess in the first place.”

  “Listen up, world’s most annoying boy,” I said. “If you don’t have any better ideas, then maybe you should keep your mouth shut and stay home.”

  “And trust my good name and reputation to you? Dream on, goth kitten. I’m comin’ to make sure you don’t mess up—again!”

  Sweet Pea sighed. “Is it always going to be a fight with you two?”

  Deeter and I glared at each other. Unless Deeter permanently lost his ability to be an annoying jerk, then yeah. It probably would.

  Sweet Pea shook her head and handed Deeter a backpack.

  “I’m not giving you anything from mine,” she said, “so you’d better start packing. And if you fill your bag with useless junk like the last time when you went looking for the Purple Ukulele, it’s your problem. Not mine, and not Rookie’s. Got it?”

  Judging by the look he gave her and the way he muttered as he filled his bag, he got it.

  Spare clothes, food, money, a few random Collectibles that Sweet Pea said might come in handy. They all went in our bags. The last thing to pack was The Book of All Words. Sweet Pea picked it up off the table and frowned.

  “If we bring it
, we might lose it,” she said, “or it might fall into the wrong hands, but if we leave it, we might need it.”

  A tough choice.

  “Bring it,” I said at last, so she stuffed it in my pack. We were ready to go before Deeter had even finished his breakfast.

  “You can eat breakfast while we’re out hunting,” Sweet Pea said. “I’ve packed a bunch of your favorite granola bars.”

  Deeter grimaced. “Granola bars for breakfast? You gotta be kidding me!”

  She flashed her feather at him, which was enough to make him run into the hallway, where the three of us stood before the front door. He grabbed the doorknob and huffed.

  “Fine. Sooner gone, sooner back. Let’s get this over with, so I can get some real breakfast.”

  But Deeter never had the chance to turn the doorknob. Right then, a knock sounded at the front door, three sharp, quick raps that made us all jump back. Me, I only jumped because I was caught off guard, but Sweet Pea and Deeter looked completely freaked out.

  “How is that even possible?” Sweet Pea whispered.

  “What?” I asked. “It’s just someone at the door.”

  “You don’t understand, Rookie,” Deeter said, looking at the door like it might eat us. “This house doesn’t get visitors.”

  “The Ragman doesn’t have any friends?”

  “Well, no. He doesn’t,” Sweet Pea said. “But that’s not what Deeter means. He means the house doesn’t get visitors. Remember how I said the house is everywhere and nowhere at the same time? That’s just it. No one can find it because it’s nowhere to be found. Period.”

  A second knock, louder.

  “Someone found it,” I said.

  Sweet Pea and Deeter exchanged looks.

  “What should we do?” Sweet Pea asked.

  “No question about it.” Deeter shook his head. “We ignore it.”

  “But what if it’s something important?” I asked. “If someone went to all this trouble to find the house….”

  “It could be someone dangerous,” Sweet Pea said. “There are loads of people who are after us—”

  “Loads of people after Rookie, you mean,” Deeter said.

  “Loads of people after us.” Sweet Pea shot him a look. “Like the Detective, and maybe the rogue Collector, or someone working for him, and other people too, like anyone interested in the reward money that’s been offered.”