100 Cupboards

  This tree was thicker than those on the mountain’s slopes, and not as tall. Its lowest branches were as broad as those on most trees he had ever seen. It was an old tree and looked as if it was dying. At the base of the trunk gaped a wide crack. Inside, the floor was all earth and rot. The wind was stronger on the top of the mountain and poured constantly through the old branches and their leaves.

  Then Henry saw the dog. It was black and very large. It rushed up to the ancient tree and tried to force its head into the crack, pawing and scratching. Then it leapt away and ran to the slab of stone and scraped at the earth along its base. When it stood again, it hesitated, flaring its nostrils. It looked at Henry, or at where Henry was standing. The dog was huge, like a mastiff or a Dane, and with two steps it stood directly in front of Henry, its head nearly as wide as his waist. It cocked its head and smelled. Then it crouched and ran back to the tree.

  It didn’t make sense. Henry felt that he belonged there on that hill, that he knew the dog. His sleeping mind groped and grasped at old memories and found nothing it could hold.

  Then the dog turned to him and said in a soft, feminine voice, “I don’t think we should tell him. It’s not real news and won’t accomplish anything tonight, anyhow.”

  The dream swirled. Henry couldn’t see the tree, but the stone was still there.

  “They’re his parents. Why would I be keepin’ secrets about his parents?” said another voice.

  “It’s not a secret. It’s just not helpful,” the dog said.

  “I know more than he does, and I don’t see how that’s right.”

  “Well, you’ll always know more than he does.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Frank, they’re not even his parents. Are you going to tell him that, too?”

  Henry opened his eyes. He was on his bed, in his bedroom’s darkness. The voices were very low. He could just make them out.

  “If you tell him, at least wait until morning. It wouldn’t do any good talking to him now.” There was silence. Then Frank muttered something Henry couldn’t hear.

  “Do you smell something?” Dotty asked. “The air feels crisp.”

  “No,” Frank said. “I don’t. The air feels like air to me.”

  “Okay, then,” Dotty answered. “Come back down to bed.” Henry could hear footsteps and realized Frank had been just outside his doors. It sounded like Dotty was still standing on the stairs. The creaking began, and Henry knew they were both walking back down.

  It was a strange thing for Henry to hear. But he was more immediately relieved that Uncle Frank hadn’t come into his room. Henry sat up and shut the cupboard doors. Then he turned on his lamp and put the sheet of posters back on the wall. When he was done, he curled up at the top of his bed and turned off his light.

  Some of his dream was disappearing, already losing itself in his mind, but he remembered the dog talking, and he remembered what it had said. He remembered waking and what his aunt and uncle had said.

  His parents weren’t really his parents.

  Henry was almost relieved. He still hoped that they would be all right. But he wouldn’t mind if they didn’t come back until he was old enough to go to college. As long as they were comfortable.

  Henry woke up and rolled over. Someone was knocking on his door.

  “Come in,” he said.

  Frank stepped in and sat down on the bed.

  “Hi, Uncle Frank.” Henry sat up and yawned, as nervous as he was tired. He tried not to look at his posters.

  “Mornin’, Henry.” Frank wasn’t looking at Henry. He was looking through the bedroom doors, down the attic, and out the window at the end. “I was gonna tell you somethin’ last night, but Dots thought I should wait until mornin’. So here I am.”

  Henry waited. When Frank didn’t say anything else, he tried to help things along. “What is it?” he asked.

  “Oh, well, yesterday a man calls up real late. He’s with the government, and he tells us that your parents are alive. Been a ransom demand or some such.”

  “Oh,” Henry said. “Is that it?”

  “Yeah. Your aunt Dots didn’t think it was a big deal. She thought it was awful late for someone to call us up just to state the obvious. Personally, I was surprised. Wouldn’t have shocked me a bit if they’d knocked Ursula over the head. Amazes me they’ve kept her alive this long.” Frank rubbed his jaw. He hadn’t shaved. “I guess there’s money in it for ’em. How long’s it been now? A month?”

  “About. They told me a couple weeks before school was out.”

  “Hmm,” Frank said, and he just sat there.

  “Uncle Frank?” Henry asked.

  “Yeah?”

  “Are they really my parents?”

  “Nope,” Frank said, and kept staring out the window.

  “Oh,” Henry said.

  “Did you wet the bed?” Frank asked.

  “No.” Henry blushed and swung his legs onto the floor.

  “Strange,” Frank said. “Feelin’ a little damp in my seat.”

  “Yeah, there was a spill.”

  “Anyway…” Frank slapped his hands on his knees and stood up. “Thought you should know. Your aunt and I are heading into the city. Penny and Anastasia are comin’ along. We should be back in time for a late dinner. I’m sure you got plenty to do. Ever use a computer? Got solitaire on mine, if you like. Don’t tell the girls I let you.”

  “You’re leaving us here by ourselves?”

  “You and Henrietta,” Frank said. “She wanted to stay. Said you would, too. Do you wanna come?”

  “No. I’ll be fine. But isn’t that neglect? Can’t you get into trouble?”

  “Don’t know why we would. Your aunt’s already put sandwiches in the fridge for the two of you and left instructions for the casserole if we’re late comin’ back.”

  Frank stepped out of Henry’s room and then glanced back, looking over the wall of posters.

  “Don’t get into too much trouble,” he said, and headed for the stairs.

  Henry tried to smile, then he lay back down. A few minutes later, he heard the truck erupt into life and the noise of spraying gravel as it pulled away.

  Henry didn’t feel like getting up, and so he didn’t. It wasn’t long before he heard Henrietta running up the stairs.

  “Up, up, up!” Henrietta said, jumping on his bed. Her loose curls seemed to fill the room. “Everybody’s gone.”

  “Go out,” Henry said. “I have to get dressed.”

  She did, but she kept talking from the attic.

  “Mom and Dad were going to take us, too, but I said I didn’t want to and that I thought you wanted to go to Zeke’s, so they left us. Now we can figure out the doors, and we won’t even have to be quiet.”

  “I got the mailbox open last night.”

  “What?” Henrietta came back into the room while Henry was trying to shove his head through the sleeve of his shirt. “What was in it?”

  “Some mail. I haven’t looked at it yet.” He straightened his shirt out and pulled it on.

  “Mail?” she asked. “Why would there be mail?” She picked up his rumpled blanket.

  “It’s a mailbox,” Henry said.

  Henrietta ignored him. “Where is it?”

  “Henrietta,” Henry said. “Last night was really weird.”

  She dropped his blanket and looked at him. The two of them sat on his bed, and he told her everything, about the yellow room and the man’s face and pushing the envelope back so it fell and reaching his arms through the cupboards and not being able to touch on the other side. “This hand is still muddy,” he finished, and held out his palm.

  Henrietta was impressed. “You could see his face?”

  “Yep.”

  “And he had a mustache?”

  “Yep.”

  “And you could see through into a yellow room?”

  “Yep.”

  “Could he see you?”

  “I don’t think so. He stared right at
me but didn’t seem to notice.”

  “And you weren’t dreaming?”

  “Nope. I dreamed later.”

  Henrietta whistled through her teeth, then reached out and touched the poster-covered wall of cupboards.

  “They’re magic for sure. I didn’t really think they would be. I wonder how we go through.”

  “Go through?”

  “Yeah. The whole point of magic doors is to try and go through them to somewhere else.”

  “But they’re too small.”

  “Where’s the mail?” Henrietta said. “Let’s read the mail. Do you need breakfast?”

  “Yeah, okay. The mail was on the bed,” Henry said.

  “It might have slid off.”

  Henrietta found the mail, and Henry put on his socks. Then the two of them headed down to the kitchen. Henrietta grabbed the milk while Henry picked his cereal. While Henry chewed, Henrietta examined the first piece of mail. It was the postcard. The picture was a black-and-white photo of a lake and a large boat. The boat was strange. People stood along a second-story deck, around three smokestacks. A huge paddle wheel was attached to one end. Unlike on the old American riverboats, the paddle was attached to the front beneath a swooping hull that looked like it belonged on a Viking ship.

  Henrietta showed it to Henry, then turned it over. Everything was written in a tall and narrow cursive. She read slowly.

  Sola 16

  Simon,

  The children are both ill, and the wind nips a bit at my thin bones. I shall give you electric catfish next time you visit. Come soon.

  Love from Lake Tinsil,

  Gerty

  The two of them looked at each other.

  “Wow,” Henrietta said.

  “What does it mean?” Henry asked.

  “I don’t know. It’s a letter. Grandpa’s, probably. His name was Simon.” Henrietta squinted. “The picture looks old.”

  “It says something else on the bottom, only it’s printed.” Henry leaned over his cousin. “‘The proud Valkr in her mother waters.’ Is that the boat? The Valkr?”

  “Must be,” Henrietta said. “Which one do you want to do next?”

  Two envelopes rested on the table in front of Henrietta. Henry recognized the long one he had pushed into the mailroom. The other was nearly square.

  “But there were only two,” he said.

  “I know that,” Henrietta said. “Which one do you want to read first?”

  “No,” Henry said. “There was only the postcard and the long envelope.” He reached over and took both. “Where did you get this one?” he said, holding up the square envelope.

  Henrietta shrugged. “With the other ones. They were all between your mattress and the wall.”

  The square envelope was milk white and sealed with a glob of what looked like green wax. The long envelope was cream-colored and had handwriting on the back. The writing was tight and slanted, almost like calligraphy. Henry read it out loud, but slowly. “‘To the Master of the Seventy-seventh Box, Seventh Row of Lionesse, DX of Byzanthamum.’ I don’t think that’s a proper address. What’s the address here?”

  “Eleven Grange Road,” Henrietta said. “It got delivered. Just open it.”

  Henry slid his finger under the flap. The paper tore easily, and he pulled out a stiff folded sheet. The handwriting inside was the same. He squinted at it and began reading.

  Midsummer

  Sir,

  In the course of our contempora ritualisms, we have discerned that certane of the lost byways have been both aired et stirred. We need not explain the means of our discernimentata, as you must be no strange face to our scientistics et were no doubt awarned that you had notified us of your presence as ripely as you had done so.

  Former or freshe, master of the box you are. You fanger-grase the compassi, et you must kendle our intentions. Wake the old daughter of the second sire. We will not live for less. Do this et feel your freedoms breathe. Fail, et our order will sophistri in strength. See, the blud-eagle is no hen.

  Darius,

  First amung the Lastborn Magi,

  W.D. of Byzanthamum

  Henry put the letter down and looked at Henrietta.

  “I don’t think you read that right,” she said. “Give it to me.”

  Henry slid her the letter and dribbled soggy cereal off his spoon while he watched her read.

  “This doesn’t make sense,” Henrietta said. “Whoever wrote it must have been nuts.”

  “You don’t think it’s about us?” Henry asked. “I could be the master of the box. It’s in my room.”

  Henrietta raised her eyebrows and looked at him.

  “What?” Henry asked.

  “It’s in our house,” she said.

  “Yeah…?”

  “You’re not the master of anything, Henry.” She looked down at the letter. “And it wouldn’t matter if you were. This is total gibberish. Whoever the master of the box is, he’s supposed to wake up the daughter of a second sire. A sire is a king, right? Do you know any kings, Henry?”

  “Maybe,” Henry said, stirring his cereal. “You wouldn’t know.”

  Henrietta laughed. “Right. I’m going to open the other one.” She picked up the square envelope and turned it over so the seal was up. The green glob shone in the light like glass. It had been stamped with a signet, and a thick lip bulged up around the image of a man’s head. He was bearded, and his eyes were blank, pupil-less. Leaves grew in his beard and out of his nose and mouth. Vines crawled from his ears and were wrapped around his forehead like a crown.

  “That’s a little creepy,” Henrietta said. She tried to slide her finger along the paper to pop the seal off, but it wouldn’t budge. She tried to tear the paper but couldn’t so much as wrinkle it. She dropped the envelope on the table and stood up. “I’m getting scissors,” she said.

  Henry shifted in his seat. “Don’t bother,” he said. “They won’t work.” He looked up at her. “It’s just like Grandfather’s door. You won’t be able to get it open.”

  He took the envelope in his hands and ran his fingers over the paper.

  “I’m still getting scissors.” Henrietta turned away. She didn’t take a step. A pop like the sound of a knuckle cracking had come from behind her.

  She turned around. “What was that?” she asked.

  “Um…,” Henry said. “I touched the seal.”

  “What?”

  “The seal. On the letter. I touched it.” Henry pointed toward the table.

  The seal had divided through the green man’s forehead, around his nose, and down through his beard.

  “It’s broken,” Henrietta said. “Split right in half.” She picked up the envelope and tried to open it. The paper wouldn’t move.

  “I think it’s for me,” Henry said.

  Henrietta looked at him, looked at the seal, and then handed him the envelope.

  It was all one piece of thick paper, not an envelope at all, and it unfolded easily in Henry’s hands.

  He held the paper out. “Do you want to see, too?” he asked.

  “Read it out loud,” Henrietta said, dropping back into a chair. Her hand snuck up to her mouth, and she began chewing on her thumbnail.

  Henry looked over the paper, more than a little surprised at what he saw. The writing wasn’t writing at all; it had been typed. And typed on what looked to be a very old typewriter. Every T and K stuck out high. It was much easier to read than the other letter.

  Issuance from the Central Committee of Faeren for the Prevention of Mishap

  (District R.R.K.)

  Composed and Adopted under Emergency Guidelines

  (Book of Faeren, VI. iii)

  Delivered via the Island Hill of Badon Chapter

  (District A.P.)

  To Whom We May Concern:

  Testimony has been presented in the Hill of the Faeren (District R.R.K.) regarding certain gates that were once created without authority and were frivolously exploited to the great detriment of f
ive of our most ancient districts and two civilizations. Said gates were believed to have been destroyed, and/or/perhaps severed or sealed.

  Said testimony in said hill of aforementioned district established the following:

  (a) That gates had either not been destroyed, nor severed nor sealed, or that gates had been destroyed or severed or sealed but have been rebuilt, repaired, or opened; (b) That beside said gates sleeps a male child, timid in all habit, who both snoreth and whimpereth in his slumber (henceforth: Whimpering Child); (c) That Whimpering Child is reprehensible and a shame to all who pursue wisdom or have earned gray hairs or fleshy scars, struggling to prevent mishap in the service of this district, past, present, and fut.

  Having found the testimony sound, the Central Committee of Faeren for the Prevention of Mishap (District R.R.K.) issues the following notification, to be delivered by members of the Island Hill of Badon Chapter (District A.P.), who provided above testimony:

  That if Whimpering Child through ignorant or malicious meddling shall unearth, unbind, or release evils long-defeated or evils young and undefeated, he shall be deemed fully responsible by the CCFPM of this district and be destroyed forthwith.

  Let Whimpering Child beware.

  When the seal has been broken, notice shall be considered given.

  Notice has been given.

  Ralph Radulf

  Chair CCFPM

  (District R.R.K.)

  C and A under EG

  (per B.F. VI. iii)

  Henry looked up at his cousin. “Someone knows I found the cupboards.”

  “You don’t know that,” Henrietta said. “It doesn’t have to be about you.” She forced a smile. “You do whimper, though.”

  “I don’t think it’s funny,” Henry said. “Somebody’s been watching me. That’s freaky.”

  Henrietta shrugged, but she slipped her thumbnail back between her teeth.

  Henry ate his cereal, and the two hurried back upstairs. They tore down the poster wallpaper and stood by his bed staring at the doors.

  The doors stared back.

  “I want to look in the little mailbox first,” Henrietta said. “But then I think we should just bang on them and see if they’re stuck, like the first one was.”

  Henry gave Henrietta the key to the mailbox. She pushed her hair out of her face and hunkered down so she could unlock the box and look through the little black space. Henry stood on his bed and used the butt end of the chisel to rap on all the metal latches and slides.