“How dare you, please, enter the tent without permission of Madame Lulu!” Madame Lulu cried. “I am the boss of Caligari Carnival, please, and you must obey me every single moment of your freakish lives! Please, I have never seen, please, the freaks who are so ungrateful to Madame Lulu! You are in the worst of the trouble, please!” By now, Lulu had reached the table, and saw the pile of broken glass which sparkled all over the floor. “You are the breakers of the crystal ball!” she bellowed, pointing a dirty fingernail at the Baudelaires. “You should be ashamed of your freaky selves! The crystal ball is the very valuable thing, please, and is having of the magical powers!”
“Fraud!” Sunny cried.
“That crystal ball wasn’t magical!” Violet translated angrily. “It was plain glass! And you’re not a real fortune-teller, either! We analyzed your lightning device, and we found your archival library.”
“This is all one big disguise,” Klaus said, gesturing around the tent. “You’re the one who should be ashamed of yourself.”
“Ple—” Madame Lulu said, but she shut her mouth before she could finish the word. She looked down at the Baudelaires, and her eyes grew very wide. Then she sat down in a chair, lay her head down next to the crystal ball, and began to cry. “I am ashamed of myself,” she said, in an unaccented voice, and reached up to her turban. With a flick of her wrist, she unraveled the turban, and her long, blond hair fell down around her tearstained face. “I am utterly ashamed of myself,” she said, through her tears, and her shoulders shook with sobs.
The Baudelaires looked at one another and then at the quaking woman sitting near them. It is hard for decent people to stay angry at someone who has burst into tears, which is why it is often a good idea to burst into tears if a decent person is yelling at you. The three children watched as Madame Lulu cried and cried, pausing only to wipe her eyes with her sleeves, and they could not help but feel a little bit sad, too, even as their anger continued.
“Madame Lulu,” Violet said firmly, although not as firmly as she would have liked, “why did you—”
“Oh,” Madame Lulu cried, at the sound of her name, “don’t call me that.” She reached up to her neck and yanked on the cord that held the eye around her neck. It broke with a snap! and she dropped it to the ground where it lay amid the pieces of shattered glass while she went on sobbing. “My name is Olivia,” she said finally, with a shuddering sigh. “I’m not Madame Lulu and I’m not a fortune-teller.”
“But why are you pretending to be these things?” Klaus asked. “Why are you wearing a disguise? Why are you helping Count Olaf?”
“I try to help everyone,” Olivia said sadly. “My motto is ‘give people what they want.’ That’s why I’m here at the carnival. I pretend to be a fortune-teller, and tell people whatever it is they want to hear. If Count Olaf or one of his henchmen steps inside and asks me where the Baudelaires are, I tell them. If Jacques Snicket or another volunteer steps inside and asks me if his brother is alive, I tell them.”
The Baudelaires felt so many questions tripping up inside them that they could scarcely decide which one to ask. “But where do you learn the answers?” Violet asked, pointing to the piles of paper underneath the table. “Where does all this information come from?”
“Libraries, mostly,” Olivia said, wiping her eyes. “If you want people to think you’re a fortune-teller, you have to answer their questions, and the answer to nearly every question is written down someplace. It just might take a while to find. It’s taken me a long time to gather my archival library, and I still don’t have all of the answers I’ve been looking for. So sometimes, when someone asks me a question and I don’t know the answer, I just make something up.”
“When you told Count Olaf that one of our parents was alive,” Klaus asked, “were you making it up, or did you know the answer?”
Olivia frowned. “Count Olaf didn’t ask anything about the parents of any carnival frea—wait a minute. Your voices sound different. Beverly, you have a ribbon in your hair, and your other head is wearing glasses. What’s going on?”
The three children looked at one another in surprise. They had been so interested in what Olivia was saying that they had completely forgotten about their disguises, but now it appeared that disguises might not be necessary. The siblings needed to have their questions answered honestly, and it seemed more likely that Olivia would give them honest answers if the children were honest themselves. Without speaking, the Baudelaires stood up and removed their disguises. Violet and Klaus unbuttoned the shirt they were sharing, stretching the arms they had been keeping cooped up, and then stepped out of the fur-cuffed pants, while Sunny unwrapped the beard from around her. In no time at all the Baudelaires were standing in the tent in their regular clothing—except for Violet, who was still wearing a hospital gown from her stay in the Surgical Ward—with their disguises on the floor in a heap. The older Baudelaires even shook their heads vigorously, a word which here means “in order to shake talcum powder out of their hair,” and rubbed at their faces so their disguised scars would disappear.
“I’m not really Beverly,” Violet said, “and this is my brother, not my other head. And that’s not Chabo the Wolf Baby. She’s—”
“I know who she is,” Olivia said, looking at all of them amazedly. “I know who all of you are. You’re the Baudelaires!”
“Yes,” Klaus said, and he and his sisters smiled. It felt as if it had been one hundred years since someone had called the Baudelaires by their proper names, and when Olivia recognized them, it was as if they were finally themselves again, instead of carnival freaks or any other fake identity. “Yes,” Klaus said again. “We’re the Baudelaires—three of them, anyway. We’re not sure, but we think there may be a fourth. We think one of our parents may be alive.”
“Not sure?” Olivia asked. “Isn’t the answer in the Snicket file?”
“We just have the last page of the Snicket file,” Klaus said, and pulled page thirteen out of his pocket again. “We’re trying to find the rest of it before Olaf does. But the last page says that there may be a survivor of the fire. Do you know if that’s true?”
“I have no idea,” Olivia admitted. “I’ve been looking for the Snicket file myself. Every time I see a piece of paper blow by, I chase after it to see if it’s one of the pages.”
“But you told Count Olaf that one of our parents is alive,” Violet said, “and that they’re hiding in the Mortmain Mountains.”
“I was just guessing,” Olivia said. “If one of your parents has survived, though, that’s probably where they’d be. Somewhere in the Mortmain Mountains is one of the last surviving headquarters of V.F.D. But you know that, of course.”
“We don’t know that,” Klaus said. “We don’t even know what V.F.D. stands for.”
“Then how did you learn to disguise yourselves?” Olivia asked in astonishment. “You used all three phases of V.F.D. Disguise Training—veiled facial disguises, with your fake scars, various finery disguises, with the clothing you wore, and voice fakery disguises, with the different voices you used. Now that I think of it, you’re even using disguises that look like things in my disguise kit.”
Olivia stood up and walked over to the trunk that sat in the corner. Taking a key out of her pocket, she unlocked it and began to go through its contents. The siblings watched as she lifted an assortment of things out of the trunk, all of which the children recognized. First she removed a wig that looked like the one Count Olaf had used when he was pretending to be a woman named Shirley, and then a fake wooden leg he had used as part of his ship captain disguise. She removed a pair of pots that Olaf’s bald associate had used when the children were living in Paltryville, and a motorcycle helmet that looked identical to the one Esmé Squalor had used to disguise herself as a police officer. Finally, Olivia held up a shirt with fancy ruffles all over it, exactly like the one that lay at the Baudelaires’ feet. “You see,” she said. “This is the same shirt as the one you two were wearing.”
>
“But we got ours from Count Olaf’s trunk,” Violet said.
“That makes sense,” Olivia replied. “All volunteers have the same disguise kit. There are people using these disguises all over the world, trying to bring Count Olaf to justice.”
“What?” Sunny asked.
“I’m confused, too,” Klaus said. “We’re all confused, Olivia. What is V.F.D.? Sometimes it seems like they’re good people, and sometimes it seems like they’re bad people.”
“It’s not as simple as all that,” Olivia said sadly. She took a surgical mask out of the trunk and held it in her hand. “The items in the disguise kit are just things, Baudelaires. You can use these things to help people or to harm them, and many people use them to do both. Sometimes it’s hard to know which disguise to use, or what to do once you’ve put one on.”
“I don’t understand,” Violet said.
“Some people are like those lions Olaf brought here,” Olivia said. “They start out being good people, but before they know it they’ve become something else. Those lions used to be noble creatures. A friend of mine trained them to smell smoke, which was very helpful in our work. But now Count Olaf is denying them food, and hitting them with his whip, and tomorrow afternoon they’ll probably devour one of the freaks. The world is a harum-scarum place.”
“Harum?” Sunny asked.
“It’s complicated and confusing,” Olivia explained. “They say that long ago it was simple and quiet, but that might be a legend. There was a schism in V.F.D.—a great big fight between many of the members—and since then it’s been hard for me to know what to do. I never thought I’d be the sort of person who helps villains, but now I do. Haven’t you ever found yourself doing something you never thought you’d do?”
“I guess so,” Klaus said, and turned to his sisters. “Remember when we stole those keys from Hal, at the Library of Records? I never thought I’d be a thief.”
“Flynn,” Sunny said, which meant something like, “And I never thought I would become a violent person, but I engaged in a sword fight with Dr. Orwell.”
“We’ve all done things we never thought we’d do,” Violet said, “but we always had a good reason.”
“Everybody thinks they have a good reason,” Olivia said. “Count Olaf thinks getting a fortune is a good reason to slaughter you. Esmé Squalor thinks being Olaf’s girlfriend is a good reason to join his troupe. And when I told Count Olaf where to find you, I had a good reason—because my motto is ‘give people what they want.’”
“Dubious,” Sunny said.
“Sunny’s not sure that’s a very good reason,” Violet translated, “and I must say I agree with her. You’ve caused a lot of grief, Olivia, to a lot of people, just so you could give Count Olaf what he wanted.”
Olivia nodded, and tears appeared in her eyes once more. “I know it,” she said miserably. “I’m ashamed of myself. But I don’t know what else to do.”
“You could stop helping Olaf,” Klaus said, “and help us instead. You could tell us everything you know about V.F.D. And you could take us to the Mortmain Mountains to see if one of our parents is really alive.”
“I don’t know,” Olivia said. “I’ve behaved so badly for so long, but maybe I could change.” She stood up straight, and looked sadly around the darkening tent. “I used to be a noble person,” she said. “Do you think I could be noble again?”
“I don’t know,” Klaus said, “but let’s find out. We could leave together, right now, and head north.”
“But how?” Olivia asked. “We don’t have a car, or a minivan, or four horses, or a large slingshot, or any other way to get out of the hinterlands.”
Violet retied the ribbon in her hair, and looked up at the ceiling in thought. “Olivia,” she said finally, “do the carts on that roller coaster still work?”
“The carts?” Olivia repeated. “Sort of. The wheels move, but there’s a small engine in each cart, and I think the engines have rusted away.”
“I think I could rebuild an engine using your lightning device,” Violet said. “After all, that piece of rubber is a bit like—”
“A fan belt!” Olivia finished. “That’s a good idea, Violet.”
“I’ll sneak out to the roller coaster tonight,” Violet said, “and get to work. We’ll leave in the morning, before anyone gets up.”
“Better not do it tonight,” Olivia said. “Count Olaf or his henchmen are always lurking around at night. It’d be better to leave in the afternoon, when everyone is at the House of Freaks. You can put the invention together first thing in the morning, when Olaf will be in here asking the crystal ball about you.”
“What will you do then?” Klaus asked.
“I have a spare crystal ball,” Olivia answered. “That isn’t the first one that’s been broken.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Klaus said. “I mean, you won’t tell Count Olaf that we’re here at the carnival, will you?”
Olivia paused for a moment, and shook her head. “No,” she said, but she did not sound very sure.
“Promise?” Sunny asked.
Olivia looked down at the youngest Baudelaire for a long time without answering. “Yes,” she finally said, in a very quiet voice. “I promise, if you promise to take me with you to find V.F.D.”
“We promise,” Violet said, and her siblings nodded in agreement. “Now, let’s start at the beginning. What does V.F.D. stand for?”
“Madame Lulu!” called a scratchy voice from outside the tent. The Baudelaires looked at one another in dismay as Count Olaf called the fake name of the woman beside them. “Madame Lulu! Where are you?”
“I am in fortune-telling tent, my Olaf,” Olivia replied, slipping into her accent as easily as the Baudelaires could slip into the ruffled shirt. “But do not come in, please. I am doing secret ritual with crystal ball of mine.”
“Well, hurry up,” Olaf said grumpily. “The pit is done, and I’m very thirsty. Come pour us all some wine.”
“Just one minute, my Olaf,” Olivia said, reaching down to grab the material for her turban. “Why don’t you be taking of a shower, please? You must be sweaty from the pit digging, and when you are done we will all be having of the wine together.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Count Olaf replied. “I took a shower ten days ago. I’ll go put on some extra cologne and meet you in your caravan.”
“Yes, my Olaf,” Olivia called, and then turned to whisper to the children as she wound the turban around her hair. “We’d better cut short our conversation,” she said. “The others will be looking for you. When we leave here tomorrow, I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”
“Couldn’t you just tell us a few things now?” Klaus asked. The Baudelaires had never been closer to the answers they were seeking, and delaying things any further was almost more than they could stand.
“No, no,” Olivia decided. “Here, I’d better help you get back into your disguises or you’ll get caught.”
The three children looked at one another reluctantly. “I guess you’re right,” Violet said finally. “The others will be looking for us.”
“Proffco,” Sunny said, which meant “I guess so,” and began to wind the beard around her. Violet and Klaus stepped into the fur-cuffed pants, and buttoned the shirt around them, while Olivia tied her necklace back together so she could become Madame Lulu once more.
“Our scars,” Klaus remembered, looking at his sister’s face. “We rubbed them off.”
“And our hair needs repowdering,” Violet said.
“I have a makeup pencil, please,” Olivia said, reaching into the trunk, “and also the powder of talcum.”
“You don’t have to use your accent right now,” Violet said, taking the ribbon out of her hair.
“Is good to practice, please,” Olivia replied. “I must be thinking of myself as Madame Lulu, otherwise I will please be forgetting of the disguise.”
“But you’ll remember our promises, won’t you?” Klaus
asked.
“Promises?” Madame Lulu repeated.
“You promised you wouldn’t tell Count Olaf that we’re here,” Violet said, “and we promised to take you with us to the Mortmain Mountains.”
“Of course, Beverly,” Madame Lulu replied. “I will be keeping of the promise to freaks.”
“I’m not Beverly,” Violet said, “and I’m not a freak.”
Madame Lulu smiled, and leaned in to pencil a scar on the eldest Baudelaire’s face. “But it is time for disguises, please,” she said. “Don’t be forgetting of your disguised voices, or you will be recognized.”
“We won’t forget our disguises,” Klaus said, putting his glasses back in his pocket, “and you won’t forget your promise, right?”
“Of course, please,” Madame Lulu said, leading the children out of the fortune-telling tent. “Do not be of the worrying, please.”
The siblings stepped out of the tent with Madame Lulu, and found themselves bathed in the blue light of the famous hinterlands sunset. The light made each of them look a bit different, as if they were wearing another blue disguise on top of their carnival disguises. The powder in Violet’s hair made her head look a pale, strange color, Klaus’s fake scars looked darker and more sinister in the shadows, and Sunny looked like a small blue cloud, with small sparks of light where her teeth reflected the last of the sun. And Madame Lulu looked more like a fortune-teller, as the sunset glistened on the jewel in her turban, and shone on her long robe in an eerie light that looked almost magical.
“Good night, my freaky ones,” she said, and the Baudelaires looked at this mysterious woman and wondered if she had really changed her motto, and would become a noble person once more. “I will be keeping of the promise,” Madame Lulu said, but the Baudelaire orphans did not know if she was speaking the truth, or just telling them what they wanted to hear.