“What happened?”
“I spoke with the tree. Or, it spoke to me. Sort of. It spoke to me through a kid.”
“Really? What did it say?”
“To raise the true heir. Sorry: reanimate the true heir.”
“Okay,” Curtis said before taking a sip from his mug. “Weird.”
“Do you know what that means?”
He looked off for a moment, as if running the words through his head. “Nothing’s coming to me,” he said finally.
“Alexei,” said Prue. “We need to bring Alexei back.”
“Oh,” said Curtis, and then: “OH! You mean, Alexandra’s son? The one who died?”
“Yes.”
“But why? What’s that going to do?”
“I don’t know. Something about bringing peace. Uniting the Three Trees.”
“There are three trees? Like the Council Tree?”
“Apparently,” said Prue, staring into the copper-colored liquid in her cup. “It also said that it would save my life and my friends’ lives.”
“Well, that’s something I can get behind,” said Curtis.
“Me too,” Prue said, trying a smile.
The band had switched to a mid-tempo waltz, and a fiddle had taken up its soaring melody. The sound of feet sweeping across the sawdust-covered floor gave a kind of solemn rhythm to the song. During the interval of quiet between the two kids, Curtis had a moment to think. “Okay. I mean, if that’s what it told you, then I guess it has to be done, right? How’s it supposed to go down?”
“‘Bring back the makers,’” said Prue. “That’s what the tree said. Someone needs to find them so they can fix the mechanical boy prince.”
Curtis wiped his hand across his face in perplexed frustration. “That’s a pretty bossy tree there,” he said. And then: “Where’s Alexei now? The body, I mean.”
“Probably in some crypt somewhere, I suppose.”
“Bleagh,” said Curtis, making a disgusted face before correcting himself: “Oh well, at least he’s a machine. He wouldn’t be, like, a rotting corpse or anything. So we just head to South Wood and tell the folks in charge that that’s what needs to happen, and our work here is done, right?”
Prue shook her head. “I don’t think so. The tree also said that other people would be attempting to do it; that if they were to succeed, it would spell failure for us, for the tree. From what you’ve told me about the situation in South Wood, I’m guessing it wouldn’t be a good idea just to go down there and advertise what we’re doing. I think there are probably quite a few people who would try to stand in our way.”
“But it’s you!” said Curtis, holding his hand patriotically at his heart. “The Bicycle Maiden! Come to set things to right! Surely folks’d be bending over backward to do your bidding.”
Prue slapped his hand down, embarrassed. “I’m not so sure. I mean, with some folks, maybe. But I bet I’ve got a lot of enemies down there now.”
Curtis gave a little huff of agreement. “Jeez,” he said. “Grown-ups. They’ve got the run of a magical kingdom and they still manage to always mess things up.”
“Plus, there’s the whole thing about the shape-shifting assassins coming after us,” said Prue.
Together they took resigned swigs of their spiced ciders. The lady rat Septimus had been entertaining was in a fit of laughter over something he’d just said. The jug band in the corner announced a square dance, and couples were lining up for the opportunity. Curtis looked to his friend. “Wanna?” he asked.
“What?”
“Sometimes, when the world is falling apart around you, all that’s left to do is dance, right?” Curtis stood, bowed, and proffered his hand.
Prue smiled shyly. She rose from the bench and curtsied, though she didn’t think she’d ever curtsied before in her life. “I’d be happy to,” she said, and the both of them made their way, hand in hand, to the dance floor.