The Monsters of Morley Manor (6 page)

I didn't know about greater knowledge, but this was definitely a greater hallway. It stretched ahead of us for an absurd length, clearly going far past the walls of Morley Manor. I couldn't see all the way to the end of it; after about a hundred yards or so, it was shrouded in mist.

“This is too weird,” said Sarah.

“On the contrary,” said Ludmilla, who had turned back into human form and was sitting on Sarah's shoulder. “It's just weird enough!”

“Take the third door on the right,” said Gaspar.

The floor creaked beneath our feet. The door groaned and complained as I pushed it open.

By the light of Sarah's flashlight, I saw what appeared to be a mad scientist's laboratory crossed with a wizard's hideaway. The room looked like no one had entered it in fifty years. The walls were so high I figured the original ceiling must have been taken out so that the room could extend up to include the attic. Or maybe not. Given the hall we had just traveled, it was hard to be sure
how
this place was built.

Medical tables stood side by side with tall wooden stands that held thick, ancient books bound in leather and stamped with titles written in some strange alphabet. The shelves were filled with test tubes, beakers, and green glass bottles with labels like
EYE
OF NEWT, POWDERED BAT WING
, and
TOASTED TOAD TOES
. Dust lay thick over everything. Nets of cobwebs stretched from table to shelf, from shelf to floor.

On the far side of the room, on a raised area almost like a little stage, stood five glass cylinders, each about seven feet high.

“Thank goodness they're still here!” cried Gaspar when he spotted the cylinders. “That's where we will be enlarged.”

I felt a rustling in the pockets of my raincoat. “Let us out!” cried Albert.

Sarah and I found an empty table. I took Albert and Bob out of my pockets, then took off the raincoat. Sarah set Ludmilla and Melisande on the table beside them, then took off her raincoat, too.

“All right,” said Gaspar. “Let's get busy. You will have to operate the controls, Anthony.”

“What are you going to use for power?” I asked. “The electricity has been cut off.”

“We don't have to fly kites to catch lightning or anything, do we?” asked Sarah nervously.

Gaspar laughed. “There are many other sources of power in this world. See that metal box over there, the one on the table near the center of the room? Take me to it, please.”

The box had a glass top, and I could see, through a layer of dust and cobwebs, that it held an enormous green jewel.

“This is The Heart of Zentarazna,” said Gaspar. “The jewel I told you of.”

“I thought you gave it back to Wentar,” said, staring at it in awe.

“We did. We later earned it back from him. Another story altogether. Place it in the control box over there.”

Nervously, I took the jewel from its container. Though it was smooth as glass, it seemed to pulse with energy. When I closed my hands over it, I could see a green glow through my fingers. I placed it gently in the control box.

“Now throw that switch,” said Gaspar, pointing to a lever as big as my arm.

I did as he directed. The five glass chambers rose about seven feet into the air.

Albert shouted in triumph, which started Bob howling. With Ludmilla fluttering excitedly around our heads, we carried the other four monsters to the raised area. Eagerly they took their places, one beneath each glass chamber.

When they were all ready, Gaspar said, “Now return the switch to the original position. When the chambers have lowered and been sealed, press the three buttons next to it—first the red one, then the green one, then the black one.”

I did as he directed. As soon as I had pushed the third button, a thick green mist began to fill the chambers. Thunder shook the sky outside. Rain pounded against the roof.

Suddenly a crackle of energy filled the room, so strong and intense that Sarah and I both cried out. When I reached for her hand, a bolt of green power shot between us.

“Look!” she cried.

The monsters were getting bigger—slowly at first, then faster and faster. Soon they were taller than us (except for Albert, of course).

Gaspar waved his fists in triumph.

I wondered if it was going to be a good idea to let them out of the chambers. The choice was out of my hands. The glass cylinders lifted on their own.

“Big!” cried Gaspar in a deep baritone voice. “We're big again! Now is the evil spell reversed. Now are we ourselves once more.”

Albert leaped to the floor and began to caper about the room. Ludmilla swirled her cape and transformed herself into a bat that had a wingspan of at least three feet. Melisande's snakes nearly tied themselves into knots, they were so excited. Bob threw back his head and howled with joy.

“Ah, my young friends, the Family Morleskievich is deeply in your debt,” said Gaspar, stepping toward me.

I know he meant to be friendly, but now that he was over six feet tall, his lizard head was terrifying. I took a step backward. Sarah moved closer to me.

Gaspar stopped and smiled, showing about four thousand teeth, “I understand your reluctance for me to approach,” he said. “Very well. You may be on your way.”

The five monsters gathered in a half circle. “You have done the Family Morleskievich a great service,” said Gaspar. “We thank you.” Then they all made that same sweeping bow they had made when they pledged us their friendship.

Sarah and I headed for the door. To my surprise, I felt a little sad at the idea of leaving. But I was proud, too. We had helped the monsters.

My sorrow and pride lasted until I opened the door.

“Yikes!” cried Sarah. “Who's
that?'

7

T
HE MANLIKE BEING
standing at the door was tall—taller than Gaspar—and dressed in a dark blue robe. At his side hung a leather pouch. His pale face, peering from beneath the shadows of a hood, was long and lined. His dark purple eyes were the most frightening things I had ever seen. Even so, he looked
almost
human.

Almost, but not quite.

Sarah and I took a step back.

“Is it really you, Wentar?” cried Gaspar. His red tongue flicked in and out between his two-foot-long jaws.

I blinked. What was the ghost of a Transylvanian wizard doing here in Owl's Roost, Nebraska?

The being—I still didn't know if he was a man, a ghost, a wizard, or something else altogether—stepped into the room without answering.

“Where have you been all these years?” demanded Gaspar.

Now Wentar did speak, his voice as rich and deep as a church organ. “What I have been doing since I last saw you is a long story, and one I don't really want to tell right now. We have little enough time as it is if we are going to rescue your brother.”

“Martin is dead,” said Gaspar, his voice heavy. Then he glanced at me and Sarah and wrinkled his long, lizardy nose. “At least, that is what I have been told.”

“What you have been told and what is true are not necessarily the same thing,” replied Wentar.

“You vicked children lied to us!” cried Ludmilla. Turning toward me, she bared her fangs and hissed. Now that she was a foot taller than me, this gesture was considerably more frightening than when she had been only four inches high.

“Do not be foolish, Ludmilla,” rumbled Wentar. “I was listening. Anthony and Sarah told you the truth as they knew it. The one who lied to you was Martin—or, to be more specific, the being that your family believed was Martin.”

Gaspar's eyes grew wide. “Martin was a changeling?” he cried in astonishment.

“Not as you use the word,” said Wentar. “Not a goblin creature, or anything such as that—though he was certainly left in place of your brother, just as in the old stories. And yet, in a strange way, he really
was
your brother.”

“You're not making much ssssennnsssse,” hissed the snakes on Melisande's head. They were writhing and twisting, and I realized that the more upset she was, the more active they got.

“I'm making perfect sense,” replied Wentar. “The problem is that
you
are operating on insufficient information.”

“Then give us more,” growled Albert. The wild-eyed hunchback was crouched beside Gaspar, clinging to the edge of his lab coat. I got the impression he didn't particularly like Wentar.

Gaspar shook his enormous head. “Wentar never
gives
information, Albert,” he said, a trifle bitterly. “You know there is always a price involved.”

“Where I come from information is the preferred form of money,” said Wentar. Then he sighed and added, “Alas, where I come from, there is also no doubt that I owe the Family Morleskievich a debt larger than one of my kind should ever owe anyone. So you already have some information coming to you, Gaspar—prepaid, as it were. However, we shall have to be quick. We must be out of here and through the Starry Door before morning comes. Now, what do you want to know?”

Gaspar hesitated just a moment. Then, with a sly look on his lizardy face, he said, “Tell me what I
need
to know.”

Wentar smiled, which made it look as if some invisible fingers were pulling up the sags of his pale, droopy face. “Oh, very good! You've learned a lot since last I saw you.”

“I've suffered a lot since last you saw me.”

Wentar shrugged. “The two things often go together. All right, gather round. Quickly! There is much to be done, not much time to do it, and some things you
do
need to know before we act. I assume, by the way, that you have told the others of all that passed between us back in the old country, Gaspar?”

Gaspar nodded—an interesting effect now that his snout was at least two feet long. Gesturing to me and Sarah, he said, “And I have given these youngsters a quick version of the story.”

Wentar glanced at us, and a troubled expression crossed his face. “It would be best to send you two home immediately,” he muttered.

Before I could protest that I wanted to stay and hear his story, he added, “However, I fear the danger is too great for you to leave Morley Manor at this moment”—which made me want to get out of there immediately.

“What danger?” asked Sarah, stepping closer to me.

Wentar lowered his voice. “You are not the only ones out and about tonight. Others are near, including a group that does not wish well to the Family Morleskievich . . . or any of its friends.”

I was tempted to say that we weren't really friends of the monsters, since we had just met them a couple of hours ago. But that seemed rude, not to mention potentially dangerous. Besides, I really did feel as if they were our friends.

“Come first light and you two will be safe,” said Wentar soothingly. “Until then—better you should stay with us.”

Gaspar made an impatient sound. “Tell us what we need to know, Wentar. Quickly!”

Wentar sighed. “Well, the first thing you need to know is that Wentar is not my name. It is the title for what I do. I am a Wentar. One of many.”

I glanced at Gaspar. His yellow eyes blinked rapidly. Now that he was big, I noticed that the pupils were vertical, like a cat's. In a sorrowful voice he said, “Truth reveals itself in layers, and those you think you know may hide worlds beneath their words. All right, my old teacher, you have my attention. What is a Wentar?”

The Wentar opened his palms, as if to show he had nothing to hide. “A little bit of this, a little bit of that. An explorer. An observer. A reporter. A listener. A judge, sometimes. Primarily . . . an admissions officer.”

“But not a wizard,” I said. I had a feeling I knew where this was going. Even so, I was surprised to realize that the words had come from me. I had thought I was too scared to speak.

“Not a wizard,” agreed the Wentar. “Though I do have some magic at my command. I suppose the most likely term would be . . . an
alien
. I work for the Coalition of Civilized Worlds.”

The monsters murmured in surprise. “You mean, as in from another planet?” demanded Albert. “Oy, I should have guessed.”

“Why did you not tell me this before?” asked Gaspar. He sounded angry, and a little hurt, as if he felt he had been betrayed.

“When first we met, it was not a time and a place where that idea would have made sense to you,” replied the Wentar. “You and Martin were expecting a ghost. And given the nature of my imprisonment—due to my own foolishness I had been caught halfway between your world and mine—a ghost was very much what I seemed.” He closed those strange purple eyes for a moment, then said, “At the time, the true nature of my being was not information I was willing to sell to a pair of overactive teenage boys.”

Gaspar started to say something, but the Wentar cut him off. “Enough questions. What you need to know
now
is this: The night that you and Martin were foolishly walking a maze and he fell through a hole in the world, he was caught and held prisoner.”

“How could he have been held prisoner?” asked Gaspar. “He came back before the sun had risen.”

“I am well aware of that,” said the Wentar, raising his hands as if to hold off the objection. “What
you
are not aware of is that time passes differently in different worlds—differently enough that in Flinduvia, the world Martin entered, they were able to make a clone of him. That clone is what they sent back here.”

“Vat is a clone?” asked Ludmilla.

“An exact copy,” replied the Wentar.

Ludmilla bared her fangs. “Vat a stupid idea! Vun of Martin vas more than enough.”

“That may well be,” said the Wentar. “But the Flinduvians wanted to keep the original.”

“For what purposssse?” asked Melisande.

“They wanted to study him,” said the Wentar. “To get even more information, they loaded the clone with a copy of Martin's personality, then programmed in some additional instructions of their own and returned it to Earth. The clone was to observe and send back data—much as I do myself, though for considerably different reasons. So if Martin seemed to be the same and yet not the same after his return, it is because that was the exact situation. He was a perfect reproduction of your brother, with some additional . . . programming.”