called it safekeeping, but I think it’s strange that you aren’t allowed to read any books.”
“Well, the Talekeepers do keep the books safe.” Peter finished drinking his cocoa. “We just can’t see any of them.”
“Come on, Peter,” Una said. “You think they’re doing you some kind of favor by forbidding books? Where I come from, censorship always means somebody is hiding something.”
Peter sighed. “But what?”
Una thought about what she had learned in history class back at Saint Anselm’s. Governments that controlled what people read did it in order to control the people. “Whatever it is, they don’t want ordinary characters to find out about it. Without the books, all we have to go on is the word of the Talekeepers.” Her heart quickened. “I’d bet anything they aren’t telling the whole truth about what really happened back when the Muses were still around. And who knows what else they’re lying about.”
Peter set his mug down slowly. “I thought the Talekeepers just didn’t like people talking about the Muses because what they did was so awful. Do you really think they edited our Backstory?” He had a sick look on his face.
“Well, what the Muses did was awful. They tortured characters!” Una tried to imagine what it would feel like if she found out things she had learned in history class were a lie. “But maybe there’s more to the story than the Talekeepers are willing to tell. And maybe not all of the Talekeepers are lying. If all this happened such a long time ago, the Talekeepers from today might not know the truth either. All we have to do is find out what really happened.” She flicked her finger at the scroll. “I mean, they knew, obviously, so—”
“Great,” said Peter. “Except they’ve all been gone for how many years? Or do you think we should just walk up to Mr. Elton or some Talekeeper and ask all about their secret Backstory?”
Una snatched the scroll and tucked it into her cloak. She said in a huffy voice, “No, Peter. Elton’s private study . If you found this lying around the outer office, just think what he’s got locked away inside his own desk. I’d bet you anything there’s loads of stuff about the Muses and what the Talekeepers did next and all the rest. We need to find a way to get in there.”
“Well, we’ll have to do it after the weekend,” Peter said. “We’re going home tomorrow, remember? Maybe my parents will be able to help us.”
“Maybe,” Una said. “I suppose Elton’s study will have to wait. For now.”
Chapter 11
S now was sitting on a swing in the Wottons’ sorry excuse for a backyard. It consisted of a narrow plot of land covered with concrete on one end and badly pruned shrubbery on the other. A bluebird landed on her shoulder, chirping becomingly. Snow brushed it away. She counted it a lucky weekend when she didn’t have to return to the Wottons’ house. Seeing her cousin in school was bad enough. Living with his family was worse.
She pushed off with one foot as Horace came out the back door, bringing his practice sword with him. Dressed all in black, as usual, he looked like the poster child for Horror Hollow. His hair stuck out in all directions, firmly fixed in place with whatever stuff was giving off that awful smell. He spent most of his time at home running through moves for Weaponry. Badly. Snow watched him swipe at the air. The weight of the sword nearly spun him all the way around. He caught Snow watching him and sauntered over.
“Bet you’re wishing you stayed back at school for the weekend,” Horace said, and stuck the tip of the sword in the ground. “Oh, no, wait, that’s right. Peter Merriweather isn’t there, is he? Can’t leave if your little boyfriend’s still there, can you?”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Not now. Not ever.” Horace leaned against the sword.
Snow stuck out a pointed boot and kicked the sword out from under him. He collapsed onto the ground.
Like I have
“Well, the Talekeepers do keep the books safe.” Peter finished drinking his cocoa. “We just can’t see any of them.”
“Come on, Peter,” Una said. “You think they’re doing you some kind of favor by forbidding books? Where I come from, censorship always means somebody is hiding something.”
Peter sighed. “But what?”
Una thought about what she had learned in history class back at Saint Anselm’s. Governments that controlled what people read did it in order to control the people. “Whatever it is, they don’t want ordinary characters to find out about it. Without the books, all we have to go on is the word of the Talekeepers.” Her heart quickened. “I’d bet anything they aren’t telling the whole truth about what really happened back when the Muses were still around. And who knows what else they’re lying about.”
Peter set his mug down slowly. “I thought the Talekeepers just didn’t like people talking about the Muses because what they did was so awful. Do you really think they edited our Backstory?” He had a sick look on his face.
“Well, what the Muses did was awful. They tortured characters!” Una tried to imagine what it would feel like if she found out things she had learned in history class were a lie. “But maybe there’s more to the story than the Talekeepers are willing to tell. And maybe not all of the Talekeepers are lying. If all this happened such a long time ago, the Talekeepers from today might not know the truth either. All we have to do is find out what really happened.” She flicked her finger at the scroll. “I mean, they knew, obviously, so—”
“Great,” said Peter. “Except they’ve all been gone for how many years? Or do you think we should just walk up to Mr. Elton or some Talekeeper and ask all about their secret Backstory?”
Una snatched the scroll and tucked it into her cloak. She said in a huffy voice, “No, Peter. Elton’s private study . If you found this lying around the outer office, just think what he’s got locked away inside his own desk. I’d bet you anything there’s loads of stuff about the Muses and what the Talekeepers did next and all the rest. We need to find a way to get in there.”
“Well, we’ll have to do it after the weekend,” Peter said. “We’re going home tomorrow, remember? Maybe my parents will be able to help us.”
“Maybe,” Una said. “I suppose Elton’s study will have to wait. For now.”
Chapter 11
S now was sitting on a swing in the Wottons’ sorry excuse for a backyard. It consisted of a narrow plot of land covered with concrete on one end and badly pruned shrubbery on the other. A bluebird landed on her shoulder, chirping becomingly. Snow brushed it away. She counted it a lucky weekend when she didn’t have to return to the Wottons’ house. Seeing her cousin in school was bad enough. Living with his family was worse.
She pushed off with one foot as Horace came out the back door, bringing his practice sword with him. Dressed all in black, as usual, he looked like the poster child for Horror Hollow. His hair stuck out in all directions, firmly fixed in place with whatever stuff was giving off that awful smell. He spent most of his time at home running through moves for Weaponry. Badly. Snow watched him swipe at the air. The weight of the sword nearly spun him all the way around. He caught Snow watching him and sauntered over.
“Bet you’re wishing you stayed back at school for the weekend,” Horace said, and stuck the tip of the sword in the ground. “Oh, no, wait, that’s right. Peter Merriweather isn’t there, is he? Can’t leave if your little boyfriend’s still there, can you?”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Not now. Not ever.” Horace leaned against the sword.
Snow stuck out a pointed boot and kicked the sword out from under him. He collapsed onto the ground.
Like I have
Similar Books
