In a moment, Peterwinkle appeared from behind a bookcase, carrying a stack of volumes. “Come in, come in,” he said warmly, as he laid the books on his desk, dusted them and himself off, and then sat in the chair, his pointed hat cocked to one side. He pushed the hat back to its proper place, chuckling, “I try to not hit my head on the hard ceiling when climbing the ladder, but the hat is not always so successful; but, better the hat than my head.” He giggled and paused awkwardly. “And,” he added, “I have the hooks on the tops of my boots to keep me from falling off the ladder. I still fall rather a lot, but at least I don’t fall very far, and I get an entirely different perspective on the books while hanging upside down!
“Well, young lady,” he said, looking at Elli, “I see you’ve returned, and with your friends. Please, sit down.” He invited them with a gesture to sit on the floor. Then, Peterwinkle himself sat on the floor and began to tell the story to all four of them, just as he had told it to Elli—and just as Elli had told it to her friends. He concluded by saying to them that it was up to Elli to decide first if she was going to accept the mission, and then up to the rest of them to decide, one by one, whether they would be joining her on this difficult and uncertain journey. The decision had to be made then and there, and the moment of decision would be irreversible when they passed through the doorway: either remaining in their world by going back up the stairs, or journeying to the land of Bairnmoor, by continuing down the dark staircase.
When Peterwinkle had finished speaking, the group remained silent for a long time, each one considering whether to turn left and go back up the stairs or to depart to the right and go down the stairs, descending further into the darkness—and the unknown.
Beatríz spoke first. “Mr. Peterwinkle, what about our parents and school?”
“From the moment you turn to the right, your absence will be timeless. You will be traveling perpendicular to time, returning, if you survive this mission, at the same moment of your departure—unless,” he interjected as an appending thought, “you decide otherwise at the moment of your return. You will simply have been to the library today, regardless of how many days or weeks and months, or even years, you will have spent in the land of Bairnmoor.”
“And if we are not successful, Mr. Peterwinkle, and . . . ” Beatríz said and paused. Then she continued, somewhat haltingly, “If we do not return, Mr. Peterwinkle, then what will happen to us here?”
“I’m afraid I am not able to answer that question, Beatríz, with any certainty, that is. I would suppose your existence here would be . . . non-existent. But, I simply don’t know.”
“Peterwinkle,” Elli said, somewhat pensively, already missing those wonderful parts of her world in which she at that moment yet lived, “I knew somehow when I left you yesterday that, regardless of how I felt or what I thought, I would be going to Bairnmoor.”
“I’m not letting Elli go alone; if she’s going, then I’m going, too,” Beatríz said.
“Me, too,” said Alex.
The three of them lowered their heads while waiting for Jamie’s answer.
“I don’t see how I can be of any value to Elli, or to the rest of you, and I have some very bad feelings about all of this, but if you are going, and you want me with you, then I guess I’m in,” said Jamie, finally.
Then, as if part of a liturgical mantra, each of the others repeated, in succession, “I want you along.”
“Well, then,” said Peterwinkle, placing his palms together, “it’s been decided. Besides each other, you will have to assist you a leather backpack from me containing some essentials. You will find in your packs a canteen of water, a week’s supply of special wheat crackers, some chocolate, and room for whatever else you may be provided by others throughout your journey.”
“Peterwinkle,” said Elli, “can you tell us anything else about the land of Bairnmoor, or how we will go about carrying out our mission?”
“Once more, I am sorry to say, I do not have answers for you. It was a long time ago when last I was there. I was but a small boy, then. I am now a very old child, and I remember very little; my memory betrays me, and so much has changed. I do know there will be those of one sort or another who will assist you, and that you will come to know who they are, including some who will likely surprise you. I have been set apart only to discover you, to tell you the story, and to send you on your way in the direction you are to go. And, oh, yes, it is imperative that you not tell anyone else about your mission, even if someone already seems to know about it. Finally, I have been set apart to thank you on behalf of the Queen and her people who do not know you, and to say, ‘Fare thee well.’” He then added, rather sadly, “It may be that I shall not be seeing you again.”
The four rose when Peterwinkle got to his feet. He went behind the bookcases from which he had appeared earlier and returned with the four promised backpacks. When Elli and her friends had put on their packs, Peterwinkle ushered them gently through the door, careful that he himself did not cross the threshold with them. He said, “Oh, I almost forgot! You must not remove the key, Elli, for you will require it to return to your world. Fare thee well.” And then he closed the door.
Once again the friends were enveloped in darkness. “Well,” said Elli quietly, “thank you, each of you, and all of you, for coming with me. I guess we should be going.” And with those words, Elli took one step down the stairs, and then suddenly stopped. She reached far back to touch the door, and, just as she suspected, it was no longer there.
And so they continued their descent, the four children in the dark, toward what they could not fathom. Each of them began the journey harboring private thoughts and emotions, feeling mutually only fear and the greatest wonder imaginable, and perhaps also a shared disbelief that this was all really happening to them, except in a dream.
They followed the hard stone steps downward in a still ever-widening spiral. After an hour or so, the balls of their feet becoming sore, they decided to stop and rest. They had rested for perhaps five minutes when all of them began to shiver. A damp and chilly wind was descending upon them from above. “We’d best be going,” said Beatríz.
“Yes, I think so, too,” replied Elli.
In the grip of heavy weariness more than just physical, they continued their descent, each one panting in rhythm to his or her own rapidly beating heart. Jamie, who was following Alex and sensed Alex’s fatigue, gasped, “Elli, I need to stop for awhile. I never thought going down a set of stairs could be so tiring.” Elli was about to agree when she noticed that the key was glowing, ever so slightly, through her shirt. “Wait. Something is changing.”
“What?” asked Jamie.
“The key . . . it’s glowing, but the light’s not coming from the key. Look. When I point it down the stairs, it glows, just a little; but it definitely glows. But when I turn it in any other direction it stops glowing. Come on—just a little further.” With each successive step, Elli could see the key glowing more brightly, although she could see no light ahead. Then, all of a sudden, Elli noticed a faint glow in the distance, almost like the pale light of the moon when it settles softly on thin wisps of clouds that hover over a marsh. “Guys, there’s light up ahead; it can’t be far. C’mon!” Elli said, feeling for the first time since meeting Peterwinkle the excitement she felt when she was first going down the stairs in search of the book of poetry.
With the light ahead of them getting brighter as they continued their descent, they were finally able to see ever-so-faintly the stairs on which they were stepping, giving them greater confidence and more energy. As they got closer to the light, Elli could see it was in fact passing through a fog that was gradually surrounding them. As the fog deepened, the light became more luminescent. Then the stairs abruptly ended, and as they stepped onto a soft surface, the fog began to lift and the light began to dim.
There, in front of them, in the middle of a forest clearing, was a fire whose flames were nearly spent, leaving behind a large mound of glowing embers. The fire was enclosed