“Calm, reasonable … I can see him in the School Master’s tower,” Anadil continued, slurping coconut water. “Even more than the Ice Giant from Frostplains, the fairy-rights activist from Gillikin, or that monkey king from Runyon Mills.”
“None of them have been right,” muttered Hester. “We can do better.”
“At some point, we have to pick someone, Hester. It’s been six months,” said Anadil. “Without a School Master, the Storian is vulnerable. So are the Woods.”
“I liked the Augur of Ladelflop,” said Dot. “He told me I was pretty.”
“He was blind,” snapped Anadil.
“Oh. Pea-man was better, then,” said Dot.
“We have to pick someone by the wedding,” Anadil resolved, giving Hester a wary look. “We’re not missing the wedding, right?”
Hester paused, picking at her food before looking up. “No. We’re not missing the wedding.”
Anadil sighed softly.
“No letters from Agatha in months, though,” Dot said, sliding off her boots. “Not since the one where she pretended like everything at Camelot was peaches and roses. Hope the wedding’s still on.”
“Dovey would have told us if it wasn’t,” said Anadil.
“I knew we should have been at the coronation. Maybe we could have stopped everything from going belly-up,” said Dot.
“Finding a new School Master was more important than watching Tedros make an ass of himself … again,” said Hester, pulling back her red-and-black hair. “I’m sure he’ll give a repeat performance in two months.”
“The wedding’s that soon?” Dot said.
“Here comes the ‘wedding diet.’ Let me guess: everything you touch will turn to kim-chi,” Anadil cracked.
“Noooo ma’am. No more diets. I’ve been fat, I’ve been thin. Fat is better, no matter what Daddy says,” Dot piped, digging into her chocolate-avocado pudding. “I just mean time is going fast and we haven’t found a School Master yet.”
They suddenly noticed Hester had gone quiet, squinting at her food.
“Hester?” Dot prodded.
Hester lifted her half-eaten avocado and studied the newspaper beneath the dish. “How old is this paper?”
“Um, got it in Gillikin … so like three weeks ago?” said Dot.
Hester leaned in, inspecting the headlines on the crusty parchment:
PIRATES TAKE OVER PORTS IN JAUNT JOLIE; NUMBERS GROWING
KIDNAPPING FOILED IN RAINBOW GALE
FIRE AT GLASS MOUNTAIN ORCHARD
Her stomach twisted. Every single headline involved one of their classmates’ quests. Beatrix was leading the charge against vicious pirates in Jaunt Jolie; Vex and Mona were supposed to kidnap the Seer of Rainbow Gale who’d been helping Evers cheat their happy endings; Kiko was with the group tending the consecrated orchard atop Glass Mountain. …
And from the headlines, it didn’t sound like any of it was going well.
“What’s wrong?” Anadil asked, her rats peeking up from their meal.
Hester put her own food down, obscuring the parchment. No use worrying her friends over old news. Besides, was it her fault if her classmates were incompetent twits and failing their missions? Right now, she had her own quest to worry about.
She turned to her friends. “Are you sure we’re asking the right questions?”
“You mean should we be asking candidates if they like candlelit dinners and walks on the beach?” said Anadil. “After six months, eighty interviews, and I don’t know how many nights listening to Dot fart in her sleep, now you’re wondering if we’re asking the right questions?”
“It was those lentil cakes in Drupathi,” Dot lamented.
“I just keep thinking about what Lady Lesso would do if she was here,” Hester said, “because it feels like everyone we meet is saying exactly what we want to hear. Like how do we know Mr. Calm and Reasonable won’t turn into psychotic Rafal the moment he gets near the Storian?”
Dot and Anadil had no defense.
“Look, I know some are definitely better than others,” said Hester, “but this is the future School Master we’re talking about—the protector of the pen that rules all our lives—and we can’t make a mistake.”
“But we also can’t read their minds,” pushed Anadil. “And the longer we wait, the more chance there is that someone swoops in and tries to fill the School Master’s place on his own. Someone as bad as Rafal. Or worse. And then who are the Woods going to turn to for help? The King of Camelot, like they used do? Tedros? You think he can lead? You think he can unite Good and Evil? He couldn’t even get through his own coronation!”
Hester watched her avocado turn black.
“Besides, it’s not like we’re making the final decision. We just have to give Dovey a shortlist. The final decision is up to her—” Anadil persisted.
“It’s up to both Deans,” Hester shot back. “Do you really want Sophie picking the next School Master? After she fell in love with the last one?”
“Mmm, he’d be pretty at least,” Dot mused. “Sophie does have good taste in men.”
Hester gave her a putrid look.
“What? It’s true,” Dot said. “She’s probably sneaking gorgeous Everboys into Evil as we speak.”
“Maybe the old Sophie would have,” Anadil countered. “But she’s Dean now. She’s the face of Evil.”
“Ani’s right. She has changed,” Hester admitted. “I mean we hated her as Dean those last months of school, but she really did seem happy without a boy.”
“For now,” said Dot.
“For now,” Anadil conceded.
“And from what Dovey’s told us, she’s getting worse,” said Dot. “Moving into the School Master’s tower … adding beach cabanas to Halfway Bay … turning the Doom Room into a dance club on Saturday nights … morphing the castle into a living memorial to herself … Sounds like she’s starting to ‘push boundaries,’ just like Pea-man said. I mean, how long before she decides she needs a date to Agatha’s wedding?”
Hester and Anadil goggled at her.
“Um, hellllloo, you don’t think Sophie would show up alone, do you? To her best friend’s wedding to a king?” Dot asked.
Hester looked at Anadil. “Every once in a while, she says something worth thinking about.”
“Not enough to keep her around,” said Anadil.
“Next time I’m eating all the lentil cakes,” Dot huffed.
Suddenly a tiny spray of white light appeared above them, as if the air had ripped open, giving them a peek into a new dimension. The light distended and wobbled like a sack of water before it slowly took the shape of a circle and Professor Dovey’s face appeared in the middle, blinking at them from inside a crystal ball.
“Girls, I have news,” she said breathlessly.
Immediately Hester noticed something was wrong. Dovey’s eyes were rimmed red, her hair frazzled and greasy, and the lines around her mouth rutted deep.
Her office was a mess, littered with newspapers and scrolls. The gold vial that Dovey had