Once Upon a Time: New Fairy Tales Paperback (42 page)

carry you.”

“I’ll do just fine, thank you,” she said with a sniff. But after an hour of walking over the rocky ground, Ivan saw she was limping. “Come

on,” he said. “If you hate the thought of me carrying you so much,

pretend I’m a horse.”

“A jackass is more like it,” she said. But she let him pick her up and carry her, with her paws on his shoulder so she could look around.

Occasionally, her whiskers tickled his ear.

The sun traveled across the sky, and hours passed, and still he

walked though the rocky landscape, until his feet hurt. But he would not admit he was in pain, not with Blanchefleur perched on his

shoulder. At last, after a region of low cliffs and defiles, they came to a broad plain that was nothing but stones. In the middle of the plain rose a stone tower.

“That’s it,” said Blanchefleur. “That’s Professor Owl’s home.”

“Finally,” said Ivan under his breath. He had been feeling as

though he would fall over from sheer tiredness. He took a deep

breath and started for the tower. But before he reached it, he asked the question he had been wanting to ask all day, but had not dared to.

“Blanchefleur, who is your father?”

“The man who lives in the moon,” she said. “Can you hurry up? I

haven’t had a meal since that mouse at lunch, and I’m getting hungry.”

• 347 •

• Blanchefleur •

v

“He’s an owl,” said Ivan.

“Of course he’s an owl,” said Blanchefleur. “What did you think he

would be?”

Professor Owl was in fact an owl, the largest Ivan has ever seen,

with brown and white feathers. When they entered the tower, which

was round and had one room on each level, with stairs curling around the outer wall, he said, “Welcome, welcome. Blanchefleur, I haven’t

seen you since you were a kitten. And this must be the assistant the Lady has so graciously sent me. Welcome, boy. I hope you know how

to write a good, clear hand.”

“His name is Idiot,” said Blanchefleur.

“My name is Ivan,” said Ivan.

“Yes, yes,” said Professor Owl, paying no attention to them

whatsoever. “Here, then, is my life’s work. The Encyclopedia.”

It was an enormous book, taller than Ivan himself, resting on a

large stand at the far end of the room. In the middle of the room was a wooden table, and around the circular walls were file cabinets, all the way up to the ceiling.

“It’s much too heavy to open by hand—or foot,” said Professor

Owl. “But if you tell the Encyclopedia what you’re looking for, it will open to that entry.”

“Mouse,” said Blanchefleur. And sure enough, as she spoke, the

pages of the Encyclopedia turned as though by magic (
although it
probably is magic,
thought Ivan) to a page with an entry titled
Mouse
.

“Let’s see, let’s see,” said Professor Owl, peering at the page. “The bright and active, although mischievous, little animal known to us

by the name of Mouse and its close relative the Rat are the most

familiar and also the most typical members of the Murinae, a sub-

family containing about two hundred and fifty species assignable to

no less than eighteen distinct genera, all of which, however, are so superficially alike that the English names rat or mouse would be fairly appropriate to any of them. Well, that seems accurate, doesn’t it?”

“Does it say how they taste?” asked Blanchefleur.

• 348 •

• Theodora Goss •

“The Encyclopedia is connected to five others,” said Professor

Owl, turning to Ivan. “One is in the Library of Alexandria, one in

the Hagia Sophia in Constantinople, one in the Sorbonne, one in

the British Museum, and one in the New York Public Library. It is

the only Encyclopedia of All Knowledge, and as you can imagine, it

takes all my time to keep it up to date. I’ve devoted my life to it. But since I’ve developed arthritis in my legs,”—and Ivan could see that

indeed, the owl’s legs looked more knobby than they ought to—“it’s

been difficult for me to write my updates. So I’m grateful to the Lady for sending you. Here is where you will work.” He pointed to the

table with his clawed foot. On it was a large pile of paper, each page filled with scribbled notes.

“These are the notes I’ve made indicating what should be updated

and how. If you’ll look at the page on top of the pile, for instance, you’ll see that the entry on Justice needs to be updated. There have been, in the last month alone, five important examples of injustice, from the imprisonment of a priest who criticized the Generalissimo

to a boy who was deprived of his supper when his mother wrongly

accused him of stealing a mince pie. You must add each example to

the entry under Justice—Injustice—Examples. The entry itself can be

found in one of the cabinets along the wall—I believe it’s the twenty-sixth row from the door, eight cabinets up. Of course I can’t possibly include every example of injustice—there are hundreds every hour.

I only include the ones that most clearly illustrated the concept. And here are my notes on a species of wild rose newly discovered in the

mountains of Cathay. That will go under Rose—Wild—Species. Do

you understand, boy? You are to look at my notes and add whatever

information is necessary to update the entry, writing directly on the file. The Encyclopedia itself will incorporate your update, turning

it into typescript, but you must make your letters clearly. And no

spelling errors! Now, it’s almost nightfall, and I understand that

humans have defective vision, so I suggest you sleep until dawn,

when you can get up and start working on these notes as well as the

ones I’ll be writing overnight.”

• 349 •

• Blanchefleur •

“Professor,” said Blanchefleur, “we haven’t had dinner.”

“Dinner?” said Professor Owl. “Of course, of course. I wouldn’t

want you to go hungry. There are some mice and birds in the

cupboard. I caught them just last night. You’re certainly welcome to them.”

“Human beings can’t eat mice and birds,” said Blanchefleur. “They

have to cook their food.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” said Professor Owl. “An inefficient system, I must say. I believe I had—but where did I put it?” He turned around, looking perplexed, then opened the door of a closet under the stairs.

He poked his head in, and then tossed out several things, so both

Ivan and Blanchefleur had to dodge them. A pith helmet, a butterfly

net, and a pair of red flannel underwear for what must have been a

very tall man. “Yes, here is it. But you’ll have to help me with it.”

“It” was a large iron kettle. Ivan helped the owl pull it out of the closet and place it on the long wooden table. He looked into it, not knowing what to expect, but it was empty.

“It’s a magic kettle, of course,” said Professor Owl. “I seem to

remember that it makes soup. You can sleep on the second floor. The

third is my study, and I hope you will refrain from disturbing me

during daylight hours, when I will be very busy indeed. Now, if you

don’t mind, I’m going out for a bit of a hunt. I do hope you will be useful to me. My last apprentice was a disappointment.” He waddled

comically across the floor and up the stairs.

“These scholarly types aren’t much for small talk,” said Blanchefleur.

“I thought he was going out?” said Ivan.

“He is,” said Blanchefleur. “You don’t think he’s just going to walk out the door, do you? He’s an owl. He’s going to launch himself from one of the tower windows.”

Ivan looked into the kettle again. Still empty. “Do you really think it’s magic?” he asked. He had eaten the bread and cheese a long time ago, and his stomach was starting to growl.

“Try some magic words,” said Blanchefleur.

“Abracadabra,” he said. “Open Sesame.” What other magic words

• 350 •

• Theodora Goss •

had he learned in school? If he remembered correctly, magic had not

been a regular part of the curriculum.

“You really are an idiot,” said Blanchefleur. She sprang onto the

table, then sat next to the kettle. “Dear Kettle,” she said. “We’ve been told of your magical powers in soup-making, and are eager to taste

your culinary delights. Will you please make us some soup? Any

flavor, your choice, but not onion because his breath is pungent

enough already.”

From the bottom, the kettle filled with something that bubbled

and had a delicious aroma. “There you go,” said Blanchefleur.

“Magical items have feelings, you know. They need to be asked nicely.

Abracadabra indeed!”

“I still need a spoon,” said Ivan.

“With all you require for nourishment, I wonder that you’re still

alive!” said Blanchefleur. “Look in the closet.”

In the closet, Ivan did indeed find several wooden spoons, as well

as a croquet set, several pairs of boots, and a stuffed alligator.

“Beef stew,” he said, tasting what was in the kettle. “Would you like some?”

“I’m quite capable of hunting for myself, thank you,” said

Blanchefleur. “Don’t wait up. I have a feeling that when the Professor said you should be up by dawn, he meant it.”

That night, Ivan slept on the second floor of the tower, where he

found a bed, a desk, and a large traveling trunk with
Oswald
carved on it. He wondered if Oswald had been the professor’s last apprentice, the one who had been such a disappointment. In the middle of the

night, he thought he felt Blanchefleur jump on the bed and curl up

next to his back. But when he woke up in the morning, she was gone.

Ivan was used to waking up at dawn, so wake up at dawn he did. He

found a small bathroom under the stairs, splashed water on his face, got dressed, and went downstairs. Blanchefleur was sitting on the table, staring at the kettle still set on it, with a look of disdain on her face.

“What is that mess?” she asked.

• 351 •

• Blanchefleur •

“I think it’s pea soup,” he said, after looking into the kettle. It

smelled inviting, but then anything would have at that hour. Next to the kettle were a wooden bowl and spoon, as well as a napkin. “Did

you put these here?” he asked Blanchefleur.

“Why would I do such a stupid thing?” she asked, and turned her

back to him. She began licking her fur, as though washing herself

were the most important thing in the world.

Ivan shrugged, spooned some of the pea soup into the bowl, and

had a plain but filling breakfast. Afterward, he washed the bowl and spoon. As soon as he had finished eating, the kettle had emptied

again—evidently, it did not need washing. Then he sat down at the

table and pulled the first of Professor Owl’s notes toward him.

It was tedious work. First, he would read through the notes, which

were written in a cramped, slanting hand. Then, he would try to

add a paragraph to the file, as neatly and succinctly as he could. He had never paid much attention in school, and writing did not come

easily to him. After the first botched attempt, he learned to compose his paragraphs on the backs of Professor Owl’s notes, so when he

went to update the entries, he was not fumbling for words. By noon,

he had finished additions to the entries on Justice, Rose, Darwin,

Theosophy, Venus, Armadillo, Badminton, and Indochina. His lunch

was chicken soup with noodles. He thought about having nothing

but soup, every morning, noon, and night for an entire year, and

longed for a sandwich.

He sat down at the table and picked up the pen, but his back and

hand hurt. He put the pen down. The sunlight out the window looked

so inviting. Perhaps he should go out and wander around the tower,

just for a little while? Where had Blanchefleur gone, anyway? He had not seen her since breakfast. He got up, stretched, and walked out.

It had been his habit, as long as he remembered, to wander around

as he wished. That was what he did now, walking around the tower

and then away from it, looking idly for Blanchefleur and finding only lizards. He wandered without thinking about where he was going or

how long he had been gone. The sun began to sink in the west.

• 352 •

• Theodora Goss •

That was when he realized that he had been gone for hours. Well,

it would not matter, would it? He could always catch up with any

work he did not finish tomorrow. He walked back in the direction of

the tower, only becoming lost once. It was dark when he reached it

again. He opened the door and walked in.

There were Professor Owl and Blanchefleur. The Professor was

perched on the table where Ivan had been sitting earlier that day,

scribbling furiously. Blanchefleur was saying, “What did you expect

of someone named Idiot? I told you he would be useless.”

“Oh, hello, boy,” said Professor Owl, looking up. “I noticed you

went out for a walk, so I finished all of the notes for today, except Orion. I’ll have that done in just a moment, and then you can sit down for dinner. I don’t think I told you that each day’s updates need to be filed by the end of the day, or the Encyclopedia will be incomplete.

And it has never been incomplete since I started working on it, five hundred years ago.”

“I’ll do it,” said Ivan.

“Do what?” said Blanchefleur. “Go wandering around again?”

“I’ll do the update on Orion.”

“That’s very kind of you,” said Professor Owl. “I’m sure you must

be tired.” But he handed Ivan the pen and hopped a bit away on the

table. It was a lopsided hop: Ivan could tell the owl’s right foot was hurting. He sat and finished the update, conscious of Blanchefleur’s eyes on him. When he was finished, Professor Owl read it over. “Yes, very nice,” he said. “You have a clear and logical mind. Well done, boy.”