The Order of Odd-Fish (21 page)

But today something was different about Nora. Her squeaky whisper, her freakish mop of wild black hair, and her frantic energy were all screwed up to an unprecedented intensity, and her speech was jitteringly tentative, as though she couldn’t bring herself to say what she wanted.

Nora continued, “A couple of months after the Ichthala returns to Eldritch City, the Belgian Prankster will also return to Eldritch City. The Ichthala will go to him and meet him secretly. And then they will…er…they have to…”

Jo was staring at Nora, silently urging her to finish the sentence; if she could, she would’ve gone up to Nora and physically yanked the words out of her mouth. But Nora seemed to pull up short and lamely concluded, “Er…and then the world will end. Remember, Sir Nils’s specialty was bad jokes. The goal of his studies was to create the worst joke possible. And he just might have done it, because—”

Daphne cut in, in a singsong voice: “Because when the show’s run is finished, Sir Nils will indeed have created the worst joke of all time, for its punch line will be the destruction of Eldritch City, maybe the end of the world.”

Nora frowned. “It’s not funny.”

“It
is
funny,” said Phil, “because you say it fifty times a day.”

“You…you aren’t taking this seriously!” quavered Nora. “You
never
take me seriously—none of you! But—but you’re just afraid to face the truth! The Ichthala is somewhere in Eldritch City, okay? Right now! And soon the Belgian Prankster will come, too, then the Silent Sisters—and Eldritch City will be destroyed, or worse.
That’s
why the show is coming to an end—because the end of history is at hand!”

There was an embarrassed silence. The squires tried not to look at each other. Nobody knew what to say; Nora had gone too far.

Suddenly there came shouts from outside. Everyone turned around, confused, as a loud tramping of shoes came closer. It was a mob, chanting something—Jo suddenly realized the mob was chanting
her name
.

The doors flew open and the butlers burst in. Sefino, Umberto, Cicero, Benozzo, Benvenuto, Barrachio, Lorenzo, Belpo, and Petrucchio—all the cockroaches swarmed into the café, roaring jubilantly, waving that afternoon’s
Eldritch Snitch,
crowding around Jo, lifting her into the air, shouting “Hip, hip, hooray!”—“She’s done it!”—“A full retraction!”—“We are vindicated!”—“Honor is satisfied!”

It wasn’t until the cockroaches had carried Jo around the café a couple of times, knocking over chairs and making the dog bark irritably, that she saw the headline of the
Eldritch Snitch:

LILY LAROUCHE’S LACKEY LETS LOOSE LIVID LETTER
LAMBASTING LURID LIBEL

SNITCH
SAYS “SORRY, SEFINO” SEEKS SOFTER STYLE

CHATTERBOX CHASTENED

It took a second for Jo to figure it out: the
Eldritch Snitch
had printed her letter. She had never seriously believed the
Snitch
would publish it. Now that they had, she was embarrassed.

“Jo Larouche, girl reporter?” said Daphne.

“Since when are you a writer?” said Ian.

“I’m not, it’s just something Sefino—”

Jo was drowned out by a loud chanting from the cockroaches: “Hat! Hat! Hat! Haaaat!”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Sefino announced. “Jo Larouche has done the butlers of the Odd-Fish a chivalrous service of superlative distinction! We therefore present her with…”

“Hat! Hat! Hat!” shrieked the cockroaches. “Hattity-hat-hat-hoo-hat!”

“The HAT OF HONOR!” roared Sefino. Before Jo could react, she was yanked toward Cicero, who held aloft a five-foot-tall, black, cobwebby monstrosity of a hat. The hat was dropped on her with hardly any warning and she nearly collapsed under its weight. “Hat! Hat! Hat!” sang the cockroaches. “See her in the glorious hat!”—but Jo couldn’t see a thing, her body swallowed up by the dusty mass of black velvet, jingling bells, and swaying tassels.

“For all of her life, Jo has longed to wear the Hat of Honor!” declared Sefino.

“I have?”

“When we were in exile and Jo was still a wee tot, many a bedtime she would tug my waistcoat and beg me to tell her once more about the Hat of Honor. ‘Tell me again, Uncle Sefino,’ she would lisp. ‘I
do
love the Hat of Honor so. Tell me again how it looms majestically!’”

“
Uncle
Sefino?”

“Her heart bursting with innocent wonder, Jo would plead, ‘Tell me again about the heroes who risked their lives so that they might wear the hat. And tell me about the noble cockroaches who zealously guard the Hat of Honor, and bestow it only upon the worthiest citizens of Eldritch City!’ Indeed, in the darkest days of our exile, the
only
thing that kept Jo going was her hope that one day she might lay her tender eyes upon the Hat of Honor!”

“Sefino,
what
—”

“And now, on this splendid day, not only has Jo Larouche seen the Hat of Honor,
she is actually wearing it!
This is beyond her wildest dreams. This is the happiest day of Jo’s life!”

“Hat! Hat! Hat!” shouted the cockroaches. “Hat! Hat! Hat!”

Ian and Audrey lifted up the massive hat, and Jo managed to gasp through the ancient velvet, “How often do they do this?”

“I’m afraid they do it all the time,” whispered Ian.

“Hat! Hat! Hat!” shouted the cockroaches with delirious joy. “Hat! Hat! Hat!”

Jo was forced to parade through Eldritch City all afternoon wearing the Hat of Honor, in the center of a prancing throng of cockroaches. The parade halted outside Chatterbox’s apartment.

“Come forth, Chatterbox!” bellowed Sefino. “Show yourself, if you dare!”

Chatterbox opened his window and looked out languidly. “Yes?”

“Behold this girl, Chatterbox!” roared Sefino. “Who has vanquished your empire of lies! Who has slain your dragon of deceit! Who has brought your kingdom of calumny crashing down around your head! Chatterbox, face your conqueror!”

“My conqueror is wearing a silly hat.”

“It is the Hat of Honor!” shouted Sefino.

Chatterbox sipped his coffee. He seemed unimpressed.

Sefino said, “I assure you, Chatterbox, that
you
will never wear the Hat of Honor!”

“Heavens, what an empty life I must lead.”

Jo said to Sefino, “I think he’s had enough. We don’t want to rub his nose in it.”

“You’re right, of course, Jo; we must be gracious in our victory,” said Sefino. He turned back to Chatterbox. “Chatterbox, we now leave you to writhe in your own shame.”

“Yes, thanks awfully. I’ve got a lot of writhing to do.”

“Godspeed!” said Sefino. The parade did an about-face and started back to the lodge. Jo took off the hat, and some cockroaches helped her drag it behind her.

“Jo, I have to thank you,” said Sefino. “Your article has single-handedly restored the honor of the butlers of the Order of Odd-Fish.”

“I’m just glad to see you happy again,” said Jo.

“Wear the hat as often as you like!” said Sefino. “That is, until we find a new hero to honor.”

“You wouldn’t mind,” said Jo tentatively, “if I didn’t wear it…
all
the time, would you?”

“I suppose you needn’t wear it
all
the time,” said Sefino, puzzled. “But why not?”

“Modesty?”

“Nonsense,” said Sefino. “No doubt you’ll want to wear it all day. Put it back on!”

“But—”

“I said put it back on.”

Later that evening, after the parade, Jo went to help Aunt Lily in the basement of the lodge. Aunt Lily’s research specialty was irregular contraptions, and her workroom was ankle deep with experimental mechanisms, dissected machines, and the tangled guts of a hundred scavenged appliances. Crowded shelves loomed on every wall, loaded down with gears, spindles, homemade batteries, and bottles stuffed with nails and bolts and wires.

It was just before dinner. Sir Alasdair was practicing his urk-ack upstairs, and every so often, whenever Jo and Aunt Lily stopped hammering, drilling, and sawing, they could hear the mellow tones of the urk-ack linger in the early evening air as squires’ feet pounded up and down the stairs and distant shouts and laughs erupted in different parts of the lodge.

Jo was helping Aunt Lily tinker with the Inconvenience. It was complicated work, and for long stretches they didn’t talk, but it was a comfortable silence. Jo enjoyed working with Aunt Lily. Back at the ruby palace, Aunt Lily had been mildly content but often distracted, as though there was something she felt she should’ve been doing but didn’t quite know what. Now she knew, and threw herself into it with a vengeance, sometimes working in the workroom all day and night, having her meals sent down to her, even sleeping on the cot. From what Jo could tell, it seemed Aunt Lily was using the broken pieces of the Inconvenience, along with some new parts, to build a completely different contraption—the purpose of which Jo couldn’t guess.

After a while Aunt Lily said, “I read your article in the
Snitch
. It was well written.”

“Thanks,” said Jo. “It was nothing much, really….”

“I agree,” said Aunt Lily. “You shouldn’t spend too much time on that kind of thing. You should be out raising hell. I was happier to hear about your exploits in Snoodsbottom…the Wormbeards were splendidly humiliated.”

Jo put her tools down. “You know about that?”

Aunt Lily smiled. “Please, Jo, I’m not stupid! Just because you and Ian escaped doesn’t mean you weren’t seen. But there’s nothing the police can do now. It was embarrassing for the Wormbeards, and that’s the important thing…oh, they’re hopping mad!”

“So you’re not angry about it?”

“I’m delighted! You’re in training to be a knight, not a Girl Scout. I’d be disappointed if you didn’t make some good enemies. It keeps you sharp.”

“You’re telling me I
should
get in trouble?” said Jo.

“I should hope you’re clever enough to stay
out
of trouble, but there’s more to being a knight of the Odd-Fish than researching the Appendix. The first duty of a knight is to defend the city if it’s attacked. If you don’t know how to fight, you won’t be much use.”

“So you want me to go out and brawl with the Wormbeards?”

“
Brawl
is not the word,” said Aunt Lily. “Having an enemy is a delicate art. It demands dedication and a certain style. If you handle it right, it can even be good for you. I’ve learned just as much from our rivalry with the Wormbeards as I have from making friends with the Odd-Fish. You learn how to fight back.”

Jo said, “That all sounds grand, but I still don’t want an enemy.”

“The Odd-Fish and the Wormbeards have been official enemies for over eight hundred years,” said Aunt Lily. “They’d be disappointed if you didn’t play along. Don’t worry—as long as you behave honorably, bravely, and with due respect to your foe, you’ll be fine. There’s an etiquette to having an enemy, just like anything else. Just don’t let it get out of hand and get the police involved, okay?”

“This, from you?” Jo smiled. “The illegal exile, whom the police might arrest any moment?”

Aunt Lily raised an eyebrow. “Oh, haven’t you heard?” She gave Jo the evening edition of the
Eldritch Snitch
. The front page was dominated by a picture of Aunt Lily and Colonel Korsakov with the mayor in front of city hall, and the headline read:

ELDERLY ELDRITCH EXILES EXONERATED!
EXUBERANT EX-EXPATRIATES EXULT!

MAGNANIMOUS MAYOR MAKES MERCIFUL MOTION
MANDATING MURDER MATTER MENDED

STRIKE FORCE STEADFASTLY SCORNED SURRENDER TO
SILENT SISTERS, SUBSEQUENTLY SUFFERED SEVERE SANCTION;
SENTENCE SINCE SUSPENDED

“Hold on, wait,” said Jo. “This means you’re not exiled anymore?”

“Yes, the mayor’s dropped the case,” said Aunt Lily. “For now, at least.”

“Sefino didn’t tell me!”

“He doesn’t know yet. We’ll tell him after his nap.”

“So the pressure is off for
you
,” said Jo. “
You
can relax!”

“What’s wrong?” said Aunt Lily. “You sound upset.”

“Well…I
am
upset!” said Jo. “I’m sick of lying! I’m tired of always being afraid that someone’s going to guess who I really am! You’re no longer a criminal—why should I be?”

Aunt Lily seemed about to reply, but she just shook her head and said nothing.

Jo kept going. “What am I supposed to do? If Nora ever figured out who I was, she’d be terrified. And Ian—he thinks I killed his mother! He’d hate me if he knew! I have all these friends, but it’s all lies! Why can’t we just admit who I am?
I am the Ichthala!
”

Aunt Lily slammed the door shut so hard the machine parts jumped on the shelves. “Are you crazy?” she whispered fiercely. “If anyone heard you…Sir Oliver and I have our reasons for keeping this secret! Do you think you’re out of danger? You think Nils—the Belgian Prankster has been idle? That the Silent Sisters have gone away? They are all on the move. You don’t know the half of what we’ve been doing to protect you.”

“But I’m living a lie!” said Jo.