“Good news, boss. We stopped the puppet,” Daphne said.
“These characters do not belong in this story!” the Editor said coolly.
“They followed us,” Sabrina said. “We’ve been—”
“They will have to go back!”
Suddenly Arthur drew his sword and charged at the Editor. The skinny old man fell backward, and the king raced through the doorway after him. The rest of his ragtag army followed. Puck pulled Pinocchio to his feet and they chased the group through the door to the library, trying to convince everyone to stay calm.
“So, you are the vile monster who torments us!” Arthur shouted at the Editor. Murder was in his eyes.
“Stay away from me!” the Editor demanded.
“Women and children, shield your eyes,” Arthur commanded. “Blood will soon spill from this man’s veins.”
7
he group’s sudden arrival in the library seemed to make the revisers skittish. They scurried up onto the walls and climbed higher and higher. In his efforts to stay away from King Arthur, the Editor knocked his leather chair over. With the help of Puck, who still held Pinocchio with his other hand, Sabrina pulled the king off of the Editor and positioned herself between them.
“Step aside!” Arthur demanded.
“Put your sword away!” Sabrina shouted twice as loud. Arthur studied her closely and after a very tense moment did as she asked.
“What is this place?” the White Rabbit said, hopping around in an agitated manner.
“This is his library. It’s where he devises his plots against us!” Lancelot said.
The Editor scowled. “I do no such thing. My job is to maintain order in this book. I have no interest in plotting against you.”
“Arthur, unloose that sword and run him through,” Sir Port said.
“I said, leave him alone!” Sabrina demanded.
“Don’t pretend to be concerned for me, traitors,” the Editor snapped. “You brought your revolution to my doorstep.”
“What? We are not part of any revolution,” Sabrina said.
The Editor turned his attention to the king. “So, Arthur, not content to be a character in a book anymore?”
“Not content in the least,” Arthur said.
“And the rest of you feel the same way?”
The crowd shouted in agreement.
“I suppose all of you think that you deserve freedom? You probably see yourselves as real people with lives to pursue?”
“Indeed,” the dodo said. “We no longer can live in this book, doing the same things over and over again. We want out into the real world.”
The Editor laughed. What started out as a chuckle turned into an out-of-control guffaw and a stream of tears running down his face.
“What’s so funny?” Sir Lancelot barked.
“You! All of you! You think you’re real. You aren’t any more real than I am—you’re fuzzy memories of events that happened hundreds of years ago. You are not the real King Arthur and you are not the real White Rabbit—you’re nothing more than storybook characters walking around pretending to have feelings. You are recollections and notions put down in words and sentences powered by a little bit of magic. You are a portrait, and often times, a failed portrait, of an actual someone. You’re not even a shadow lying at the foot of the person you represent.”
The crowd booed him.
Pinocchio struggled forward. “I am not with these fools. I am from the real world, and I wish to alter my story. I am shocked and dismayed that you sent the Grimms to prevent it. I must protest and demand you give me my due.”
“Your due? You don’t have any right to change your story. This book was intended to give your kind a stroll through the good old days and nothing more. It’s not for you to meddle with willy-nilly. Do you know what has to be done when you change something? The entire event has to be rewritten, like a story, with a new plot, new themes, new villains! To keep the history running smoothly, every tiny detail must be altered so it fits with the change. If it doesn’t make sense, the consequences could be disastrous. You could unravel time itself.”
The Editor straightened his tweed suit jacket. “There will be no more changes. These memories, stories, whatever you want to call them, just can’t take it. They’re not built for re-imagining. You will have to stay the way you are or find another solution. The Book of Everafter is closed for business.”
“Enough!” Guinevere shouted. “We have no interest in changing who we are. All we want is out! We know you can open a door to the real world.”
“It’s a simple request. Just do it and we will let you live,” her husband added.
“Do you think that I respond to your demands? I am the Editor. I control this book.”
“You are mistaken, sir,” Lancelot said. “We have minds and desires, and we will not take part in your game any longer.”
“Sadly, there is only one thing I can do, then,” the Editor said.
“You will free us?” Arthur said.