He didn’t explain further.
Moments later, Nicola was leaning against the beaver’s hut, trying to yank off a snow-crusted bootie with Hort’s help, while Ajubaju showed Agatha a dirty, crude map covered in food stains.
“Gold leaf and hummingbird ink, mmm?” Sophie said, glaring.
“Wore away in snow,” Ajubaju snipped. “Gates are straight ahead, see. Keep walking and you’ll be there soon.”
“So we were going the right way to begin with?” Agatha asked angrily.
The beaver beamed yellow buckteeth.
“Give him the blasted shoe and let’s go,” Sophie growled, grabbing Agatha. “We’ve wasted enough time with this fool.”
As she walked away, followed by the crew, they could hear Ajubaju still talking.
“Another student came few days ago speaking of Evers and Nevers. Asked lots of questions. Handsome boy. Gray eyes. Wanted to find Lady of the Lake’s castle. You must be knowing him.”
The whole group stopped in their tracks, staring at each other.
But it was Agatha who finally turned around.
“We’ll take the guided tour, please.”
“Aggie, that coat was a gift from the Baroness of Hajebaji,” Sophie hissed, stripped to her skimpy sailor’s dress, snow chilling her bare arms and legs. “One-of-a-kind, custom-made in my size after she begged me to accept her daughter, Agnieszka, who is as charmless as a toenail, into my school. Now, thanks to you, I still have abominable Agnieszka but no coat—”
“You care about a coat? I care that we have no weapons,” said Agatha, for the beaver had made them leave them at the hut, per “tour rules.”
Ajubaju was ahead now, cocooned in Sophie’s fur, leading the crew towards the edge of the island.
“I gave your friend map and told him how to get to castle, but I haven’t seen him since. Hope he did not get lost. Should have taken full guided tour,” he was saying. “No one lives in Avalon except Lady of the Lake because it is too cold. Even colder than Frostplains. Avalon means ‘Paradise of Apples.’ Easy to remember because apples are the only food here. They are special apples, of course, growing only in snow. . . .”
“Look,” Agatha heard Anadil say. “Isn’t that the Camelot seal?”
In the middle of the endless snowfield, a gray horse dappled with white spots was tied to a wooden stake. On its back was a leather saddle and blanket embroidered with the crest of two eagles flanking a sword. The horse paid them no mind, noshing on a bucket of bright green apples.
“Must have been Chaddick’s horse,” Dot said.
“Thank you, Lady Obvious,” Hester sneered, clearly smarting over their earlier exchange. “But if that’s Chaddick’s, then who’s feeding him? Bucket’s full. And those apples look freshly picked.”
Agatha was thinking the same thing. Chaddick couldn’t have picked apples for his horse this morning because Chaddick wasn’t alive this morning.
Her chest squeezed, the moment hitting her. Soon they’d see the Lady of the Lake’s gates. And if they found a way inside, soon they’d see Chaddick’s body too.
In the distance, she finally made out the bone-white castle built upon a bluff above stormy gray seas. The crash of waves echoed with deafening booms as colossal iron doors covered in snow swung open hard against the rock, lashed by the wind.
Crack! Crack!
“The gates are open?” Agatha asked, surprised.
“Lady opens gates for Ajubaju. Gave shelter to my family once. Knows me well,” the beaver said quickly. “See the rock around castle? It is no ordinary rock. This is Rakkari Rock. No magic can be done inside its boundaries. Only by Lady of the Lake—”
“Doesn’t make sense,” Agatha whispered to Sophie. “Her castle is supposed to be sealed. It’s King Arthur’s resting place. It’s Good’s most sacred hallows. Why would she open her gates for a beaver?”
“Maybe she has a soft spot for vermin. She does let Merlin in, after all,” said Sophie.
But Agatha was looking closely now at the snow-piled doors ahead as they bashed open against the rock. One of them was sunken, like it’d been hit by a cannonball, and the other was . . . crumpled. Iron fragments lay half-buried in the snow.
“You said our friend asked lots of questions,” Agatha prompted, turning to the beaver. “What did he ask?”
Ajubaju stopped midsentence, frowning. “Said he was here for school quest on behalf of Camelot. Wanted to know if anyone had broken into the Lady of the Lake castle. I said clearly they must not teach about Lady of the Lake at school. No one can break into Lady of the Lake castle. I will talk about Lady later in tour—”
“Talk about her now,” Agatha demanded.
The beaver puffed loudly and waddled ahead. “Lady of Lake is Good’s #1 most special top defender. She was born with beauty, immortality, and infinite magic . . . but she is cursed. If she ever kisses a boy—even once!—she will lose everything. So she hid in Avalon, free from temptation,” he explained. “Lady of the Lake will always be Camelot’s guardian, because Camelot is Good’s oldest kingdom. Even from afar Lady protects Camelot by giving king her sword of power and her waters as shelter. Even more important, she protects the Four Point, most sacred land in Woods. Four Point is site of King Arthur’s last battle, where he received mortal wound protecting balance between Good and Evil. As long as Lady of the Lake alive, Four Point is safe and Camelot is safe. That is why Lady must be secured. No one allowed here except Merlin and the king.”
“And you and your tours,” said Agatha sharply.
“Which I explained already,” said Ajubaju, even sharper. “Come. I show you what your friend was looking for.”
Agatha watched the beaver carefully as they moved through the gates.
He’s lying, she thought, peering at the splintered iron. Someone had broken in.
And yet, the beaver had clearly met Chaddick and earned his trust. . . . How else would he know so much about him?
Warily, Agatha followed the group as they walked the path around Avalon’s towers. These white spires were all connected into one circular palace with no windows or doors, overlooking a maze of zigzagging staircases. She could see the entrance to the stairs ahead, leading down to the lake, where the Lady lived. Agatha’s stomach knotted. It’s where Chaddick’s body would be. Luckily most of the crew was listening to Ajubaju babble about the history of Avalon and hadn’t noticed the stairs.
But Sophie had. “Aggie,” she whispered, clutching her arm. “Is Chaddick . . . you know . . .”
Agatha subtly leaned over the edge of the path. Through the crisscrossing stairs, she started to get a glimpse of the gray-watered lake and its snow-heaped shore far below. Agatha held her breath, her gut twisting harder. . . .
Her eyes flared.
Chaddick’s body wasn’t there.
“Where is he?” Sophie breathed, sidling next to her. “That’s where the Storian drew him . . . right by the water. . . . Aggie, we should look for him—”