We Are Not Eaten by Yaks (4 page)

“Do you know where we're going?”

“Just trust me,” said Celia. “And keep crawling.”

Oliver had his doubts, but his sister was confident and her confidence made him feel better. She had that female intuition their father talked about. “Women just know things, son,” he would say. “Trust them and you will go far in life.”

Oliver thought about his mother. How good could her intuition be if she was still lost looking for the Lost Library of Alexandria? But what if she wasn't lost at all? What if she had left because she didn't like her boring children and wanted to go on her own adventures without them? Did she regret leaving them? Would she come back now that the twins were gone? Maybe running away really was for the best.

His thoughts were interrupted by a thud on his head.

ʺOuch,ʺ he said, and stopped. His sister smacked into him again.

“Ouch,” she said too. “Why'd you stop?”

“Wall.”

“Is it a dead end?”

“I can't see. It's too dark.”

“Can you push on it?”

“I didn't try.”

“Well, try!”

Oliver tried and the wall moved. It swung open into a dim room. They crawled out of the opening and closed it behind them as they brushed layers and layers of dust off themselves. They were so dusty, they looked like ghosts.

They were in the club's library. The library was a big room with high ceilings and stained glass windows. Bookshelves went up as high as they could see and wooden ladders with brass fittings crisscrossed the shelves so that people could reach all the books. Their mother had always told them that it was nothing compared to the Lost Library of Alexandria.

“There were grand halls that could hold thousands of volumes, lecture halls and quiet nooks to study in. The greatest thinkers in the world discussed philosophy and science at every turn. They measured the world with their minds, decoded the stars. They discovered unknown species and they recorded great and terrible prophecies. They collected everything, from treasure and magic to unusual hats. The catalog alone filled a thousand tablets in a room the size of a circus tent!”

Their mother had a way of making libraries sound important and exciting. She even made library
catalogs
sound important and exciting. A giant room filled with thousands of tablets sounded a lot more interesting than a list of books.

There was nothing exciting about the Explorers Club library. There were old leather chairs where the explorers liked to smoke cigars, and crusty old books with names like
Endurance!
and
A Gift to Those Who Contemplate the Wonders of Cities and the Marvels of Traveling.
There was an old card catalog that listed all the books, which no one but the librarian knew how to use. A fire burned in the fireplace. The librarian often threw sage into the fire to fill the room with a more pleasing smell, and to chase away bad spirits. There wasn't any sage in the fireplace now, though. The librarian had gone off to the ceremony downstairs.

But if the librarian had gone, why was the fireplace still lit?

Both children turned to each other, wondering the same thing at the same time, when the doors burst open. They ducked quickly behind a large marble statue that stood by the wall. It was tall and thin and made out of a bright green jade. It looked like a giant toothpick.

Celia pressed Oliver against the statue with her whole body, trying to get as flat as possible. His face was smushed against a large brass plaque that read IN MEMORY OF FRANK PFEFFER & JANICE MCDERMOTT, THE GREAT DISCOVERERS OF THE JADE TOOTHPICKS. YOU STILL OWE US MONEY. COME BACK SOON.

The statue was built in honor of the final tragic Pfeffer/McDermott expedition. Frank Pfeffer and Janice McDermott, discoverers of the Jade Toothpicks, went to China to look for Oliver and Celia's mother a year ago and never returned. No one ever heard from them again. Explorers had a way of disappearing.

“Ouch,” Oliver whispered. “You're crushing the word
toothpicks
into my face.”

“Shhhhh . . .”

“Who gets famous for discovering toothpicks?”

“
Explorers
,” Celia snapped, with a roll of her eyes. “Now, hush or they'll hear us.” Ducked behind the monument, the twins couldn't see who had come into the library, but they could hear.

“Everything is ready,” a woman said. “They will never expect us.”

“They better not.”

The children recognized the second voice. They would know it anywhere. It was Sir Edmund. Celia peeked out, but all she could see was the back of a chair and Sir Edmund's feet dangling down. They didn't even reach the floor. She couldn't see the woman.

“If you do not live up to your end of the bargain, the Council will be most upset,” Sir Edmund said.

“The Council should have more faith. This time, we cannot fail.”

“I have heard that from you before.”

“Will Navel uncover the truth?” she asked.

“Only as much as we wish him to uncover,” sneered Sir Edmund.

“He is clever.”

“And for now, that is useful. No one could lead us to the discovery better.”

“Except his wife,” the woman said, and it was clear from her tone she did not like their mother.

“Mom?” Oliver whispered. Celia pressed her finger to her lips telling Oliver to be quiet.

“Yes,” growled Sir Edmund. “Except his wife.”

“What if Dr. Navel suspects something before we . . .ʺ

“He will
not
!” Sir Edmund shouted, then regained control of himself. “Don't worry. You do your part and we cannot fail. When he is no longer useful to us, he will be destroyed.”

“And the children?”

“Those brats will come to me,” said Sir Edmund. “You may not harm them permanently.”

“Whatever you say,” the woman responded. “We won't harm them . . . permanently. I can't imagine why you would want to look after them. Children are such a bother.”

“If I give them cable, they'll not cause any trouble,” Sir Edmund said. “I hate the television, but it does keep their mouths shut. And I believe they will one day be useful to me.”

“Fine,” the woman said. “As long as Navel can be controlled. The letter makes it seem that he might be the one who—”

“The Navel family will be taken care of. I want to hear no more about it. Now we must be going before anyone notices our absence. And remember to do your part.”

“Of course I will. And you, Edmund, mind your tone. I don't work for the Council.”

“My tone? Ha!” Sir Edmund really seemed to enjoy being a jerk.

Oliver and Celia heard footsteps across the floor and then heard the giant library door slam shut again. They were finally alone.

“Who was that woman?”

“What did she mean that she won't harm us
permanently
?!” Oliver asked.

“I don't know. Sir Edmund shouldn't have called us brats.”

“He wants to destroy Dad!”

“And give us
cable
,” Celia added. “Cable!”

“Hmmmm.” They both considered the situation. On the one hand, there was a plot afoot against their father. On the other hand—cable! But their father would be “destroyed.” The twins both knew what that meant. Out of the picture. Toast. Dead.

“We have to warn Dad,” Oliver said at last.

“Yeah,” Celia agreed. “We'll run away another time, once Dad is safe.”

“Maybe if we save Dad's life,
he'll
get us cable,” Oliver suggested as they made their way, still covered in dust, to the Great Hall, where the Ceremony of Discovery was in full swing.

THE CEREMONY OF DISCOVERY
is a time-honored tradition of the Explorers Club. Every month, explorers, celebrities, professors and businessmen of enough importance to receive an invitation gather at the club to hear speeches about the newest and most exciting discoveries. There were always a few charlatans in the crowd too, trying to act like they belonged there.

It was at this ceremony in 1909 that Dr. Frederick A. Cook declared that he was the first explorer to set foot at the North Pole, and it was also that same night that Robert Peary declared that
he
was the first explorer to set foot at the North Pole.

A great feud broke out over who had indeed arrived at the North Pole first. They accused each other of faking their journals, of making up data and telling tall tales. They challenged each other to duels, and sent their supporters to pick fights with the opposition outside the National Geographic Society. A small group of Inuit hunters, the original Arctic citizens, meanwhile, had been visiting the North Pole for over a thousand years, but none of the explorers asked their opinion on the Peary-Cook feud.

“The Inuit tend not to keep journals,” Dr. Navel explained when he told the twins about the feud as a bedtime story. “Their legends and their memories are the maps that guide them. They leave the bragging and the journals to explorers.”

“I think I prefer the Inuit way of doing things,” Celia said. Their father laughed and kissed her on the forehead.

“Just like your mother,” he said sadly.

Oliver and Celia crept along the hall, nervous that they might run into Sir Edmund or his mysterious companion. As they got closer, they could hear the clinking of glasses and the loud chatter of the explorers at the Ceremony of Discovery. They eased themselves along the walls slowly. How would they explain being so dirty? They hoped they could just warn their father about the plot on his life, get him to give them cable, and get back out again before anyone made them listen to some tale about mountain climbing.

“Ready?” asked Celia when they reached the door to the Great Hall. “Remember, move quickly and try not to look suspicious.”

“How do I do that?”

“Act confident!”

“But I'm not confident!”

“That's why it's called acting, dummy.” And with that, she grabbed her brother by the ear and shoved him into the room first.

As they stood, frozen side by side in the doorway of the Great Hall, no one so much as looked at them. Though they were covered in dust and grime, and carrying a backpack, the children were hardly the most bizarre-looking people in the room.

Professor Eckhart of the Department of Obscure Spiritualities at the University of Norôurárdalur in Iceland wore his gray hair in a mohawk. He also had a monkey on his shoulder. Madame Xpertina, a famous trans-Siberian motocross rider, wore her hair in a purple buzz cut and had on an outfit made of shining black leather. She appeared to be chatting with a naval officer who had a kangaroo on a leash. There were soldiers in uniform and businessmen in tuxedos and scientists and athletes and at least two astronauts in the room, all dressed up and chattering away, clutching glasses of sherry. The very smell of sherry made Oliver's stomach turn. Celia had never bothered so much as to smell it.

A remarkable trait of Celia's, it should be noted, is that she lacked all curiosity. She did not like to know how things worked, how they smelled, what they tasted like, why they were made, who made them, or where or when. She wanted only to be left alone to watch her programs. Oliver felt the same way, but for a different reason. Curiosity always ended with him covered in lizard bites.

The walls of the Great Hall were hung with the heads and pelts of animals. A full-size cheetah, frozen mid-leap, was mounted on a platform in the center of the room. A collection of birds perched eternally on the rafters. Elk, deer and buffalo heads watched over the gala with lifelike glass eyes. Near the door stood a polar bear on its hind legs, its mouth open in a growl and its paws raised to attack.

Sometimes Oliver and Celia felt like they, too, were part of the club's collection of treasures, and that they would end up mounted on the wall of the Great Hall one day, with ghastly expressions on their faces and marbles instead of eyes.

More disturbing for Oliver and Celia, though, was the stage at the opposite end of the room that was used for the endless slide shows and speeches that the explorers liked to give. The idea made them shiver, but they harnessed their courage for their father's sake and for the hope of getting cable.

Dr. Navel, dressed sharply in a tuxedo, saw his children standing in the entrance to the Great Hall. He wrinkled his forehead a moment at their dusty clothes and their small backpack, but then just shrugged and motioned for them to come over to where he stood with three other men, listening to a woman dressed in colorful, flowing robes tell a tale. The children, scowling, approached.