Chapter 41
Silence in the forest.
The moment we stepped through the trees, it was like a different world in there—also unsurprising. The shouts and the cheers of the audience no longer reached us. Neither did Johnny’s voice.
And I could have sworn we hadn’t even gone ten feet in before we could no longer see them at all anymore. Just trees, trees, and more trees.
Dark.
It was like the sun wasn’t in the sky, when we knew it was. I’d been sweating out there in the arena, but in here, I was thankful for the long sleeves of my suit.
“Two parts,” Mimi whispered, then said again, “Two parts,” louder. Like she wanted to test her voice.
“Yes. Two parts. Let’s get through the first, first,” Silas said.
“Historically speaking, the fourth trial is always the most complicated,” Helen.
“They were all complicated.” Seth.
“But they do say this will be more so.” Cook.
“What does it even matter? We’ll have no choice but to figure it out, anyhour…”
It seemed to me they were all talking to distract themselves, to drown out the fear. The silence.
It actually helped.
“How long do you think we’ll need to walk for?”
“What did that speaker mean when he said, time will answer with teeth?”
“He always says nonsense,” said someone, and another, at the same time, “I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.”
“I’m never-ever-reven setting foot in this city ever again.”
“Count me in.”
“Ditto…”
Then, “What is that?”
These last words came from my own mouth. I stopped walking, pulled March to stop with me, and the others did the same. They all looked at where I was pointing—up toward a tree just ahead of us, at whatever was shining at the tip of a branch.
“It’s…” Mimi went closer, eyes squinted, “—a spoon.”
A spoon.
The rest of us continued ahead, and March didn’t let go of my hand for a second. We were all looking up now, and that wasn’t the only thing glistening under the dim light that barely peeked through the canopy. There were more—so many more silver spoons hanging onto branches like fruit.
Curiouser and curiouser.
“Look—there!” Levana shouted, pointing to our left, and we barely caught the bird flying fast to the side—no. Not a bird.
A folded napkin flapping its sides like a bird would its wings.
Laughter. “You guys, this is awesome!” Erith said. She went deeper into the forest as she spun around and looked up at the spoons hanging on stems, at the napkins flying beside us on all sides, fast like they were afraid we’d see them clearly.
“There’s cupcakes!” Mimi shouted. “There’s cupcakes growing on trees!”
There were cupcakes growing on trees, indeed, and they were higher up on the branches, so nobody could really reach them no matter how high they jumped.
“What in the Everstill is this place,” March muttered, and it wasn’t even a question. He and I were the only ones not smiling, not jumping, not running—and I wasn’t sure whether to be glad about it, or if it was just plain sad.
Then…
“Is that the Hands my eyes see? Oh, My—they are, indeed!”
Everybody stopped talking, moving, breathing.
Someone was in the forest with us.
A man, barely ten feet away where I could have sworn there had been nothing but trees just a second ago.
Well, now the trees were still there, but there was also a man standing in front of a long, slithering table, smiling at us ear to ear.
Time Himself paused with us.
His clothes had so much color in them—purple, yellow, green and pink.
His suit was made entirely out of silk—the shirt, the pants, the vest with the long tail, olive-green on the outside, a bright fuchsia pink underneath.
His hair was completely covered by the strangest cylinder hat I’d ever seen, because it was a hat within a hat within a hat, all sewed together.
Johnny’s voice came back to me in a rush—Say hi to the host for me!
“Who are you?!” Russ asked, and we’d all gathered into a semi circle instinctively. There was strength in numbers, just in case.
“Why, I’m your host!” the guy said, spreading his arms to the side.
“Call me Host Ticktock, and I will be at your service at exactly the right time.” He bowed his head deeply.
“Allow me to welcome you to the bestest tea-party you’ve ever had the fortune of stumbling upon in any forest. Come, come—join me! ”
He turned then, and waved at the table behind him proudly.
It was the strangest table I’d ever seen. It curved at the edges like the wood, or whatever it was made of, had been slithering when it was suddenly frozen, and the white and gray tablecloth almost looked like snakeskin, too. It was set for a tea party, though, just like the host said.
On it were small lanterns with tiny flames burning inside them, teacups and teapots, plates and silverware, bowls of sugar, empty ones, too—and clocks.
A lot of clocks were spread out everywhere, in all shapes and sizes—triangular ones, square ones, heart shaped and spade-shaped ones, too.
None of them worked, though. They were all stuck at six.
We went closer, a little bit in awe of the way the table went. It might be the most curious thing we’d seen in all the games. Even the chairs around it—thirteen in total—were different sizes and different colors, some lower and some higher, some with only three legs on them, too.
“Please, sit! Allow me the pleasure of your company,” Host Ticktock said, as he himself went to sit on the chair at the head of the table, pushing the tail of his strange vest back with his hips before settling down, that smile never leaving his face. “Join me at my tea-party, pretty-please.”
What a strange man.
What a strange name, too.
We looked at one another, uncertain still, though the guy seemed friendly enough. I couldn’t tell what court he was from, or if he was a Timekeeper, but he was obviously part of the game.
“Might as well,” Seth finally said. “We have to finish the game, don’t we?”
We absolutely did.
March squeezed my hand once before he pulled me to walk with him. “Close,” he whispered to me. “We’re close.”
Except hadn’t the White Queen said that there would be two parts to this trial? Mimi reminded us all just now, too.
Either way, I said nothing, and we all went to sit around the table.
March and I sat at the end on the left side, together with Mimi who sat on March’s other side, then Seth, Silas and Reggie near the host. Across, the others made themselves comfortable, but we all looked wary—especially Cook who sat right across from me.
He looked pale. Almost green in the face, like he was going to be sick soon.
I reluctantly leaned back on the chair.
“Okay, well,” Levana said, and cleared her throat. “We’re all here. We’re all seated. What, uhm… what’s the deal with this trial?”
“The deal is simple,” Host Ticktock said as brought his teacup to his mouth and took a sip.
Anika, who sat near him on the right of the table brought a hand to her cheek and mouthed at us, it’s empty!
The host’s cup was empty, yet he went through the motions of swallowing and licking his lips, too.
Suddenly, he slammed both hands on the table, and we all jerked back. The dishes and the clocks did, too. “Oh, but what a splendid, splendid tea! I do so wish I could taste it. It’s been so long…”
Nobody was smiling anymore.
“Host Ticktock,” said Silas, his voice calm. “The trial. What are we required to do to win this trial?”
“Oh, I’m afraid I can’t tell you that, my boy.” He smiled—and just now, I could have sworn there was madness in his eyes.
“But…you’re the host,” said Erith from the other side.
“True, true—I am. Host Ticktock, at your service.” He stood up, bowed to her deeply, and the hat within the hat within the hat on his head didn’t even budge.
He then stuck out his backside to push the tail of his vest again, and sat.
“But-but-but, what I can do is…” His voice trailed off as he took the empty cup in his hands again, and took an imaginary sip. “Sing it.”
My brows narrowed. Sing?
“We really don’t need a song—if you could just—” Russ started, but Host Ticktock wouldn’t hear it.
“You always need a song!” His laughter, too, had that same quality to it. It spelled out madness in my mind. “And my song goes something like this.” He spread out his arms to the sides, closed his eyes, and began.
“I am frozen. Yes—quite sick. Hour six is stiff as a brick…”
It wasn’t quite singing, though. His voice was higher, yes, but it was like he was reciting a poem written somewhere on the inside of his lids, judging by how fast he was moving his eyeballs from one side to the other.
“You can help me, dearest Hands. I’ve waited for you in elevens and tens. Stir the sugar, will you pour the tea? Make six into seven, and set me free!”
Slowly, he brought his hands together in front of his chest, and opened his eyes, that smile never leaving his face.
We looked at one another for a moment.
“It’s six o’clock,” Helen said. “That means—”
“Yes—it’s always six. It’s always time for tea,” Host Ticktock cut her off.
“And we must make it…seven o’clock?” Levana asked.
“If you would be so kind,” the host said, batting his lashes in a strange way.
“So we have to…create an hour,” Silas said.
“That’s easy. We can all give a bunch of minutes from our Life Clocks,” said Russ.
“Ah, I’m afraid that won’t do.” Suddenly, the host pushed his chair back and slipped underneath the table—so fast he turned to a blur.
When he came up again, a split second later, he had something in his hands.
“You have to make the hour. Make it.” And he climbed on the table on all fours as we watched.
We leaned back as far as we could, and some screamed, and most gasped. The host then slammed the thing onto this raised wooden platform in the very middle, that had a teapot and two bowls of sugar at the sides, and three different clocks near the corners.
The clocks fell off it, rolled, and stopped on their small metal feet.
The host moved back just as fast, and sat down on his chair again.