She grins. “Oh yeah, I totally see it. And over to the left, with the two eyes and the jagged mouth? That’s the Joker.” Suddenly she sits up. “Edgar,” Jules says. “Do you see what I see? There’s something wrong with that star. It looks . . . flat.”
I peer into the sky. Against the velvet of the night, one of the Joker’s eyes is twinkling. The other, though, is not shining back at us. It’s lifeless, dull.
It looks more like a hole punched through the sky than a star.
Or in other words: a portal.
The hammering is deafening. The trolls are nailing together the tallest ladder I’ve ever seen, but it starts in the middle of the ocean, because this particular star—of course—is not directly over the beach. As a result, this is an engineering marvel requiring the coordination of the trolls, who are designing the mechanism; Captain Crabbe, whose boat serves as the platform for the ladder; and the mermaids, who are frantically swimming against the current to control the wave patterns buffeting the ship.
Jules and I swung by the castle for a change of clothes before gathering our building committee. To my shock, in my bedroom wardrobe, there were no spacesuits anymore—just rows of tunics and tights. It took ten minutes for Jules to convince me to walk outside, and even now I can’t believe I’m dressed like freaking Robin Hood.
“How much longer?” I ask Biggle as he moves past me with a claw hammer in hand. Dawn is practically clawing at the edge of the night. What if the stars fade before we have a chance to reach this portal? What if we wait till tonight and it’s gone?
Biggle snorts at me. “We’re on the last plank,” he says. “We’ve used up all the wood that’s available. Any more and we have to start cutting down the Enchanted Forest.”
I can’t even imagine how pissed off the book would get at us if we started to raze the trees.
Trogg calls down the all clear. Captain Crabbe gives the base of the ladder a hard jerk. “Looks sturdy,” he says.
“Hope you’re not afraid of heights,” Jules says with a laugh, lifting up the edge of her gown. Her combat boots have vanished, and she’s wearing these ridiculous little slippers that looklike they have all the protection of a sock. “Because I’m not climbing in these.”
“I’ll be just fine,” I lie.
I put my foot on the bottom rung, feeling my boot slip, and hoist myself up, starting to climb. The ship rocks beneath my feet, and the ladder lurches from side to side. I’m climbing in total darkness, which is actually a blessing, because if I could see below me, I’d never make it. The splashes of the mermaids’ tails and the voices of the trolls fade as I get closer and closer to the top edge of the book. And yet it seems like no matter how far I climb, I never arrive.
Finally I reach the top of the trolls’ ladder. I grab on for dear life as it swings from left to right, nearly pitching me off. I crane my neck, staring at the stars. One of them is definitely different from the others. It’s five-pointed, white, outlined in yellow. While the other stars wink like diamonds, this one stays still and muted, as if it’s been glued into place.
I go up on my toes and stretch as far as I can with my right hand, but I’m still several yards away from even brushing the edge of it. I briefly consider whether I could reach it with a sword and cut it loose or take one of the trolls’ clubs and swat it from the sky. But even if I were able to reach it with a weapon of sorts, I couldn’t be sure that I wouldn’t damage it in the process. Reluctantly I begin to shimmy down the ladder, until I am again standing on the rolling deck of Captain Crabbe’s ship.
“Let’s see it, laddie,” he says.
“I couldn’t reach it,” I admit.
“How about Rapscullio?” Jules suggests. “He’s taller, isn’t he?”
“He’s not twelvefeettaller,” I point out, and I turn to the trolls. “There really isn’t any more wood?”
Snort shakes his head. “As it is, we dismantled the castle outhouses.”
“You might want to remedy that,” I say. “Preferably before Queen Maureen wakes up.”
“So we’re out of luck?” Jules asks. “There’s no one tall enough to grab a star?”
I think about this for a moment. “Maybe it’s not height that we need.” I cup my hands around my mouth, calling into the distance.“Ember! Sparks! Glint!”
Fairies have extraordinary hearing, a little-known fact. It’s why they’re so good at eavesdropping. But it also works in my favor, as they appear almost immediately, three little fireflies that come whizzing closer, so that I can see each of their tiny glowing bodies.
“What’s all this?” Ember asks, any anger over missing her beauty sleep dissipating when she sees the teetering ladder.
That’s another little-known fact about fairies: like all gossips, they hate being left out of anything.
“See that star?” I ask, pointing. “The one that looks like a button instead of a jewel?”
Glint and Sparks zip higher into the air to get a better view. “What about it?” Sparks asks.
“I need you guys to bring it down here.”
“No problem,” Ember says. “Girls?”
