“And that is a lie,” Miss Marblemaw retorted. “Bellhops and writers and whatever else you all think you are. Do you believe the world will accept you outside of your little bubble? If so, you are in for an extraordinarily rude awakening. No, you must know the truth. You can’t—”
“I’m already a bellhop,” Chauncey said.
She blinked. “What?”
“You said whatever we think we are,” Chauncey said patiently. “But I don’t think I’m a bellhop. I am one, and at a three-star hotel.”
“He’s right,” Sal said as Theodore nodded. “Chauncey’s the best bellhop I’ve ever seen. Phee is smarter and stronger than the rest of us put together. Talia’s gardens have appeared in magazines across the country. Theodore probably has the largest collection of buttons in the entire world. Lucy made mud people. Mud people. Do you know how awesome that is?”
“Ain’t nothin’ to it,” Lucy said, blowing on his knuckles and rubbing them against his chest.
“And what about David?” Miss Marblemaw asked. “Shouldn’t you talk about him? Oh, wait. That’s right. He’s not a child, but a man! A short man who doesn’t act his purported age?”
“Why are you so obsessed with me?” David asked. “I mean, I get it. Look at me: I’m fluffy and a world-class actor. But still, you’re going a little overboard. I’ll have to call my agent and see about a restraining order.”
Sal continued to stare at Miss Marblemaw as Theodore snorted. “How many orphanages have I been to?”
Miss Marblemaw blanched as she began to riffle through the pages on her clipboard. “I … er, I have it—”
“Five,” Sal said. “What does Lucy love most in the world?”
“I … don’t—”
“Come on, Miss Marblemaw,” he said. “You say you know what’s best for us, so surely, you’d know about us, right? Because knowing what’s best implies you know the important things about us. And hell, I’m practically giving you this one since Lucy already mentioned it. You know it? No? The answer is dead-people music. What do gnomes call their communities?”
“This is pointless—”
“A donzy,” Sal said, cool as all get-out. “How many languages can Theodore understand?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued. “Four. English, Gnomish, Wyvern, and Spanish. And how about Chauncey?”
“I have many secrets,” Chauncey said.
“How many books did he read about the art of being a bellhop? Sixty-seven. What is Phee’s favorite kind of tree? Dragon blood.”
“Because they have red pitch, and originally only grew in Yemen and along the Arabian Sea,” Phee said. “I’m gonna try and grow one here. They look so creepy, I love it.”
“You ever get the feeling you became sentient right in the middle of something?” Turnip whispered to Barry and Janet, who both nodded.
“You don’t know the first thing about us,” Sal said. “You claim to, but you don’t. Even when you first met us, you tried to get us to say something we didn’t like about living here. You showed your hand before you even knew the game had started.”
“This isn’t a game,” Miss Marblemaw said.
“Then stop treating us like pawns on a chessboard,” Sal countered. “You were never going to let us stay here. Admit it. You talk of honesty, but you don’t know the first thing about it.”
“Oh snap,” Lucy said. “Felt that right in my chest.”
“I know enough,” Miss Marblemaw said. “More than you, to be sure. You are a child, and don’t know any better, so it’s to be expected.”
“Okay,” Phee said. “So we’re kids. Why have you never asked what we want?”
“Because,” Miss Marblemaw said, condescending and smug, “you can’t know. You are far too young to understand the ramifications of—”
“Being abused?” Sal asked. “Getting locked in a room without food or access to a toilet? Finding a way to sneak out to try and get something to eat, only to be slapped across the face for doing so? Biting my attacker because I was scared? Being told that I was a monster for spreading my magic? Being forced to stay in my shift and wear a muzzle? Tell me, Miss Marblemaw, tell me what I’m too young to understand. Tell me exactly what I’m missing, because all I see is a person trying to take us away from the only place we’ve ever felt safe.”
“Because you don’t know any better!” Miss Marblemaw cried. “This place—this farce is not the real world. This is nothing but an illusion created by a man with a personal vendetta. What happens when you age out? Do you really think you’ll be prepared for what you find in the real world?”
Sal shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. Regardless, I know I’ll always have a home to come back to. Take us. Right now. See what happens when you try.”
Miss Marblemaw took a step back, only to bump into Turnip, who said, “Pardon me, ma’am. Got some of me on your back.”
She jumped at least three feet in the air. She craned her neck to see her mud-coated back, spinning in a slow circle. She must have realized she still had an audience, because she whipped back around to face them. “It won’t only be me,” she said. “Not here. Not now. But soon. That’s a promise. And there’s nowhere you can run that we won’t find you.”
“I’ve had quite enough,” Arthur said, stepping forward. “Lucy, be a dear, would you? I’d like all of Miss Marblemaw’s possessions brought from the guesthouse. Her time with us has been cut short, and she will be departing immediately.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she snarled. “I am here until Wednesday, whether you like it or not.”
Lucy said, “Ella Fitzgerald skibbidy bip!”
The front door to the guesthouse burst open, and Miss Marblemaw’s suitcase and metal briefcase came rolling out, tumbling end over end, kicking up dust and bits of grass. They came to a stop next to the inspector, who ignored them, her gaze trained firmly on Arthur. “This won’t end well for you. Surely you see that.”
Arthur tilted his head. “So I’ve been told my entire life, and here I am, still standing.” He spread his arms on either side of him. “You want to take from me? See how far you get. I am many things. A man. A phoenix. Pawn. Survivor. Husband-to-be. Former master. Those pale in comparison to the title I hold above all else.”
“And what’s that?” Miss Marblemaw asked, a nasty curl to her voice.
“A father,” Arthur said. “And you have caused my children distress, fear, and pain. I warned you when you arrived what would happen if you didn’t abide by my rules. You chose not to listen. Now it’s time to reap your just rewards.”
“You have no authority over me,” Miss Marblemaw said coldly. “Even if you somehow force me from Marsyas, I will return in greater numbers, and by hook or by crook, your dream will die the death it should’ve mercifully received years ago.”
“By crook,” Linus said. “Honestly.”
