The first thing I noticed was the puppet—mostly because it was immediately thrust right into my face.

 

“YOU HAVE ACCEPTED THE TRIALS OF THE FIRST HUNTER’S HAMMER!” it yelled in a deep, booming voice.

 

I recoiled with a yelp, reflexively drawing Splatsy.

 

“Sorry!” it said, its voice quieter but still weirdly deep. “It’s been over three hundred years since anyone has undertaken the Trials. I may have let my excitement get the better of me. Although, it’s good to see that the Hunter's reflexes are still so sharp!”

 

I glanced at Ethan and Jade, who looked every bit as weirded out by this as I felt. Aesop, of course, was grinning like he'd just walked into a party full of rich people and couldn't decide if he wanted to hit the snack bar or start pickpocketing the other guests.

 

Reluctantly, I turned to face the puppet again. It was made of cloth, with faded white skin, patchy blue felt hair, and a pair of googly eyes that jiggled disconcertingly whenever it “spoke.” Two noodly arms hung uselessly from its shoulders, and it was perched on the end of a thick, round arm belonging to a thick, round man.

 

The puppeteer was wearing a long hooded robe, like some kind of monk, even though I've never heard of a monk whose robes were tie-dyed. A swirling pattern of red, purple, green, and blue covered his ample girth, and his hood drooped down low so I couldn't see his face. Not that it mattered, I supposed, since it wasn't like I was going to know anybody here anyway.

 

“Enough waiting!” the puppet exclaimed. “The anticipation is killing me. What is your name?”

 

“Um, hi?” I said, doing my best to lean away from the puppet and talk to the robed man. The puppet shifted so were face to cloth-face again. “I’m Henry Rider. Nice to meet you?”

 

“IT IS AN HONOR TO MEET YOU, RIDER OF HENRIES!” he roared, then cleared his throat. “Sorry. And I assume this is your retinue?”

 

It looked over my shoulder at my friends, and—forgetting that its eyes weren’t real—I stepped between them and it and turned up my nose in the best impression of Victoria I could manage. “They are, yes. Is that a problem?”

 

The puppet thought for a moment. “Usually, we only allow Hunters to pass through our gate, but seeing how it has been so long since we’ve had a visitor, I suppose some rule bending may be in order.”

 

The fat monk’s hooded face turned sharply to look at the puppet, but it didn’t seem to notice.

 

“Welcome to Jah Beryge!” it declared, and I sighed quietly in relief.

 

“What is this place?” I asked, looking around for the first time. We were standing in the middle of what looked like some kind of ancient Greek temple. Thick fluted columns rose from the floor to hold up a white marble ceiling. The room was twenty feet wide, and about twice as long, but judging by the way I could only see bright blue sky and clouds outside, I got the weird, vertigo-causing sensation that we were somehow thousands of feet up in the air.

 

The puppet has no eyelids, but I somehow got the distinct impression that it had just blinked in surprise. “You…do not know? But you must know! We got your letter just yesterday!”

 

The fat monk held up an envelope—the same envelope I had pushed back through the mail slot last night.

 

“Of course she knows!” Aesop interjected before I could reply. “She just wants to make sure you know.”

 

Behind me, I heard Ethan slap his forehead.

 

The puppet and the puppeteer exchanged a look, and for a few horrifying seconds I thought I had been found out. What would they do to me—to us—if they figured out we were imposters? At best they'd throw us back through the door, and then I'd never get the whatever-it-was that Ichabod wanted so badly.

 

At worst, we'd all soon be dangling by our nose hairs over a tank full of acidic piranhas. Yes, those are real. And yes, they hurt more than eating a nail sandwich without any mayo.

 

“I suppose it’s understandable for the Hunter to possess some degree of paranoia,” the puppet said slowly. “A wary heart is a beating heart, so it is said. Very well! This is Jah Beryge, headquarters of the Jocular Brotherhood of Zanni!”

 

The puppet looked at me with an air of expectancy.

 

“Good start,” I said, doing my best not to sweat bullets. “Go on.”

 

If the puppet had had eyebrows, I swear it would have raised one. “I, ah…very well, then. Come with me!”

 

The fat monk turned and walked away, holding the puppet out before him.

 

“What are you doing?” Ethan demanded as soon as he was out of earshot. “You want these people to help you, right? Why would you lie to them?”

 

I gave a guilty shrug. “We were lying to them before we even set foot in here.”

 

“What? How?”

 

“Do you think I really want to take this Trial?” I asked. “I don’t even know what the sweet and sour chicken it is!”

 

“Just tell them what’s going on,” Ethan urged me. “Maybe they’ll understand and agree to help!”

 

Aesop snorted. “Yeah, because that's how real life works.”

 

“They could just as easily throw us out of here,” I argued, shaking my head. “And then I’ll never rescue my family! Sorry, Ethan. I don’t like this any more than you do, but we’re sticking with Aesop’s plan for now.”

 

Ethan made a weird noise in his throat, but I ignored him and set off after the fat monk. He led us to a long, railingless stone bridge that arched out over the gap between this platform and another. Against my better judgement—because when have I ever listened to that?—I snuck a peak over the edge. What I saw nearly turned my blue hair white.

 

I had been right about us being really high up. But while I’d expected to find that we were on the roof of a weird ancient Greek-themed skyscraper, I instead realized that we were…well, nowhere. The platform we had just been standing on seemed to be floating in midair, supported only by the bridge that connected it to the platform we were heading towards, and a few other bridges leading to even more floating platforms. Below us, I could faintly make out the ground, though it was a strange dark blue color. I had no way of measuring it, but I had the vertigo-inducing feeling that, whatever was down there, we were miles and miles above it.

 

In the other direction, a massive stone pillar stretched down into the whatever-it-was beneath us. And when I say massive, I mean freakishly, mind-bendingly gigantic. I remembered the building we had been playing BnB on top of yesterday, and felt a chill go down my spine when I realized that you could have fit over a dozen of them inside that pillar—and that was just the part of it that I could see from here! If I was measuring things right, that was the center of this whole…place…and all of the floating platforms branched off from there.

 

Suddenly feeling queasy, I snapped my eyes upwards again.

 

Another of the floating platforms waited at the other end of the bridge. Glad to have solid ground beneath my feet again—and trying desperately not to think of the hundred million foot drop below it—I followed the fat monk into this new structure.

 

The first thing that caught my eye was a massive globe that hovered thirty feet over the floor. And by globe, I actually mean seven globes. And by that I mean two globes. And by that I mean fifty globes. And by that I mean…I’m gonna cut myself off there, or else this’ll go on forever. In any case, thousands—millions—of colored dots covered the globe(s), lighting it up in blues, greens, purples, and reds like a big round Christmas tree. Five rings rose from the floor, surrounding the globe(s), where what must have been close to five hundred more monks sat, scribbling furiously on stacks of paper as tall as I was. The rings slowly rotated in alternating patterns, like the world’s most boring merry-go-round, allowing each monk to see the globe and/or globes from every angle.

 

“What is that thing?” Ethan asked, looking up at it with wide eyes.

 

“It’s a map of every dimension,” Jade said. “Or all the ones we know about, at least.”

 

“Why does looking at it give me a headache?”

 

“Because your little baby human brain isn’t built to handle big boy knowledge like that,” Aesop said smugly.

 

Ethan glared at him, but Aesop just grinned and pretended not to notice.

 

“He’s right, though,” Jade said more softly. “It probably won’t drive you insane, but you should try to not look at it for too long anyway.”

 

The second thing I noticed were the staircases leading down below the floor. More monks were hurrying up and down them, most of them clutching little glass vials of some kind of colorful liquid. Just like the lights on the globe(s), I could spot blue, red, green, and purple ones.

 

I stopped dead in my tracks.

 

“That’s blood!” I exclaimed as a monk scurried past me, clutching a tiny glass of blue fluid. “Klaon blood!”

 

“Indeed!” the puppet confirmed with obvious pride in its voice. “This is the Kaleidoscopic Chamber! We’ve obtained a sample of blood from every living klaon…”

 

“Because that’s not creepy at all,” Aesop muttered. I elbowed him in the gut.

 

“...and with that, we are able to observe all of klaonkind! The moment a klaon becomes a maiam, their blood sample turns gray. And using our map,” the monk gestured toward the globe(s) with the puppet, “we are able to determine their location. An alert is then drafted and sent to the Hunter—that is to say, to you, Rider of Henries.”

 

I nodded in the most this-is-exactly-what-I-expected-to-hear way I could, and the fat monk turned and headed for yet another bridge. I followed, determinedly keeping my eyes facing forward this time. Not that it was hard, since the building we were heading toward was different from the others. While the rest of Gibberish, or whatever it was called, was composed of open air buildings, this one looked more like a fortress. Instead of marble, it was made of dark gray granite, and was entirely closed off. A door made of solid steel barred our way in, looking more like something that should have been attached to a bank vault than a…whatever the steamed asparagus this place was.

 

The fat monk held out his right arm, smooshing the puppet’s face right up against the door, and waited. A second later, the massive door rumbled and swung inwards, revealing a dark room. With a quick series of fwooshes, a line of torches came to life along the walls, filling the room with a flickering, greasy light. The fat monk led the way inside and I, suddenly feeling apprehensive, followed.

 

There were dozens of stone pedestals with glass cases on top, like this was some kind of creepy dungeon museum. As we crossed the room, the fat monk gestured toward them with the puppet.

 

“This is the Vault of Vulgar Humor,” it said, its deep voice echoing ominously off the stone walls. “It is where we store the items that have, in the past, threatened the lives and wellbeing of humans, klaons, and the world itself.”

 

The monk paused next to a pedestal, on which sat a pair of normal looking reading glasses.

 

“The Spectacles of Aathoreid,” the puppet said. “They give anyone who wears them the power to punch through solid steel.”

 

“Cool!” Aesop exclaimed. For a second, I was worried he would try to swipe them then and there. They were completely encased in glass, but there was a reason I had asked for his help. If a leprechaun wants something, chances are they’re going to get it.

 

I don’t know which was scarier: the thought of him getting caught, or of him actually getting away with it.

 

“This is the Flea Collar of Lurmk,” the puppet went on, gesturing to a cheap looking loop of plastic. “Put this on, and it will instantly spawn a swarm of fleas.”

 

“Isn’t that the opposite of what a flea collar is supposed to do?” Jade asked.

 

“Perhaps, but the fleas will attack everyone within a hundred foot radius except the one wearing the collar.”

 

“That almost sounds useful,” I said.

 

“Beware that line of thought,” the puppet said. The fat monk raised his arm so that it was towering over me. “For the Flea Collar of Lurmk spawns fleas in such a magnitude that they will drain every drop of blood in their victims’ bodies within seconds!”

 

“And by useful, I of course mean completely useless,” I quickly amended.

 

“This is the Key of Mentis,” the puppet said, going to the next item. On this pedestal sat a small bronze key—or, rather, half of one. It didn’t have any teeth, or whatever you call those jagged-y parts that make it actually work, just a pair of flat metal rings protruding side by side on one end, and a smooth, featureless rod on the other. It looked like something you’d stick in a windup toy, if you were a kid back when dinosaurs still roamed the earth.

 

“What does it do?” asked Ethan, leaning in for a closer look. I resisted the urge to grab him by his collar and pull him back. He had that look in his eyes that he only got when he thought he’d found a new magical toy to play with.

 

That look scared me even more than Aesop’s.

 

“If you insert the key into someone’s skull and turn it, it will allow you to rewrite their memories, their beliefs, and even their personalities.” The fat monk moved on, stopping next to a white ceramic pitcher. “The InfiniTea Pitcher. It dispenses an unlimited amount of sweet tea. It is quite delicious, or so I have been told by those who have working mouths and tongues.”

 

“That…” I paused and looked at it. In the dim light, I could faintly see a light brown liquid just beneath the rim. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

 

“The last time it was overturned, we were forced to build a giant boat and put two of every kind of animal on it.”

 

The tea rippled gently, and I hurried to take a few steps back.

 

“And this,” the puppet declared, “is the reason you are here.”

 

It dramatically gestured with its entire body toward an iron gate set into the far wall. Chains thicker than my arm wound in between the bars, ending in a padlock bigger than my entire torso. Stepping up to the gate, I peered between the bars. It was difficult to make out what was on the other side in the dim light, but judging by its shape and size…

 

My heart began to race with excitement.

 

That’s a hammer! I thought. And it’s even bigger than Splatsy!

 

“The hammer of Opisthia,” the puppet said, the fat monk’s arm rising in pride. “The First Hunter.”

 

I had to snap my mouth closed, or else I would have started drooling on the floor. The First Hunter’s Hammer…and it could be mine? If Mr. Ventriloquist here was to be believed, all I had to do was pass some kind of test, and—

 

All those good feelings went out like a candle after a fifty ton wet sponge was dropped on it.

 

That’s what Ichabod wants, I realized, suddenly feeling like I was going to throw up. A weapon that powerful is exactly what he needs to fight Legion.

 

And I was going to deliver it straight to him. What other choice did I have, when he had my family as hostages?

 

“I must warn you,” the puppet said. “The Trials you are about to face will be more dangerous than you can imagine. Are you sure you are worthy to wield my hammer?”

 

I folded my arms. “I suppose there’s only one way to…wait, your hammer?”

 

If it was possible for an expressionless puppet face to look smug, it would have looked exactly how this puppet looked at that exact moment.

 

“I am,” it—or, he, I guess I should say—declared proudly, “Opisthia, founder of the Jocular Brotherhood of Zanni and the First Hunter for the Council of Shnoob! When my body failed me one thousand and five hundred years ago, I transferred my soul into this puppet so that I could continue my work protecting man- and klaonkind for eternity! But…surely you knew this?”

 

“Of course I knew!” I said quickly. “I just didn’t expect a fifteen hundred year old puppet to look so…young! What, uh, do you put on your skin?”

 

“Once a month, I have my disciples throw me in the laundry!” Opisthia declared, as heroically as if he were describing the time he had slain an army of dragons.

 

“Very…inspirational,” I said. “But yes! My answer is yes. I will take your Trials and prove myself worthy of your hammer!”

 

“EXCELLENT!” Opisthia roared in approval, his voice echoing deafeningly through the vault. “WE SHALL BEGIN IMMEDIATELY!”

 

“Loud!” Aesop complained, clapping his hands over his ears.

 

Opisthia paid him no attention. “BROTHER KRAUBUS!”

 

There was the patter of feet, and a klaon stuck his head into the vault. “Yes, Father Opisthia?”

 

“THE TRIALS OF THE FIRST HUNTER’S HAMMER BEGIN NOW! SUMMON BROTHER HUMDINGER AND SISTER SWOOSH!”

 

— —

 

Five minutes later, we stood before yet another enclosed structure. A massive pair of wooden double doors kept us from seeing inside, but two columns of tie-dyed klaons were hurriedly filing their way in through two smaller doors on either side.

 

“Rider of Henries,” said Opisthia, the fat monk’s arm fully outstretched toward me, “through this door is the Court of Dueling Wits, where disputes between members of the Brotherhood are reconciled according to ancient tradition.”

 

Ethan raised his hand. “Ancient tradition being…”

 

“Extreme and uncompromising violence! Here, the Rider of Henries will face the first test in the Trials of the First Hunter’s Hammer.”

 

I took a step forward. “I’m r—”

 

“What kind of test are we talking about?” Ethan cut me off.

 

I turned to glare at him, but found I couldn’t put too much energy into it. I wanted to rescue my family as ASAP-ishly as possible, but I guess jumping straight into a “test” without knowing what I was getting myself into might have been a little…

 

“Stupid” is probably the word Ethan would use.

 

“Waiting for you in the Court of Dueling Wits are two of the Brotherhood’s most powerful warriors,” Opisthia explained. “Their names are Brother Humdinger and Sister Swoosh. Your goal is to defeat them both.”

 

I nodded. “I’m r—”

 

“First,” interrupted Opisthia, “you must know that it is forbidden to use any weapons other than your hammer. While we encourage our Hunters to expand their arsenal according to their need and their growing skills, here in Jah Beryge we limit ourselves to the arts of Hammer Warfare.” The fat monk held out his empty hand. “If you would, please turn them over.”

 

I frowned, but did as I was asked. A few seconds later, the fat monk was struggling to hold Prinkle, Prunkle, Globber, and Spazzy Basil in one hand.

 

After a moment’s hesitation, I gave him my inhaler too. Opisthia had only said I needed to hand over my weapons, and my inhaler wasn’t a weapon, but I quickly weighed the pros and cons of trying to bring it with me. Without it, I couldn’t recharge my laughter if I used it all up. But Opisthia might also consider that cheating and disqualify me from the Trials, and then I’d never be able to save my family. It just wasn’t worth the risk.

 

“Are there any other matters you need to attend to before the Trial begins?” asked Opisthia.

 

I shook my head. “I’m—”

 

“What happens if Henry fails the test?” Jade asked.

 

“—going to punch the next person who does that!” I finished.

 

“If the Rider of Henries fails, then she will not be allowed to inherit the First Hunter’s Hammer,” Opisthia answered. “And you will all be required to leave Jah Beryge immediately.”

 

“That much is obvious,” she replied. “I meant, will Henry…”

 

“Survive?” Opisthia asked, chuckling with his expressionless felt face. “Yes, she will be alive when the fight ends. Although I can’t make any promises beyond that.”

 

He paused, glancing at the fat monk, then turned back to me.

 

“I suppose it is worth pointing out, though,” he clarified, “that we expect the same to be true for Brother Humdinger and Sister Swoosh, as well. You will have to use every ounce of your skill and power to defeat them, and we by no means expect them to escape unscathed, but we would greatly appreciate it if they were both still alive when the fight is over.”

 

I nodded, opened my mouth, but then hesitated. When nobody voiced any other concerns, I fixed Opisthia with my steeliest gaze and said, “I’m r—”

 

“I want to interrupt Henry too!” Aesop blurted out.

 

I whirled around and grabbed the leprechaun by his shirt.

 

“Please don’t, please don’t, please don’t!” he begged as I dragged him a few steps away from the others.

 

“Listen,” I said quietly once we were out of earshot, “while I’m doing this, can you sneak back into the Vault of Vulgar Humor without being seen?”

 

Aesop snorted. “Who do you take me for? Ethan?”

 

“Then do it, and scope out the security as best you can. Try to find out if there’s a way around that gate, but don’t do anything yet. Got it?”

 

He saluted me. “Can do, mon capitan!”

 

I glanced back and realized the others were staring at us, so I gave Aesop a quick punch in the arm.

 

“Ow!” he yelped. “What was that—”

 

“And let that teach you to never interrupt me again!” I said loudly enough for them to hear, wagging my finger in his face.

 

He glared at me as I made my way back over to the others. I hoped he would be smart enough to figure out why I’d done that, but I would apologize later if he didn’t. What was important right now was that he did what I’d told him, and I doubted there was a leprechaun on the whoopee cushion in the sky’s green earth that wouldn’t leap at the chance to get some time alone with a room full of forbidden treasures.

 

Oh, sweat water taffy, I thought as the full weight of what I’d just done struck me, I hope I didn’t just inadvertently cause the end of the world or something.

 

It was too late to worry about that, though. I was already marching back toward Opisthia. The puppet cocked his head in what was probably the closest his face could get to showing curiosity.

 

“I’m ready,” I said.

 

“THEN LET THE FIRST TRIAL COMMENCE!” he roared so loudly that my vision went double for a few seconds. Behind him, the double doors began to open.

 

“Henry, are you sure about this?” Ethan asked.

 

“I hope so,” I said, blinking until I could see straight again. “Because I don’t think they’ll let me back out now.”

 

I turned to look as the congregated monks let out an enthusiastic cheer. I suppose I couldn’t blame them. In the hour or so I’d been here, I hadn’t seen a single TV. This was probably the most entertainment they’d had since shadow puppets were invented. More importantly, I noticed that Aesop was already gone. Since nobody was currently screaming about little green thieves, I had no choice but to assume he’d successfully snuck away unseen, which meant I could focus all of my attention on whatever was going to happen next.

 

As the doors swung wider, Jade stepped up and put her hand comfortingly on my shoulder.

 

“We’re here for you, if you need us,” she said softly.

 

I nodded, then stepped forward through the gigantic wooden doors and into the…what had Opisthia called it? The Court of Dueling Wits? I stepped in there.

 

This room, like the Vault, had walls and a ceiling. It was about the size of a basketball court, and pillars ran the length of the room on both sides. Up above me, a wraparound balcony surrounded the entire room, filled with monks hooting and hollering in the most un-monkish way I could imagine.

 

At the far end of the room stood what I could only assume was Brother Humdinger. He was dressed in the same tie-dyed robes as everyone else, but he…was…HUGE! At least eight feet tall, and five feet wide, he grinned stupidly at me from beneath a mop of unruly green hair. Beside him stood a sledgehammer bigger than I was, its handle pointing up at the ceiling. Reaching out with a meaty fist, he grabbed the hammer and hoisted it as if it only weighed as much as a cotton swab.

 

I drew Splatsy, extending her to warhammer form.

 

“HURRR HURRR HURRR,” Brother Humdinger guffawed, his voice so low that I felt it more than I heard it. “LITTLE BABY HAMMER.”

 

My face turned blue with anger. You can insult me. You can insult my friends. But when you insulted my hammer, you had better get to contacting your next of kin. Hold on, though. Hadn’t Opisthia said I was going to be fighting Brother Humdinger and—

 

Motion caught my eye, and I looked up to see another figure stepping up onto the balcony railing about thirty feet above me. She was tall, maybe six and a half feet, and as thin as a parking meter on a diet. With a dramatic flourish, she swept back their hood, letting long purple hair spill down her back, and then stepped off the balcony. She fell gracefully, landing right next to Brother Humdinger. In her hand, she held a long staff. On its end was the head of a small carpenter’s hammer. A spearhammer, I think it was called. She raised it, gave it a skillful twirl, and then fixed me with a cold purple stare.

 

“Sister Swoosh, I presume?” I asked.

 

She didn’t answer.

 

“Okay, cool,” I said. “Good talk.”

 

And then Sister Swoosh shot at me from across the room.