Page 11 of Search for the Lost

Crispin rounded on his brother, his temper getting the better of him. “Just an hour ago, you were saying it was worthless because it was just a bunch of squirrels.”

“Right. And your point?” Aspin glared at him, a challenge in his eyes.

Never underestimate the ability of the ignorant to hold two completely conflicting ideas in their head at the same time. One day, such cluelessness would be the ruin of the Connected Worlds. “They changed it,” Crispin explained, speaking slowly for the dim-witted, “because they deemed that having it so clearly marked was a security risk. This way, it’s much harder to find.” He pushed the door open. “But I think you’ll see that nothing much has changed on the other side⁠—”

He stopped and stared, and his mouth dropped open.

The giant eye at the back of the room that normally represented the Oracle was gone. In its place was what looked like a huge, square flat-screen television that might have been produced on any of a dozen planets in the Connected Worlds. Cords dangled from it, not yet connected to anything.

And squirrels were everywhere.

Some wore hardhats and were jackhammering up parts of the floor. Others were swinging from wires connected to the ceiling. A few were making no attempt at working, instead chasing one another around the compact room and through a small hole under the TV.

Crispin was transfixed. He’d never understood the whole “squirrel” distraction thing, but now he found himself literally speechless, unable to move. His eyes darted back and forth from squirrel to squirrel to squirrel. He felt frozen in place and couldn’t even reach up to pinch himself.

“Um, Crispy…” Leo’s Crispin face loomed in front of his and he snapped his fingers. “You still in there?”

Crispin blinked. This is all so bizarre. “Sorry. Just… so many squirrels.” He closed his eyes. That helped. A little. “Ask to speak to the Oracle.”

“Ask who?” Aspin’s voice.

Leo stage-whispered. “I think he means to ask the squirrels.”

Minkis stirred on Crispin’s shoulder, where he had apparently fallen asleep. “Squirrel Ambassador has to do everything.” He got up on his hind legs. “Squirrel friends, who is acting Oracle today?”

“There’s an acting Oracle?” Leo’s voice vibrated with stunned disbelief, but Crispin did not dare open his eyes lest his chaotic nature get ensnared once again in the squirrelliness that pervaded the room.

“Treebark Acornslayer,” the other squirrels said in unison. There was a mad scrambling sound that included a lot of clanging and a bit of electric sparking, accompanied by the acrid smell of smoke.

Crispin dared to open his eyes. The squirrels were gone. All but one.

He was an old squirrel, his once-brown fur turned the starkest white. He sat up on his hind legs to sniff in the general direction of Crispin and the others, his eyes gray and rheumy. “Who calls upon the Oracle?” His voice was far deeper than one would expect from such a small, clearly ancient squirrel.

“Holy shit.” Leo’s eyes bulged slightly. Crispin suppressed a giggle.

Leo recovered his dignity and puffed out his Crispin chest. “It is I, Crispin, Lord of this place⁠—”

Crispin signaled him to stop. “Try again, like a normal person?”

Leo stared at him, looking adorably hurt. “Really? ’Cause I thought after that deep very not-squirrelly voice⁠—”

“Really. Use your—my regular voice.” He glanced back at Treebark, who had crossed his little arms impatiently.

“Ah, all right.” Leo tried again. “We have come here because, you see, something happened to Crispin and me. Crispin and I. Which one is it? I can never keep those straight….”

“I think it’s me.” Aspin glanced at Crispin for verification, which was gratifying.

“Definitely me. Because ‘something happened to I’ just doesn’t sound right.”

Leo nodded. “Thanks. Something happened to Crispin and I⁠—”

“Me,” Crispin whispered.

“Ahem.” Treebark shook his little head. “The question, please?”

“Ah of course.” Leo looked at a loss.

Crispin glanced at his brother. “Want to get the Thing out?” He pinched himself preemptively before thoughts of the Thing could get his brain going again.