Harris Gate regarded Alicia critically. Alicia felt as if she were in the Principal’s office for something she didn’t do. Nervously, she stared at the reflection of Harris in his highly polished desk. Curious, thought Alicia, as he glared. He seems to be grinning up at me. How can that be?
Suddenly, Harris burst out laughing. “I can never hold that pose very long, dear. Don’t look so mortified. I was just thinking about where I should begin. Perhaps I shall begin with who we are. Ah, here is the pie. Just put it on the desk, Theodore.”
“Of course, sirrah.” A servant in an impeccable white tuxedo placed three plates and a steaming gray pie next to Sarah and proceeded to cut it into three wedges. After serving the pastry, the servant backed out of the room, bowing low enough to blend into the plush white carpet.
Alicia looked at the unappetizing plate and decided to ignore it. Instead, she looked around, wondering if this whole confusing affair would be cleared up in time for dinner. Strangely, no clocks were in the room. She was morbidly curious, yet still too uncomfortable to speak out of turn.
“My dear, you look so confused. Let me begin at the beginning. As I said, perhaps I shall begin with who we are. Ah, have some pie.”
Alicia pouted. Since she could not get out of eating pie, she grabbed her fork and speared a small bit of the glop. Sarah and Harris Gate looked at her expectantly. Quickly, she stuffed the mess into her mouth. An impossible combination of sensations assaulted her. Steam heat. Cinnamon heat. The crunch of orange rinds between her teeth. A slimy trickle of warm, orange-flavored syrup down her throat. Déjà vu.
“Wow!” Alicia didn’t know what else to say.
“Exactly,” beamed Harris.
“Right!” cooed Sarah.
“Now you know who Sarah is—the greatest chef in creation!”
“You made this?” Alicia raised an eyebrow.
Sarah sniffed, “Why? Don’t you believe Harris?”
Alicia, suddenly comfortable, laughed. “No, no. Of course, I believe him. It’s just, this pie is so delicious!”
“Aren’t you sweet! I do what I can.” Sarah puffed out her chest.
Harris interrupted, “Yes. Right. Now, I suppose you passed a cluster of buildings on your way here?”
“Why, yes, we did. Just beyond the bee tree.” Alice wondered if the little gray creature had really meant to say that there were keys, rather than bees, in the tree. She didn’t want to sound ridiculous, though.
“Right!” Harris nodded cheerfully.
“Exactly,” affirmed Sarah. “That is the Square Knot Complex. Puzzles are created there for export. Harris worked in the administrative headquarters until our rulers were taken.” A mask of sorrow interrupted Sarah’s countenance as she finished.
“How awful!” said Alicia.
“Well, I have to work somewhere!” Harris was offended.
“No. How awful that your rulers were taken. Evil Editor must be a horrible person.”
“Exactly!” fumed Sarah.
“Right,” chimed Harris. “As if I didn’t already have my own troubles—I’ve had to neglect my rounds in order to manage this state of affairs. This estate of theirs must have a manager around.”
“I thought this was your home,” Alicia raised a questioning eye, briefly ignoring her pie.
“This old hut?” Sarah laughed. “Yes, this is our home. Puzzleland is the rulers’ estate.”
Harris snorted. “Until the Evil Editor exiled them and forced us to assume their duties.”
Alicia popped another forkful of pie into her mouth. The steamy, spicy, slimy syrup slid smoothly down her throat. Déjà vu. “Elu par cette crapule.”
“Right! Exclaimed Sarah.
“Exactly! You are quite astute,” Harris beamed, a happy principal recognizing that the troubled child was, in fact, a little genius. “We were indeed elected by this creep. Her name is Taupe Trapue LeClerc, though she prefers to be called T. T., as you might expect.”
Alicia was befuddled; she didn’t know French.
“I have a simple job, actually, my dear. Well, it was simple until the Evil Editor began tampering with the memos. You see, I give out supplies. Each office sends a daily memo to one of the supply rooms. I must deliver the requested supplies to the right office. Now that the Evil Editor erases the room numbers and replaces them with vague descriptions, I must spend all day running in circles. The windowless office with no fan, indeed!” Harris harrumphed indignantly with fingers forming air quotes.
Alicia burped softly. “Ooh, excuse me. That is amazingly evil.”
Harris laughed. “Indeed. The Administration Building is a maze on three levels. You can walk all around, visiting every office without once crossing your path!”
Sarah joined in the laughter. “Remember the day I brought hot pretzels for everyone? People were running hither and thither, up and down, unable to find me and my cart until you told them to follow their noses.”
Alicia sensed an intriguing puzzle. “Do the descriptions help?”
Harris stopped laughing abruptly. “No!” He held up his hands when Alicia jumped. “I’m sorry, dear. It’s just that I don’t have a head for figuring out stuff like half the light bulbs are delivered before entering the second supply room. That’s one of the things we’re hoping you can fix. The Evil Editor has been transforming the output of nearly every building in Square Knot!”
Alicia gave them her best look of commiseration. That wasn’t too difficult to accomplish, as she had no idea how she was supposed to help. She didn’t have to wait long to find out.
“Now, the only building the Evil Editor has been unable to sabotage is the Crypt. That’s where I went to create the Gateway puzzles. Those are so devilishly hard, once the Crypt togglers have finished, even old T. T. can’t crack them.” Harris sat back; his job done.
Alicia perked up. “So, you need me to solve another cryptogram?”
Sarah smiled. “No dear, that was just our distress signal. We’re going to hide you in the Crypt so that you can figure out the Evil Editor’s spell. You see, T. T. LeClerc is a victim of her own cleverness. The Crypt togglers have informed us that she has used the same method to sabotage the entire complex. She is nothing more than a two-bit hustler.”
“I suppose I can help. It’s like a chess match.” Alicia sat up fully straight.
Sarah rubbed her hands gleefully. “Yes, finally, someone to undo this stalemate!”
Alicia forked the last of the pie into her mouth. “No, it is opposition.”
Part 4: Photo Symphonies
