"If we keep moving in this direction, we should come across the Smuggler's Trail," Skylar said.

"We still haven't talked about what was written on the floor of our dungeon cell," Aldwyn said as the group continued onward. "What if it was a clue?"

"Spuowbip wjots sby udpjbm uosdwoyt," Skylar recited from memory.

"How do you do that?" Gilbert asked, impressed even though he had seen Skylar's perfect recall on display many times before.

"I'm not sure what the words mean," Skylar continued. "Could be elvish. It also sounds like the ancient tongue of the driftfolk."

"I don't think I mentioned it before, but when the words formed, they were written backward, from right to left," Aldwyn said.

"That's how the elvish script their sentences," Skylar said. "Perhaps along the way to Kailasa we can find someone to help us translate it. Or maybe the Alchemist can do it himself."

As the familiars walked deeper into the forest, Aldwyn could sense that they were not alone. But each time he turned, all he heard was the faint rustling of leaves. He remembered the last time he had traveled here and how this enchanted place hid things right before its visitors' very eyes.

Skylar led them farther still, until they came to a well-worn dirt path. This was the Smuggler's Trail. Hoof marks and dry leaves covered the road.

"Let's lie low for a few hours," Skylar said. "Like I said, whoever comes looking for us won't be able to find us here."

She gestured to an oak tree that provided ample cover. The Three walked beneath it and started to settle in. But just before Aldwyn got comfortable, he spied a gathering beyond the oak, one he hadn't seen before. Humans, animals, and magical creatures of every kind crowded the grounds. Wooden shelters built into the tree trunks and tents made from old linens and tapestries encircled a campfire. Trolls and fairies sat side by side before the flames. A pair of tiny hippopotamuses were bartering with a slithering mound of moss.

Skylar and Gilbert were now standing beside Aldwyn, staring at the sight.

One of the fairies, who was broad-shouldered and bearded, flitted over and landed on a twig near Aldwyn's face.

"Welcome," he said. "If you can see us, then you must be hiding from something as well. The Smuggler's Den only reveals itself to those who wish not to be found. No one will ask you any questions about what you're running away from here. And as long as you mean no harm to the others, you can stay as long as you like."

"We won't be long," Skylar said.

"Well, if you're hungry, we were just putting some coconut meat over the fire," the fairy said.

"We do have a big day ahead of us," Skylar said.

"Of course, you'll have to contribute something in return," the fairy said.

"And what exactly did you have in mind?" Skylar asked.

The familiars, with bellies filled, scrubbed a stack of pots and pans that stretched halfway up a tree, using wet rags and sticks to clean the grimy cookware. It seemed a fair trade-off, especially since they didn't know where their next full meal was going to come from.

Nearby a gold-backed baboon with a shackle still dangling from one of its wrists tended to the campfire, ensuring that the cooking flames would continue to burn until their next meal. He glanced over to Aldwyn, Skylar, and Gilbert.

"Some of these people have been here so long they don't recognize you," the baboon said. "Not me. I've seen the statues they erected in Split River. I know it's impolite to ask, but what are the Prophesized Three doing here?"

"It's just a big misunderstanding actually," Skylar said.

"Whatever it is, it must be pretty bad for you to be here," the baboon replied.

"No matter," Skylar said. "It will all be righted soon."

"Righted, perhaps," the baboon said. "But not forgotten. Accusations, whether they be true or false, are not washed out so easily. It takes more than truth to clean the stains that are left behind."

It was as if the baboon knew Aldwyn's worst fear.

"You can do a thousand good acts, but they'll remember you for the one bad. Even if it's just rumor and innuendo."

"That doesn't seem fair, does it?" Aldwyn asked.

"No, I suppose not," the baboon replied.

Aldwyn reflected on everything he and his friends had already been through. He wasn't going to let one false accusation wipe away all the good they had done.

"What about you?" Gilbert asked. "What's with the shackle?"

The baboon stoked the flames again.

"I was taken from my family and sold into the service of the Cyrus Brothers Traveling Animal Show," he said angrily. Aldwyn knew how hard it was to be separated from family. That's why he was so eager to find Yeardleya"once all this was over, of course. "They chained me up pretty tight, too. They wanted me to dance for peanuts. But I learned a few tricks from the troop's master escapist, a land octopus who goes by the name Torgo. Thought I'd hide here for a few months."

The fairy returned when the washup was done.

"Same deal goes for lunch," he said.

Aldwyn, Skylar, and Gilbert set down their dishrags and sticks. They'd started back for the tree they planned to lie low beneath when they heard cheers and curses coming from a motley crew of ruffians gathered nearby. Curious, the Three stopped to look closer.

A bull's-eye had been nailed to a tree, and each player stood about ten feet away, throwing their own uniquely striped slug at the target.

"Is that darts?" Gilbert asked.

"Those don't look like darts to me," Aldwyn replied.

Unlike the traditional version of the game, the slugs moved after they made contact, sometimes inching closer to the center, sometimes squirming farther away. If one of the slugs got too close to the other, they would fight until one was swallowed. Once everyone had taken their turn, the player with the slug nearest to the bull's-eye was declared the victor.

"I win," a long-armed sloth exclaimed.

She collected the pile of loot that had been wagered. The others appeared downright livid.

"Look," Skylar said quietly to Aldwyn and Gilbert. "A pair of elvin pirates."

"We'll definitely want to steer clear of them," Gilbert said.

"No," Skylar replied. "They speak elvish. And they'll be able to read elvish."

"And you're going where with this?" Gilbert asked.

"The clue on the dungeon floor," Aldwyn said, jumping in.

"Ah. Yes. The clue." Gilbert nodded.

Skylar and Aldwyn shared an exasperated look.

"Let's see if we can't ask for their help," Skylar said.

The familiars approached the two elvin pirates, one of whom was covering a slug in his own spit.

"I said lightly drooled, Scoot. Too much saliva makes them wobble."

"Brinn, if you don't like the way I spittle your sluggot, do it yourself."

"Excuse us," Skylar said. "We were wondering if we might ask you a favor?"

"Pirates aren't in the business of doing favors," Brinn replied. "We do things for gold and cider."

"Well, we have nothing to offer," Skylar said.

"Then take your wings and beak and flap off," he said.

"We'd be willing to make you a wager," Aldwyn said.

The pirates' eyes lit up. Now Aldwyn had their attention.

"You want to challenge us to a game of sluggots?" Scoot asked. "Did you hear that, Brinn? Sounds like a bet."

"It sure does," Brinn replied with a grin. "So, what exactly are we playing for?"

"If we win, information," Aldwyn said.

"And if I win?" Brinn asked.

Aldwyn clearly hadn't thought that far in advance. He looked over to the oak tree and spotted Skylar's leather satchel.

"We've got a satchel filled with rare components from Horteus Ebekenezer's lost Xylem garden," Aldwyn said. "You can take your pick of one."

"I want the whole bag," Brinn said. "And the frog, too."

Gilbert croaked. "Guess we'll need a new plana""

"Deal," Aldwyn said.

Skylar seemed just as surprised as Gilbert.

"Who's throwing for you?" Scoot asked.

Skylar held up her wings.

"I won't be a very good shot with these feathers."

"And my paws will fare no better," Aldwyn said.

They both looked to Gilbert.

"Me?" he asked. "I'm nervous enough as it is."

"Don't worry, buddy," Aldwyn said. "You'll do fine."

"Get yourself a sluggot out of the bucket," Scoot said.

The rest of the ruffians had stepped aside to watch. Brinn was already standing by the line drawn in the dirt. Gilbert stuck a webbed hand into the slug pail and removed one of the slimy critters.

"I'll go first," Brinn said.

He took aim at the bull's-eye, squeezing the sluggot between his fingers. He drew his hand back and fired. The slug tumbled through the air, making a hideous smacking sound as it hit the target. It was high and outside, but after a moment, the creature began to move, squirming its way toward the center. It stopped just short of the innermost ring.

Brinn's toss did nothing to calm Gilbert's nerves. The tree frog stepped up next. The slug was desperately trying to slither out of his grasp.

"Look on the bright side, little guy," Gilbert said. "If I wasn't about to throw you, I'd probably be eating you."

Gilbert swung back his arm and flung the sluggot into the air. It went flying. Aldwyn could see that it was veering off course, so he gave it a little nudge with his telekinesis. Maybe it was cheating, but the queen's life was on the line. And time wasn't exactly on their side. The slug hit the bull's-eye. There were gasps from the spectators. Scoot and Brinn couldn't believe it. Neither could Gilbert or Skylar.

"Move, sluggot!" Brinn shouted.

Gilbert's slug looked like it was ready to make a slow dash for the other end of the target. But Aldwyn wasn't going to let that happen. He took mental hold of the critter's rear and held it in place. After a bit of struggle, the sluggot gave up.

"We have a winner," the long-armed sloth declared.

Brinn slapped Scoot across the back of his head.

"I told you it was too much saliva!"

"I don't know what happened," Scoot replied sheepishly.

Aldwyn and Skylar came up on either side of Gilbert and gave him pats on the back.

"Beginner's luck, I guess," Gilbert said.

"Must have been," Aldwyn said.

The Three walked over to Brinn to collect on their bet.

"So what is it that you want to know?" he asked bitterly. "I don't know nothing about any treasure. And if I did, I can't promise I'd be honorable."

"It has nothing to do with that," Skylar said. "Spuowbip wjots sby udpjbm uosdwoyt. Does that mean anything to you?"

"Sounds like gibberish if you ask me," he replied.

"That's not elvish?" Skylar asked.

"None that I've ever heard."

"Perhaps I'm not p.r.o.nouncing it correctly," Skylar said. "First word is spelled s-p-u-o-w-b-i-p."