Free The Hundred: Fall of the Wents by Jennifer Prescott Page A

Tully thought of abandoning the bucket, but he clung to it stubbornly. It was his only artifact from home—the one thing left that he had of Hindrance.
    Hindrance! It had been only a few days past that she had given him the puzzle box for his dream day. He had not thought of it since he had tucked it away. He stopped in the snow and brought it out now. The polished wood seemed like a warm light in this grey, blank world. He turned it over and over, searching for a key. He had spent many happy hours solving Hindrance’s toys, as he had the telescope, the eyeglasses, and others she had given him. He remembered boxes that had revealed small metal flowers, poems, and more. No doubt this box had such a small treat within it. It would be a comfort, but would do them little good. He did not have the luxury of time to sit down and trick out its secrets.
    Copernicus felt like an icy coil of metal within Tully’s vest, unmoving, and he suddenly feared the snake would not make it much longer. None of it made sense. Yet, the Council had agreed he had a task to do, and he had been sent here to do it. He shook the box again and pressed at each side with his fingers as they walked.
    “I see nothing,” said Aarvord. “This is an abandoned world.”
    “It can’t be,” said Tully. He wondered why Hen-Hen had not given them any food, or even some hint of what they needed to do and what they would encounter. They had been given the warm robes that now prevented them from certain death, so Hen-Hen must have known that they were traveling northward. Maybe Hen-Hen, like the rest of the Council, was evil, and meant for them to disappear where no one could find them.
    “Why do you think the Council was made up of our enemies?” he asked Aarvord. “What does it mean? Did they send us here to dispose of us?”
    “I don’t think so,” said Aarvord. “They might as well have killed us where we stood and saved themselves the trouble. I think we were made to think that they were enemies. It was what we saw, but not necessarily what was real.”
    “That Scratchling looked real enough,” said Copernicus in a husky voice, and Tully was glad to hear that the snake had some life left in him.
    Tully felt a slight tickle across his cheek, and realized that Fangor had finally abandoned his ear. The Louse did a quick dance to stave off the cold and Tully longed to slap his own cheek.
    “Bees all gone?” squeaked Fangor. “Dead, yes?”
    “They died,” said Tully shortly. “Some made it and flew off.”
    “Grand. I’ll tuck in here, then. Your ear is too hot,” said Fangor. “I’ve been fairly roasted since we left. It’s horrible.” Fangor gave a quick jump and landed inside the bucket, where he ducked under the edge of the little wooden telescope and vanished.
    “So sorry,” said Tully, icily. Secretly, he was glad to have Fangor with them as it made their company one larger. Such as it was.
    Suddenly Fangor gave a loud shriek (which sounded as loud as a Louse’s scream can sound, which isn’t much) and emerged from the bucket. He hopped to the edge and from there to Tully’s shoulder.
    “A bee! A bee!” he wailed. “Coming to eat me!”
    “What bee?” said Aarvord. “The corpse of a bee, more likely!”
    Tully set the bucket down and Aarvord reached in and rolled the telescope over. There it was. It did not look very fearsome. Cowering and shivering, a small Dull Bee was hiding in the very bottom of the bucket. It was barely alive. Its legs moved feebly. How had it gotten here, among its bigger and more intelligent cousins?
    As far as Tully knew, Dull Bees could not talk. They were assumed to be quite stupid. Aarvord ate them for breakfast, even. Still, he bent down to this one and said: “Friend, are you all right?”
    The bee did not reply, but merely waved its antennae weakly. It was clearly near dead with cold, and Tully felt that saving its life was crucial. It alone knew where they were, and where its more clever