yet, when you saw Sage Rosemary threatened, you defended her without thought to your own safety.”
“That’s different. Rosemary was in trouble —”
“And you were not?”
Peter sat silent.
After a while, Puck said, “Fear, like strong medicine, is good in small doses. Running from the Black Knight was not cowardice, but common sense. What you did in the hall of mirrors, however, was true bravery.”
“Well ... I ...” Peter glanced down at Rosemary. “I think she’s coming around.”
Rosemary opened her eyes. Her headache had disappeared and the world did not twirl around her. Much. “Where are we?”
“On a train.” Peter helped her to sit up. A grey coat that had been over her like a blanket slipped to the floor. Rosemary found herself wearing a loose, straight dress of yellow silk with fringe on its knee-length hem. She kicked off the high-heeled shoes.
Peter’s charcoal-coloured pants matched the coat and he had on a white pressed shirt. Puck wore the matching fedora cocked on his head; the bruise on his temple was not quite lost in its shadow.
Rosemary rubbed the last of the dizziness from her eyes. “Another challenge?” She looked around the compartment. There was a door on one side, its window opening onto the train car’s corridor. On the other side, the countryside clattered past, scrubby fields rolling into the distance. “Where are we going?”
“Further into the story,” Puck began.
“I’m talking about this train, not the story,” snapped Rosemary.
“We didn’t have time to ask,” said Peter. “The characters were still chasing us. We saw this train and just piled on board.”
“You don’t know where we’re going?” said Rosemary.
“The conductor said something about a Magical Mystery Tour.”
“Magical Mystery Tour?” Rosemary raised both eyebrows.
“I know,” said Peter. “We didn’t get to ask him, and he hasn’t come back to collect our tickets — which is actually good ’cause we don’t have any.”
Rosemary rubbed the back of her head, and then her sore neck. She winced at the sudden jab of pain and stopped rubbing. “Peter, do I have paper cuts ...” She mimed grabbing her own throat.
Peter didn’t meet her eyes. He nodded. She let her hand drop.
At the head of the train, the steam engine whistled again. Then they were in the darkness of a tunnel.
There was a sliding sound.
“Was that our compartment door?” asked Peter.
The train continued in the darkness.
“Peter,” said Rosemary. “What’s your hand doing on my knee?”
“My hand isn’t on your knee.”
The train chugged on. There was silence for a minute. Then, “Puck?”
“Yes?” His voice was across the compartment. Not beside her.
Beside Rosemary, somebody let out a baritone laugh.
Pandemonium broke loose.
“There’s someone here with us!” Rosemary shouted.
“Get away!” shouted Peter.
The intruder laughed again.
“He’s choking me!” Peter croaked.
“I got him!” shouted Rosemary. “I got him by the neck!”
“Help!” Peter gurgled.
The train emerged from the tunnel. The sudden light revealed Puck standing up, staring, as Rosemary held Peter in a headlock. She dropped him, and he stumbled to his feet. They looked around at the otherwise empty compartment.
“I don’t get it,” said Peter. “Was somebody here?”
“Maybe,” said a voice.
Peter and Rosemary jumped. They looked around frantically, but could see no one. “Who’s there?” Rosemary’s voice shook. “Where are you?”
“Who indeed?” said the voice. “Where do you think?”
Then movement caught her eye and she found herself staring at the window. The light twisted atop the seat, and she could just make out the shape of a tall man made out of clear glass. She gripped Peter’s wrist and pointed. The two backed into Puck.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” said Peter.
The transparent figure turned. They could see the shape of his hat brim as it bent the light from the window. “Don’t you know?” They couldn’t see if his lips had moved or not.
Puck put a protective hand on Peter’s and Rosemary’s shoulders. “Will you not answer the children’s questions?”
The figure folded his invisible arms. “Can’t they figure things out for themselves?”
“No,” said Rosemary. “We’ve never seen you before — we can hardly see you at all! We don’t know who you are or what you want! Do you have to be so mysterious?”
“Maybe.”
“Wait,” said Peter. “You have to be so mysterious.”
The man stood up. “Yes, that’s right, Peter. It’s my nature. I am made of mystery. I am the Mystery Man!”
Rosemary and Peter looked at each other. “So, what are you doing here?” asked Rosemary.
“What do you think?”
“I don’t want to think!” Rosemary shouted. “I’m too tired to think! I just want answers!”
“You are here to help us, though,” said Peter.
The Mystery Man cocked his head, causing the wood panelling behind him to ripple. “What makes you think so?”
“Well,” said Peter. He eased out of Puck’s protective grip and stepped forward. “You haven’t attacked us. Scared us, yes, and confused us, but you haven’t tried to hurt us.”
“That is thin evidence,” said the Mystery Man, “but evidence enough to form a theory. Well done, Peter. You’re starting to use your mind.”
Rosemary scowled. “If you’re here to help, why don’t you just say so?”
Puck tapped her shoulder. “Be easy, Rosemary. Peter has found a pattern. Use it, and you can talk to this man.”
She frowned up at him. “What do you mean?”
“I think I understand,” said Peter. “Let me try again.” He turned to the transparent figure. “You want to help us, but ... you can’t give much away. We have to figure things out ourselves through the clues you provide.”
“And your evidence?” said the Mystery Man.
“You never answer our questions,” said Peter. “You make us guess, and only tell us if we’re right or wrong.”
“Very good.”
“You’re the reason why they called this train the Magical Mystery Tour,” said Rosemary, brightening.
“Very good, Rosemary,” said the man. “It isn’t too hard, once you get started, to use your mind.”
“But why would you be here on a train?” she asked.
“Why do you think?”
Rosemary clenched her fists and growled.
“There’s something