The Riddles of Epsilon by Christine Morton-Shaw Page B

drug? Never heard of it. Do you want me to look it up? Baz has a copy of the Druggies’ Bible. He’ll be here in a minute—I can ask him.
    JESS: I doubt it’s a drug—not up here.
    AVRIL: So why you asking? Sounds more like a plant to me—or a Latin verb.
    AVRIL HAS NOW LEFT THE CHAT ROOM
    E: You are following a red herring there, dear. Just thought I’d tell you.
    JESS: <> Did you have to kick Avril off just to tell me that?
    E: No. I had to kick her off because your mouth is too big.
    JESS: Well, thank you very much!
    E: You are welcome.
    JESS: Look, what do you want?
    E: I want you to reread Yolandë’s ballad. You haven’t much time—the Greet is getting nearer. You need to understand the words.
    JESS: Why?
    E: And I told you before, you also need to go back to the cottage.
    JESS: Why?
    E: It is time to open the second box.
    JESS: Admit it. You work for the FBI.
    E: I work for someone far more powerful than that.
    JESS: Don’t tell me. The CIA? Captain Kirk of the Starship Enterprise ?
    E: You are being foolish. Just read “The Ballad of Yolandë” again.
    JESS: I can’t boldly go where I’ve gone before ! I’ve read it. Time and time again.
    E: Read it once more. It is important—take it from me. From Epsilon. From E. Or should I say, from V? From V!
    JESS:  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Oh, RIGHT!!! Five! How incredibly stupid of me!
    E: I agree.
    JESS: I find the fifth word, then the fifth word after that, and so on?
    E: At long last! Well—what are you waiting for?
    JESS HAS NOW LEFT THE CHAT ROOM
    MY DIARY
    Â 
    So. Back to, let’s see . . . page fifty-nine of this rapidly growing file!!! “The Ballad of Yolandë.”
    â€œV then V then V then V.”
    Start at the fifth word, then the fifth after that, then the fifth after that. And so on!
    Easy peasy, lemon squeezy!
    It started as fun. This Yolandë with her lovely song. (I had actually wished I could hear the music—thought it’d make an amazing dance!) But now the words are starting to look plain nasty.
    So this is what I got. Every fifth word of the Yolandë song says something quite opposite to the words of the song itself.
    Â 
    I awake in the time of dark choices
    I stir in my wrath
    For the treasures of the deep
    Are hidden from my eyes.
    The workers of my enemy are busy.
    I will call my faithful out
    From east, west, north, and south.
    I sip weakness like nectar—
    Crush honesty to dust.
    My bone hands bring lies and death.
    I must possess!
    My black heart sows ruin;
    To ruin is my delight.
    Mark my chanting, travelers—
    Flee from my song of beauty!
    Â 
    Oh, YUCK!
    Whoever this Yolandë is—I’m dreading meeting her.
    TWO DAYS LATER
    Just when I think I can handle all of this, something else happens that really freaks me out.
    Mom and Dad had gone to bed early, so I sneaked downstairs for a midnight feast. All that working out the “V then V” bit left me tired and hungry. But halfway through a box of chocolate cookies, I heard it. The weirdest, eeriest singing I’ve ever heard. Muffled, as if behind several doors. It set my hair on end.
    I opened the kitchen door very quietly—and there was Mom, sneaking out the front door. She had her dressing gown on. She was humming in a secret, happy way. Instantly, rage rose up inside my chest and grew and grew. Just like before—sneaking off to meet someone. And I’d followed her that time last summer and caught them at it.Told Dad. So I followed her again.
    In the moonlight, she walked straight down the driveway and out of the big front gates. Here she turned left, taking the path that leads to the lake.
    I followed her a little distance away, keeping to the shadows. But even when the clouds came to cover the moon so that I