All of us are many things at once. A baker and a mother and a postage stamp enthusiast. A Magician and a Detective and a mediocre clarinetist. Combinations and re-combinations of who we are shift and turn depending on the moment and who is perceiving it. But a select few citizens of the 7 Layers of Space exist literally as more than one person at a time.
Mr. Caruthers the wooden ghost monkey is one of them.
***
Much to Theodore's surprise, Mr. Caruthers stood on top of the Magician Detective's desk pointing a lightly curved sword directly at his head.
"It's sports gear!" the monkey said with enthusiasm. His train hat had been replaced with an old leather football helmet, and he emphasized his point with a wobble of his head and a tap of his sword. He seemed pleased.
"Um, hello again, Mr. Caruthers. I'm glad to see you, but, um...I was trying to do what you told me to do. I was just leaving? For Gup? Actually, I could have used your help a few minutes ago..." He stood staring at the monkey and his sword, cautious and hoping for some assistance, a familiar awkward silence increasing between them. Mr. Caruthers was not volunteering any new information. "Did you want to come with me or something? Would you mind putting away that sword?"
"Ah ha ha! Couldn't come along if I wanted to, little friend. Nope and nosiree y'see, check it out," he tucked the sword between his legs and raised his arms up with pride, as if he had just scored a goal, "I'm The Guardian of the Door!" He made a little "HAHHH"" sound to imitate a crowd's cheers.
Theodore stood still, uncomprehending. "I know I'm new to all this stuff, but when we were on the roof, didn't you unintelligibly yell at me that I had to destroy the guardian?"
"Sounds like something I might say up there, yep." He looked to the side and counted some fingers, as if figuring out an equation. "Heck, I'm probably up there right now, forgettin' to say other stuff. Bein a multi-dimensional ghost is dead weird, kid. You get all...chopped up... Not really in my best interestings to get destroyed, mind you, but sometimes one thing don't agree with t'other, if you catch my drift?" He took a moment to scratch his bottom, which Theodore presumed was how he thought even more deeply. "Well ain't this a tricky bit o pudding?" He tossed his ancient sword soundlessly from his paw to his tail and back. "It adds up to the same pile o paint: I can't let you go through that little red door, there, kiddo." He pointed the sword at the door, which stood slightly ajar, and then squarely at Theodore again.
"What the heck?! Dude! I didn't want to do this anyways!"
"Hup hup hup! Here's the rub, little lad. Man or monkey or ghost, we often wear many hats," he tapped his helmet again. "Me? It's my job to protect The Grid, The House, and each Little Red Door inside her." He counted off the duties on his little monkey fingers as he named them. "In that there ancient order," he winked broadly as he said the last. "I'm made to be many things at once, which is why they got me for the job! Say... what took you so long to get on up here, dangit?"
"I don't know, Mr. Caruthers. I didn't feel sure? I mean, you seem ok, but I don't even really know you. Nanaface and The Magician Detective don't exactly seem on board with the whole 'send a little kid through a mysterious door to save the day' thing... And I... I can barely keep up with what's going on."
"Fair 'nuff, fair 'nuff," he said, cleaning some imaginary dust from the desk with his forepaw. "I'm glad you're thinking fer yerself. That's a useful affliction."
"And then The Magician Detective decided to teach me how to be a Magician Detective. Which turns out is maybe boring... but then I also talked to this weird guy through the tee vee. But it turns out you were both right."
"Both right? Who's that? How's that?"
"It doesn't matter, I'm pretty sure I have to go to Gup. To save The 7 Layers of Space. Find the Brick. Right?" Part of him desperately wanted this approval.
"Hep hep and yep, I s'pose. Buuuuut it just brings us back around to the same old problem-o. I can't let you through that door either way." The sword slashed forward in the monkey's tail and gave a sharp SWISH in readiness. "Remember what I told you, now..."
Theodore stood, somehow knowing in his heart that this was not a game, that Mr. Caruthers would do his duty and stop him. Maybe even kill him. Theodore knew what he was supposed to do.
"No," he stated, feeling outside of himself again, his mouth dry and ashy. "I won't. Mr. Caruthers. I can't."
He dropped his theatrical tone to say, "Dog-eat-dog and monkey-eat-little-kid world, Theo-DOOR." He hopped forward, getting back into character, "Guess I'll just be stabby-stabbin' you, then, not that I relish the mess I'll be makin, as I'm the maid in here, too. No hard feelings, we all got our jobs to do..."
He aimed the blade straight at Theodore's heart.
"Wait!" Theodore yelled. The monkey paused and Theodore kicked the spinny chair at him, trying to defend himself and escape.
"Yeee haw!" In a flash Mr. Caruthers scurried up and down the bookcases, papers exploding behind him in his wake. It was a tiny office, but Mister Caruthers was making good use of the vertical space. He paused sporadically to hurl a variety of sharp objects Theodore's way. A glowing orb whizzed past his head and Theodore dove beneath the desk and popped out the other side. Theodore grabbed at anything he could find and threw back, hurling errant tomes, maps, and various magical globes and coins in the monkey's general and ever-changing direction with far less efficiency. The room was a blur of papers, shatters, and crashes. The small number of items that managed to come anywhere near Mr. Caruthers were dodged with the dexterity of a gymnast on a day off. The monkey swung from the jingling chandelier to the desk and then bounced between the bookcases. He hurled the sword between his legs and it spun perfectly and landed with a sickening THUD burying into the wood next to Theodore's ear. Theodore dashed away and the monkey was already swinging to recover it in a fluid arc. He tossed the blade from hand to foot to tail, again, clearly having a good time.
The twirling sword whizzed by his head again and again like a boomerang, just missing his head, his leg, and once, his nose. It whizzed by again and he felt a sudden bite of pain in his left arm. And then he saw blood.
In a moment all action ceased and he fell to the ground, grabbing his small wet arm and crying out. "I didn't want to do this! I don't know what any of this is! I don't know who I am!" he yelled through tears. He felt small and alone. The blade had only grazed him, just enough to cut through his coat and skin, but the pain knocked the wind and will out of him, and he held still on the floor, a crumbled up child, sobbing.
Mr. Caruthers leapt to the top of the desk and slowly drew his sword one last time. He looked sad as he wound up for a final slash. "Sorry, kid. You can quit if you wanna, door's right there," he gestured with an open arm, and Theodore knew he meant it. "I guess the 7 Layers would be kinda scrumped. But you can turn this ship around and head back to class. No harm no foul no sass."
He thought about it, about just going back to the comforts of his routine. And in a flash he saw her again. Isobel. As she pulled him up the stairs and pushed him into places he'd never been before. He could almost feel her there, willing him through that door.
He popped up and threw another book at the monkey, and this one knocked him squarely on the forehead with a THUD.
"Ow!" Mister Caruthers yelled and lunged at Theodore with the blade. It arced down and he pulled off his backpack and raised it to protect himself.
That was when Theodore probably should have died. But that's not what happened, or this would be a much shorter book. What happened was, having connected not with the soft blue denim but with the hard magical watch inside, with a sharp crackle of blue and white light, the Ancient Sword of The Guardian of the Door broke in two.
"Dang it, well this is embarassin' and fortunate simultaneously!" Mr. Caruthers cursed.
Time stood still, or at least as still as it does when you don't have a dragon around to actually freeze it for you. Theodore's mind returned to a moment before he had come to this House. A short time, and a more savage time. He had been small, and he had survived.
As quickly as the monkey, he leapt forward, grabbed the purple leviathan-foot trash can, and threw it over Mr. Caruthers' head. "Hey now!" he let out a muffled cry as stray bits of paper, metal, and mossy cookies cascaded around his head.
Theodore hurled his whole body at the monkey's tail, grabbing for the broken blade and knocking it away. The struggle was short. Mister Caruthers fought back. He had to, it was his sworn duty. The ferocious boy simply got the best of him.
In a moment of transcendent panic, Theodore's mind filled with the inter-twining lines of his drawings...like all of his drawings at once, but brighter, blazing, on fire and erupting.
Without warning, a ball of energy that looked quite a lot like those he'd seen come from both The Magician Detective and Colonel Truncheon, and even more like the energy that had just broken the sword, leapt from his hand and into the belly of the monkey.
Theodore jumped in alarm at his own power and then let out two tears and a deeply sad shout as sparks ignited between them. The monkey fell flat to the floor, pulling the garbage can off with a flourish.
"That's a good lad," he said with a smile, and died again.
The door to the Office swung open and flooded the room with light, sending billows of smoke running and revealing a bewildered Magician Detective.
"What on Clank? Theodore? Where are your books? Why are you here?" He surveyed the scene and his eyes widened. "Did you kill my monkey?"
Startled, Theodore grabbed for his bag, stumbled backwards, and fell through the little red door, and into another Layer of Space.
***
The Magician Detective stood staring at his messy office, a dead monkey, and an open door. He sighed. He walked up to the red door to Gup and closed it again, shaking his head.
"You have one job to do," he said to the crumpled-up monkey with a light kick.
The monkey's corpse held still in response.
"One job!" he threw a spark of yellow energy at Mister Caruthers as if he were brushing away a fly.
"Reeeeeoooooooooo!" the monkey gasped, air filing his lungs as he came back to life yet again...
"You know that's not true," he whispered, barely able to talk, holding up his fingers. "I have three."
***
END PART 1: THE HOUSE OF THE MAGICIAN DETECTIVE
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