Volanta

Pippa spent the next three weeks trying to track down Patrick Gleeson, the author of the Barty Brave books. She finally learned that he was living near the coast, in a tiny town called Trillby's Cove. It was so small it couldn't even reasonably be called a "town." It was more of a fishing village. He and his mother apparently lived in a two-story house at the top of a sandy hill, according to a woman that Pippa had stumbled upon entirely by chance in the hospital. She had spotted Pippa with one of the books, since she had been re-reading all of them to try and remember as many details as she could about Volanta.

"Oh my, I haven't seen one of those books in years!" the woman had exclaimed in her wavering voice. "My son used to play with little Roland Fishweiler."

"Who?" Pippa had stared at her blankly, wondering if perhaps the poor woman was a bit touched in the head.

"Little Roland wrote those books. His mother used to go on and on about them. Even got me a copy for my grandchildren. But Roland went a little funny after he got back from his travels, you know. He was always a bit of an odd boy, something not quite right about him. But he got even stranger after that. He packed up his mother and they moved to some tiny place by the sea. Before she left his dear mother told me they lived on a hill, so she could always watch the fishermen sailing in and out. I can't remember the name of the place now. Tip...no. Trinity...Trip..."

Pippa had promised the old woman she'd be back, and promptly raced home, barreling into the library like a satin-clad tornado and snatching one of the map books off the shelf before running out again, calling, "hello Oliver and Daddy! Goodbye Oliver and Daddy!" as they both gaped after her as if she were a lunatic. She went back to the hospital and flipped through the book as she sat at the woman's bedside, finding every small town along the coast that started with a "T" until the woman said, "Trillby! That's the one, I'm sure of it."

"Mrs. Rudolph, you have been exceedingly helpful." Pippa planted a kiss on the woman's cheek, making sure to buy her a huge bouquet of brightly colored flowers before she went home.

"I know where the author of the Barty Brave books lives!" she told Nigel excitedly. She was practically bouncing, she was so pleased. "Oliver and I can go talk to him, see what he has to say about Volanta; if there's any truth to it. It's possible the magic stuff could have been exaggerated for the sake of the books, but there could still very well be an island like this that could hold the secret of the Nthuri."

"You've really taken to this idea, haven't you?" Nigel peered at her curiously. "I don't think I've ever seen such a sparkle in your eyes before."

"Daddy, I've dreamed of going on some grandiose adventure ever since I was a little girl. Not everyone gets to explore uncharted corners of the world."

"Ah, my little adventurer. Your mother would be proud of you."

Pippa kissed his cheek. "Tell Oliver we've found the mysterious author. It shouldn't take more than a few days by train to reach Trillby's Cove. I've already bought the tickets and we can leave the day after tomorrow."

She spent the next several hours trying to choose which outfits to bring on the train ride to Trillby's Cove, appraising her new wardrobe with a critical eye. She had gladly disposed of her old, boring, stuffy dresses that she had worn to try and stay as invisible as possible, and now she had dresses in all sorts of styles and colors. She wanted to bring the most flattering travel-suitable clothes she owned, and only after she had picked through every article of clothing she possessed and packed away several dresses did it occur to her that it didn't matter what she was wearing; Oliver wasn't going to notice and probably wouldn't look at her once on the entire journey.

Pippa sighed, snapping her trunk closed and letting her head fall against it with a soft thud. If being stuck together on a train and then on a ship didn't get Oliver to finally see her then she didn't know what she would do. She didn't have any other ideas. Maybe this little excursion would finally get him to realize she wasn't some unambitious, simpering thing like other girls she'd gone to school with. Maybe now he'd finally acknowledge her existence, and not just as a nuisance.

And if not, she could always run away to her family's summer home and stay there forever and never have to see him again. Pippa rose the next morning with a sense of anticipation and determination. She dressed smartly in a ruffled silk blouse tucked into a sleek black skirt, her long hair twisted into a sensible knot at the base of her neck, and a hat with a jaunty little white feather in it. Then she went to wait in the parlor while Nigel told Oliver they'd found the author of the Barty Brave books. She was casually flipping through a newspaper when they came down from the library.

"Ah, good. Pippa, you're all ready to go," Nigel said.

"Where are you going?" Oliver asked, noticing her trunk.

"To Trillby's Cove, with you," Pippa informed him crisply, setting aside her newspaper and standing.

"You're going with me?" he said incredulously and she tried not to be stung by the look on his face.

"Of course I'm going. Daddy has been banned from hard travel, and one of the Glasswell's needs to be there to keep an eye on things. I'll also be accompanying you to Volanta."

"I'll arrange for a ship and a crew while you're gone," Nigel said. He clapped Oliver on the shoulder. "I'm proud of you, Oliver. I wish you the best of luck. And do take care of my Pippa, won't you?"

"I don't need anyone taking care of me," Pippa said, pursing her lips.

"I'll look after her," Oliver mumbled, not seeming overly thrilled with the idea.

"I don't need looking after," Pippa insisted, disgruntled. The footman helped load hers and Oliver's trunks into the carriage as the two of them climbed inside.

"Why are you going?" Oliver asked her. "This hardly seems like the sort of thing you would be interested in. It's going to be a rough journey."

Pippa glared at him. "I am not so fragile as you might think, Oliver. I insisted to Daddy that I come along and he agreed, so you may as well accept it."

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Pippa reached into the small bag she was carrying and handed him his train ticket.

"His real name is Roland Fishweiler," she said and Oliver's eyes snapped up, his brows furrowing.

"What?"

"The author of Barty Brave," she explained. "His real name is Roland Fishweiler."

"Oh." Oliver looked like he didn't know what to think of that. They were mostly silent the rest of the way, and even once they'd gotten settled in their cabin. Oliver was reading over a worn copy of a Barty Brave book and Pippa gazed out the window, her heart leaping as the whistle sounded and the train lurched forward and rolled down the tracks. Her hands twisted the fabric of her skirt with nervous excitement. She didn't know what awaited her in Trillby's Cove, or out across the ocean. But she couldn't wait to find out.