Franklin simply couldn't resist the temptation.
It was Winter Festival time again; Franklin knew it was coming soon when he saw Chá Huā, the young human female, and her mate, Bái Shān, pushing cartload after cartload of boxes filled with colorful, shiny decorations into the Annex workroom. Franklin squealed with delight and bolted from one box to the next, poking his long head inside each one to see the wondrous baubles inside that he knew were soon going to be hung on a tall pine tree.
Not long after the last load of decorations arrived, the magic door glowed to life and swung open, allowing a bitterly cold blast of air to enter the warm room, sending a chill up the little dragon's back. Ezekiel, Jacob, Eve and Flynn clomped into the room, struggling to pull a huge tree through the door, its branches bound up roughly with rope, with much shouting and tugging. When it was finally inside, the magic door swung closed again, and the humans collapsed onto various chairs, panting to catch their breath. Bái Shān appeared with a large tray of steaming mugs for everyone, and they were gratefully accepted by the tired, cold humans. There was a mug for Chá Huā, also, and she gave her mate a happy kiss as a reward. Bái Shān had a mug, too; he poured a bit of its contents into a shallow saucer and set it down on the floor for Franklin. The tea dragon bounded over and sniffed it, instantly recognized the scent of what humans called "hot chocolate", a special drink that was always made at this time of year. Franklin yipped excitedly and began to lap up the rapidly cooling chocolate, even going so far as to lick the saucer clean. When he was finished, he turned his attention to the others.
The others had already placed the tree into a special stand. Jake pulled out a knife and cut the rope binding the tree's branches, and they fell back into place, sending bits of snow and ice onto the wooden floor. Eve, the tall yellow-haired female, quickly mopped up the melting snow while the others began to pull out strings of lights and colorful balls. The young humans had to chase the intensely curious Franklin away from the boxes several times, shouting his name, clapping their hands at him, even stomping a foot in order to frighten him off. Finally, Bái Shān rumbled quietly but sternly for the excited little dragon to come away from the boxes. Not the Franklin actually understood the old man's words, exactly, but he did understand the tone, and since Bái Shān was the patriarch of this family, he had to be obeyed.
Franklin reluctantly left the scattered piles of boxes and ran over to leap up onto the long table that had been pushed back to make room for the tree. He flopped onto his belly and watched the activity, his large black eyes taking in every movement. As long as he lay here quietly and stayed away from the tree and the boxes of decorations, he was allowed to remain in the room. But it was so hard! Every muscle in his long, thin body ached to jump off of the table and race to the boxes. He was anxious to see one object in particular, but he knew from past winters that it would be the very last thing to be added to the tree.
Franklin had once thought the tree itself was a local deity of some sort, and that the annual Winter Festival was held in order to pay homage to the tree. But last year he finally understood that it wasn't the tree itself that was the deity; the tree was merely where the deity lived during the Winter Festival. The deity was a beautiful, shining creature that looked very much like a human female with wings.
Clearly a goddess with large, outstretched wings like those of an eagle, she was always carefully and reverently placed on the very top of the decorated tree by Chá Huā, presumably so that the goddess could see everything that was going on during the festival. As soon as the goddess was placed on the tree, its lights were turned on, and the humans always cried out with delight at the sight. The colorfully-wrapped boxes would then begin to appear over the course of the next several weeks—offerings for the goddess who lived at the top of the tree.
This made a great deal of sense to the little tea dragon. Franklin had sneaked into the temples in China all the time, at night when the humans weren't around. He'd seen the huge statues of various gods, demons and immortals that filled nearly every nook and cranny of the buildings; even the Fei Long, the magical Sky Dragons, were depicted. This winged human on top of the tree must be a deity, it was the only logical conclusion.
At last, Chá Huā lifted the special box from one of the cardboard boxes. This special box was covered with red, shiny fabric and had a gold-colored clasp. Chá Huā opened the box and reached inside to gingerly lift out the goddess, light sparkling from her beautiful wings and long robes. As Bái Shān and others watched anxiously, Chá Huā climbed the ladder one handed, firmly clasping the goddess against her body with the other. When she reached to the top of the tree, the young woman carefully, carefully set the goddess onto the topmost point of the pine tree, then made some minor adjustments in order to position the goddess just so. When she was satisfied, Chá Huā then backed slowly down the ladder again. The ladder was removed, the room's lights were turned off, and then Ezekiel turned on the many strings of lights wrapped around the tree. They blazed to life, reflecting off of the dozens of colored balls and the yards of golden tinsel threaded amongst the trees branches. Everyone cried out with happiness at the breathtaking sight, then broke into laughter and applause. Flynn quickly grabbed his mug and raised it toward the goddess who now lived at the top of the tree and said something, talking excitedly and animatedly. The others then raised their mugs to the goddess and all then drank. Franklin assumed was some sort of welcoming ceremony for the goddess. When it was finished, everyone began to clear away the cardboard boxes. Usually that was quite a chore, as Franklin loved nothing more than to hide in the empty boxes and play. But this year he completely ignored them, and only stared up at the silent winged goddess at the top of the tree.
Franklin had decided that this Winter Festival, he was going to visit her.
And so the little dragon waited until well after midnight before he left his nest high in a wall of the Library and made his way to the tree as quickly and as quietly as he could. He kept his long ears up, alert for the sounds of any human activity, but he heard nothing except for the usual nighttime noises of ticking clocks, squeaking mice and the soft popping of wooden shelving as it expanded or contracted.
When he came to the part of the Library where Excalibur lived, Franklin slowed to a crawl. Cal had sharp hearing, almost as sharp as a tea dragon's, and Franklin didn't want to alert the magic sword; Cal's loud barking would almost certainly wake up the others. Franklin peeped around a bookcase and spotted the stone where Cal usually slept; he was relieved to see the sword embedded deeply into the stone nearly up to his hilt. Franklin held his breath as he crept slowly, silently around the bookcase and past the sleeping blade. But Cal only snored softly and occasionally whined in his sleep as he dreamed of glorious battles fought and won with his master, King Arthur, blissfully unaware of the little reptile's passage.
As soon as Franklin was in the next room, he broke into a furious run again. Within a few minutes he was in the workroom. The tree was still lit up, and in the dark, cavernous room it looked ethereal and magical, the perfect home for a deity. Franklin sat up on his haunches and craned his necked upward; the goddess far above glittered invitingly.
With a soft bark of delight, Franklin shot forward. He wove his way between the gaily-wrapped gifts and found the trunk of the tree. He began climbing, his tiny claws biting deep into the tree's shaggy bark as he corkscrewed upward with astonishing speed, expertly avoiding the branches as he homed in on his target. The trunk began to taper the higher he climbed, and so he slowed his pace just a bit, but he continued on with dogged determination. Then, suddenly, there he was, at the top of the pine tree, almost twenty feet above the floor of the workroom. The winged goddess was just above him, her wings sweeping back and upward majestically, twinkling in the lights of the tree.
Then disaster struck.
The combined weights of dragon and deity were too much for the treetop. Before Franklin could react, it suddenly bent forward; Franklin instinctively dug his claws into the tender bark and wrapped his tail around the trunk below his body so that he wouldn't fall, but the shining deity had no such backups. As the treetop bent over, the deity pitched forward at an alarming angle, then slipped completely from its perch. Franklin could only watch, stunned and helpless, as the deity plummeted to the ground and shattered with a loud crash.
He had killed the tree goddess!
Screeching in complete terror, Franklin turned his body head-downward and retraced his climb, racing down the tree's trunk. When he was two-thirds of the way down, he propelled himself outward and landed on the floor with a thud, knocking several of the colored glass balls off in the process to smash onto the floor after him. His long tail caught on a strand of tinsel and half-pulled it from the tree, along with a partial string of lights.
Franklin paid all of that no mind, however. He scrambled over to the where the goddess had fallen and skidded to a halt. Her body was broken into hundreds of pieces. What a wicked creature I am! he thought in utter despair.
The little dragon gingerly reached out one paw and touched the severed head of the goddess. Up close now, he could see that the deity hadn't been a living entity at all; she had only been a statue, made out what the tea dragons called "the ice that never melts", what humans called "glass", except that this type of glass was much thicker and heavier than what he was familiar with.
He was relieved that he hadn't actually killed a goddess, but he quickly realized that he was still in a great deal of trouble. Bái Shān had made it very clear in the past that Franklin was not to go anywhere near the festival tree, was not allowed to play with the decorations, and was most certainly not allowed to climb it. He had disobeyed Bái Shān, and now he'd broken something that Chá Huā and the others held in great esteem. Franklin's ears and tail drooped in misery as he realized how angry and disappointed Bái Shān would be when he found out what had happened. He was a wicked little tea dragon, indeed...
"Is someone there?"
Franklin's ears snapped up and forward at the sound of the familiar voice, and his little heart began to pound in fear: It was Bái Shān!
"Hello?" the old man called again. His dark eyes swept the room, but he saw no movement and heard nothing. He frowned, puzzled. The lab wasn't far from the workroom; he could've sworn he heard something breaking in here.
Jenkins went over the wall and snapped on the ceiling lights. He started toward the Christmas tree, but he got no further than a few steps when he stopped, frozen in his tracks at the sight before him.
There was Franklin, crouched flat against the floor and staring up at the Caretaker with large, sad eyes. In front of the tea dragon were the shattered remains of the crystal angel that Cassandra had placed on top of the tree this afternoon. There were several other glass ornaments that fallen from the tree and broke as well. Strands of tinsel and lights on the tree were also dislodged, half-pulled off of the Christmas tree. As he looked back at the little dragon, Franklin whined softly, his long ears dropped in submission as he kept his head flat on the floor. Jenkins took a deep breath and sighed.
"Someone has been up to some mischief, I see," said the immortal somberly. He bent over and picked up a fragment of the tree topper's wing. The crystal angel had belonged to Cassandra's beloved great-grandmother, and she was going to be heartbroken when she learned what had happened to it. As he gazed blankly down at the piece of heavy glass in his hand, Franklin finally got up and crept to Jenkins's feet, whining softly in distress as he flopped down onto the floor again. When he saw Jenkins looking down at him with a face like stone, the wretched little tea dragon slowly reached out one paw and laid it on the tip of the man's shoe, crying pitifully as he did so while he looked up with wide, black, pleading eyes at the tall man.
Jenkins gazed down at the unhappy dragon for several seconds. With a sigh, he stooped and tossed the broken glass onto the floor with the rest of the angel, then scooped up Franklin before standing up again. He cradled the tea dragon in his arms as he carried him over to a chair and sat down. He set the dragon on his lap, upright on his haunches, so that Jenkins could look him in the eyes.
"You've been a very naughty dragon, Franklin!" he rumbled soberly, his eyes fixed firmly onto the reptile's. He knew that, like most animals, Franklin didn't understand the words, but tea dragons were exceptionally intelligent creatures—he clearly understood the tones of a human's voice and what emotion was being communicated.
"You know you're not allowed to climb the Christmas tree! And now see what happened when you disobeyed?" Jenkins looked pointedly at the scattered glass on the floor, and Franklin's eyes followed his gaze. Seeing the broken statue, Franklin's ears and whiskers drooped in shame, and his body would've huddled into a ball had Jenkins not held him upright.
Jenkins could see how sorry his little friend was; tea dragons couldn't help being very curious creatures, and the immortal supposed that it was only a matter of time, really, before something like this happened. He cleared his throat to get Franklin's attention. As soon as the animal turned his head to look up at him, Jenkins smiled and patted one hand on his chest in an invitation. Franklin, seeing that Bái Shān wasn't angry with him, immediately perked up, and when the patriarch patted his chest, the tea dragon squealed with joy and threw himself against Jenkins's chest. The immortal laughed softly and held Franklin close, lovingly stroking and patting the dragon's long back as the ecstatic Franklin squirmed and wriggled happily against him, grunting and yipping and squeaking his relief and happiness as he nuzzled, licked and cuddled the old man's neck and face. Finally, Jenkins had to gently pull Franklin off of himself. He held the happy little dragon on his lap and looked directly into the shining black eyes.
"So it's settled then—no more climbing Christmas trees?" Jenkins looked at the tree and slowly shook his head while he spoke in a serious tone. Franklin understood everything and, more calm now, he ducked his head in surrender and whined plaintively.
"All right then, my fine little fellow," Jenkins said, smiling again as he set the little dragon onto the floor. "All is forgiven. Now, go and play—and behave yourself!" He gave Franklin's hindquarters a playful slap, and the tea dragon scampered off to his nest as fast as his little legs would carry him: No more adventures for him tonight!
Jenkins went to the closet to fetch a broom and a dustpan. As he began to sweep up the broken glass, he became worried and saddened again. Cassandra was going to be very upset about the loss of the angel. She had loved her great-grandmother very much; Berenice Cillian was the only member of his wife's family who had loved and supported Cassandra for who she was, not for what she could do. Mrs. Cillian had died while Cassandra was still young, and, besides a few old family recipes, the Christmas tree angel was the only physical item she had to remind her of that unconditional love.
Jenkins stood up and started to dump the crystal fragments into a wastebasket, but his hand froze suddenly. He stared down at the shards in the dustpan, his brow furrowing as he breathed deeply, a solution suddenly presenting itself to him.
The Library was full of books—magical books—all of which contained at least one spell that could be used to restore damaged items to their former state. It was a very elementary spell, it hardly took any effort at all to use, once one knew how.
Jenkins knew how.
He shook his head and grunted softly to himself. No, he could not, would not, resort to magic, not for something so trivial. Magic—even simple magic—was a last resort, to be used only when nothing else worked and the situation was desperate. Magic always had a cost after all; how many times had he said as much to the three young Librarians over the years? To use magic now for something so mundane and self-serving was simply out of the question!
But, still...
Jenkins stared at the bits of glass glinting in the dustpan. He could already see Cassandra's face when he informed her that her precious keepsake was gone forever—and it was like a knife to his heart.
The Caretaker replaced the broom in the closet, but not the dustpan. His jaw set now with determination, he turned to march straight to his lab, the dustpan full of broken glass clutched firmly in his large hand.
"There you are!" exclaimed Cassandra with relief as she entered the workroom. Jenkins was sitting behind his desk, busily copying text from an old tome of wizarding history. "When I woke up this morning and you weren't there, I started to worry!" She crossed the room and gave her husband an affectionate peck on the cheek. Smiling, Jenkins put down his quill and rubbed his tired eyes as he turned on his stool to face her.
"I'm sorry, my dear, I didn't mean to alarm you," he said, taking her hands in his and smiling gently at her. "I couldn't sleep last night, so I decided to come back here and get caught up on some of the work I couldn't do yesterday." He felt a twinge of guilt at how smoothly he could lie to his wife, but he firmly squelched it.
"That's okay, sweetheart," the Librarian answered, then leaned forward to kiss the tip of his nose. "I'm just glad that nothing's wrong! Have you had breakfast yet?"
"Not a bite!"
"How 'bout some pancakes?" she asked brightly. Jenkins's eyes lit up.
"I would love some pancakes!" he said enthusiastically, his mouth already beginning to water. Cassandra stood back a step and offered him her arm.
"Pancakes it is, then!"
Jenkins hooked his arm through hers and the pair turned to go to the kitchen. He smiled as he cast a furtive glance at the Christmas tree just before they passed through the doorway.
In the workroom, the lights of the Annex's perfectly-dressed Christmas tree continued to blink, merrily reflected by the dozens of colored glass ornaments and tinsel, from the bottom-most branches of the tree all the way to the beautiful antique crystal angel with outspread wings perched at its very top.