Flora Segunda: Being the Magickal Mishaps of a Girl of Spirit, Her Glass-Gazing Sidekick, Two Ominous Butlers (One Blue), a House with Eleven Thousand Rooms, and a Red Dog
4/5
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About this ebook
Thirteen-year-old Flora Fyrdraaca knows better than to take shortcuts in her family home, Crackpot Hall. The house has eleven thousand rooms, and ever since her mother banished the magickal butler, those rooms move around at random. But Flora is late for school, so she takes the unpredictable elevator anyway. Huge mistake.
With her dreaded fourteenth birthday coming up, Flora faces the fate of her namesake sister—the first Flora—who was sent off to war and never returned. With her mother off leading the military and her father a few marbles short, can anyone blame her for getting lost in her own house? Only then Flora stumbles upon the long-banished butler, and into a mind-blowing muddle of intrigue and betrayal that will change her world forever.
This ebook features a teaser chapter from the second Flora book, Flora’s Dare.
Read more from Ysabeau S. Wilce
Flora Trilogy Prophecies, Libels & Dreams: Stories Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings
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Reviews for Flora Segunda
277 ratings36 reviews
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Originally posted at Paperback Wonderland.
I've re-read this book (and the others in this series) so many times my paperbacks are starting to look pitiful.
Honestly, I don't understand how this book isn't topping all bestseller's lists, is it lack of promotion? I really don't know and it bothers me because the universe Ysabeau S. Wilce created is so amazing, so flawless, so addictive... Her characters are just perfect, her plots -- look I'm a picky bitch and I cannot find a fault!
For the love of whatever you hold sacred, go read these books! It breaks my heart to see mediocrity topping charts while jewels like these are ignored. - Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5In an alternate California, a Victorian heroine of spirit has to contend with her mother the General, her father (an ex-POW fallen on hard emotional times), the imminent approach of her fourteenth birthday, a whining house-spirit, and villains galore. Ysabeau Wilce writes like a dream, and this very funny and fast-moving book combines adventure, a terrifically realized world, and some sad and serious themes. I liked it so much that I've bought a second copy just to loan to friends.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5A very different book. Odd spellings and style make it a biy hard to get into...but boy does it pay off. Wilce has a keen imagination and a fantastic sense of humor. Our teen book club read it and everyone loved it.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5I came across one of Wilce's short stories in Fantasy, the Best of the Year, 2007, 'The Lineaments of Gratified Desire', and found it to be utterly delightful. Flora Segunda is less dark than that story, being a children's book, but it's one of the best children's books I've read in a long, long, time. There are all kinds of witty details, and it doesn't have the Manichean worldview that so irritated me with the Harry Potter books. I found the first person viewpoint a bit jarring at times, but it's more than made up for by Flora Segunda's charming character.Ysabeau Wilce is most definitely my new favourite author.
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5I have to say that I opened the first few pages of this book very eagerly. And about ten chapters later, I put it back down and couldn't seem to talk myself into picking it up again. So I didn't finish Flora Segunda, and perhaps what I'll say doesn't ring true if one manages to get through it.Bu Flora is incredibly dull, and very predictable. I like the way magic is used. I liked the way the society is set up. To an extent, I even like Flora herself, the character, though she's awkwardly written. But it doesn't move very well; it hops around aimlessly, sometimes moving too slowly, other times a problem which seemed like it should've taken chapters is given a few pages to move through. This left me feeling disconnected, and made picking up the book again after an absence difficult, as well as unsatisfying.My other large problem was that it was predictable. Frustrated with the way the book was moving and how I believed to have guessed the book's major "twist" within pages of the main plot being introduced, I had to do something drastic, and something I try to NEVER do. I skipped to the end. Not to spoil, but I was right, and picking the book up got even harder, as now I was assured a dull read to get to something I guessed was going to happen in the first hundred pages. I call this a library rental for those addicted to fantasy and magic books, and who perhaps have better paitience than I. Also good for those addicted to Teen fiction, too.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5This is an amazing first novel, and I hope the first of many set in this world. One often hears of young adult fantasy novels touted as the "Next Harry Potter", this is the first novel I've read in a long time that truly could be. The world of the Republic of Califa is so positively dense with a fully realized society with political structure and intrigue, wars and religion, different cultures, races and magical creatures with complicated alliances to humans. All this and wonderfully quirky characters who come to life and interact with each other in believable fashion.It would easily take me pages and pages to describe everything that's going on in this book, but take my word for it; it doesn't overwhelm you at first, but slowly draws you in and when you've finished you just go ......Wow. There's also a tone to the book that's quite catchy, I found myself naming all the nooks andcrannies of my own home. (I often walk down the Inevitable Short Hallway of Doom and think, I need to vacuum this ISHoD.) Did I mention it's also sneaky funny? The kind of funny that you don't see coming and then all of a sudden there you are, chuckling madly at the book while your family eyes you warily.There are so many other books that could be written about this world, and characters that haven't even been addressed yet. I found myself wondering about Flora's two sisters (one disappeared, one in the military) who were barely mentioned in the book. I'll be standing in line to buy (or waiting on Amazon to ship)any more books by Ms. Wilce set in this world. There is mild violence in the book, but the vocabulary and length (431 pages) would make it difficult for any reader under 12. If you love fantasy, you owe yourself the pleasure of this book. You can join me in waiting for the next one!
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Thirteen-year-old Flora Segunda lives in the Republic of Califa in one of the great houses. Except Crackpot Hall is no longer so great and Flora is charged with its upkeep while her parents are otherwise incapacitated. One day Flora comes across the banished Butler of the house. At first it seems like a godsend: restore the butler and have him make the house glorious again. But magical beings and houses, Flora discovers, have a mind of their own.I picked Flora Segunda up with vague interest and finished it with avid attention. The book is clever, funny, and rolls along at breakneck speed. I love the details Wilce puts into Califa, all the ominous names and tongue-in-cheek descriptions. Flora as the protagonist is snappish and long-suffering but her narrative voice is wickedly amusing, and you can’t help but feel sorry for her because of her home life.Which brings me to another point. As much as I enjoyed Flora Segunda as a magical adventure, I liked it better for being a story about the Fyrdraaca family. Although Flora feels like an orphan, I appreciate that she isn’t. That would be too easy a route. Wilce presents her family in all their complicated glory. Her mother is never home and her father is too busy stuck in his own despair to notice he has a daughter. Yet they’re not bad people; there is no easy black and white answer. Flora’s home life injects a shot of real sadness into what is otherwise a light-hearted romp. But it makes the book all the richer for it.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5I loved this book! It reminds of a well created cartoon, with extra large characters, extra large problems, a very bright and strange place. This book is not a typical fantasy book. The setting seems to take place in California, only now its called Calif, and its culturally part Indian, part Spanish, and part Aztec. Magic exists, but Flora's Mom doesn't like it very much, and banished the family's magical butler. As a result, Flora ends up doing all the chores. Her Mom (Buck) spends a lot of time away, and Flora's Dad is crazy and hopeless. The writing is from first person, and its written in a way an educated 14 year old would speak. There are no one dimensional characters in this book, except for the very minor one line characters. For example, Buck is portrayed as this very cold woman who only cares for work when Flora talks about her, but when we actually meet Buck, we find out she works a lot, has high expectations about her daughter, but really loves Flora. We see the world through Flora's 14 year old eyes and as she learns a few lessons (Things aren't what they seem, but sometimes they are). This book is a lot fun, and I highly suggest reading it. Not your typical teenage fantasy.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5I was really into this when I first started reading. It was interesting and endearing, cute little made-up words and a mezcla of Spanish words thrown in. But as it went on, it became more tedious. Not as interesting or endearing and it started to feel like a chore to read. It felt at least 100 pages too long and I found myself not caring whether Flora got sucked into the abyss or not. Won't be reading the second one.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5It took me a while to get into this book, but once I did, I really enjoyed it. I loved the idea of the house denizens and the way the magic works in this world.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Well, I wrote it, so, of course, I think it's divine!
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Oh my god, this is an amazing book. Hilarious, scary, filled with the most inventive, evocative kinds of magic and place. Great characters. Flora - short, red-headed, hot-headed - and Udo - handsome, charming, a clothes-horse - are basically a match made in heaven. This is a city in which i want to live and party and go on dates with people.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5When your house has 11,000 rooms it seems utterly unfair that you are sleeping in a broom closet. Even a very nice, cozy broom closet. However, with the butler banished Flora's house is not in the best of shape. The potty disappears sometimes, the front door won't open, and the elevator once kidnapped her father for a week. Nevertheless, when she is running late to return a library book she dares the elevator. The elevator kidnapps her too and takes her to the library where she meets the banished butler. Before she knows it she is forging signatures, planning daring rescues, and sneaking into abandoned houses to steal words of power. She has a limited amount of time to rescue herself and her butler all before her mother gets home. And in the middle of all of this she has to get a dress made and invitations sent out for her birtday party!
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Maybe only 4.5 stars, as I don't think I'd recommend it to you unless you had your own reasons to consider reading it. I think two things made it stand out for me - for one, Flora felt very real to me... Wilce's skill was for me to forget she's a fictional character and just enter her life. For two, I loved the scattered touches that defied cliches... she wears stays and kilts, and reads yellowbacks, and the dive down by the docks is an Ice Cream Bar, and yet there's a lot that Hispanic people can identify with so it's certainly not just British... it's a world a bit like many fantasy worlds but a little aslant any of them... original.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Fantasy, allegedly YA; funny, clever, literate, and very, very different from the run-of-the-mill of children's literature. It's set in an alternate California, living in an uneasy truce with a latter-day Aztec empire. Lifestyles are … unusual – I can envision it being banned from any number of school libraries on the grounds of the character who was courted by identical triplets and, being unable to choose among them, married all three … (Grammatical nitpick: repeated use of 'lay' for 'laid'.)
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Cute and whimsical- I picked this up after reading a review saying that THIS is what girls should be reading after Harry Potter, instead of the Twilight series, so I picked it up, and was glad I did.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5I really enjoyed this book and it's sequel. Great fun, smart, and I loved the main character, Flora.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5I can think of no higher praise off-the-top-of-my-head than to say "if Diana Wynne Jones had written this, it could have been no better." And Ysabeau S. Wilce deserves this praise. It's very Wynne Jones-ish, but without seeming like a pale, slavish imitation--this book is thrillingly alive, as is it's charismatic, willful heroine.
I like everything about it--the distinctive setting, the authorial tone, the fleshing-out of all the minor characters (Udo is especially delightful), the plot's unfolding, the twists and turns (and no over-reliance on them)--it's all great.
And I discovered it thanks to Goodreads (a groups suggestion that I might like it), so thanks, Goodreads, for all that you do!
(Note: 5 stars = rare and amazing, 4 = quite good book, 3 = a decent read, 2 = disappointing, 1 = awful, just awful. There are a lot of 4s and 3s in the world!) - Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Flora lives in a huge, crumbling house with her dogs, horses, and the mad Poppy. Her fourteenth birthday is coming up, when she'll become an adult and join the army, as all of her family has done before her. But Flora is round as a dumpling and likes reading adventure stories more than fighting, and she'd rather learn to be a sneaky spy than a magic-less soldier. When she stumbles upon the secret to her house's decrepitude, she embarks upon an adventure that will forever alter the state of her family and herself.
I loved the exuberant tone of this novel. I only wish it was more complete in itself, and less a set-up for a sequel. The world-building is excellent, and I love that for once, a YA fantasy novel is not set in some alternate-England but instead, an Aztec-influenced California. And each of the characters is fascinating: contradictory but brave Flora; her best friend, the vain but generous Udo; the tragic and exasperating Poppy; and the selfish Valefor. - Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Flora Fyrdraaca is about to turn 14, and celebrate her Catorcena, or coming of age ceremony marking her as an adult, and she's stuck on her speech. It's supposed to celebrate the glory of her House and her family, but the problem is neither is that glorious. Sure, her mother is the head General for the Warlord, but her former POW is broken and no longer in his right mind, prone to fits of violence, her old sister is posted far away, and she's Flora Segunda, the daughter born to replace first Flora, who had been captured with her father, and killed. And she feels more like a slave than a daughter half the time, since she's stuck doing all the chores and housework that should be done by the house's Butler, a magical manifestation of each House, and each family's will. The Fyrdraaca's Butler was banished by Flora's mother before she was born...or was he? When Flora comes across the family's Butler, in an unused part of the house, he tells her she can restore him. Can she change her family's destiny?
It's been a long time since I read a book set not just in our world with magic, but in a completely different world with an original culture with original traditions,clothing, grammar patterns and slang, etc and I have to admit, it took me a while to get into it.
Once I did though, I really enjoyed the book. The original world felt complete and familiar enough that it wasn't too jarring. By the end, I ended up falling in love with the characters, and enjoyed the book so much that I didn't realize until the end that it was a classic coming of age story.
The book wrapped up in a way that was both completely satisfying, and left me excited for more. I can't wait to read the sequel. - Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5I wasn't sure if I was going to like this book, but it turned out to be an awesome read. The world is new and original, and I love how it has those quirky Hispanic fantasy elements to it. I love the character of Flora because she is very diverse. She is very tough and stubborn, but at the same time she is vulnerable and makes mistakes. Just such a great change to the sometimes cookie cutter plots of most other YA books.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Wow. This first book about Flora Fyrdraaca Segunda is amazing. I just hate-read a whole bunch of pretty awful, terrible books with very poor world-building, so it was completely refreshing to start Flora Segunda and be delighted by the fun, quirky elements of the setting. And then the book proved to be truly good and enjoyable, even without the reading it as a bad-book-chaser!What I love most about Flora Segunda is the world-building. It's really fabulous with a lot of little details that many authors don't bother with, but which really made the book a joy to read — even when I got to the scary parts in the middle. I loved that not only do we get a well-fleshed world for the characters (though we don't see much of it in this book), but it extends to the type of language the characters use, how they dress, the things they value, and so on. It's all just very wonderful, and I don't think I've ever seen a setting quite like this one. It's very interesting in that it reminds me of Baja California, perhaps, because of Spanish-language influence, and the enemies of Flora and her family being inspired by the Aztecs (apparently?), but there are also a lot of elements that made me think of inspiration from the British Isles or Latin and Rome.The Aztec-inspired enemes are the Huitzels, and they were at war with Flora's home country, until a generation or two ago, when they captured Califa, the city where she lives. These Huitzels are terrifying, because of their use of birds as totems and even their resemblance to the creatures (thus the derogatory nickname "Birdies"). And throughout the book, I did find them to be quite scary! I was never entirely sure what to expect from them when they appeared, and I found myself investing a lot in Flora, because she's such a strong character.But though Flora is a strong character, she's not necessarily a strong person. I should say that she's very realistic for a thirteen year old - a little bit rebellious against her family, a little bit grumpy and lazy when it comes to doing homework or tidying the house, and with huge dreams. Unfortunately for her, the Fyrdraaca family traditionally enters the military at age 14, so older sister Idden is away with her unit, and Mamma is the general in charge of the army, so is away from home often. Flora is left to take care of the huge-enormous house all by herself - including watching after her father, who has taken a bit of a bad turn after being captured by the Huitzels when Flora was very young. (Besides which, Flora is Segunda because there was another Flora who died in childhood, and our Flora Segunda is acutely aware of being "the second".)The story is about the days leading up to the Catorcena celebration - a huge party for Flora's fourteenth birthday, which is especially big and important because the Fyrdraaca family is so old and her Mamma is the general (maybe the second most important person in all of Califa!). Left to her own devices, Flora hasn't got on very well at sewing her dress, sending the invitations, or writing her speech. If only the Fyrdraaca house, called Crackpot, still had its magical denizen to help with the upkeep, so that Flora wouldn't have to spend so much time cleaning up after Poppy or maybe the denizen could even help with the preparations...Naturally, one thing happens and then another and Flora is caught in a magical problem (and her stern, commanding mother has specifically banned all magic when it comes to the family!), the house denizen Valefor is in trouble, and Poppy does keep making a mess of the kitchen! Plus, Flora and her best friend Udo's hero the Dainty Pirate has been captured and sentenced to death, and they have to save him.As I mentioned earlier, some sections of the book were really scary! It was hard to watch as Flora took certain actions or failed to take actions for various reasons, but which I knew were going to be more trouble - and then just as it seemed that wouldn't be the case, and everything would be all right, I was proven correct in my suspicions, and it was all worse. This was very exciting to read, nail-biting even, but fun.A lot of the suspense in the book is broken up by absolutely lush and gorgeous descriptions, fun slang that develops the setting further, and also Udo. I loved Udo. He wants to be just like the Dainty Pirate, and so he is obsessed with flamboyant fashion and manners - he loves nothing more than a big hat with an even bigger feather, if I understand correctly, and best of all when it's a garish color. He often bickers with Flora or gives her a bit of help, as a good best friend / sidekick does. I was also impressed that his mother married an entire set of identical triplets. I'm not at all sure how they managed it, but it was another of the great quirky little characteristics and stage-setting elements that make Flora Segunda so wonderful.This book is a must read, and I'm so very grateful that the author of another of my favorite books of this type ("Kat, Incorrible") mentioned that Flora Segunda was a Kindle Daily Deal so that I finally, finally acquired it after years of it being on my TBR list!
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5A good read. Even though it took some time for me to jump right into the book as it seemed to drag by somewhat, I did enjoy it once the story line started to pick up some. I recommend this book to Harry Potter fans =]
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Flora Nemain Fydraaca ov Fydraaca was the second Flora - Flora Segunda - born to her illustrious family, one of the most powerful in the city of Califa. The legacy of that other, earlier Flora - the one whose loss in the War had driven her father, Poppy, mad - hung over the great Fydraaca household, Crackpot Hall, with its eleven thousand rooms, all falling into disrepair in the absence of its magical Butler. As Flora (Segunda) reluctantly prepares for her upcoming Catorcena, or fourteenth birthday celebration, after which she will be considered an adult, and sent off to the Barracks, where all the Fydraacas - being a military family - are trained, she finds herself being drawn into the mystery of Valefor, the magical denizen of Crackpot and her family's banished Butler, as well as an adventure involving the Dainty Pirate - aka Boy Hansgen, the sidekick of Flora's own personal hero, Nini Mo, erstwhile leader of Califa's Rangers. Can Flora, together with her best friend Udo, triumph in her efforts to free both Valefor and Boy Hansgen, or will this new connection to Valefor drag her into Nothingness, and the Abyss...?Despite its undeniable virtues - its highly original (and convincing) world-building, its fascinating use of language - I was convinced for approximately 90% of my read that Flora Segunda was going to be no more than a solid, enjoyable three-star title for me. I did appreciate the aforementioned world-building, of course - the alternate Californian/Mexican setting, with Califa being dominated by the Aztec-like Huitzils - as well as the mixture of Spanish, Italian(?) and Icelandic language, in the vocabulary of Califa. As someone who's studied Icelandic, I was thrilled to see that the eð - the Icelandic letter ð, pronounced with a voiced "th" sound, as in the beginning of the English word them, and distinguished from the unvoiced "th" sound, as in the English word thorn, which is represented by the letter þ - kept appearing, in names like Landaðon and Haðraaða!I also appreciated the fact that this was a world of true gender equality, in which women held the same rank as men (Flora's mother is the Warlord's general), and was delighted to learn, through our discussion of the book, over in the Children's Fiction Club which I run on another site, that the idea of "Califa" is actually taken from the work of fifteenth-century Spanish author Garci Rodríguez de Montalvo, who wrote a series of adventure stories about the explorer Esplandián, and his encounters with Queen Califia, of the island of California (thanks, Bun!). I think I may have to track down some of these stories...But despite these undeniable virtues, and my interest in the city of Califa, its customs and history, I couldn't say that I was emotionally involved with the characters, to any great extent, until the final section of the book. It was only when Flora met the earlier incarnation of Poppy, while fleeing through Bilskinir House, that I suddenly found myself gripped with any sense of urgency, or concern for the fate of the heroine. Then, on the very last page of the book, when Flore reflects upon the fact that, despite the challenges still ahead, and the failures behind, she had escaped from the worst fate of all - that of Nothingness - it all snapped into place for me, and my appreciation for the book rose dramatically. It suddenly seemed to me that this was the story of a common teenage experience - feeling as if one were a "nothing," being afraid that one would never be anything but a "nothing" - clothed in an appealingly fantastic shell. I've no idea if that was the author's intention, but it lent the entire story an emotional significance, for me, that it hadn't previously had, and convinced me that I needed to read the next installment, Flora's Dare!I don't know that others will interpret the story as I did, but I think that all fantasy lovers - particularly those who relish intricate and entirely unfamiliar worlds - will enjoy it.
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5Very original and a really solid world.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5I accidentally read the second book in this series first, which meant that Flora Segunda wasn't as good as if I'd read it first. That being said, I totally enjoyed it. I love the character of Flora and I liked learning about the all the characters I met in Flora's Dare. Flora is a great main character, she's strong and smart and the story itself is hilarious. I like her friends and I like that she has battles of wits, magic and violence (but only slightly) and she would rather talk herself out of trouble. I like the way Wilce has created Flora's world and I like, in the second book, how this is expanded. I can't wait to read the rest of the books in this series.
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5What an impressively mediocre book.
The description is a little misleading--it sounds as if Flora is somehow trapped in her mysterious house and needs to find her way out, which really isn't the case at all. It's hard to pin down what the main plot thread is, because it's almost like there are two or three episodes here that are tied together with "before we do X, what about Y?" and "I know I should be doing X, but Y is my priority right now." The bits where Flora performs magic seem like afterthoughts, bits thrown in to give the book some "magickal mishaps."
And speaking of that really long subtitle: glass-gazing sidekick? because he's vain, which comes up only rarely and isn't a plot point? Sure, okay. Two Ominous Butlers (one blue)? Someone's got to help me out, because I don't have a clue who Butler No. 2 (Blue) is.
Now I've read a fair number of books with misleading titles and episodic plots, and I'm fine with it. This one... the writing was fine, the plot oscillated nicely between build-up and climax, the characters were, for the most part, sympathetic and fully drawn. And yet this just didn't grab me. Maybe it's because the world-building was a little (okay, a lot) weak, so I never connected with it.
I'm leading the middle school book discussion on this tomorrow; I'll see how its intended audience feels about it. - Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Sometimes a book is just a perfect fit for a particular mood, personality, or time. All of which is to say that others may not love this book quite as much as I did, because some of this is serendipity of fit. Its August, the hot weather has finally arrived, I've been working on some really boring reports where I have to be focused and practical and pay attention to mind numbing levels of detail. I sort of hate mind numbing levels of detail, it makes me aggressively flippant. So Flora Segunda and a cold drink were precisely what I needed at this juncture.
Its funny, its intricate, its just a little bit silly. It takes me to a completely different place but it doesn't insult my intelligence in so doing. Plus there are magical butlers!!
None the less, even if you aren't in my particular place I think its still a book well worth reading. As others have said its a nice change that the fantasy elements in this story are drawn from Californian, spanish and precolumbian elements. Flora is a delightful heroine, funny and flawed and brave. I really enjoyed and look forward to reading more about the way magic works in this world. - Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5An entertaining romp - a bit long (too much running around aimlessly) but very good. Tiptree shortlist 2007
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/54th Time Reading:This book doesn't really have the can't-put-down attribute that some of my other favorites do, so it took me a bit longer to get through it this time. But nevertheless, it -is- still one of my favorites. The world of Ysabeau S. Wilce is enthralling, but so casual. The story doesn't get bogged down with descriptions of the city or explanations of the Current or the levels of the military. It just continues on, describing the relevant things and letting you slowly form the complete image. Honestly, one of the main reasons I want to read more of the series is to find out more about Califa.Flora also is great because she's not the typical heroine, and she's not one of the stereotypical un-heroine heroines either. She's a pudgy, lazy, pacifistic 12-year-old. But she's still pretty cool. And of course, there's Udo. And Valefor has a certain likeability as well.And don't get me started on Hotspur. He is definitely my favorite character. I'm a sucker for tortorued souls living in dark depression. And can I just say that if there was ever a Flora Segunda movie, Gary Oldman would be the perfect Hotspur.And the plot itself is great. Flora somehow gets into so much trouble and the fact that it's all connected makes it that much more amazing. And then you add the Dainty Pirate and Paimon and Lord Axacaya into the mix, and it's brilliant.
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Flora Segunda - Ysabeau S. Wilce
Copyright © 2007 by Ysabeau S. Wilce
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to [email protected] or to Permissions, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company, 3 Park Avenue, 19th Floor, New York, New York 10016.
www.hmhco.com
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Wilce, Ysabeau S.
Flora Segunda: Being the magickal mishaps of a girl of spirit, her glass-gazing sidekick, two ominous butlers (one blue), a house with eleven thousand rooms, and a red dog/Ysabeau S. Wilce.
p. cm.
Summary: Fourteen-year-old Flora Fyrdraaca, whose mother is the Warlord’s Commanding General and whose father is mad, kindly helps her house’s magical—and long-banished—butler, unaware that he draws strength from the Fyrdraaca will.
[1. Fantasy] I. Title: Flora Segunda. II. Title. III. Series.
PZ7.W6438Flo 2007
[Fic]—dc22 2005052526
ISBN 978-0-15-205433-5 hardcover
ISBN 978-0-15-205439-7 paperback
eISBN 978-0-547-53961-4
v3.0417
For Two Furies, Ooo & My
The Maiden caught me in the Wild
Where I was dancing merrily;
She put me into her Cabinet,
And Lock’d me up with a golden Key.
—WILLIAM BLAKE
Crackpot Hall:
The Fyrdraaca Family at Home
A Speech by Flora Nemain Fyrdraaca ov Fyrdraaca on the Occasion of her Fourteenth Birthday
Crackpot Hall has eleven thousand rooms, but only one potty.
The Warlord freed all the slaves, but he forgot to free me.
Like Crackpot Hall, the Fyrdraaca family used to be glorious, but has now fallen on hard times.
BLASTED HECK, I’m supposed to be writing my Catorcena speech, where I am supposed to be celebrating the fabulousness of my House, the glory of my family, the fantasticness of my future. But I can’t think of what to write because Crackpot Hall isn’t fabulous, and the Fyrdraaca family is not much glorious anymore, and my future is hardly going to be fantastic. In my speech, I’m supposed to write the truth.
Well, here’s some truth.
Let’s start with the fabulousness of my House. So there are four great Houses in the City of Califa, and every one of them but Crackpot Hall has a magickal Butler. At Saeta House, your hat is taken by Furfur’s floaty hands. At Sanctuary School, Archangel Bob wafts through the hallways, his red wings fluttering blanketlike behind him, and not one mote of dust or one smudge of dirt escapes his eye. Bilskinir House is closed now, since the Haðraaða family died out years ago, but they say Paimon is there still, waiting for a family that will never come home again.
And then there is our House, Crackpot Hall.
At Crackpot Hall I take your hat, and I try (mostly unsuccessfully) to watch out for dust motes, and I make sure the lamps are lit at night. No Butler, just me, Flora Nemain Fyrdraaca ov Fyrdraaca, last on the Fyrdraaca family list, slaving away at endless chores that should be done by our Butler. But thanks to Mamma, we don’t have a Butler anymore.
They don’t call my mamma the Rock of Califa for nothing. Mamma doesn’t like swirling décor and shifty rooms any more than she likes swirling clothes and shifty people. Mamma prefers things that do not change, and a House with a mind of its own often does just that. Also Mamma hates magick; it’s a trick, she says, a cheat, an easy way to do hard things. Mamma is all about the hard things. So she banished our Butler, and now Crackpot Hall is quiet and still.
Quiet and still and falling apart.
Ayah so, this quietness is good for Mamma’s peace of mind, but it’s awful for the rest of us. When it rains, water leaks through the windows and puddles on the floor. Crackpot’s fancy front gates are too heavy to open, so we have to use the delivery gate, like servants, and our garden is an overgrown jungle. Most of the House we can’t even get to—doors do not open, stairs stop on the first step, hallways end in darkness. Crackpot Hall has eleven thousand rooms, and my family lives like squatters in just a few of them. The toilet in the one potty we can get to is always overflowing, and when it does, we have to go outside to the bog, where it is dark and cold, and the wooden seat is splintery.
The Butler was banished before I was born, so I don’t remember Crackpot Hall’s glory, but my sister Idden does. According to Idden, before, when you entered a room, the lights flickered on and the fire rose up to greet you. Before, when you reached for a towel, it was clean and fluffy and smelled of lemony sunshine. Before, delicious dinners appeared on command and dirty dishes disappeared. Before, rooms shifted with your desire, so it was only ever a short step away to the potty, and you had dozens of potties to choose from. Now, all gone. That’s the truth about Crackpot Hall.
The truth about the glory of my family. From the outside, I guess the Fyrdraacas look pretty glorious still—some of the Fyrdraacas, anyway. There used to be many more Fyrdraacas, but like the House itself, we’ve dwindled. Now we are just four.
Mamma is Juliet Buchanan Fyrdraaca ov Fyrdraaca, the Warlord’s Commanding General. She helped broker the peace with the Huitzil Empire, thus saving the Republic from certain defeat and ruin. That was almost fourteen years ago, just after I was born, but crowds still cheer Mamma in the street, and she hasn’t paid for a drink since. The Warlord is really old now and has only one leg, so he relies on Mamma for everything.
Idden graduated with honors from Benica Barracks, joined the Enthusiastics, the most prestigious regiment in the Army of Califa, and has already been promoted to captain. She has perfectly straight teeth, can rhyme sonnets on the fly, and will probably make colonel before she’s thirty.
Of our five gazehounds, two (Flashingly Fine and Dashingly Handsome) have won the Warlord’s Cup at the Saeta Kennel Club Dog Show. Two others (Lashings in Wine and Crash Worship) are champion hunters and once brought down a bear.
And then there is Flynn.
Flynn is the youngest gazehound pup. He is as burnished red as his siblings and has the same caramel-colored eyes. But as the runt, he did not come out right. He’s prone to overheating and falling over, piddling when he gets excited, and yapping like a little poodle.
And then there is Poppy.
Poppy is Reverdy Anacreon Fyrdraaca ov Fyrdraaca, and he used to be the glory of the Fyrdraaca family. He was a champion shot and a champion steeplechase rider. No man in the Republic could fight harder, shoot straighter, dance longer, or bust heads harder than my father. He was renowned for spirit and devilry, a real Hotspur, and so he was dubbed by the press, and so everyone calls him. But during the Huitzil War, he got captured, and the Virreina of Huitzil convicted him of war crimes. He spent three years in a Huitzil prison, and when Mamma finally ransomed him, he was broken.
Once my family had another Flora Fyrdraaca, and by all accounts she was fabulous. This was before I was born, so I never knew her. When she was lost, Mamma destroyed everything in the House she had ever touched; now no trace of her remains at Crackpot. But Idden managed to hide one of Flora’s images from Mamma’s purge, and in this portrait, Flora has golden curls and pink rosebud lips, the spitting image of Mamma. Even Idden, who can be pretty sour, allows that the First Flora was supercute, a real doll, sunshiny and happy all the day long. Adorable.
But the First Flora is gone now, lost in the War, and I’m hardly a replacement. I’m only the Second Flora. Flora Segunda. I don’t have golden curls or rosebud lips, nor do I look the slightest bit like Mamma. I’m not adorable, and I’m certainly not sunshiny, and I don’t see there is much in life to be happy about. Particularly not now. That’s the truth about the glory of the Fyrdraaca family.
And that brings me to the truth about the fantasticness of my future. Fyrdraacas are soldiers, Mamma says. We are born to the gun. So when Fyrdraacas turn fourteen and celebrate their Catorcena, and are then adults in the eyes of the Warlord, off we go to Benica Barracks to learn to march, to learn to ride, to learn to shoot, to learn to die.
But I do not want to go to the Barracks and learn to be a killer, a servant, a slave. To learn to follow orders, like Idden, and to learn to kill, like Poppy, and to learn to give everything for my country, like Mamma. Not me!
I want to be a ranger, a scout, a spy. Rangers don’t follow orders; they slide around the rules, scoot around the edges of the law. They hide and they listen and they uncover things that are concealed. They discover the truth though it be surrounded by a bodyguard of lies.
Rangers act with cunning and with clarity of Will, and absolute focus—and magick. Nyana Keegan, the greatest ranger who ever lived, could turn her thoughts outside in, and when she turned her thoughts inside out again, she was someone else entirely. Nini Mo, as everyone called her, could read sign on the air, smell someone’s thoughts, and twist broken glass into fire. She was a great adept who turned the Current to her Will and used magick to further her aims.
When the War started, Nini Mo organized the Ranger Corps to act as the eyes and ears of the Army, to go where no soldier could go, and to use cunning and cleverness—and magick—to win the kinds of battles that are not fought with guns and swords. No one but Nini knew who the rangers were, and this secrecy made them deadly. But as part of the peace accord with the Huitzil Empire, the Ranger Corps was disbanded, its rangers dispersed, some arrested, some killed. They say there are no rangers anymore, although I don’t believe that. Rangers are sly and hard to catch, like coyotes, and I am sure that some of them got away.
So I can’t join the Ranger Corps on my own, but I could be a ranger alone, as rangers really prefer to be. Then, why not satisfy Mamma, satisfy family tradition, and go to Benica Barracks, anyway? Be a soldier publicly and a ranger in private?
Because soldiers cannot practice magick, of course. Adepts have one foot in the Waking World and one foot Elsewhere, and that’s hardly conducive to military discipline. Adepts are loyal to their Art first, the Warlord second—if at all. There’s no honor in magick, and a soldier, says Mamma, is nothing without honor. A soldier caught meddling in the Current would be shot.
I can’t be a soldier and a ranger, too. But I don’t dare tell Mamma that I will not go to the Barracks. Mamma never raises her voice or threatens, but her disapproval hurts, and she expects so much to be obeyed that everyone obeys her. Every Fyrdraaca for generations has gone to the Barracks, even the dogs. For my whole life, Mamma has spoken of duty and how important it is to be true to your family honor and to your country.
Even if this means being untrue to yourself.
ONE
Mamma. Sleeping Late. An Overdue Library Book. The Elevator.
AS COMMANDING GENERAL of the Army of Califa, Mamma is in charge of just about everything, so she is not much home—she’s always off on an inspection, or maneuvers, or at a grand council somewhere, or just working late. Thus, Crackpot’s crumbling is no particular bother to her. Idden, too, is nicely out of it, even if her current post, Fort Jones, is the back end of Nowhere. At least she can count on having someone else do her laundry and cook her supper.
Mostly just Poppy and I are stuck home alone, which really works out to just me alone, because Poppy only comes out of his Eyrie when the booze and cigarillos run out. Then he’s just a thin shadow in a worn cadet shawl and bloodstained frock coat creeping out the back door, off to buy more booze, so he hardly counts at all. Thus, it is me who reaps all the inconvenience.
When Mamma is home, she gets up at oh-dark-thirty and makes me get up with her, so that we can have family time at breakfast. This, of course, is not really family time, since Poppy isn’t there, and Idden isn’t there, and the First Flora isn’t there. On these occasions, it’s just Mamma and me, half a family, having half-a-family time. And since that’s all we are ever going to have, that’s what we have to learn to like.
It makes Mamma happy to pretend we are a happy family, so I sit and suffer through warmed-over takeaway and café au lait, and she asks me about school, and I ask her about work, and this morning time makes up for the fact that she stays at the War Department every night until ten and I usually eat supper alone.
But when Mamma is off on one of her trips, I sleep until the very last minute and rush off to Sanctuary School without my breakfast, but with an extra half hour of snore.
Now, the Butler may be banished, but that doesn’t mean that the House is entirely dead. Occasionally it groans and thrashes a bit, like a sleeping person whose body moves though her mind drifts far away. But it never moves like you would want it to, like before, when the potty would be next to your bedroom in the middle of the night, but tucked Elsewhere otherwise. Sometimes the long way is the short way and the short way is the long way, and occasionally there is no way at all.
This does not happen too often, because Mamma is strict that it should not. Before, the Butler kept Crackpot in order, but now it’s Mamma’s Will alone that keeps the House in line. She likes to be in control of things and usually is. But when Mamma is gone, her grip slips a bit, and then so does the way downstairs, or to the back door, or maybe even to the potty. The House moves not in a good and useful way, but in a horribly inconveniently annoying way. Sometimes you have to be careful.
Like the Elevator. Our rooms are spread along three floors, and it’s a bit of a hike to get from the kitchen in the basement up to my second-floor bedroom. The Elevator would be much quicker, but we aren’t supposed to use it without Mamma. Once, when I was just a tot, Poppy tried to take the Elevator back to his Eyrie. Mamma warned him not to, but he was drunk, and he roared that he would see her in hell before he’d take another order from her, General Fyrdraaca, sir! When he staggered onto the Elevator, the iron grille slammed just like an eyelid snapping shut in fear, with Poppy still cursing blue as the cage moved upward.
The Elevator came back empty a few minutes later, and for a full week, we could hear distant howling and shouting drifting around us, but always out of our reach. Poppy finally staggered out of the Door of Delectable Desires, disheveled and pale, and, without a word, started the long climb up the Stairs of Exuberance to his Eyrie, from which he did not stir for the next six months.
After that, Mamma made Idden and me swear not to use the Elevator without her. With her, the Elevator goes where it should: It wouldn’t dare do anything else. But she doesn’t trust it with the rest of us, and so I have to climb up and down a zillion stairs, which is a chore, particularly when you are loaded down with laundry.
And that’s where everything started—with the Elevator.
Mamma was gone on an inspection of Angeles Barracks, and I woke up on the sharp edge of running extremely late. I had been up until nearly three trying to write my stupid Catorcena speech—a total waste of time, for the speech is supposed to celebrate your family and future, and what about my family and future is there to celebrate? But I had stayed up half the night trying, and here was the result: I had overslept.
Tardiness is not encouraged at Sanctuary School. Most of the kids sleep there, and that I do not is a benefit Mamma arranged due to the need for someone to keep an eye on Poppy during her frequent absences. Of course, I’d rather sleep at Sanctuary, for Poppy is not someone you want to get stuck keeping an eye on. When he is good, there’s nothing to see, for he keeps to the Eyrie and is silent. When he is bad, he screams like a banshee and crashes furniture. But there are the dogs to consider, as well. If Poppy were left alone to feed them, they’d starve.
But anyway, I still have to be at Sanctuary on time, so I was in a tearing hurry. I’d already been late three times in the past month, which had gotten me only detention. But a fourth strike meant more than just detention. First, it meant a trip to the Holy Headmistress’s office, where Madama would sit me down and look at me sorrowfully, and tell me I must be mindful of my time because I was all that my mamma had left now that Idden had gone, and she relied on me. That would make me feel guilty, and I hate feeling guilty.
But even worse, then Madama would write Mamma a letter. And Mamma would come home and get that letter, and she would be superannoyed. Mamma superannoyed is fearsome. She doesn’t scream or whack, but she would give me the Look that has reduced colonels to tears, and then she would remind me about duty, honor, and responsibility. I would feel worse than guilty—I would feel ashamed. Having Mamma give you the Look is about the worst thing in the world. It means you’ve failed her. And she was sure to mention, too, how sad it was that I had failed her so close to my Catorcena.
My Catorcena was only a week off. It’s a big deal, turning fourteen, age of majority, legally an adult, wah-wah, suitable now to be received by the Warlord, wah-wah, and so it’s celebrated in big-deal style. There’s an assembly where you have to make a public speech about your family’s history and obligations and the responsibility of adulthood. There’s a reception where the Warlord greets you by name, thus acknowledging you as his loyal subject. It’s all very tedious, overwrought, and complicated—a big whoop-de-do.
For some kids, this is the highlight of their lives, maybe the only time they get to see the Warlord in his courtly glory (you can see the Warlord propping up a bar South of the Slot any old time you care to look), the only time they have a fancy party at which no one looks anywhere but at them, the only time they get huge gifties. But I don’t care about the Warlord in his courtly or noncourtly glory, and I don’t care about huge gifties, and I don’t care about fancy parties. And I certainly don’t care about making a stupid speech about the history of my horrible, sad, decaying family.
Most kids want to be adults; then they are in charge of themselves. But not Fyrdraacas. Mamma is always in charge of Fyrdraacas, no matter how old they are, and for me, being an adult means only that I will be old enough to go to the Barracks next semester, whether I want to or not. And I certainly do not, although I have not yet gotten up the nerve to tell Mamma so.
So, I dreaded my birthday, and because of dreading was avoiding, and because of avoiding was nowhere near ready. My dress was still in pieces, my speech was still idle scribbles, and my invitations were still mostly uninvited. Instead of getting ready, I’d been avoiding, but now I was going to have to get cracking. Mamma was coming back in two days and if I wasn’t ready, and there was a sorrowful letter from Madama tattling my tardiness, I would be in what Nini Mo, the Coyote Queen, called A World of Hurt.
So, when I opened my eyes and realized the sun on the wall was the wrong angle to be early, I flew out of bed, flew through the bathroom, squeezed into my stays, threw on my kilt and pinafore, flew to the kitchen, and chucked the sleepy dogs out into the garden. I paused at the foot of the Stairs of Exuberance, but all was quiet in the Eyrie above. Perhaps Poppy was actually sleeping for once.
I grabbed a stale bun for breakfast, yanked my boots and redingote on, snatched up the dispatch case I use for a book bag, gave the dogs their biscuits, herded them into the mudroom, then flew to the stables. (Guess who mucks those out?) I fed Bonzo and Mouse and was about to pound toward the back gate when I remembered I had forgotten the overdue library book that I had sworn to Arch-Librarian Naberius I would return that very day. Not just any old library book, either, but a very rare copy of Nini Mo’s autobiography from Sanctuary’s special collections. If I didn’t get it back, he wasn’t going to let me borrow volume 2, and I’d never find out how she escaped from the Flayed Riders of Huitzil. The book still lay on the settee in my bedroom, where I’d been reading it after I gave up on the stupid speech.
So I turned and flew back to the House. And in my hurry, I decided that rather than go the long way back through the mudroom, into the Below Kitchen, up the Below Stairs, down the Upper Hall, up the Second Stairs, down the Hallway of Laborious Desire, by Mamma’s bedroom, by the potty, and finally to my room, I would take the Elevator. The long way is more certain, but it’s not called the long way because it is short.
If Idden had kept her promise to not use the Elevator, I don’t know, though she has always been a good one for doing what she is supposed to. But I don’t believe in following orders. If Idden hadn’t followed orders, she wouldn’t be rotting away in the back end of Nowhere, getting shot at by people hiding behind bushes. If Poppy hadn’t followed orders, he wouldn’t today be locked in his Eyrie, drunk as a hatter and twice as mad.
There’s a whole series of illustrated yellowback novels about Nini Mo called Nini Mo, Coyote Queen, and I’ve read every one more than once. The novels are a bit trashy and, of course, probably exaggerated for some effect, but not entirely untrue, for Nini Mo did have an exciting life. She was always having adventures and excitement and narrow escapes. I wouldn’t mind having adventures and excitement and narrow escapes, and you certainly don’t have those by following orders. Nini Mo didn’t follow orders.
So I don’t, either. When Mamma is not around, I use the Elevator all the time, and never have I had the tiniest lick of trouble. In fact, I wouldn’t mind if the Elevator showed me something new, but annoyingly it only ever goes two floors up. Poppy had been gone for a week—where did he go? How did he get back? What did he see? The part of Crackpot I can reach is small, but I know the House is much bigger, because from the stable roof, you see a wide spread of gables and buttresses, which I have never been able to reach.
What Mamma doesn’t know can’t hurt me, I thought. I was going to be late, but I didn’t dare go without that book, because Naberius is death to those who don’t bring his books back on time. I rushed back into the House, through the Below Kitchen, and up the Below Stairs.
I had forgotten the First Rule of Rangering: Never let down your guard.
TWO
Lost. Many Empty Rooms. Very Dusty Towels.
IF THE ELEVATOR HAD let me off where it was supposed to, at the Hallway of Laborious Desire, I would have been able to nip right into my bedroom, grab the book, and still make the 7:45 horsecar, and, hopefully, Archangel Bob wouldn’t even notice me creeping into morning assembly late. I am very good at creeping, although it’s quite a challenge to sneak by an eternally vigilant denizen.
But the stupid Elevator did not let me off at the Hallway of Laborious Desire. No, the stupid Elevator had slowly and silently borne me upward, gently floating as on a summer swell, and though I banged and shouted, the Elevator did not slow or stop. Past the second floor it went, past a third floor—we’d never had a third floor before—upward and upward it went, smooth and steady, until, with a grinding whine, it stopped. The golden outer doors opened to a thick darkness.
I had matches in my dispatch bag (among other useful things). Be prepared, says Nini Mo, but why use a trigger when there are other, more clever methods of gaining light?
[Image] ,
I said. The Ignite Sigil was the only Gramatica Invocation I had mastered, but I had mastered it well, and now a spurt of magickal coldfire flowered in the darkness like a sparkler and illuminated the blackness beyond the closed grille of the Elevator. The wan light showed the hollow shadows of bulky furniture, abandoned and forlorn.
This is not the Hallway of Laborious Desire,
I said crossly.
The Elevator did not answer.
Act as though you mean it, and you will, Nini Mo says. I said firmly, I want to go to the Hallway of Laborious Desire. And I am in a hurry, so let’s be snappy.
No response.
I’m going to tell Mamma.
Idle words, really, because it would be my hide tacked up on the wall of Mamma’s study if she found out that I had disobeyed her. But bluff is always worth a try. The threat made no impact upon the Elevator’s smug silence.
Well, if you are going to leave me here, at least give me more light.
Sweetness is its own sticky trap, says Nini Mo, so I added sweetly, Please. Very pretty please, beautiful Elevator.
Nada. So much for good manners. I gave the golden grille a good kick, then pulled it open, stepping out onto the creaky wooden floors into a cloying darkness smelling of dust, decay, and the distant sea. The pouty Elevator snapped its grille shut behind me. I turned and grabbed, but it yanked out of my grip and vanished into the murk. Now I was stuck.
I held my hand underneath the coldfire spark and focused all my Will upon its hazy gelid glow. A tiny pinpoint of pain tingled above my right eye, but the light winked and brightened. Now I could see hulking furniture draped in tattered dustcovers, floating whitely in the darkness like ancient ignored ghosts.
There’s no way out but through, Nini Mo said when she was lost in the Maze of Woefulness and Gloom in the yellowback novel Nini Mo vs. the Flesh-Eating Fir Trees.
I cautiously stepped forward. Somewhere there had to be stairs down and out—I just had to find them. My feet stirred up a haze of mold and frothy dirt, which glittered in the coldfire light that I now carried before me, floating above my open palm.
And I thought our rooms were a mess! Mamma is too busy or too gone to pay much attention to housekeeping, and though I usually manage to keep the actual filth at bay, it’s hard to keep after the dust and spiders and all those dogs. Between laundry, cooking, cleaning, and homework, I can only do so much, and so our rooms are always dreadfully untidy. Judging just by our rooms, you might think Crackpot was only lazy.
But here it was obvious that the House was worse than lazy. Here, there were cracks in the walls, and the floor beneath my feet felt dangerously creaky, as though it might splinter and give way plunging me down, down—to where? I wandered