The Ravens of Solemano or The Order of the Mysterious Men in Blackby Eden Unger Bowditch
It has been mere days since the brilliant children of the Young Inventors Guild escaped from the clutches of the horrible Komar Romak. They've escaped with their lovely and caring schoolteacher, Miss Brett; with their long-absent parents; and with their bizarre captors, protectors, or both—the mysterious men in black. And now they travel by train, destined… See more details below
- Checkmark Kids' Club Eligible Shop Now
It has been mere days since the brilliant children of the Young Inventors Guild escaped from the clutches of the horrible Komar Romak. They've escaped with their lovely and caring schoolteacher, Miss Brett; with their long-absent parents; and with their bizarre captors, protectors, or both—the mysterious men in black. And now they travel by train, destined for parts unknown. As they inch toward the truth of the men in black and the secrets they keep, one terrible fact remains—Komar Romak is still out there. He's still after them, for reasons they can't even begin to imagine. And he knows exactly where they are. From the rolling plains of America to the wide open waters of the Atlantic, through the Strait of Gibraltar to a remarkable village in the hills of Abruzzo, Italy, The Ravens of Solemano or The Order of the Mysterious Men in Black, the second book of Eden Unger Bowditch's Young Inventors Guild trilogy, is an adventure like no other, as the children draw ever closer to the answers to the mysteries that surround them.
In the middle volume of a planned trilogy, Bowditch's Young Inventors Guild travels to an ancient Italian village, unearthing more questions than even an international team of geniuses can answer. It's 1903, and for a moment, Jasper, Lucy, Faye, Wallace and Noah (five brilliant children) have everything: longed-for parents who've magically returned to them, well-stocked labs, and their faithful teacher, Miss Brett. But the children are devastated when, whisked away by their darkly clad guardians, they see all they love explode. The story starts fast, generating many questions: Why is villain Komar Romak still after them? Why do their diaries vanish? And are the men in strange black garb friends or foes? Despite that quick start and some engaging ideas (explosive mirages, a meeting with Nikola Tesla, an escape in a ship-turned-submarine), the book slows when the travelers reach Solemano. There, the plot bogs down amid myriad details, including descriptions of a snowball fight and baked delicacies, childish squabbles, and unresolved emotional dramas (where have the children's parents got to?). Like its guild members, this story seems to lack a clearly defined mission; there's just too much for readers (especially those new to the series) to keep track of. The pace quickens in a suspenseful end that answers many questions but leaves others unresolved for the conclusion. Despite an engaging start and intriguing finish, Book 2 suffers from an overloaded middle that lessens the punch of its plotline. (Fantasy. 11-13)
Read an Excerpt
The Ravens of Solemano or The Order of the Mysterious Men in Black
The Young Inventors Guild, Book 2
By Eden Unger Bowditch
Bancroft PressCopyright © 2013 Eden Unger Bowditch
All rights reserved.
BEFORE THE BIG BANG OR EMPTY SPACE
Before the enormous explosion, there was calm. For the passengers on the train, this was a lovely calm.
This was not the kind of train one takes from town to country and back. It was not the kind of train one rides to work or to the fair It was not the kind of train one takes across the continents or for holiday abroad. This train, unlike others, was, well, very much unlike others.
This train had a grand salon with a fine fireplace that warmed the whole car. On this train there was a spectacular laboratory filled with tools of invention. There was a grand observatory with a high glass-domed ceiling and telescopes with gears that allowed levers a great range of movement. There were beautiful sleeping compartments for each of the traveling families. And for several days, since the travelers first climbed on board, the train had made no stops. In fact, besides the few who were traveling together there were no other passengers aboard at all.
But there was a dining car. Without a doubt, that car was a delicious experience of taste and smell. Before the explosion, five children and most of their parents sat around the long dining table.
"Well, this looks familiar," said thirteen-year-old Faye Vigyanveta with a groan, looking out the window. The rain had stopped and the land was wet—brown and wet for miles and miles. A smallish man, dressed in black with a frilly apron and a chefs hat, stood beside her. He picked up a cinnamon stick with a pair of pincers and placed it beside her cup. Faye did not thank him or look up to acknowledge this presentation. She simply picked up the cinnamon stick and began to stir her tea. She looked at the boy across the table and rolled her eyes.
Ten-year-old Wallace Banneker, descendant of the great Benjamin Banneker and Louis Latimer, adjusted his glasses but said nothing. He looked down at the eggs on his plate. He knew what his father was going to say about a boy and his appetite, but Wallace was already full from the toast and jam.
This was not the case for the boy next to him. "I'll have another crumpet," said twelve-year-old Noah Canto-Sagas before swallowing the three he had in his mouth. "And the apricot jam, too ... please?" He reached across Wallace's plate, barely skimming the jiggling eggs as he tried to grab the jam pot, which was just beyond his fingers. Wallace moved the pot closer so Noah could take it.
"Honestly, Noah." Faye shook her head as Noah poured the jam onto his crumpets. Noah smiled a food-filled smile at Faye. Faye again shook her head, long, dark chestnut hair falling freely down her back and over her shoulders.
"Can you pass the other pot of jam, Lady Faye?" Noah asked. Faye showed a look of disgust, but did, indeed, pass the jam.
Before they'd all gathered for breakfast, Faye had been working on her wing design, and Noah had been working with twelve-year-old Jasper Modest on a mechanical chess set. Jasper had been caught between fits of laughter with Noah and quick glances at Faye.
As he worked, Jasper tried not to stare, but Faye always looked so beautiful when she was concentrating. Her green eyes seemed to get even greener. He liked to watch her when her passion was pleasure. When she was, instead, angry, those green eyes could burn a hole right through you. Ever since the children had recovered their missing parents, Jasper had noticed that Faye had her mother's eyes—or rather, she shared the color. But Faye's eyes were like no others. No one had eyes so intense, so beautiful. While her mother was American, blond and tall, Faye's father was from India and gave Faye her beautiful bronze skin. Jasper noticed that, too.
As they sat around the table now, Jasper stole a glance over at Faye. She looked back, and her wrinkled nose at Noah turned into a disarming smile at Jasper. Blushing from his belly to his ears, Jasper quickly stabbed himself in the cheek with his fork, then knocked over his glass and dropped his napkin into his cocoa.
"It's because of the little bunny hole he makes in the softness of the sand. See?" came the voice of Lucy Modest. Lucy had followed Faye's gaze as she looked out the window. "Yesterday it wasn't as big, but we certainly did pass by his house."
"Quelle mémoire!" said her mother, Dr. Isobel Modest. "My girl does remember everything." And this was true. Lucy could remember everything. It's just that sometimes, things could be lost in the translation from Lucy's brain to a language anyone else in the world could understand.
"What house, Lucy?" asked Wallace, who saw no house.
"Is it an imaginary house?" asked Noah. "Or is it just invisible? Maybe you need to go back to sleep."
* * *
Earlier, Lucy had been like a sleeping kitten in her mother's lap. But Lucy had not been asleep. Not really. She had decided to pretend to sleep. This way, she could feel what it was like simply to sleep within her mother's grasp. Getting her mother all to herself was a rare and special thing for Lucy, and because this was so rare and special, she didn't want to miss it by sleeping. So there she had lain, experiencing the joy of her mother's slender legs against her almost seven-year-old cheek—at least until the train had lurched as it came to a curve around some rising hills on the plains.
"I hope nothing's tumbled over," Faye's mother Gwendolyn had noted as she straightened her skirt and adjusted strands of her blond hair that had come undone from the large bun at the nape of her neck.
Suddenly, Lucy had jumped up from her mother's lap. She looked around, her special bracelet in her mouth, and ran out of the room.
Lucy had then run through the doors and into her family's sleeping quarters. She opened the door to the room she shared with her parents and Jasper and quickly climbed onto her bed. She reached under her pillow and sighed with relief. The journal, she found, was safely tucked away. She leaned over and kissed it and straightened the ribbon that kept it closed.
This journal was precious to Lucy. In fact, it was precious to them all. But Lucy felt responsible, for it was her role to hold it and keep it safe. The lurching of the train might have sent her pillow flying, and then the journal could have flipped out of the bed and been torn—or even slipped out the window! She was glad it was safe and, checking once again that it was still beneath the pillow and hadn't disappeared (since things and people often did in Lucy's life), she then hurried back to the others.
* * *
Now, Lucy looked out the window at a stand of trees she knew they had passed before.
"There's the house, near the trees," she insisted, pointing in the direction
Faye had been looking.
"There's no house, Lucy," Noah said.
"Silly, of course there is!" Lucy pointed more emphatically, her finger wagging.
"It's not there," Noah said, buttering another scone.
"Yes, it is quite," said Lucy. "He's dug it out himself. Oh, I hope his ears didn't get wet in the rain."
Noah threw a look at Jasper. "Rabbit?" Noah mouthed silently. Jasper nodded.
"We've passed this way exactly seven times," said Lucy. "There's the sand cherry turning red." Lucy identified a tight clump of bushy plants that had, in fact, turned a deep but mottled red. The last time, just days before, the leaves hadn't yet turned—or, at least, Faye didn't remember seeing anything so colorful from the window.
"It feels as if we've passed this way a hundred times," groaned Faye, pouring milk into her tea, "no matter what color the leaves are."
"As we must," said Dr. Rajesh Vigyanveta to his daughter. "It is for our own good."
"And what is that supposed to mean exactly, Father?" Faye asked. "How is any of this for our own good?"
"Faye, dear," said her mother soothingly, "there are things that just must be because ..." Looking at her husband, then the other adults, she simply said, "Because they must be. It is for the best." Gwendolyn Vigyanveta smiled at her daughter. Faye looked at her mother, who sounded more like a small-minded country girl than the world-class scientist she was.
Faye opened her mouth to argue, but caught Jasper's eye. She knew what he was saying with that look. He was right. There was no point complaining. Had Faye gotten anywhere complaining? At best, she simply failed. At worst, her complaining got them all into trouble.
Faye threw an angry glance at the mysterious man in black bringing a pot of tea to the table. At this point, she had no choice but to agree that the mysterious men in black (in their bunny ears, or frocks and pinafores, or bloomers and frilly bonnets) were likely there to guard them and meant no harm. Still, Faye saw them as her jailers. They made her furious, these horrid men with their lunatic dress and bizarre speech. To Faye, they had been kidnappers, stealing her from her life on the estate in India, taking her from her own home and her own creatures and her servants and her laboratory
The other children and their parents, too, had all been dragged from their homes—Jasper and Lucy from London, England; Noah from Toronto, Canada; and Wallace from Long Island, New York, here in America.
Faye had to admit that life before—before the farmhouse outside Dayton, Ohio, before the train, before Miss Brett—had been lonely Captive as she was, she was now among friends. Friends are the one thing she had never had before. But she could not believe that this was all "for their own good," as her parents seemed to believe. At least they tried to convince her of it, whether or not they really believed it themselves.
Noah, with his mop of red hair, pulled a small white chess pawn from his pocket. He attempted to balance it on his nose. Either by intention or misadventure, he flipped it into his not-yet-empty cup. With a shrug, he picked up the cup and slurped, finishing every last drop, except for the pawn. Faye made a grimace, placed her own cup daintily into its saucer, and tapped the cinnamon stick gently on the rim of her cup before putting it, too, on the saucer. Noah, who still had a full plate, reached for yet another crumpet from the basket of hot fresh treats being placed on the table by the man in black bunny ears. His mother, Ariana Canto-Sagas, her beautiful platinum necklace sparkling on her neck, picked up the basket and moved it out of reach of her son's hunting fingers.
The door to the salon opened, and Dr. Banneker appeared, filling the doorway with his brawny form. Stepping aside, he gestured and Miss Brett entered. All the children were delighted to see her. As always, their teacher looked lovely. She was so pretty and kind, and her smile brightened the room. Like everyone else, she seemed to have relaxed tremendously now that all the families were finally back together again.
Miss Brett had been with the children in confinement and isolation at Sole Manner Farm. She had been there when they first arrived, unsure of why they had come. She had been there, with them, as they feared and fretted, not knowing where their parents were.
And she had been there when he had come—the mysterious and terrifying man who had threatened all their lives.
Miss Brett had grown to love these children dearly. To her, they were more than pupils, and more than charges. She cared deeply for each and every one of them. She was so very glad to see them basking in pleasure with their parents again.
"Now that looks like a mighty fine spread," said Dr. Banneker, looking at the table. He pulled a chair out for Miss Brett, then went over to Wallace and put a large hand on his son's small shoulder. "You need more meat on them bones, son," he said, patting Wallace's shoulder. The boy winced. When his father wasn't trying to make him grow, he was reminding Wallace that, given all their brownskinned ancestors of scientific fame and glory, he had mighty big shoes to fill. Sitting down beside Wallace, Dr. Banneker piled more eggs and cakes onto his son's plate, then did the same for himself.
"He's, well ... That is certainly a full plate," Miss Brett said. She knew Wallace was not much of an eater, and that he would never finish that plate. That said, Miss Brett did notice how much Wallace had grown already. He was still small for his age, but the slightly pudgy little boy was leaner and taller than when they had met all those months ago.
* * *
Before breakfast, Wallace, like the others, had been working on an invention—actually, an experiment with magnets. At the age of ten, he was quite a chemist.
Miss Brett had been sitting by the fire. "What are you doing there, Wallace?" Miss Brett had asked as she counted stitches. She was knitting scarves for each of the children.
"I've weighed this rare earth element and introduced a small layer of bismuth on one side, since, after consideration, I felt it would be the strongest elemental choice. See ..." Wallace showed how the magnet in his hand caused the thimble on the armrest to roll away from him instead of toward him. "The bismuth has created a diamagnetic reaction," he said, "pushing away instead of pulling toward itself, repelling instead of attracting as one would expect." Wallace adjusted his glasses and looked at Miss Brett, smiling.
Her hands had stopped knitting, and she simply stared. She had become quite used to being told things that were well beyond her ken. She often gazed blankly at the inventions and experiments of the brilliant children in her care. Though she was used to it, there were times when she was still shocked by what they could do.
She realized she was staring with her mouth open. She shook her head to break the spell and smiled broadly at him. "Well, now that is something," she finally said.
Wallace adjusted his glasses again. "I've considered that this would create the strongest magnetic force. We had decided that neodymium might be better than the cobalt." By "we," he'd meant he and his colleague, but before breakfast, his colleague had been busy feigning sleep in her mother's lap.
"How did you do all this?" Miss Brett leaned over to see his magnets.
"We used the small sintering furnace from the laboratory to heat the powder. I combined it with steel." Wallace held the plaster mold in his hand. It had cooled and was ready
"Mmmm," said Miss Brett.
Opening the mold, he had smiled, dropping the magnet into his palm.
"You've made a perfect sphere." Miss Brett was amazed.
Wallace smiled and showed her another he had made earlier. The old one was perfect, too. He polished it against his shirt and nodded to himself. Yes, the alloy would make the strongest magnet. He could already feel it tugging toward the coin in his pocket—the lucky coin his father had finally returned to him.
Wallace had managed to balance the magnet between the iron coils. Then he pulled the coin from his pocket. Carefully, Wallace got it to float between his magnets.
Miss Brett gasped. "Wallace, how clever! It ... it's like magic!"
"It's science," he said.
"To me, science is magic," she said. "And these magnets are amazing."
"I've always loved magnets," Wallace said, "ever since my father read me Gilbert's De Magnete when I was four."
Excerpted from The Ravens of Solemano or The Order of the Mysterious Men in Black by Eden Unger Bowditch. Copyright © 2013 Eden Unger Bowditch. Excerpted by permission of Bancroft Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
and post it to your social network
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
See all customer reviews >