Archer's Quest (7 page)

Kevin opened his mouth—and then closed it again.
Don't be ridiculous! He'd think it was some nut in a
costume! He'd never believe me, or Archie! I don't even know why
I
believe Archie!

He glared at the window. He knew Archie couldn't see him, but he was just so—so frustrated.

Mr. Lee looked at him curiously, then swiveled his chair a little toward the window.

No!
Kevin wasn't sure why, but at that moment it seemed terribly important to keep Archie's presence a secret. He leapt to his feet.

"Uh, Mr. Lee? Thank you so much. This was so interesting. I can't wait to get home and work on my project. I didn't know any of that stuff you told me." Kevin leaned forward and stuck out his hand, practically begging the man to turn back toward him.

Which he did. He shook Kevin's hand, looking a little puzzled. "Well. I'm glad I could be of assistance. Please come back again anytime. And give my regards to your family."

"Sure. Yeah. Thanks. Thanks again."

"I'll walk you back out."

"No, no, that's okay, I can find my way—it was easy. Thanks, Mr. Lee."

And Kevin was out of the room and down the corridor before the professor could get to his feet.

Kevin pulled open one of the glass doors at the front of the museum and walked quickly around to the side of the building. As he turned the corner, he saw with relief that Archie was still standing in exactly the same position. It looked like he hadn't even blinked. Or breathed, for that matter. Kevin had been in the museum for at least twenty minutes—how did Archie do it?

Kevin gave a stiff little wave and prayed silently that Archie would walk straight over, without meandering in front of the professor's window. No worries: Archie came toward him right away. "You are all right, Young Friend?" he called anxiously.

"I'm fine, Archer." Even though it seemed silly to think of the museum as a dangerous place, it made Kevin feel good to know that Archie had been worried about him. And "Young Friend"—that was definitely progress.

But what were they going to do next? The museum
had been a real dead end, and Kevin didn't have any other ideas....

Well, walking was better than standing still. He looked around cautiously. The parking lot was behind the building, with an exit to a side street. That would be quieter than the main road, there'd be less traffic. He led the way through the parking lot.

"What of your mission?" Archie asked. "Did you discover the whereabouts of a sorceress? Or someone else who might be able to help me return to my people?"

Kevin sighed. "No, Archer. I'm sorry. I did talk to someone who knew some things about you, but he didn't know any—any sorceresses."

Archie looked so downcast that Kevin tried to think of something to cheer him up. "Archer, I think it's very cool how you can stay in one position for so long," he said. "I wish I could do that."

"It took a great deal of training," Archie answered. "Every day for many years. Not training the body so much as training the mind."

"The mind," Kevin echoed. He'd noticed that listening and repeating what he'd heard from Archie was almost the same as asking a question. Better, really. Because Archie knew he'd been listening and couldn't get all insulted.

"It is not easy to put into words," Archie said slowly.
"But I shall try. I gather the movement from my limbs, my head and shoulders, from all the parts of my body. I form it into a ball, and I draw the ball down deep into my center. I keep it there, in my belly. When I feel I want to move, I do it there. Within the ball. But the movement, the energy, is there, should I have sudden need of it. I need only release it from the ball back into my body, in a single blink."

Kevin nodded slowly. "I think I get it," he said, "but I still think it must be hard to do."

"As I have already stated, it took much time and work to achieve. But it may be that I also have a gift for this ability." Archie looked at him solemnly. "So many times have I been blessed by the spirits. To have received such great gifts means that I must give in return, to do my part in maintaining the balance of harmony in the universe."

Balance of harmony—what the heck was he talking about now?

"Therefore," Archie continued, "every moment that I am away from my people prevents me from doing what I am destined to do. I must find a way to return home!"

Kevin groaned, shook his head, and rolled his eyes all at the same time.
It's hopeless! I don't know what to do!

Archie was looking at him intently. "Young Friend, you are troubled, and calming your body can go a great distance toward calming your mind. I think it would be
a good time for you to attempt a moment of stillness such as we have been speaking about."

"Attempt a what?" Kevin was too discouraged to try to make the question a nonquestion.

"Stand so." Archie stopped right where he was there on the sidewalk and faced him. Kevin sighed and did the same.

"Make your breaths long and slow. As you take each breath, feel the movements in your body—your arms and legs, especially—being gathered up into a ball in your belly. Until there is no movement left to agitate you. Only stillness. Only calm."

Archie's voice was low and soothing. It was weird, but after only a few breaths Kevin really did feel a little calmer.

They stood in silence. At first Kevin thought he would simply have to fidget, but he kept trying to put the movements into a ball the way Archie had told him to, and he was surprised to find that it gradually became easier not to move.

After a few minutes, Archie nodded. "Well done for your first effort. I perceived only the slightest movement in your lower body."

It was true: Kevin had shuffled his feet a little at the beginning.

Kevin bowed his head. "Thanks." He couldn't imagine bowing to anyone else, but somehow it felt right to bow to Archie.

"Now, then," Archie said, "with your mind calmer, perhaps you will now be able to think about what is troubling you in a more orderly manner."

More orderly—that was a funny way to put it. For some reason Kevin thought of the few times his dad had talked about his job as a programmer. "Solving problems by putting things in order"—wasn't that what he'd said? Something about sorting out the essential stuff and getting rid of whatever wasn't necessary. And then creating commands and making sure the commands ran in a logical sequence.

His dad had explained this a couple years ago, when Kevin started playing a lot of computer games. Kevin had thought he might like to write his own game and had asked his dad about programming. But it turned out that basic programming—what he had to learn first before he got to the cool stuff—was really boring. He'd sat through one or two dull sessions with his dad and then given up. His dad had seemed a little disappointed that Kevin wasn't more interested but hadn't pushed him to continue.

Archie looked at him encouragingly. "Come now. It is clear to me that you have an unusual ability to communicate with the spirits. They have doubtless already told
you what you need to know. There remains only for you to hear what they have told you in the right way."

"Archer, you have to understand something. I don't have any—um—any special kind of ability. Anybody could do what I did with the—the spirit box."

Archie frowned, then shook his head. "No, Young Friend. You have communicated with the spirits. You have taken considerable time and even left your home on behalf of a stranger. These are things that not everyone would have done. I feel quite certain that you are the one fated to assist me in my quest." He nodded firmly.

He's counting on me.
That was a good feeling.

I don't have a clue.
That was a not-so-good feeling.

But he's counting on me. At least I have to try.

For the first time since Archie had thumped down onto the floor of the bedroom, Kevin tried to get his thoughts organized. He started by sorting through the things he'd learned about Archie. In his head he made two columns—"Essential" and "Nonessential," the way his dad had showed him in basic programming. Of course he didn't really know what was essential and what wasn't, so he changed the headings to "Important" and "Not so important."

I
MPORTANT
He's a king.
He's from Korea.
He's a great archer.
He's got a special thing for animals.

N
OT SO IMPORTANT
He brought chopsticks to Korea.
The animals he's told me about are: tigers, boars, dogs, horses.
He likes farmers and fishermen.

That seemed like a good start. It was funny: Now that his thoughts were more organized, Kevin really did feel a little less lost.

As he stood there thinking, Archie was quiet beside him.

What could we do—where could we go here in Dorchester that's related to any of the important things?

King of another country. They had embassies for people like that. The nearest Korean embassy was probably in New York City. Kevin knew that because his grandparents had gone there once, to help a distant relative sort out some travel documents—passport or visa or something. Maybe Archie would have to go there. But for now—
logical order: New York City is three hundred miles away, and going there is not logical at the moment
—Kevin pushed it down the list.

Archery? There might be an archery club or a range somewhere in the city, but Kevin had never heard of one.

Animals. What kind of animals? Kevin checked the N
OT SO IMPORTANT
list.
Tigers.
Archie thought tigers were the source of the magic.

Tigers meant the zoo. Which was a bit of a distance from where they were, but they could walk there.

The zoo next. Logical.

Kevin squared his shoulders and looked at Archie.

"You have an idea, Young Friend!"

"Yeah, Archer, I have an idea. We're going to the zoo. I don't know—it might not be much of an idea—"

Archie held up his hand. "In our quest thus far, have you learned anything you did not already know?"

"Well, sure, but—"

"And I, too, have learned a great deal about your world. With each step we have taken, we have learned more. I have no doubt that this next step will have the same result!"

Kevin couldn't help but feel a little more cheerful at Archie's optimism. They began walking north, toward the city zoo.

It would probably take them about half an hour to get there. Kevin shoved his hands into the pockets of his
jacket and hunched his shoulders against the February chill. Archie didn't seem to notice the cold, even without a jacket.

Kevin had stopped worrying about Archie's weird outfit. Not many people were outdoors on such a cold, raw day, and the people in cars all seemed to zoom by without noticing them.

Archie walked beside Kevin silently, which was a good thing, because Kevin had to work out exactly how to get to the zoo. He'd never gone there on foot before; he'd always ridden in a car or on the school bus for field trips. But the zoo was not far from Dorchester State, where his parents worked. All he and Archie had to do was walk in the direction of the university, and the zoo was on the other side of Route 104.

That would be the only tricky part—crossing 104. The speed limit was probably 55 miles per hour, so the cars would be going fast. Kevin was pretty sure there was a pedestrian bridge somewhere, but he didn't know exactly where. They'd just have to find it when they got there.

Then he remembered something he wanted to ask Archie. "Archer, my grandfather told me that you once escaped from some enemies by crossing a river. But he didn't tell me the whole story. I was hoping you would tell it to me."

Archie made an odd sound, as if he was clearing his throat and chuckling at the same time. "It is a very good story!" he said. Then he shook his head. "But I cannot tell it to you."

"Why not?" Kevin asked before he thought.
Oops—that was a question.

Archie didn't seem to mind. "The telling of stories in which the teller himself is the hero is unbecoming," he said. "It lacks modesty."

"But you told me the one about when you were a baby," Kevin protested, "and you were the hero in that one."

Archie looked cross at having been contradicted. "I was only an infant," he said. "I was unaware of being the hero, so it is not the same."

Kevin wanted to hear the story—it sounded like an exciting one. Besides, he thought the more he could learn about Archie, the better the chances of getting him home. "You could pretend to be someone else and tell it," Kevin suggested. "You know, in third person." His English class had been studying narrative voice. "Like, if it was a story about me, I'd say, 'Kevin did this, and Kevin did that, and Kevin did blah blah blah,' and it would be
me
telling it, but it would be like I was telling it about someone else. Get it?" he said breathlessly.

'"Blah blah blah'?" Archie shook his head. "It seems
the stories of your world are strange indeed. But there is truth in what you say—the subject of a story can tell it in a way no one else can. Besides, it might help us pass the time on our journey. Very well, I will tell it as you suggest."

They were now walking past Westland House, one of Dorchester's landmarks. It was a famous photography gallery, and its grounds were laid out like a miniature park. In the spring there were lots of flowers and nice green bushes, but now everything was mud-colored. Brownish grass, bare branches, patches of muddy snow. There was hardly anyone else around—just an old man in a dark overcoat and hat strolling slowly along a path across the grounds.

Kevin put himself into what he called "listening mode." There was ordinary listening, and there was "ignore mode," too—when he made his face look like he was listening but let his mind wander to other things. "Ignore mode" was handy sometimes, especially if his mom was lecturing him.

There was one more switch in Kevin's brain. It went along with his listening mode, but he didn't always use it. It was "listen and record"—when he was
really
interested in something and wanted to remember it, like when Jason told him about shortcuts or secret codes to a video game. That was the one he'd use now.