The Magickers (11 page)

Danno lay there laughing, even though his coffee-brown eyes grew large as Henry's oar swished back over his head a second time as Henry bent over, saying, “I'm sorry! Oh, no . . . I'm sorry again!”

By the time the session ended, they were all sore in the shoulders but switching from side to side without threat of beheading their partners.

They retreated to their cabin gladly, wrote their letters, and no sooner turned them in at the Gathering Hall office to Gavan Rainwater than Adam Sousa swooped down on them.

“Orientation hike!” he announced, with a flourish of his silver cornet. “Three in line, marching formation!”

Bailey skidded into place between Trent and Jason, her freckled face rosy. “Hey, guys! How's it going?”

“Canoeing looks awesome.”

“Yeah? How's your cabin?” Without waiting for an answer, she prattled on about her cottage, Kittencurl, until most of the campers had fallen into formation and Sousa blew a blast on his cornet, quieting everyone. Bailey switched breathlessly into a whisper. “But there's this cabin on your side that no one ever camps in—Dead Man's Cabin. It's . . . haunted.”

“Well, d'uh,” Trent returned. “If it had a dead man in it!”

They all fell silent as Adam Sousa signaled for the marchers to follow him. He counted off their brisk strides before breaking into song:

With grins on their faces and the sun beating down, they made up verses that grew sillier and sillier as the marchers snaked their way through the grounds of Camp Ravenwyng and ended up in front of the mess hall just as FireAnn sounded the lunch bell.

As they fell out to wash their hands and faces, Bailey grabbed their arms.

“Did you see it?” she asked.

“That blackwood cabin with the shuttered windows and the great black slash over the doorway?”

She nodded solemnly.

“Nope.”

She shoved at Trent. “You two! Beat you to lunch!” As it turned out, she did. The Kittencurl Cottage table butted up end to end with the Starwind table, so she scooted her tray over as they sat down and they talked excitedly about their different mornings. Full of food and a little sleepy, they finally headed to lanyards.

Trent nudged him in the ribs. “See? It'll be nice to sit down and do something with our hands.”

Jason picked at a splinter in his thumb. He stifled a yawn as they sat down at the craft tables, trays of colorful plastic strands in front of them, and silvery metal pieces like key chain loops and hooks in plastic bins next to them. Gavan Rainwater sat on the end of the head picnic table, watching as fifteen or so campers stumbled in, faces sunburned, and took their seats.

“Nice quiet afternoon on the lake,” Gavan said. He smiled at them. “Now, as you take up the strands you choose and braid them in some of the patterns I'm going to be showing you, I want you to think behind the simplicity of the object. Beyond square knots and braids. I want you to think of the flow of the color, the energy that you are moving, back and forth, over and under.” He leaned on his cane. “Just let your thoughts go.”

Jason combed his fingers through the long plastic strands, finally settling on a cobalt blue, dark and mysterious, offset by a lighter blue that had a touch of redness in its tone. Gavan had gotten off his table and was strolling by. He stopped. “Only two strands, Jason?”

He pondered. He looked at the instruction sheets weighted down by the supply trays and then nodded. “To start with.”

“Not stretching your limitations?” Gavan watched him, watched his hands.

Jason was careful to leave his left hand mostly palm up, for the moment. The crescent scar on the back of his hand ached and throbbed briefly, then subsided. “Not yet,” he answered.

“Very well, then.” Gavan nodded curtly and moved along.

Trent had five colors he wove skillfully in and out, while Jason struggled to braid his two which did not seem to want to cooperate. When he finally had his lanyard completed, he tied it off with a sigh of relief. He looked up to see that Gavan had made a design as well, a complicated, great knot of color.

Everyone got up to go and look at it.

“Anyone tell me what this is?” Rainwater asked, sitting back, a sparkle in his blazingly blue eyes.

No one answered. Finally Trent shrugged. “A Gordian knot?”

Rainwater's attention snapped to Trent. “A Gordian knot? Why would you say that?”

“Looks like one. I mean . . . a great, complicated knot.”

Rainwater tilted his head, gaze sweeping across all of them. “Anyone else? Anyone know what a Gordian knot is?”

Jason shifted. He'd heard of it before, but couldn't quite remember.

Gavan pointed the wolfhead at Trent. “Tell us all what kind of knot that is.”

Trent stared at the ground gathering his thoughts, then took a breath. “Well, this is the short version. It was a very complicated knot tied in ancient Greece. Whoever could untie or unravel it, would be worthy of conquering those lands. When Alexander the Great began his career, a bunch of wise men figured to stop him. They brought him to the knot. His advisers couldn't figure it out either. Alexander had no intention of being stopped. He took his sword out and sliced the knot in two. His solution was quicker, more direct, and much more forceful. He did pretty well what he set out to.”

“And this knot? Would you slice it in two?” Gavan tapped the lanyard woven display.

“I'd have to be pretty sure I was ready for whatever the reaction would be,” Trent said. He gave a lopsided grin.

“An excellent point.” Gavan bowed to Trent. “La dies and gentlemen. Now that your bodies have rested and the afternoon has grown to its hottest . . . I think swimming is in order.”

They made their way to their cabins to change clothes. Jason said to Trent, “That was cool. You knowing that and all.”

“I know a lot of stuff like that,” Trent answered. “Mythology is my life.” He grinned. “Last one to the lake gets turned into a frog!”

7

Red Jell-o

D
INNER found Jason famished. He hit the line in front of Trent, just barely, and this time he took everything that looked good plus seconds. But as they moved to the end, where the desserts were set out, he shied away from the great sparkling heap of red Jell-o squares. If he had wanted to be buried in gelatin, he'd have stayed with Grandma McIntire. In fact, he was willing to swear that was the main staple of her diet. Alicia told him once that wasn't true, it was just that she thought kids really liked Jell-o. Well, he had . . . once. Now . . . Jason shuddered.

“Don't tell me you're not going to get any?”

“Nope.”

“You're kidding? Well, get some for me, then.” Jason rolled his eyes. Dutifully he reached out and scooped up a dessert dish of the shivery cubes and set it on his tray. He opted for a cup of chilled fruit cocktail as well. FireAnn smiled at him as he carried his tray off to their table. “A hearty eatin' lad! More power to you.”

Henry had already finished his dinner, and was sitting crosswise on the nearby bench, discussing the merits of chess with Jonnard who looked extremely interested, as opposed to his normal look of polite faint interest. Bailey scooted over immediately, a frown darkening her face.

“Hey, what's wrong?”

“Someone,” and she lowered her voice so no one else could hear, “has been stealing things from our cottage.”

“What? Who? What kind of things?”

“We don't know. Everyone is missing something. My favorite set of barrettes is gone, and one of my hair scrunchies. Ting is missing her best purse comb. Even Jennifer says she is missing something.” Bailey sat up straight as Jennifer approached them and went to sit at the far end of the table next to the wall. Pale and blonde and lovely, Jennifer hadn't said a word to Jason in the two days their tables had been joined. She sat down carefully, and tossed her long hair back over her shoulder. She was clearly older and the type of girl Alicia would refer to as “high maintenance.” He wasn't sure what that meant exactly, but if she was at all like Alicia, she spent a lot of time in the bathroom getting presentable.

He leaned over to Bailey. “You think it's Jennifer?”

She shrugged. But her actions spoke differently as she viciously stabbed her fork at some grapes rolling around in her dessert cup.

Jason considered. Then he said quietly, “It may not be. Someone went through my things before we even got our cabins.”

Bailey looked at him. Then she nodded. A slow smile returned to her as Trent sat down. Then she asked brightly, “How'd everyone do in swimming?”

Henry broke off talking to Jon and swung about completely, positively glowing. “I passed! I made intermediate swimmer. Never swam in a lake before.”

Nor had Jason. The sensation of the silt beach bottom under his feet and the rockiness of the lake bottom had been different. But he was a good swimmer, or so he liked to think, and had enjoyed the afternoon session. Warmer, then cool waters as the lake deepened, felt great against the heat. Emerging had made his skin tingle in the breeze. “I did all right,” he said.

“All right?” Trent sat down and ate half his meatloaf before expounding. “Boy's a fish in the water.”

“C'mon.” Jason stared at his dinner tray, too embarrassed to look elsewhere.

“I kid you not. He's a dolphin.” With a swoop of his fork, his thin friend devoured the rest of the meatloaf.

“Dolphins are sea mammals. Saltwater.”

Trent shook his head vigorously. “There's freshwater ones in China. Endangered, too. Ugly things, for dolphins.” He pointed at Jason, grinning. “And he swims like one!”

“Eat your Jell-o!” Jason got the extra dish off his tray and pushed it over to muffle Trent. That seemed to work. Trent looked rather like a chipmunk for a few moments.

Bailey giggled. She jumped to her feet. “I'll see everyone later at the campfire!” Passing Trent and Jason, she whispered, “I'm setting out a trap tonight.” Then she was gone with a smell of vanilla as well as dinner. He looked after her.

Henry and Jonnard returned to their discussion on chess. Ting and Jennifer watched one another while they both ate alarmingly small portions of their dinner and said nothing. Jason thought guiltily of Sam and how he had hardly missed his best friend with Trent and Bailey around. 'Course, it had only been a few days.

“Sure you don't want any?” His buddy circled the last bowl of dessert.

Jason had to admit the cherry gelatin did look pretty, crowned by fluffy clouds of whipped topping. But even the sight of it brought back stifling memories of Grandma McIntire and his narrow escape for the summer. He shook his head.

“Your loss,” Trent commented cheerfully, before diving in and polishing off the dessert.

By the time they left the mess hall, dusk had started to fall. Bailey caught up with them as she had promised. “Let's think of a ghost story to tell tonight,” she said excitedly.

“Oh, I'm not any good at that.” He didn't have a tale he could make up, though the beast that had tackled him would scare anyone.

“I am,” Trent offered. “I mean, I've read a lot of 'em.” They sat down at the fire ring with nobody else in sight. As Bailey and Trent put their heads together, deciding to tell a spooky legend about Dead Man's Cabin, Jason caught a hint of movement. Almost as if his thought had summoned it, something moved in the growing twilight.

He turned his head slowly.

Something a little darker than the shadows made a gliding movement, then disappeared. He gathered himself, ready to leap to his feet, then told himself it was nothing. He heard nothing.

Then, again. In the deep trees ringing this end of the lake, something very dark, low to the ground, moved.

He fastened his gaze on the copse of trees and shrubs that hid whatever it was. The back of his hand throbbed slightly. Green glowing eyes flashed at him from the twilight. His breath froze in his lungs.

By the time he could move again, the narrowed eyes had retreated into the shadows. He had seen something . . . or had he?

“Trent.”

“Hmmmm?” His friend looked up. He'd been laughing at something Bailey said.

“See anything out there? I mean.” Jason cleared his throat. “Ever wonder if there is anything to see. Deer and stuff.”

Trent gazed across the clearing toward the lake end. “Too early, isn't it? I mean, they come out at sunset.” He turned his attention back to Bailey.

Jason watched the forest, half listening to them, half nervously searching for that which he could not quite see. Was it out there? Or did he imagine it?

A branch snapped. His friends didn't notice it, but he jumped to his feet. From the shadows of the trees, a figure stepped out.

“Well, well. Bailey. Trent, isn't it? And Jason. Already waiting?” Eleanora smiled. Despite the heat of the summer evening, she wore a long soft dress, and a filmy, floating cloak draped from her shoulders. She had a basket hanging from her wrist. “A little early for the bonfire, isn't it? How about I save your places if you'll run these raspberries down to FireAnn for me?” Smiling wider, Eleanora held out the basket, brimming with fresh picked raspberries.

Jason took the basket, amazed that his heart hadn't stopped in his chest from fright. He walked nervously back to the mess hall while Bailey and Trent chattered away at his heels.