The Magickers (39 page)

Tomaz pulled Jason back against his chest and held him. “No, Jason. This is the best way.”

“I did it to myself, I think.” Henry shrugged. He put his charm into his pocket.

“If you do this to him . . . you could do it to any of us. To Jon or Trent, or . . . or me.” His heart felt like it would explode in his chest.

Gavan Rainwater leveled his gaze on Jason's face as he answered, “Only if it were absolutely necessary. But, yes, if we had to, we would. Magick has dwindled through the centuries. We are nearly all that is left of it, and yet, even beyond our wish for self-preservation is the belief that we have Magick because we are destined to help with it. So saving ourselves is not as selfish as it appears. But it is necessary.”

Jason thought of his own crystal, with the band of stone through it, edged by fool's gold. Was his already half dead? Was that why Gavan had not wished him to choose it? Would he be sitting at this desk tomorrow or the next day, with that goblet in front of him? “Why wait? Do it to me now!”

Henry reached for the goblet. He took a deep breath, then blurted out, “It's okay, Jason.”

Jason let out a wrenching protest as Henry lifted the Draft and gulped it down, swallow after swallow, as tears streamed down his reddening face. Jon turned away and looked at the wall, as if it were too much to watch. Trent stared down at his sneakers.

Horrified, Jason could not look away as Henry set the goblet down. He belched, then colored brightly. Henry reached inside his pocket and pulled out three computer diskettes and gave them to Trent. “Better keep these. If I forget everything, they won't make any sense, anyway.”

Trent pocketed the black squares. Henry had neat labels on them. The one in front read: Important! FireAnn's Herbs. Henry had put all his notes on disk.

Squibb scratched his other arm, tiny marks already beginning to welt. With a sigh, he glanced at the doctor. “Am I going to itch all night?”

She smiled softly. “I've something conventional that will help, although it's not near as good as FireAnn's ointment. You'll sleep soundly.”

He nodded and stood, wobbly. He took a deep breath. “I wish I didn't have to forget you all.”

“You won't, exactly. There will have been a camp. Canoeing. Lanyards. Baseball games. You'll have had a great summer.” Gavan stood, as well. “You'll sleep in the infirmary tonight, and Jon will have your things all packed and ready to go in the morning.”

Jon nodded.

“What about Danno? Won't he get to say good-bye?”

“Danno is sound asleep. I'll explain things to him tomorrow, as well as to the rest of the camp.”

Henry nodded mournfully.

Gavan picked up his cane. “As for the rest of you, we are not done with tonight's activities. We will deal with all of you tomorrow.”

Trent sighed and slipped out the office door. Tomaz squeezed the hard and callused hand he held on Jason's arm before letting him go. Whether it was meant to comfort or caution, he could not tell. Jason and Jonnard left together, paused in the doorway, and waved good-bye to Henry.

Henry brightened a bit behind his glasses. “Nice guys,” he said to Dr. Patel. “Did we have fun together?” He smiled at her pleasantly before yawning hugely.

“Yes, Henry,” she said softly. “You had a lot of fun with them.”

Jason bolted from the office doorway. He did not stop running till he leaped up his cabin steps and threw himself through the door. Even at that, Trent had beaten him back. They did not speak to one another as they sank into bed and an uneasy sleep.

 

Jason woke early, but not early enough to see Henry leave. One of the buses was missing when he trotted up to the bathrooms, and he stood for a moment, looking at the small lot off the Gathering Hall. He remembered how they had all tumbled out of the buses that first night, tired but eager. The fear that had knotted in his chest last night would not go away. He could understand, for the first time, Trent's growing disenchantment. Although they were all here for the summer, the time was rapidly passing and could end abruptly for any of them. Maybe Trent was used to even harder knocks than Jason, for he seemed to have been expecting this all along.

One uneasy thought had been with him through his restless sleep. Up till now, he knew that he was accepted, mistakes and all. He had never asked why. He had never wondered what it was the Magickers wanted of him. Now, he did. It had become clear that something was wanted of each and every one of them, and it had gone unspoken. And, equally clear, if they could not deliver it, they would be shipped off and forgotten.

He shivered. He was never sure at home how long he'd be welcome, despite their cheer and smiles. He wasn't one of them, not really. Here he was one of them—or was he?

27

“
H
EEEEY, batta, batta!” yelled Bailey. She stared from the warped and weathered bench to the home plate where Ting tried to look mean and waved her bat in answer as she settled into a stance. On the pitcher's mound, Dr. Patel tried to look equally mean as she held the ball and read signals. It was the master Magickers against the new Magickers and the masters were ahead, 5 to 2.

Trent stretched his legs at second base, edging away, with a wide, knowing grin on his face. With another wave of her bat, Ting fidgeted in the batters' box again. Jason stood firmly on first, thigh smarting a bit where a wild pitch had winged him, before Sousa had pulled himself as pitcher and put himself in the outfield, sending Anita Patel in for him. The master Magickers all looked a bit overconfident as well as tired and dusty. Jonnard sat in the on-deck circle, waiting for his turn at bat.

Nearly four weeks of play on the baseball diamond had run the grass down to browning stubs. Dust flew into the air more often than baseballs, and the outfield fence had been moved several times, both closer to home plate and farther away. Today it sat a tad bit farther away, with Gavan roaming center field snagging any well hit ball that even looked like it might be a home run. Eleanora had been assigned to play first, but then everyone had protested as she levitated to catch balls slightly out of reach.

The counselors split down their ranks to play on one team or the other, so Jennifer made noises at him as she guarded first base. There was a whole raft of campers sitting in the main stands, cheering one side or the other. FireAnn had made cotton candy and everyone sat eating off their sticks, cotton spun in glorious colors that just also happened to color their tongues the same vibrant shades. With every cheer they made, a rainbow bloomed from their open mouths.

Dust rose as Jennifer shuffled her sneakers. Jason took a short lead off the base, just in case Ting got a good line on the ball. Dr. Patel wound up and pitched.

“Steeee—rike one!” bellowed Jefferson. He pounded his mitt with the baseball before throwing it back to the pitcher. Ting flipped her long dark hair over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes, staring Dr. Patel down.

It seemed to work because the next two pitches were balls. Ting dug in at the plate and look back at Jonnard for advice.

He gave her a signal that meant, swing away. So she swung at the next pitch and the ball popped up in a high, high arc that landed just out of reach of catcher Lucas as he came out of a crouch and ran for it. Two strikes. And then three balls.

Jason limbered up. If she hit it at all, on a full count, they were going to have to tag and run for it.

Dr. Patel touched the faint mark on her forehead as if for luck, wound up, and then pitched. Ting swung with all of her willow-slender strength, and the ball shot low and away from the bat. It sizzled between first and second base before hitting the ground and still moving like a cannonball, rolled to the back fence.

They were all a little slow to react, so Trent ended up on third base, Jason on second, and Ting on first. Bailey screamed and yelled at Ting, her tongue a brilliant cherry red. Rich and Stefan stood near third base, trying to distract Hightower and everyone looked at the scoreboard as Jonnard came to the plate. It was their last chance to score. Trent did a little warm-up dance on third base as if he might try to steal home.

Jonnard looked across the entire baseball field as if calculating his chances. He looked unruffled, as usual, and slightly cool, as usual. And his tongue was a normal pink as he stuck it out at Lucas who said something unheard to him in the batting box. Lucas grinned before settling into his catching stance.

The last batter of the last inning of the last game. The next two weeks after the Talent Show, the master Magickers had already told the campers, would be spent in intense courses on the crystals, and making individual plans for home study. Oh, the canoe races and relay races were yet to come and some Hoedown Barbecue or some such, but the end of their time drew near. And depending on the coming storm, they might be out of time altogether.

Jason looked at the mountains. It was a hot, crystal-clear day, not a cloud in sight. He had no idea what a manna storm would look like. Would it start like summer lightning, with nothing but heat shivering across the sky? Would it boil up in huge, dense white thunderhead clouds? Would it crawl out of the dusty lands and snake crawl through the camp like some growling beast?

Eleanora slapped Jason on the shoulder with her mitt. “Don't go anywhere!” she said, trying to sound gruff. He smothered his worries and concentrated on watching the pitcher and batter staring each other down.

Dr. Patel took a deep breath, wound up and threw hard, coming down off the pitcher's mound with the effort. Her slim strength snapped a fast ball at home plate. Jonnard stepped into his swing.

KER-ACK! The bat connected with the ball. It took off, rising, rising, arching over the infield, gaining altitude. Jason watched it go overhead. It flew against the blue sky, a white blur.

Bailey yelled, “It's going . . . going . . . it's GONE!” She spun around, ponytail flying like a pennant. “Home run!”

The ball sailed over the makeshift barrier in the outfield and thudded to earth somewhere out of sight. Jason crossed home with Ting panting right behind him, slapped hands with Trent who crossed ahead of him, but everyone charged the field to capture Jonnard as he circled the bases. Yelling in victory, they hoisted him up on a sea of shoulders and trotted around the baseball field chanting in mad confusion. They danced around the master Magickers who laughed and tried to pull Jon down from his victory perch and did not quite manage it.

They all ended up at the mess hall where FireAnn and her crew made more cotton candy and shaved ices, flavored with sugary, colorful syrups that turned tongues even more bizarre colors as they spooned the cold treat down. Danno and Jonnard cheerfully stuck their tongues out at each other, comparing the colorful stripes and blazes as they ate, and no one seemed to miss Henry.

When Gavan dropped an easy pop fly out behind second base, no one but Jason heckled him, saying that he'd pulled a Henry.

When Tomaz and Jennifer each ran for a slowing line drive and trapped Bailey between them in a sandwich, no one but Jason said, “That could only have happened to Squibb.”

And when Bailey led her cheering section, there was no Henry to lead the other side, owlish face red with enthusiasm, hair sticking every which way out of his cap. No Henry to beg for an extra splosh of cherry syrup down his shaved ice, and no Henry to be squeaking back and forth on the mess hall bench, joking with Danno and teasing Jonnard.

“What's wrong?” asked Trent. He'd picked blue raspberry syrup and was working on getting his tongue a deep electric blue. He licked his spoon.

“I miss Henry.”

Something went out in Trent's face. “So?” he shrugged and answered, looking down in his dish. He vigorously stirred his ice into a melting slush, picked up the bowl and drank it, his lips going blue as he did so.

“So . . . it could happen to any one of us.”

“Yeah, but it didn't. And he asked for it, screwing around like that.”

“We don't know what he was doing.”

“Look, all they had to do was lead Rich and Stefan around in circles. I could have done it. There's no Magick in that. But he didn't, he screwed around with his crystal and he burned his nerves out. His own fault. It's been weeks, and if you went to see him, he wouldn't even hardly remember you. Yeah, I'm sorry, but . . . But I'm here right now, and so are you.” Trent's expression stayed closed and he said nothing more. He got up and left without another word.

Jason looked over and saw Bailey watching them both. She slid her bowl down and scooted over on the bench. She fetched Lacey out of her pocket and held out a bit of cherry-flavored ice on her finger. The packrat sniffed curiously before eating the fruity coldness. She shook her head several times, whiskers wiggling furiously.

Bailey giggled. “I don't think she likes the ice.”

“Bet she's never had any before.” Jason watched the packrat scramble up her arm and dive into the pocket of safety. “She sure seems tame.”

“Tomaz says I have animal sense.” She let out a rich chuckle. “Better than no sense at all!” She looked down at her pocket, where the long tufted tail swung lazily, almost catlike through the air. She stroked the tuft affectionately. The tail stayed out, though it jumped and danced as if Bailey tickled its owner unbearably. The sight made Jason squirm. She looked at him. “What's wrong?”

“I'm . . . not sure. You ever feel disconnected from everything?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean . . . no one seems to care about Henry. Or anyone else who's gone, you know?”

Bailey made a little face. “Well. I guess it's like . . . we're happy it wasn't us. And it's like . . . who wants to see Henry suffering cause he lost his Magick? It's not right, but it was a relief to see him go. He was so miserable!” She looked down, somewhat ashamed, and traced a finger on the tabletop. “No one really wants to think about something like that happening.”