A Hidden Magic (7 page)

"Oh-oh," Norman said.

Jennifer couldn't have put it better. She was about to take a step back into the cover of the trees when a rough, dry voice bellowed, "Hey!"

The two of them turned around and found themselves staring at the top laces of someone's boot.

Jennifer tilted her head, and leaned back,
and looked up, up—till she reached the man's face, almost ten times as high up as where she would have found it on an average man.

Now giants have never been known for their beauty. Even to other giants, they aren't very appealing. But this giant was especially ugly. He had longish, straggly hair that left greasy stains on his collar, and his huge belly strained at the belt, from which hung a ten-foot-long hunting knife. In shape, color, and texture the giant's nose resembled a moldy potato; even his ears had warts.

He leaned way down to place his face close to theirs and tapped a finger with a cracked yellow nail on Norman's chest. "What," he demanded, "do ya think yer doing here?"

The sorcerer met his red-veined eyes without flinching, though the giant's "tap" had almost knocked him over. "Just passing through," he explained.

"Well, ya can't."

"Okay," Norman agreed readily, more than
willing at this point to forget everything and go back home.

"Not so fast," the giant said. "Here youse are trespassing on my land, just traipsing through without a by-yer-leave, or an apology, or nothing."

"Sorry," Norman said.

Jennifer nodded to show she was sorry, too.

"Sorry don't pay the taxes. Now that yer already here, I gotta charge ya the toll."

Norman and Jennifer exchanged a worried look. "We don't have any money."

The giant shook his huge head in disgust. "People!" he muttered. "Always trying to get away with something. All right, I'll tell ya what I'm gonna do." The dirty finger found Norman's chest again. "I'll let
you
go and get the money if ya leave the girl behind as security."

Jennifer gulped.

Without hesitation, Norman said, politely, "No, I don't think so."

"Then it's into the supper pot with both of
youse," the giant said, and tucked each of them under a hairy arm.

He carried them into his house and put them in a huge pot on the kitchen table while he got the fire burning brightly.

Jennifer started to pull the magic bottle out of her pocket, but Norman shook his head. "We'd better save that in case we need it later," he whispered.

"I don't know much about these things, but just as a guess I'd say we need it now." Jennifer whispered also, but the giant was whistling to himself as he peeled watermelon-size potatoes, so he couldn't hear them anyway.

"No, not really," Norman said, raising his voice considerably and standing on tiptoe to see over the edge of the pot. "Giants are very stupid, you know."

Somehow this didn't seem the right thing to say, considering the circumstances, and Jennifer put her finger to her lips even though
the giant gave no indication that he had heard.

"No, really," Norman insisted even more loudly. "There are a lot of stupid creatures in the world, but none more stupid than a giant."

"Eh?" the giant asked, as Jennifer made frantic shushing motions. "Were youse guys talking to me?"

"I was talking to Jennifer," Norman explained.

"Oh." The giant started to turn back.

"I was telling her how incredibly slow giants are."

Jennifer groaned.

"Slow?" the giant said. "How do ya mean, slow?"

"Dull. Stupid. You know, slow."

"Not to start an argument or nothing," the giant said, his feelings somewhat bruised, "but yer the ones in the soup kettle."

This was a good point, but Norman ignored
it. "Exactly." He turned to Jennifer and said, louder than necessary, "Would you look at that? He's peeling potatoes and carrots. Giants have no sense of class. Do you know what the head waiter in a fancy restaurant says when he sees a giant coming?"

Jennifer shook her head.

"He says, 'Bring out the leftovers. Get the wilted lettuce and the day-old bread. This one's too stupid to know the difference.'"

"Is that what he says?" Jennifer asked, although her heart wasn't in it.

Norman nodded somberly. "Giants are a laughingstock. Nobody takes them seriously. Potatoes and carrots, indeed!"

The giant came over and pulled the two of them out of the pot. He set them on the table where he could see them better. "What's wrong with potatoes and carrots?"

"Well, if I have to be somebody's dinner," Norman said, "I should hope it would be in a meal with a little more sophistication than potluck stew."

The giant wasn't really all that bad a fellow, and he didn't want to hurt Norman's pride, so he explained, "But I like stew."

"You like stew," Norman repeated. He turned to Jennifer. "There you have it. Potatoes and carrots. Well, it's his upbringing, I imagine. He can't help it. I suppose he doesn't know any better."

The giant couldn't understand what all the fuss was about, so he just shrugged and started to turn back to his preparations.

"The least you could do," Norman said hurriedly, before he lost the giant's attention completely, "is add some"—he tried to think of something with the sound of fancy gourmet cooking—"some chopped essence of creme-de-menthe parfait."

Of course, there was no such thing in those days any more than there is today. It's something the great chefs of the world have simply never bothered to invent, but it was the best he could come up with on the spur of the moment.

Jennifer gave him a startled look but said nothing.

The giant had no idea what Norman was talking about, but he certainly wasn't going to admit that.

Norman broke the silence. "Haven't you ever heard of...? No, of course not. Sorry I brought it up." He smiled sweetly.

The nature of giants being what it is, he answered indignantly, "Of course I heard of it. It's, uh, chopped. And it's, ahm..." He couldn't remember any of the other words Norman had used. "It's for cooking. Comes in a little box." He figured this description was probably general enough to fit just about anything and hoped it would convince these two that he wasn't all that dumb.

Indeed, the old man was looking impressed. "I'm surprised you've heard of it." He gave another sweet smile. "I don't suppose you've ever actually tried any."

"Oh, yeah, sure," the giant said, determined
no not to let Norman get the upper hand. "I eat it all the time. Never start a meal without it."

Norman nodded as if he approved, then said, "
Well
'

The giant considered. "Oh," he said. "Ahmmm." Then he snapped his fingers as if disappointed. "Wouldn't ya know—I just ran out of my last box of it this morning."

Norman turned to Jennifer with a triumphant cry. "There! See! What did I tell you? Giants try to act as if they've got class, but inside they're all the same."

"Sorry," the giant said. Even if he was about to eat these people, he didn't want them thinking badly of him. "I woulda gotten some more, but, ahm, I didn't know where to get any this time of year."

"Oh," Norman said. "In early spring? Barcelona."

"Barcelona?" the giant croaked.

"You have heard of Barcelona?"

"Well, yeah, but the distance..."

"For a giant of your size?" Norman said. "A
hop, skip, and a jump away. You'll be there and back in no time."

Every giant likes to think of himself as being the biggest and the best, and this one was no exception, so he didn't really want to argue the point. "I dunno," he started doubtfully.

"The other giants'll be green with envy."

The giant scratched his head and wondered how he had gotten into this. "Barcelona, huh?"

Norman nodded. "And that will be just long enough for us to take a nap before supper." He gave a great yawn as he sat down on the table with his back resting on the kettle. "We've been traveling all day, and we're very tired."

When Jennifer continued to stand there, just looking at him, he glared at her and repeated, more slowly, "
Very
tired."

"What?" Jennifer said in a slow, lazy voice. "I'm sorry, I'm so tired I wasn't listening." She stretched and yawned, then slowly sank down beside Norman.

The giant rubbed the stubble on his face and fought back a yawn of his own. "You'll show me how to cook this stuff?" he asked, putting on his coat.

With his eyes closed, Norman nodded. Jennifer sat very quietly by his side and worked on looking sleepy and helpless.

"I really appreciate this," the giant called from the door.

"No problem," Norman assured him. "Believe me, it's my pleasure."

He remained very still until the giant's heavy footsteps could no longer be heard, then he sprang to his feet and ran to the edge of the fifty-foot-long table.

"It's sort of high, but not too bad," he told Jennifer, pointing to the chair that was pulled up nearby.

They jumped from the table to the chair, and then climbed down the chair leg. The giant had made the furniture himself, and since he wasn't a very careful craftsman, the chair leg wasn't sanded down smoothly; there were plenty of ridges to give Jennifer and Norman firm footholds to make their descent easier.

Once on the floor, they began moving the chair toward the door. This involved quite a bit of pulling, pushing, tugging, and dragging, but finally they had it where they wanted it. They rested only long enough to get their breath back, all the while hoping that the giant wouldn't change his mind or decide that he needed his galoshes or anything like that.

Norman scampered back up the chair (tripping over his feet several times until he divided his beard in two and tied it around his neck like a woolly scarf so that he could see). From there he was able to reach the doorknob, and after considerable strain, he managed to turn the dartboard-size knob with both hands.

Jennifer, pushing against the door, felt it give, and she fell headlong into the backyard.

Then Norman was by her side and the two
of them made a dash for the trees, hoping that once they got back into the cover of the forest the giant would never be able to find them.

All the while they ran, Norman kept calculating: If the giant spotted them
now
and started chasing them at this very instant, could they make it to the distant trees before he reached them? How about now?

Jennifer kept one hand pressed against her aching side and the other in her pocket, clutching the magic bottle, and wondered—since their progress seemed so slow—if they were running without moving, the way it happens in dreams.

Finally they were there—among the safety of the trees, and still there was no sign of the giant. The two of them ran several steps more before tumbling, exhausted, to the ground.

T
HEY STILL COULDN'T SEE
the sky, but they could tell from the increasing dimness that night had almost caught up with them.

Around them they could hear the underbrush crackle with the movements of unseen creatures. Sometimes, out of the corner of an eye, one of them would spot a dark streak jumping for cover as they passed. Birds were bringing the last meal of the evening to their chicks. All the small animals who scamper about in the sunlight were settling down for a
comfortable sleep in their nests or burrows. The night predators were getting ready to prowl.

The two travelers had heard no sound of pursuit from the giant and were just beginning to congratulate themselves on their elusiveness when a silky voice hissed, "What's this? Escaped from the giant's premises, I perceive."

And there in front of them, where two seconds before there had been nothing, now stood a very large dragon.

The only time Jennifer had ever seen a dragon before was that morning when the Old Witch had made herself look like one. That had been frightening enough, even when she had known it was only an illusion. Now she stood stunned, only her hand moving, groping for her pocket, fingering the magic bottle.

Norman's hand was on her wrist. "We might need it more later," he whispered.

"You know I'm new to all this," Jennifer answered just as quietly, "but I don't see how we could ever need it more than now."

"Please," the dragon said, "no whispering." He smiled, showing many long, pointed teeth, then added, "It distresses me." He demonstrated what happened when he became distressed with a blast of flame that shriveled the grass at their feet.

They took a quick step backward and the dragon took two forward. He moved his enormous tail back and forth, knocking several branches off trees.

Now dragons, as any zoologist will tell you, are closely related to snakes, which explains the hissing manner of their speech. But a more important trait that the two share is the way they can fix their eyes on a creature as if looking into the farthest corners of its being and almost hypnotize that victim into not moving until it's too late to escape. Which is precisely what this particular dragon was doing at that very moment. His eves were like black whirlpools, and he slowly approached, whispering, "So, small strangers, you've absconded from the savage giant's sagging domicile?"