Magic in the Mix (20 page)

Miri cleared her throat softly. The Colonel didn't budge.

Miri cleared her throat a little less softly.

Nothing.

“Sir?” Molly whispered.

The Colonel lay still as death.

Hoping he wasn't the grumpy-waking-up type, Miri reached out and gently shook his shoulder. “Sir,” she murmured. “Sir.”

A quick scratch, a flame bursting into light, and Miri found herself looking straight into two yellow eyes.

For a split second, she froze. Then—

Carter's hand closed around her arm.

“Let go,” said Miri, but her voice was quaking. She could hear it, and so could Carter.

“Stop sniveling,” he sneered, tightening his fingers on her arm. “You made a fool of me yesterday, girl. It's not an experience I enjoy, being humiliated. I find it upsetting. It upsets me.” He smiled slowly. “I am therefore charmed by your unexpected reappearance.”

She kicked at his knee, but he had learned that trick the day before, and he simply held her farther away, shaking his head. “You insult me.” He looked up at Molly, still smiling. “You brats need to learn a lesson. And I shall be your teacher.”

Molly sneered at him. “You insult me,” she said,
and then she opened her mouth and screamed, high, piercing, and long.

At once, there was a thump and a rattle in the hallway, and light flooded in as the door flew open. “What's the matter? What the devil's the matter?” cried the Colonel, his face white above a candle.

Carter flung Miri away from him. “Assassins!” he exclaimed. “These devils crept in thinking it was your bed, sir, and put a knife to my throat.”

“Not true!” yelled Miri, but she was drowned out by a stampede of boots on the stairs.

“Sir! Sir!” cried a jumble of voices. “Colonel! Save the Colonel! We'll get 'em! You all right? Sir?” Men thronged into the room, pistols waving wildly as they bellowed and crashed into one another.

“Stand down!” roared someone. “Stand down, you fools!” Miri saw that it was the grumbling soldier from the dining room. He was shorter and younger than most of the others, but they obeyed him, subsiding into confused silence, their pistols dropping to their sides, their feet shuffling.

“Thank you, Charlie,” said the Colonel. “And thank you, gentlemen, for your, uh, enthusiastic defense of my person. As you can see, I am in no
immediate danger of annihilation.” His smile flashed. “Unlike some of you, who appear to be in the last stages of a consumption of spirituous liquors. You are dismissed. Return to your debauches. Except you, Charlie, and Carter. And our guests, of course.” He bowed slightly toward Miri and Molly.

“Don't be fooled by their size, Colonel,” warned Carter as the other soldiers bumbled away. “They're out for your neck, that's certain. Someone's sold you out, sir, and these cubs were aiming to get the bounty on your head.” His pale eyes gleamed with concern, and Miri felt a stab of envy for his ability to lie convincingly. In less than a minute, he'd managed to turn himself into the Colonel's faithful rescuer.

Now the Colonel turned to inspect Miri and Molly. His face gave no hint of his opinion.

“No, sir, no,” Miri began. “We're not doing anything like that, sir—”

“Then explain,” snapped Carter, “what, precisely, you
were
about, slinking through bedrooms in the dark.”

The Colonel glanced at the basket that still hung, in spite of everything, over Molly's arm and said quietly, “I'd advise you not to say eggs.”

“No, of course not! We only brought the eggs to keep Mrs. Hibbs from fussing,” Molly said quickly.

The Colonel nodded and looked at Miri. “Explain yourself, if you please.”

Miri's heart began to thunder in her chest. “We came about—about—about some prisoners. Two boys he”—she pointed at Carter—“caught and beat up today.” What if he didn't believe them? What if he didn't listen? He
had
to.

The Colonel lifted his eyebrows inquiringly at Carter.

Carter frowned at Miri, trying to figure out what she was up to, before he turned to the Colonel. “The two prisoners I told you about. Yankees. Emory's.” He shrugged. “Captured to fill the order for tomorrow.”

“We saw them, today, this afternoon, when we came here,” Miri said, “and when the guard told us that they were going to—to—to”—she took a breath—“be hanged tomorrow, we thought we should say a prayer with them—for them to get into heaven, you know?” She nodded hopefully at the Colonel. Maybe he was religious.

He rolled his eyes. “A charming sentiment. They're enemy combatants.”

Not religious. Molly cut in, “And while we were praying with them, they said we should give you a message. They said
he
”—she looked at Carter—“would never believe it, but you would. It's a letter.” The small brown paper trembled as she held it out.

The Colonel looked at it, bored. “Let me guess. They're the sole support of an ancient mother.”

“And a one-legged sister,” laughed the soldier named Charlie. Miri and Molly looked at each other in dismay. It had never occurred to them that the Colonel would refuse to read the letter.

Carter broke in, “Sir, let me take care of these children for you. I'll teach them a thing or two, and then I'll return them to their loving families. Please,” he begged. “I'm so fond of the kiddies.” He laid a heavy hand on Miri's shoulder.

Miri shuddered and ducked away.

“Colonel, I know you don't believe us, but please read it,” Molly implored. “It's important.
Please
. You'll see.”

The Colonel sighed. “More light, please.”

Carter snapped a match between his fingers and lit the candle beside the bed.

Charlie snorted. “Fire's the devil's friend, eh, Nick?” He lit another candle from Carter's flame.

The Colonel unfolded the paper and tilted it toward the candlelight. Breathlessly, Miri watched his eyes race over the words, stop, and go back to the beginning, reading slowly. A moment later, he lifted his head and gave Carter a sharp look. “Get those boys. Bring them here at once. No!” He spun around to Charlie. “You get them.”

Success! thought Miri, darting a wild glance at Molly. But one look at Carter's face drove her triumph away. He was watching her, his yellow eyes flat, one eyebrow raised, his teeth slowly moving, one row against another, from side to side. He caught her watching him and smiled. “How I love the kiddies,” he murmured, and Miri felt the skin on the back of her neck crawl.

The Colonel said nothing. For what seemed like years, they stood in silence. If only I could call a time-out, Miri thought, shifting her weight from foot to foot. If only I could say, Excuse me, sir, Molly and I need to go into the hall for a minute. If only we could communicate telepathically. If only—she looked up to find Molly's clear gray eyes fixed on
her, and for a moment, she relaxed. Molly knew what to do, Miri could tell. Molly knew they had to start talking, loud, about the safe-conduct the moment their brothers came through the door. Molly got it. Miri gave her a tiny nod, and Molly nodded in return.

Wow, thought Miri. Maybe that
was
telepathic communication.

But what about Ray and Robbie? They had no idea what they were facing, what role they were supposed to play. No warning, no preparation. And they're such dopes, Miri thought despairingly, they'll never catch on. Plus, they're crappy improvisers. Her stomach lurched as she remembered Ray protesting that he'd only cut history once. They were terrible at faking it even when they knew what they were supposed to be faking. This was going to be a disaster.

Nervously, Miri put her knuckle in her mouth, decided that knuckle-chewing looked suspicious, removed it, clasped her hands together, decided that looked suspicious, too, unclasped them, threw herself on the mercy of the gods and prayed that her brothers would be granted intelligence, just for the next twenty minutes, please please please. Don't let
them say that we're their sisters. Don't let them blab about reenactments. Don't let them be stupid, she begged. And especially don't let them be so stupid as to say they have no idea who R. E. Lee is and they've never seen the safe-conduct before in their lives. Miri panicked. They were that stupid. She groaned quietly.

“Are you unwell?” asked the Colonel.

“No! No!” Miri assured him. “I'm just fine. Just great. A-okay!”

Molly rolled her eyes: shut up.

Miri shut up. Think of something else, she urged herself. She looked around the room hopefully. The elegant Buckley bedchamber smelled a little funky. Like pee. There were no bathrooms, she remembered. Just chamber pots. Yuck. And the Colonel and Carter both seemed to sleep in their clothes. No wonder they smelled. Everyone in the twenty-first century complained about pollution, but they'd never gotten a whiff of the nineteenth—

Her thoughts were disrupted by thumps, turning into footsteps on the stairs. “Pick up your feet, boy,” said Charlie's voice outside the door. There was a pause and a knock. “Colonel.”

“Enter.”

The door swung open, and Ray and Robbie shuffled in, herded by Charlie. In the split second before they saw her, Miri inspected them—Robbie's face was still bloodstained, and the gash where the gun barrel had cut him was still open. A blue-and-brown bruise had spread over his forehead since she'd seen him last. But he seemed to be more awake, not as dopey; his eyes were scanning the room, seeking information. She saw him flinch at the sight of Carter. And then he saw her and Molly.

There was one second for all four of them to exchange looks, and in that second, Miri thought with all her might, Be smart.

“Sir!” Molly began. “The—

But the Colonel silenced her with an upraised hand. “I am leading this investigation, if you please.” Molly's mouth shut with a snap of frustration, and the Colonel turned to Robbie. “How'd you get that, soldier?” he asked, nodding at his forehead.

Robbie looked at Carter. “Him.”

The Colonel lifted an eyebrow at Carter, who shrugged. “Accident of capture. He resisted.”

“Ah,” said the Colonel. He turned back to Robbie. “Did you attempt to explain your situation to Private Carter here?”

“Well, sure!” Ray exclaimed. “We tried to tell him, but he just hauled off and slammed Robbie in the face with his gun!”

“They told me nothing!” growled Carter.

“That's 'cause he couldn't talk after you'd hit him!” said Miri loudly.

Carter lifted a disdainful eyebrow. “You weren't there.”

“Yes, we were,” said Molly unexpectedly. She smiled her innocent-little-girl smile at the Colonel. “Me and my sister were walking in our field and saw the whole thing—Mr. Carter here, he just lifted up his gun and smacked that boy upside the head, for no reason at all that we could see! It was terrible! And then he made them march, even though the poor thing was bleeding like a stuck pig.” She shook her head sadly. “We never saw such a dreadful sight in our lives, so we followed along, hoping to minister to the wounded.”

“Wait, you guys were there, too?” Ray said.

Miri rushed to drown him out: “That's why we came here this afternoon. The eggs were just a—a—an alibi!” Did they use that word during the Civil War? She hoped so. On she galloped: “And then your guard said they were going to get hanged,
so we prayed with them, and that's when they showed us their
safe-conduct from General Lee
!” she said it as loudly as she dared. “Their
pass
.” Listen, she begged Ray and Robbie silently. Pay attention, for once in your lives.

The room fell silent as the Colonel looked from the paper in his hand to Robbie and Ray, to Carter, to Miri and Molly, and finally, back to the paper.

“Lies,” said Carter softly. The Colonel lifted his head. “Nonsense. Bunkum. Do you really suppose, sir, that General Lee would endow such”—he flicked a contemptuous finger at the boys—“such tadpoles with any serious responsibility? Preposterous! They're Yankees, scouts for some more accomplished villain, no doubt, who intends to slit your throat while you sleep, sir. This story,” he sneered at Miri, “is mush, peddled by children who wish to make themselves important. Surely, sir, you would not be deceived by such a falsehood.” He curled his eyebrow. “If you will take my advice, sir, you'll let me take care of these brats, put the Yankees back in the stable, and shoot them at first light tomorrow. Like Custer shot our boys.”

“They do seem a mite green,” murmured the Colonel.

“Right!” agreed Molly. “Way too young to die.”

“I meant they seem a mite green to be in the general's service,” the Colonel said. “How old are you boys?”

“Thirteen,” answered Robbie with infuriating honesty.

The Colonel frowned.

“Bah,” said Carter. “He's sixteen if he's a day, and he's lying for all he's worth. Bald-faced prevarication and perjury. Trying to save his own skin. He's a Yankee soldier, and I say we kill him.” His yellow eyes glittered. He was winning.

“‘Let neither
his costume nor his demeanor
cause his arrest,'” quoted Miri loudly. “‘He is in my service.'”

The Colonel nodded, true.

“
He
,” drawled Carter. “Singular. If this missive were truly from General Lee, which it is not, would it not make reference to two boys? After all, there
are
two boys here.”

“That's so.” The Colonel nodded.

Miri looked helplessly at Molly. What were they to do? But Molly's eyes only reflected her own desperation.

And then Ray spoke. “Hello? Look at us. We're identical,” he said casually. “That's the whole point.”

Miri saw Robbie's eyes flicker to Ray's. Then he said, “Yeah. We're interchangeable. That's why he picked us. Even if we are thirteen.”