Shadowland (29 page)

 
TWO

 
The Erl King

 
Del just picked up his bag and went straight for the car, the biggest, blackest Lincoln you ever saw. . . .

 
1

 
Wordlessly Del picked up his suitcase and began to walk toward the steps down into the station parking lot. In confusion so great it was almost like pain, Tom watched the smaller boy advancing away from him, and then looked back at the magician. Coleman Collins' icy face flickered a smile at him.
I didn't think he'd be so old,
Tom thought.
He's even older than Mr. Thorpe.

 
   'Say hello to your uncle,' Collins said. Even slightly slurred by alcohol, his voice was resonant and cultured. 'He has waited long enough to hear it.'

 
   Del stopped moving. In the instant of silence after he dropped his case, the insects began their symphony again. 'I know. I'm sorry.' Del half-turned to look at his uncle. 'I
am
sorry. There was a big accident — a train went off the track . . . ' Del turned savagely away again, and Tom recognized with astonishment that his friend was either in tears or on the verge of them.

 
   'A big accident. A big big
big
accident, was it? Not just a teeny-weeny little one? Not just a little spilled coffee, a little bump on the tracks, a little messy commotion? Didn't stain your clothes, all that coffee flying about?'

 
   'It wasn't our train,' Tom said.

 
   The magician focused his icy eyes on Tom — who was relieved to see, way down under all the layers of real and assumed anger, a layer of amusement. 'Ah. The mystery deepens.' He lolled back against the railing. 'Surely one of you two boys can explain why an unrelated accident, all that coffee flying about on some
other
train, led to my sitting here for most of the day. Is that in your power, Del?'

 
   Del turned and explained. Haltingly, badly, with what looked almost like stage fright — but he was explaining, he was talking to his uncle, and Tom felt the strange tension about them wilting from the air.

 
   When Del was done, his uncle said, 'And did you not see the spot, child? Didn't you sight the site? No visions of blood, or wrecked carriages, of dazed and crippled survivors, eager-beaver reporters, hard-eyed
Polizei?'
He startled both the boys by laughing. 'No corpses, no — '

 
   'Uncle Cole,' Del said.

 
   The magician glittered at him. 'Yes, dear one?'

 
   'Is Rose Armstrong here this summer?'

 
   Collins pretended to consider the question. 'Rose. Rose Armstrong. Now, I think I heard . . . was it a sick cousin in Missoula, Montana? Or was that some other Armstrong?
Yess.
Some dreary Armstrong person, not our little Vermont Rose. Yes, I do think that the girl should be taking part in our exercises. If we can ever get them begun, that is.'

 
   'She
is
here.'

 
   'She is. The real Rose.'

 
   'Uncle Cole,' Del said. 'I'm sorry we were so late.'

 
   'So it's come to that,' Collins said. 'Oh, dear. Let's have a look at something.' He held out one palm, and a silver dollar appeared between his first and second fingers. He revolved his hand, and the coin had moved to the space between the next two fingers. When he turned the palm back to the boys, the coin had vanished. He showed the back of his hand: not there. But then it was in the other hand, moving itself so quickly between his fingers it seemed to have a life of its own. He tossed the coin in the air and caught it. 'Can you do that yet?'

 
   'Not as fast as you,' Del said.

 
   'Let's get home,' said Coleman Collins.

 
2

 
The magician's car was the only one in the lot: a black Lincoln without a mark on it, long as a bank, and all the more impressive for being at least ten years old. Their bags went in the enormous trunk, the boys in the front seat beside Del's uncle. The interior of the Lincoln smelled of whiskey and cigarettes and, less strongly, of leather. Collins looked over Del's head at Tom as he rolled out of the lot. 'So you are
the
Tom Flanagan.'

 
   'I'm Tom Flanagan, anyhow.
The
Tom Flanagan plays the piano.'

 
   'And modest and good — and very good at the work, I gather. Welcome to Vermont. I hope we'll give you a summer to remember.'

 
   'Yes.'

 
   They were gliding into an area of dark little shops, vacant gas stations. The magician seemed to be grinning at him. 'I live for these summers, you know. It could have been different — Del might have told you something about me. But I had only one ambition. Can you guess? To be the best magician in the world. And to
stay
the best magician in the world. Which is what I have done. Letters — I get mail from all over the world, asking for myadvice. Can they meet me? Can they study with me? No, no, no, no. I have only one pupil. Two, now. That, and the knowledge — it's enough.'

 
   'The knowledge?'

 
   'Oh, yes, the knowledge. You'll see. You'll
experience.
And that is all I will say at present.'

 
   Now they were on a wide main road, cutting through the center of the small darkened town; soon they swerved off onto a narrow road which led directly into deep wood. Collins held a bottle between his thighs, and lifted it now and then to sip. Before long the trees blotted out the stars.

 
3

 
The narrow road twisted through the forest, and when it began to ascend, split into two forks. Collins took the left fork — this was unpaved, and rose sharply. After a few minutes, Tom was dimly aware of a field on his side of the road: a gray horse, nearly invisible in the murk, drifted up to a fence, followed by two black shapes that must have been horses also. Then the trees closed in again.

 
   'What's it like here in the winter?'

 
   'Snowed in, little bird. Very beautiful.'

 
   They continued to rise on the narrow bumpy road.

 
   Tom asked, 'Do you have neighbors?'

 
   'All of my neighbors are in my head,' Collins said, and laughed again. He glanced at Del. 'And is it good to be back, accidents and upsets notwithstanding?'

 
   'Oh, yes,' Del breathed.

 
   'Ah.'

 
   After perhaps twenty minutes, Collins turned the car into a paved drive which looped back and then made a wide descending curve interrupted by big iron gates set into high brick gateposts. From the posts, a wall fanned into the trees on either side.

 
   'You'll excuse my precautions, Thomas,' Cole Collins said, gently stopping the car. 'I am an old man, all alone in these woods. Of course vandals can still come across the lake in the winter, to get at the summer houses.' Hepropped the bottle on the seat and got out to punch a series of numbered buttons on one of the posts. The gates slid open.

 
   The car moved forward, rounded a bend, and they could see the house. It looked like a Victorian summer house which had been added on to by generations of owners: a three-story frame building with gables and corbels and pointed windows, flanked by more modern wings. It took Tom a moment to see why these were odd — the lines of white board were unbroken by windows. Lights hung on the wood illuminated bright circles on the windowless facades; lights hung in the trees on either side of the house. It looked faintly like a compound — faintly like something else.

 
   'The school,' Tom said. 'I mean . . . it sort of reminds me of our school.'

 
   Del looked at him in surprise.

 
   'Lucky boy,' Collins murmured. He opened the door. 'Leave your things in the car. Someone will bring them in later.' He staggered a bit, getting out of the car, but tucked the half-empty bottle under his arm with an almost soldierly snap. 'Step lively, step lightly, but step inside. We can't hang around outside all night.'

 
   Tom got out and saw Collins' tall figure outlined against the vast house. Strings of lights shone from widely separated trees deep in the woods; others were so close together as to remind him of the circles of light through which Jimmy Durante walked at the end of his show, just after saying, 'Good night, Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are.' There were many more lights than he had seen from the car.

 
   'Why do you light up the forest like that?' he asked.

 
   'Why? So I can see what's coming and what's going,' Collins said. 'And what big eyes you have, Grandmother. Ready?'

 
Collins opened the front door and stood to one side to let them enter. Del walked in before Tom, and when Tom went through into the dim interior, his friend faced him with a shining, exalted face. Then he saw why. Candles blazed all over the entry: candles burned on the little tablestacked with newspapers, candles burned on the shelf where Coleman Collins dropped his car keys.

 
   'The fuse for this part of the building blew, I suppose,' Collins said. 'Someone's probably fixing it now. Nice of them to get out these candles for us. They give a welcoming glow, don't you think? Or do you think they look too much like Halloween?'

 
   'You knew,' Del said. 'Just like Registration Day — like Tom said, at school. You
knew.'

 
   'I don't know what you are talking about,' Collins said. 'I must take a bath and lie down for a bit. There will be some food in your rooms.' He leaned against the wall of the entry, supporting his shoulders on the shelf, and crossed his arms over his chest. Tom got another shining glance from Del. 'Wash up in the bathroom down here. Then go up. Tom's room is right next to yours, Del. He will be in the connecting room. When you have eaten, come downstairs and I will see you in the Little Theater. Can you still find it?'

 
   'Sure I can.'