Sorcerer's Secret (22 page)

“Tobias is the God of Banking,” Peter reminded him, annoyed that his time was being wasted with such frivolity. He began to clomp away, but the minor god ran after him.

“And who is he?” Morgan asked. “I have never heard of him. At first I assumed he had been a major force in the early days of the colony, but I can find no record of him. I don't know how he became the God of Banking, but he should have receded when I came along. Become the God of Deposits or something. The duties change when others with a stronger pull on the mortals' memories arrive, you know that. By all rights, I should be a major god. Something is wrong here!”

“Why are you telling me this now?” Peter asked, trying to move past the insistent god.

“You are not the first I've aired my grievance to,” Morgan assured him, his face red. He ticked off his fingers, one by one. “I told the Mayor, I told Greeley, then Hearst, hoping the newspapermen would try to dig something up. They all brushed me off. Now I'm telling you, because you seem to have some power around here. It's true, I tell you. Something is not right with T. R. Tobias.”

Though Peter assumed the minor god was merely suffering from delusions of grandeur, he couldn't shake the thought that maybe something was wrong with T. R. Tobias. He'd never heard of the man, either. No one seemed to. It was very strange. Just who was T. R. Tobias?

A buzzing drifted in through the open window nearby. It sounded liked a hummingbird. He heard shouts float up from outside and hobbled over to the window. At first, he didn't know what was going on, but then he saw the pill-shaped spot in the sky, soaring toward midtown.

Great, he thought to himself, dismay flowing through him. Just when he thought things couldn't get any worse. He was back.

S
oka sat with the Raritan medicine man on a bench behind the manor house, overlooking a small garden. David de Vries had ridden out at first light to scrounge up some redcoat uniforms, while Rory was taking a much-needed nap upstairs. Perewyn had asked her to join him outside for a moment, and now they sat side by side, looking out at the rows of tomato plants and peas.

“You are in training to be a pau wau, correct?” Perewyn asked.

“Yes,” Soka admitted. “My mother is the medicine woman for my people. I thought I was the one to follow her. Now I am not so sure.”

“Why? I can feel your connection to the land. It is very strong.”

“I don't know about that,” Soka said, sighing. “I used to think so. But ever since I left my village, I've lost control. One moment I'm working magic I never dreamed I'd manage, and the next I'm unable to do the simplest of spells. I don't know what's happening to me.”

“The land's gifts are hard to predict,” Perewyn told her. “My powers have been waning over the last century—when I heard about the Trap, I blamed it on that atrocity. But the Trap is gone, now, and my powers remain weak. I had hoped to discover whether you had a similar experience, but I see now that something very different is happening to you. I am not surprised to hear that you've worked great magic. I can feel it in you. Your mother must be something to behold as well.”

“She's ten times the
pau wau
I'll ever be,” Soka said ruefully, kicking at the dirt. “I don't know how I will ever take her place.”

“Is she going somewhere?” Perewyn asked, eyebrow raised. The question caught Soka off guard.

“Um . . . I guess not,” she said. “But I always assumed . . . ”

“We are not mortals,” Perewyn reminded her. “Death is in our past more than in our future. We may fade one day, but who knows when that will be. Our people are long gone, and yet we remain. Do you know how many Raritan were taken by the red-coated men?”

Soka shook her head. Perewyn held up a single hand with all fingers extended.

“Five,” he said. “That is all who remain of my tribe. Those five and I. And yet our people were once as numerous as the stars. From what I hear, the Munsees have many more than that. Why is that? You have been cut off from the land by the Trap, and yet your people did not dwindle, while we remained free, and now we are almost gone.”

Soka shook her head, unable to answer. Perewyn smiled ruefully.

“I have thought long on it. I have come to believe it is because we retreated from our duties. We hid in the trees and ignored the call of the land. We remain, you and I and all our people, not because we have mortals who remember us. We are here for a different purpose. My people ignored that fact, and we have suffered for it. You, on the other hand . . . I think you have a clearer idea than any of us what is required of you. Your mother may be pau wau to your people, but you are meant for something more.”

“What?” Soka asked, frustrated. “Didn't you hear me? I can't even work a simple spell. The one big spell I performed wasn't even really me—” She cut herself off, mortified that she'd said so much. Perewyn nodded to himself, glancing at her.

“That rumble I felt earlier, that was you?”

Soka looked away, not liking how the white-haired medicine man's gaze seemed to look right through her. “It wasn't really me. At least, I don't think so.”

“Then who was it?”

“There was a voice in my ear,” she confided, glancing around to make certain no one else heard. “It floated into me from all around. It was a woman's voice. She asked why I needed her help. I told her I had to protect my . . . my friends. And she promised to help me. That's when I exploded. It wasn't even me doing it!”

She looked back to Perewyn to see his expression—he looked thoughtful, but not as surprised as she'd expected. Finally, he patted her shoulder. “I will watch you. You are a puzzle that can be solved. You will see. Come, I hear a horse approaching. David has returned.”

He stood up and walked back into the house. Soka watched him leave, more confused and frightened than ever before.

R
ory stood in De Vries's living room, dressed head to toe in a pilfered British redcoat uniform, watching Fritz struggle not to laugh.

“Those were the smallest uniforms you could find?” the battle roach asked De Vries, who shrugged apologetically.

“There are some tall soldiers on this island.”

Glancing at Soka and Bridget on either side of him, Rory could see that his uniform, though it was two or three sizes too large for him, at least fit him better than the others'. Soka's jacket was far too big for her, and her pants had to be rolled up over her boots. But she'd pulled the belt in tight, and the result was that she actually looked kind of cute (though a little too womanly to be taken for a male soldier, he feared). Bridget, on the other hand . . .

“This is awesome!” Bridget cried, raising her arms above her head. Since half the length of the sleeve fell down over her hands, Rory wasn't so sure he agreed. There was room in her jacket for three more Bridgets, and the gold-button-lined overcoat, which was meant to fall to a soldier's knees, was so long it bunched up around her feet like a throw rug. Underneath, her pants billowed out above her stockings so far she looked like she was wearing a hoop dress. She'd already stuck on her tricornered hat, which covered her eyes so completely she had to push it back to see, peering out from under the rim like a turtle sneaking a look from inside its shell. Rory didn't know how she could walk in that getup, let alone be taken seriously. But Bridget was practically bouncing from excitement.

“I've decided on my redcoat name!” she announced. “I'm Lieutenant Periwinkle Applebottom!”

“Are you kidding?” Rory asked De Vries and Perewyn, ignoring his sister. “There is no way we'll be mistaken for real redcoats.”

“Leave that to me,” Perewyn assured him. “I have a little trick that will help.” The old Raritan
pau wau
pulled out a small bowl filled with a bright yellow substance. He dipped a long brush into the bowl and proceeded to paint a small symbol on each of Soka's cheeks. He stepped back, nodding in approval. Fritz didn't look so impressed.

“What did you do?” he asked the medicine man. “She looks the same to me.”

“That's because you expect to see her,” Perewyn told the skeptical roach. “But a British soldier will see the uniform and expect to see one of his regiment, which is what he will see.” He turned to the three costumed kids. “He will speak to you as if he knows you and, to him, you will look and sound like one of his own. So long as no one points you out as not belonging, none of them will be the wiser. Just keep the uniforms on, no matter how poorly they fit. They trigger the assumptions that feed the magic.” Perewyn proceeded to paint Rory and Bridget's cheeks while De Vries explained the plan.

“The three of you will march Perewyn and me down to the Rose and Crown tavern, where the British have their command quarters. There, you'll turn us in. They'll take us to the same place where our friends are being held, wherever that is, and you'll make certain that you're the ones accompanying us. If worse comes to worse and you can't come with us, at least Fritz can follow us secretly. So, one way or the other, we'll find our friends. And then the next step will be to figure out a way to free them.”

“The old Star Wars trick, eh?” Bridget said, nodding her head knowingly. “We're Han Solo and Luke and you guys are the Wookiee. Works every time.”

De Vries blinked in confusion, then decided to roll with it. “Exactly. I'm the cookie. Of course it works every time.”

“I don't know,” Fritz said. “It sounds to me like we're sending the two of you to be captured, and you're expecting us to bail you out.”

“I have faith in you,” Perewyn said. “This is as good a way as any.”

“We'll do it,” Rory said firmly. “We won't let you down.”

“Of course you won't,” Perewyn replied, glancing at Soka. “You have powerful friends.”

Rory didn't know quite how to take that cryptic statement, but he let it pass. He was getting closer to finishing this chase and saving his mother, and nothing was going to slow him down.

M
idmorning found Rory, Bridget, and Soka marching down a country lane, De Vries and Perewyn in shackles in front of them. It was a beautiful morning; the soft sun danced across the surrounding trees, which swayed slightly in a cool breeze. The world was still, with no sounds of cars or planes or any other signs of civilization to bother them—only the birds in the branches above disturbed the silence. Rory knew that right on the other side of the trees waited the mortal world, with its car horns and rumbling trucks, but here in Staaten Eylandt, it was as if the colonists had just arrived.

Bridget was having trouble walking—she'd fallen on her face three times since they'd left De Vries's farmhouse—but she refused to acknowledge that her uniform was anything but completely awesome. Rory couldn't see how the three of them could fool anyone. As they came closer to the redcoats' headquarters, his misgivings grew, until finally he opened his mouth to suggest they go back.