The Magickers (17 page)

“I,” said Trent firmly, “don't want to eat anything that dissolves spoons.”

Jason thought. “Maybe it's vanishing cream.”

They stared at him a moment. Then Bailey grinned. “Cool! I'll have to check it out when she's done cooking it!”

From the great shadowy hills which loomed pitch-black in the summer night, something howled. It echoed down the mountaintops, cold and stark. All three of them stopped in their tracks.

Trent frowned, then rubbed his nose. “I've heard that before. Usually in the middle of night though.”

Floating notes shivered through the air.

“It's a wolf.”

He shook his head at Bailey. “They don't have wolves in this part of the States. It's just a coyote, like Tomaz Crowfeather talked about. Lonely, though . . . you should hear others. There should be a pack, you know?”

Jason had goose bumps on his arms. He swung them vigorously. “I'd just as soon not hear a pack all night. It's hard enough to sleep around here with all the noise.”

Bailey stopped in her tracks and tilted her head to look at him. Trent bumped into her and caught himself, hanging off her shoulder. Both of them stared at him.

“I don't hear anything.”

Trent muttered, “I sleep like a log.”

Jason scratched his eyebrow. “But there's people coming and going all night. I mean . . . they try to be quiet, but—”

“They? You went out and checked it out, right?”

“Ummm . . . no.”

“Jason!” Bailey stared in disbelief. “Maybe it's that thief who goes through our cabins.”

He shifted his weight. He didn't want to admit he intended to, but not with them. “I know, I know. With curfew and all, I don't want to get in trouble. But I will.”

“When? I want my stuff back.”

“When I have a little bit better idea of what's going on here. I mean . . . Magickers and all . . .” He paused. “There's a lot to learn. It's all pretty amazing stuff.”

“You can bet,” Trent offered, “that we've only seen the tip of the iceberg. I bet there's all sorts of stuff they're hiding from us.”

“Has to be. We're just not ready for most of it yet.”

“But how much do they have to teach? Has to be tons, Jason.”

Trent said softly, “You could probably spend your whole life learning to be a Magicker.”

“Exactly. Now's the time to learn it. Once we go home . . . we're back in a world of mundanes. I don't know about you two, but I want to learn everything I can while I can!” Bailey looked from Jason's face to Trent's.

“You don't want to make any enemies, Bailey.”

“Enemies schmenemies. Aren't you curious?”

Jason cleared his throat. “Very. But I don't want to get sent home either. Tell you what. I'll see what's happening tonight. And then we'll have a meeting and decide what to do.”

“Sounds good to me,” Trent said. He put his hand out. “Buddy shake.”

They all piled their hands on his and gave a team shake with a grunting “Huh!”

More fireflies were gathering as they escorted Bailey to her cottage and then sprinted to their own as another lone howl drifted out of the northeastern mountains. On the way, Trent explained seriously to him about the increase of coyotes even in city areas. “Very smart,” he finished, as they trotted inside. “Sometimes they trot through your block, and you don't even recognize them as coyotes.”

The air reeked of fresh popped popcorn from Skybolt. Trent pointed and said, “Charge!” They took the porch by storm and as soon as they entered, Danno and Henry began pelting them with hot fluffy kernels. Trent dodged, laughing, but Jason stood and caught them, and stuffed the salty-buttery kernels into his mouth. He grinned. Jonnard sat at the chessboard, looking tall and calm, but his eyes were fixed on the game.

He sat on the bunk and grabbed Henry's back scratcher. Gingerly and yet with a noise of utter contentment, he slid it inside his air splint and scratched away.

“When do you get rid of that, anyway?” Henry slid his bishop across the board, eliciting a howl from Jonnard, and looked back across the room.

Jon sputtered. “How did you—how could you—what—” He ran out of air. He glared down at the board.

“Next week, I hope,” Jason answered Henry. “Feels pretty good, actually, even if I do itch. Sprain. Only been about three weeks.”

“It's the heat,” Danno commented. “Makes you itch.” He scratched his torso as if in sympathy, his unruly thatch of dark brown head hair practically standing on end. He frowned at the chessboard and muttered. “Henry, you got him again.”

“I know,” said Henry. He grabbed a handful of popcorn and munched it confidently. “Give up?” He watched Jonnard.

Jonnard grunted, before adding, “Not yet.” “Never give up!” Trent said, throwing himself on Jonnard's bunk and digging out a stack of comic books from his backpack.

“Easy for you to say. He's only beaten me like a zillion times. It's my turn!”

“Everybody,” Jon said quietly, “has to be good at something.” No one else said anything. How could they argue with that? Jason watched Henry rub at his eyes. The sun had gone down, finally, it was late and they were all yawning by the time Jonnard heaved a sigh and pushed the chessboard back at Henry. “I give.” Danno swept the fallen popcorn out with him as he sprinted to his own cabin down the lane.

Henry beamed sleepily as he gathered up his pieces into his felt-lined, folding chessboard case, packing everything away neatly before crawling into his bottom bunk in the corner. Jonnard raised an eyebrow and said, finally, “Well done.”

Trent and Jason wandered back to Starwind.

Everyone but Jason was nearly sound asleep by then.

He lay down on his cot. Something skittered across the cabin rooftop, pausing now and then. Probably a squirrel, raccoons were heavier. Pine branches rustled as the wind picked up a little. He looked at the gnarled beam, not that far overhead from the top bunk, reminding him of his attic bedroom. Moonlight snaked in through each and every crack in the boards, just a dot here and there, light fanning across the wooden floor.

He took a deep breath, rolling onto his side. He should sleep. If he could. But he wasn't sleepy. Everyone else already seemed deep in their dreams.

Something tapped on the roof. Jason sat up. Tap, tap. A crow? Then a branch cracked loudly as something or someone stepped on it. A muffled “oof,” and then a smothered protest, then quick footsteps headed down the slope.

He swung his legs out and slid carefully out of the bunk, still clothed in shirt and long pants. He quickly shoved his feet into his sneakers before slipping out the cabin door. Jason clung to the shadows, letting his eyes get used to the night again. A sliver of moon hung over the sharp, jagged peaks to the northeast. With little moon out, the night was very dark with an immense field of stars, stars whose light was usually drowned out by city lights.

Then something bumped into him, yeowched faintly, and grabbed at him to keep from falling over. She clutched once she caught hold, and swayed. Jason squinted into Bailey's face.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Investigating.” She yawned and wobbled in her tracks.

“You'll get us both caught!” He grabbed her elbow, steering her away from the cabin.

“I didn't think you'd do anything.” Bailey rubbed at her freckled nose. “After all, it wasn't your stuff that got taken.”

“You didn't think I had the guts.”

“Well.” She shrugged. “Guess I didn't.” She yawned again, and he nearly joined her. “Aren't you the least bit sleepy?”

“No. Well, I wasn't.” He pointed down the slope. “That's where they went.”

“Who?”

“People. Unless raccoons giggle.”

Bailey blinked at him. “I . . . don't think they do,” she said slowly. She swayed in her tracks. Carefully she massaged her eyelids.

“Why don't you go back to bed?”

“And miss the fun?” She took a deep breath.

“ 'Sides, if we get caught, we can say you were escort ing me to the bathrooms.”

“You're around the end of the lake!”

Bailey rolled her eyes. “Come on! I'll be right behind you.”

If only he'd realized that would be half the trouble.

Jason spotted the empty cabin down the hill, hidden in a small grove of evergreen, one window glowing yellow against the night. He started down, carefully picking his way in the dark.

A few pebbles rolled his way as Bailey stumbled and caught herself. He put his hand back to steady her. She bumped heavily into him. “Sorry,” she said in his ear, then giggled.

He pointed at the window. “Someone's in there,” he said. “If we can get close enough, maybe we can hear who.”

“Good idea,” Bailey whispered back. Her breath smelled faintly of peppermint toothpaste, sweet and clean.

Moving carefully, for the hill was steeper than it looked—or could be seen, in the nighttime—Jason led the way down. Pine needles went slick under his shoe soles. He slid a ways before catching himself. He could hear the soft murmur of voices.

“Is she almost done?” A man's voice, faintly familiar.

“I think so. We know it takes time.” This one, soft, barely above a whisper. Jason could hardly hear it.

“We haven't much more time. We need to start weeding them out.”

Jason swallowed hard at that. One of the answers they would find out on their own? Not everyone would make it through camp?

“Patience,” said Eleanora quietly.

“I've no time for patience! The Council was happy finding Magickers one by one. They are not happy we're trying to train a camp full of them. You know that. The only reason we have their backing is the faint evidence that a Gate might be close.” Gavan made an impatient sound. “Any findings in here? I don't like having a cold room like this, without reason.”

“It's haunted,” answered Eleanora faintly.

Someone snorted in derision.

Almost to the abandoned cabin now, he straightened and prepared to take a step leading to the cabin's window. What were they looking for? What did they mean by a cold room?

A loud yawn rumbled behind him. Then a stumble. Then Bailey barreled into him like a huge snowball rolling down a mountain, sweeping him off his feet and crashing them both into the cabin.

Lights went on everywhere. Jason lay on his back, staring upward at white flashes.

“Well, well. Mr. Adrian. Miss Landau.” Gavan leaned angrily over them. “Have you anything to say for yourselves?”

12

“
A
N explanation would be nice.” Eleanora bent in as well. The bright light behind her head shone a little like a halo, but it would have to have been one for an avenging angel. She looked rather irate.

“Or even necessary,” echoed Tomaz Crowfeather. The normally silent man leaned one shoulder against the edge of the cabin as Jason sat up. His blue-black hair glinted darker in the shadows, pulled back and tied at the back of his neck. He held a circle of turquoise beads in his hands and they went click-click-click as he fingered them. The silver disks on his watch glinted.

Jason cleared his throat. “We . . . ah . . . were . . . well, she had to get to the bathrooms.”

Eleanora turned the flashlight in her hand toward Bailey. Bailey lay peacefully on the ground, softly snoring, eyes closed. “She appears to have forgotten that.”

Jason stared. “She's . . . asleep!”

“Apparently.”

“But . . . but . . .” He stood up, raining pine needles and dirt. Bailey stayed sprawled, blissfully dreaming. He pointed. “She wasn't asleep when—” His mouth snapped shut.

Eleanora looked at him, her eyes softening somewhat. “Everyone in camp is asleep, Jason, except for you.”

He stared at the three of them. He did not drop his gaze until Gavan shifted. “And the three of us, too, it seems. Well. I cannot prove you a hero, nor can I prove you a fool.” He gestured, and Tomaz knelt down and carefully picked up Bailey. “Follow Eleanora back to her cabin, and she'll tuck Bailey in. She won't be pleased in the morning to hear about another week's assignment on mess hall duty, but at least she'll have her friends with her.”

Jason sighed, and nodded.

The two moved away as Rainwater stared down at him. “I can say this.” Gavan moved next to Jason and looked into his eyes. “If you were meant to know, you'd have been invited to the meeting.”

Jason's face went hot, even in the cool night air. He struggled back up the slope alone, his ankle a bit tender but not terribly sore, combing pine needles out of his hair with his fingers. By the time he got to the top of the slope and crawled into his own bunk, he was as sleepy as anyone in camp . . . and he probably snored louder.

 

Bailey dropped her breakfast tray next to Trent's and Jason's. “How did you sleep last night? I slept like a sack of bricks and woke up with my hair looking like a squirrel tried to nest in it!” She grinned as she grabbed a spoon and prepared to dig into her cold cereal.

Trent and Jason swapped looks. Her hair looked okay now, sleek and wet from the showers, and braided back neatly.

“I slept, uh, fine,” Jason answered.

Trent took a moment to roll a pancake up and swallow it whole. “Never heard a thing.” He speared another pancake to duplicate the feat.

“So when are you going to investigate?”

Jason's fork dropped with a clatter. He slapped his hand palm down, trapping it on the tabletop. He grabbed it up as snickers floated toward him, and Stefan could be heard saying something. Not what, but he didn't want to know. He could feel Stefan's cold eyes on the back of his neck.