The Magickers (32 page)

“I think,” Rainwater said smoothly, “the key is in trying a bit less.” He winked and moved on between the students.

“Oh,” said Henry. “Right. I can see that.” He reached up, removed his glasses, wiping the steam from them before replacing them on his forehead. A dry, crinkled hair fell as he did so.

“Henry,” suggested Eleanora. “I think you should retire for the day, and return that mitt to FireAnn as her staff will probably need it.” She smiled en couragingly.

With another poke aimed at stabilizing his glasses on his sunburned nose, Henry nodded and trotted off in the direction of the main buildings.

Nothing else as interesting happened in any of the other classes although Bailey seemed to need little catching up. She watched and listened with intent interest, sitting or standing back with a faint already-knew-it expression on her face. During break, as they trotted to wash up for lunch, she repeated to Jason, “Have I got things to tell you!” Then she frowned slightly and rubbed her freckled nose. “If I can remember them all.”

“I don't have any free time till after dinner,” he said.

“That's fine. Come over and take a look at the trap. I have some changes to make.”

“Did you see who it was as Ghost?”

“Not . . . quite. I have an idea, though.” She winked and headed off for swimming, her ponytail bouncing behind her.

Jason watched her thoughtfully. The old Bailey was back. Nearly. Neither of them had spoken much about what she had felt when grabbing for his left hand, his marked hand. She had only said that “it hurt,” and a small flicker of fear gleamed in her eyes before she changed the subject quickly. He sighed. The crescent twinged a little as it always did when he thought about it.

After dinner, the sun still hung brightly over the western hills, although the sky deepened to a dark, clear blue. It was a perfect summer evening and they all sat around on her porch waiting for it to get dark. Sousa had promised a singalong for later.

Bailey sat with her ponytail pulled over her shoulder, curling the end of it round and round her finger. “First of all, I saw things.”

Trent let out a whoop, making her blush after she thumped him. “Not that kind of stuff! I stayed away from the showers!” She rolled her eyes. “If you're not going to listen, I won't tell.”

He pulled his face into serious lines. “I'll listen. See? I'm looking like Jason.”

“Hmmpf.”

Ting tapped her pencil on Jason's knee. “Both of you stop it. I want to hear, even if you don't!” She balanced her notebook on her lap, poised to take notes. Bailey shot her a grateful look.

“Now . . . if there are no more interruptions?” She looked around. Feet shuffled restlessly, but no one made a sound as she settled herself on the steps of Kittencurl Cottage. “Good. First of all, I couldn't eat. Everything was half a step ahead of me. If I reached for it, it was gone. The only thing I managed to get was a cookie which Jason stubbornly kept out for me, and I barely got that.”

Trent looked at Ting. “Make a note: take food.”

Ting giggled, but her pencil wiggled as she jotted something down quickly. Jason peered over her shoulder. It read: Make sure Trent has food at all times. He covered his grinning face with a well-aimed scratch at an eyebrow.

“But I heard things, and could read things left out, and saw things, although I couldn't do anything about them till later. By then, it was usually too late.” Bailey sighed. “First of all . . . not everybody is going to make it as a Magicker. Being here doesn't mean everyone has enough Talent or ability to make it. That stuff FireAnn has been brewing for days now is called the Draft of Forgetfulness.” She looked about and lowered her voice a bit more. “And it works. Anyone leaving isn't going to remember much of anything. And . . . some of us have been working with Magickers for a year or so already, like Jennifer and Jon.”

Jason let his breath out in a hiss. “Doesn't sound good.”

Trent shrugged. “When you think about it, what choice do they have? They can't send someone home who will talk about it, if they remember. By the time we're ready to go home, we'll have a stake in being a Magicker. That means we'll keep it quiet. As far as Jennifer and Jon go . . . well, they've always been like counselors and stuff. I always got the feeling they knew a lot more than they let on.”

“Some idiots will talk about anything.” Ting shook her head, looking worried. “They'll ruin anything, just to get attention. The Draft is the only way to go.”

Bailey nodded. “The Magickers have a plan for that.”

Jason said, “What are you saying, Bailey? That we can't trust them?”

She looked solemnly at him. “There are Magickers in and out of here all the time we haven't even
seen,
let alone met. There's a whole Council that meets at night.”

“There is?”

She nodded at Trent. “You'll never see them. They come in late at night and leave early.”

Jason did not mention that he
had
seen them, or at least heard them.

“You get a look at them, Bailey?”

“Well . . . sorta. I was kind of seeing everybody a half step behind what they looked like.” She sighed. “I know they meet to talk about us, and make plans, and there's a storm coming that has all of them awfully worried.”

“Manna storm?”

“That's the one.”

Ting stopped writing again. “What is that? Is it like a hurricane?”

“It's a storm of power, from what I hear,” Jason told her. “It turns everything upside down. It's like Magick goes uncontrollably wild, I think.”

Ting and Bailey shivered together. Trent said quietly, “If we don't know what it is, we can't jump to conclusions.”

“Right. What else, Bailey?”

“The Dark Hand is thought to be behind those nightmares we have.”

“How?”

She shook her head. “No idea. And Tomaz is looking for a skinwalker in camp. That sounds really bad. They don't know if he's from the Dark Hand or one of us. That's all I heard about that, I couldn't get into the rooms. Doors.” She sighed. “I had to sneak into the toilets when I could. Not much sleep. I slept one night in the chair here, but Ting almost sat on me. I didn't want to scare you.” She grinned at her friend. “No. I didn't see the thief. Almost, but, well, being out of step and all, not quite. Still, I know what time the thief comes by and I think we can catch it tonight, after Lights Out.”

“You think so, Bailey? I want my watch back.”

Bailey shrugged and added, “Won't know till we try!” She paused, as Stefan and Rich sauntered by, hiking around the lake, but also giving them the eye. Rich particularly looked them all over as if memorizing who was in what place. He snickered. “Double dating?”

Trent muttered as they nearly passed out of earshot.

Jason's eyes narrowed as he watched them laugh and lumber past.

Ting ignored them totally. “Have a trap for the thief in mind?”

“Well. As my grandma always says, you can catch more bears with honey than vinegar—”

A noise came from the other side of the cottage before Bailey's emphatic words even faded. There was a crash as something heavy plowed through the underbrush near the cottage's edge, the side that fronted into a lot of the wilderness near the lake.

A big burly shape went by, with Rich trotting at his heels, red hair sticking out. “Oh, not again. One of you guys stop him!”

Trent glanced at the big bear cub headed deeper into the woods that fringed the cottages and answered, “And I should stop him . . . why?”

“Because he'll get in trouble, that's why!” Rich tried to tackle the bear, and it shook him off, bawling and snuffling. It kicked off what looked like tennis shoes before loping away on all fours. Ting's jaw dropped.

Rich threw his hands up. “Get back here!” he bellowed.

The bear seemed to whine “Hun-eeee” as Rich tried to catch up with him.

Jason stood up. “What's going on? That's a wild animal . . . isn't it?”

They all traded shrugs.

He said. “I guess we should help.” He started in the general direction of Rich and the bear. After a few moments of hesitation, the others followed him.

They tromped to where they could hear a low, grunting voice, and Rich's higher one, pleading. They rounded an evergreen tree and then stopped in astonishment.

A brown bear wearing the shreds of Stefan's shirt and trousers sat on the ground, contentedly and repeatedly scratching his back against a stout tree trunk, over and over and over. They stared at the young bear and then at Rich. Rich looked at them. He sighed. “Well. Now you know. At least it's not another brier patch, and don't any of you dare mention the H word or I'll be chasing him around the lake.”

At that, the bear stopped scratching and tossed his head a bit, rolling his eyes. He gave a most Stefanish grunt and looked at them with beady brown eyes.

“Good grief. Is that . . . ?”

Rich glared at them. “Who do you think it is?”

Trent swung on Bailey. “There's your skinwalker.”

The bear let out a half-growl, and pawed at his nose. Jason looked at the creature sitting in the remains of Stefan's gear. “No doubt about it.”

22

T
HEY all stared, fascinated, as Stefan-bear cradled something in its paws, eating and slurping. Bailey pointed up, overhead, at a beehive that was drizzling honey from one of its broken sides. “Good thing it's almost dark.”

Rich signed again. He began picking up shreds of items and tucking them in his backpack. The sneakers appeared to be intact and he thumped Stefan-bear on the shoulder, saying, “Good boy! Atta boy, you remembered to kick your sneakers off!”

Ting backed away a step, glancing at the bear as he grunted and chewed at his honeycomb. “Is it
safe
to do that?”

“Well.” Rich considered his hairy friend. “I'm not really sure. He knows me.” He shrugged. “All I know is, I can't go where he goes. And sometimes he can't even go there.” Ruefully, he picked brambles out of his sleeve.

“Brier patch,” Jason said suddenly.

Rich looked at him mournfully, then nodded.

Trent squatted down, staring into the bear's face. “How does he turn back? How long does he stay a bear? He doesn't look full grown either, somewhere between a cub and an adult.”

“Last couple of times, right away. Now . . .” Rich looked as Stefan happily continued to grunt, slurp, and munch. “Got me.”

Bailey giggled. “At least not until he's done, I should imagine. He's really enjoying it.”

The chubby cub tossed his head about, eyed her, grunted again, and shifted the honeycomb in his paws. He had a white diamond-sized patch on his russet-brown chest, and droplets of honey drizzled down into it.

“I'd say that was a yes.”

Trent stood. “I'd say you're going to have to hose him down.”

The bear made a bleating sound, pinning his ears back. His long pink tongue curled around an end of the honeycomb, scooping out more amber honey. His ears flicked forward again in sheer pleasure.

“Actually,” Rich shifted from one foot to the other. “He likes bathing in the lake. Listen, you guys, you can't tell anyone.”

Ting looked uneasily from Stefan-bear to Rich. She said slowly, “I don't see how you're going to hide it. I mean . . . he's pretty big . . . and noisy. And he smells like a bear.”

The bear rolled his eyes about. He crunched down the last waxy bit of his honeycomb and tried to lick his chest off before getting to his feet. A last shred of T-shirt fell from his back as he did. He looked terribly odd with trousers still on, although they scarcely fit him as they hit his knees. He reminded Jason of a very old Smokey the Bear stuffed toy he used to have. Another thought occurred to him. There might be an advantage to having Stefan and Rich owing all of them for keeping a secret. “Tomaz is looking for a skinwalker,” he mused.

“They'll kick us out, man.” Rich's pale complexion went to pasty white. “He's a freak. We can't leave before he finds out how to . . . how to . . .” He seemed at a loss for words.

“How to deal with it?” Jason nodded. “Okay. We won't say anything. That doesn't mean you won't get found out, though. Eventually . . .”

Rich twisted his backpack in his hands. “All we need is a little time. I hope.” He grabbed an ear and tugged on it gently. “Come on, Stefan. You can be seen!”

With a low bleat and a grunt, the bear followed Rich deeper into the shrubbery. Trent shook his head as the two disappeared temporarily. “Tomaz is already on their trail.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Anyway, maybe we can get Squibb some peace and quiet.”

Trent leaned on him. “A little blackmail? I see you've learned from me, grasshopper!”

But Ting only shivered as they walked back to Kittencurl.

“What's wrong?” Bailey asked.

“What if he's not the one Tomaz is looking for. What if Crowfeather is looking for something worse? Something dark and dangerous?”

“Then let's hope he finds out quickly. I haven't heard anything, though, have you? I mean, the wolfjackals are bad enough. . . .” Bailey kept chattering as they walked back.

Their voices trailed off as the sky turned night dark and they climbed their porch steps. Sousa's rendition of Lights Out sounded throughout the camp, oddly faint on this side of the lake. Trent and Jason could not follow, so they stood at the trail and waved as the girls disappeared inside. Trent waited for the screen door to bang shut, then said, “What if she's right?”