Jinx's Magic (20 page)

He opened the front door and whistled.

He frowned, perplexed. He whistled again. Then he stepped out into the night.

Jinx turned quickly to Elfwyn. “Come with me.”

“I don't want to,” said Elfwyn. Then she dropped her voice and whispered, “Wait for me at the bottom of the bridge.”

“But what if he doesn't let you go?”

“Don't worry. I'll get away.” She raised her voice and said, “I want to stay here.”

The Bonemaster came back inside. “Off you go then, Jinx. Watch out for the ghoul.”

 

Jinx hated the Bone Bridge and hated how hard it was to make himself go to the edge of the cliff. The bridge swung and swayed as he climbed down it backward, clutching the cold bone rungs, but at least he couldn't see the ground in the dark.

At the bottom he waited for Elfwyn.

And waited.

He shivered on the cold rocks. What was taking her so long? The Bonemaster had been suspicious of her. Maybe he'd done something to her.

Jinx would have to go back and find out.

Just then he heard the sounds of someone climbing down the Bone Bridge. He looked up and saw a figure black against the starlight. Elfwyn. She got to the bottom of the bridge and looked around. “Jinx?”

“Right here.”

She hugged him. “Oh, I'm so glad to see you! When I got to Simon's house and you weren't there—”

“When was that?”

“A month ago. You're not supposed to ask me questions.”

“Come on.” Jinx took her hand. “Let's get out of here.”

She pulled away. “Let's stay here. I don't want to come back over the rocks in the dark.”

“Come back over the—we're not coming back! You're escaping. Come on.”

“No I'm not.” Grim green determination. “I'm staying.”

“You can't stay here with the Bonemaster!”

“Yes I can. He's teaching me magic.”

“Get someone else to teach you magic! He taught Simon magic, and you saw what happened to Simon. By the way, what did happen to Simon?”

“I don't know. And stop asking me questions. You can say something without making it a question, you know. And it's not so easy to find someone to teach you magic. And I have to learn from him or I won't know how to defeat him.”

“He's teaching you deathforce magic.”

“No he's not.” Elfwyn shifted uncomfortably. “Well, I don't
use
deathforce, anyway.”

“You can't stay here,” said Jinx. “He's suspicious of you already.” He told her about the pink glow on the knives.

“He's just a little suspicious,” said Elfwyn. “Not very. I can handle it.”

“But it's really—”

“—dangerous. And whatever you're doing probably isn't dangerous at all.” Elfwyn held a hand up. “Don't tell me what it is. I don't want to know the answers when he asks.”

“Well, there are some parts I can tell you.” Jinx had been thinking about this while he waited. The Bonemaster already knew about Samara and the Temple. “I needed Simon because I can't rescue Sophie without him.”

He told her about the prison. He left out things he thought the Bonemaster didn't already know about—KnIP, and the Eldritch Tome. “Simon knows enough magic to get her out. But I don't.”

“But you've got to try anyway,” said Elfwyn. “Just like I have to stay here and learn all I can about the Bonemaster.”

“You shouldn't! Simon says the Bonemaster's not an easy wizard to fool,” said Jinx.

“Maybe not, but I can do it if anyone can.”

“Elfwyn, did you—you didn't see what he did to Cold Oats Clearing.”

“Yes, I did,” said Elfwyn. “On my way back. That's what made me realize that I had to come here. Nobody else can get close enough to find out how to defeat him.”

“Elfwyn, he hasn't bottled your life, has he?”

“No. That was a question.”

“If he hasn't, he's going to. It's the price of apprenticeship.”

“I told you. I don't think he can do the spell,” said Elfwyn. “He hasn't put any more people in bottles. I looked.”

Because Simon stole the Crimson Grimoire,
Jinx thought.
And the Bonemaster wants me to bring him more books—so he can bottle Elfwyn.

He hadn't sensed the icy power that Malthus the werewolf had talked about. But then there was that big slab of—well, not exactly ice, but something. He wondered if the Bonemaster even knew about the ice and the wicks and all the stuff Malthus had gone on about. After all, Jinx hadn't known.

“I don't know what he did to Simon,” said Elfwyn. “Until you came here tonight, I didn't even know Simon was here. Er, sort of here. But it doesn't look like it has anything to do with the bottle spell, does it?”

“No. Listen, um . . .” Jinx couldn't think how to put this. “I know you've gotten better at managing your curse, which is, um, great. But there's no way the Bonemaster's not going to get you tell him, well—everything.”

“That's why he trusts me,” said Elfwyn. “Some people trust me because of my curse.
You
could try trusting me.”

“But—”

“I'm not trying to talk you out of what you're doing, am I?” said Elfwyn. “I'll try to figure out what he's done to Simon. You'll be back in four days, right?”

“I hope so,” said Jinx, wondering how he was going to manage it and what books he was going to bring instead of magic books. “Listen, what hap—”

“Don't ask me questions!”

Jinx huffed in annoyance. “Well, I was just wondering what happened with Reven.”

“He's an idiot.”

“Glad you finally figured that out,” said Jinx. “Wha—well, supposing you tell me whatever you're willing to tell me.”

She glanced up the Bone Bridge, nervously. “Reven's fighting a war. He has that Sir Thrip creature and Lord Badgertoe on his side—and a bunch of other sirs and lords. There're a couple dozen of them, and some of them sided with the king but most of them sided with Reven. And then the lumberjacks are on his side—”

“Because he promised to let them cut down the Urwald,” Jinx guessed.

“Yes. And those people we met in the forest, at the Edge—”

“And Lady Nilda.” Jinx remembered the girl on the horse.

Purple-green waves of anger from Elfwyn. Jinx decided he wouldn't say anything else about Lady Nilda.

“She's an idiot too,” said Elfwyn. “Anyway, Reven invited me to stay and be his court magician—”

“But he doesn't have a court.”

“No, all he's got is a war,” said Elfwyn. “So I left.”

Jinx could see the Lady Nilda–shaped thoughts around Elfwyn's decision to leave.

“So is he— I wonder if that means he won't invade the Urwald. Since he's busy with his war.” Jinx told her what Witch Seymour had said, that Reven might divide the Urwald up among his followers.

“Oh, he does want to do that,” said Elfwyn. “And he might not wait till his war is over. Because if he held the Urwald, then he'd have people loyal to him along one border of Keyland and he could attack from that side. It all has to do with military tactics,” she explained. “Reven knows a lot about military tactics.”

A cold blue anger surrounded the name “
Reven
.” Definitely no more pink fluffy thoughts.

“But he can't conquer the whole Urwald.” Jinx might not know military tactics but he knew one thing: “The Urwald is huge.”

“Huge and empty,” said Elfwyn.

“It's not empty.”

“There aren't enough people to defend it if Reven invades,” said Elfwyn. “There aren't enough people to even
notice
if Reven invades.”

She looked nervously up the bridge again. “I'd better get going. The Bonemaster might notice I'm gone. And the ghoul might come back.”

“Where
is
the ghoul?”

“I threw flesh-eating acid at it,” said Elfwyn. “I thought you might need to escape, so I wanted it out of the way.”

“You killed it?”

“I don't think so,” said Elfwyn. “They're hard to kill.”

“Then it's going to tell the Bonemaster you threw flesh-eating acid at it!”

“I'll say it was an accident,” said Elfwyn. “It'll be my word against the ghoul's, and I'm not sure they can talk.”

Jinx didn't like the sound of that. He didn't like the sound of any of it. And short of dragging her away kicking and screaming—or trying to, anyway—there was nothing he could do about it.

Jinx wished her good luck, and watched her climb back up the Bone Bridge.

 

He'd been counting on Simon to have all the answers—and instead Simon just turned out to be another huge question. Jinx was going to have to rely on his own magic to help Sophie.

And Jinx's magic amounted to this: a few wizards' spells that he wasn't very good at, although apparently he could learn new ones if he got a chance to feel around inside them. (He thought he might be able to do the clothes-freezing spell now.) A little bit of KnIP, but he wasn't sure how KnIP really worked, or what the rules were. He'd figured out one rule tonight: KnIP spells couldn't undo wizards' spells.

And listening to the trees—Jinx supposed Wendell was right about that being magic.

And he had lifeforce power that he could draw from the Urwald—which was useful for wizards' spells, but not for KnIP, as far as Jinx could see. Did he have that because he was a Listener? He supposed so. Malthus might know, but the idea of asking advice of werewolves still just seemed weird.

And the business of being able to see people's thoughts. Dame Glammer had told him that was deep Urwald magic.

Jinx's magic was a peculiar mishmash of half starts, a mix of things he didn't really understand. It was mostly different from the stuff Simon had tried to teach him, and different from the magic Jinx had read about in books.

And Jinx's magic was all he had to save Sophie.

24

Jinx Gets Caught

J
inx hurried through the streets of Samara, anxious for news of Sophie. Anything could have happened while he'd been gone. He tried not to think about the exact details of “anything.”

He opened the door to his room in the Temple. There was a folded paper lying on the floor. He unfolded it and read:

 

Jinx,

Wendell wants you to meet him at the Twisted Branch right away.

—Satya

 

Sophie! Jinx thought. Wendell must have heard something about her trial.

Jinx was halfway to Crocodile Bottom when something occurred to him: He didn't know
when
Satya had left the note. Wendell might not even be at the Twisted Branch anymore; he might be back at the Hutch.

Down by the river, things felt cool and alive and right. The babble of voices in many languages and the sound of someone playing a tongue-drum came through the trees as Jinx approached the Twisted Branch.

Jinx had to wait around for nearly an hour—one of the barmaids told him that Wendell had left that morning with his merchants, and would be bringing them back for supper. Jinx wanted to ask her if she had heard anything about a trial coming up soon. But he was wearing his Temple robe, and that made clouds of mistrust gather everywhere he went. She wouldn't tell him.

He bought some lamb-and-onion stew with flat Samaran bread. But he was too worried to eat.

Finally Wendell came in, followed by a knot of men in bright yellow robes who Jinx guessed must be the merchants.

“Hang on a second,” Wendell said, when Jinx hurried up to him. “I have to get these guys settled.”

Jinx went back and sat next to his untouched stew. Wendell spoke to a barmaid, asked questions, answered questions, and chatted with the merchants, who grinned and listened and clearly hung on his every word. Finally the merchants trooped upstairs. Several barmaids followed with trays of food.

Wendell hurried over to Jinx. “Thank Gramps you're back! Where were you? I looked for you yesterday, and then I looked this morning, and then I was busy all day taking these guys around the silk market.”

“Is there news about—” Jinx began.

“Tomorrow.”

“What?”

Wendell looked around him, and lowered his voice. “The trial's tomorrow morning. It'll probably last till around noon, and after that—”

“Boiling?” said Jinx.

Wendell nodded.

There were several loud stomps overhead.

Jinx felt his stomach go cold with despair. He had to get Sophie out of the prison tonight. But how?

He looked at Wendell and saw him standing in the midst of a sphere of glowing, interconnected golden wires. Knowledge.

Jinx took a deep breath. “Could you come to the prison with me?”

“Sure,” said Wendell. “But I have to get rid of my guys first. And they're going home tomorrow, so I want to get paid.”

The stomping overhead grew louder.

“Let me explain what I want to do,” said Jinx.

“No—not here. Tell me when we get there.” Wendell looked up at the ceiling, which was shaking. “Oh, Grandpa! They're arguing.”

“Those are your merchants?” The stomping was heavy and rhythmic. “It sounds like they're going to knock the building down.”

“Yeah, that sometimes happens. Vernese people never argue aloud, 'cause words are sacred. They stomp. I'd better go. I'll meet you over there, when the moon sets. It'll be darkest then.”

“What time does the moon set?”

“Just before two.” Wendell held up two fingers as he backed away. “Meet me on the south side.”

Wendell hurried upstairs.

Imagine knowing how Vernese merchants argued and what time the moon set. Jinx wondered how on earth the Temple had managed to convince Wendell he was stupid.

Jinx ate his stew, which had gotten cold. After a couple of minutes Wendell ushered his merchants down the stairs and out the front door, stomping all the way.

Jinx needed to think. He went out into the yard, where the merchants had separated into two groups and were stomping at each other. He leaned up against a tree. He wondered if Sophie had been told that her trial was tomorrow, and if she was frightened. How could she not be?

He thought about the inside of the prison, as he knew it from his one visit, and about where he could make holes to get out.

One thing was for sure—if he managed to get Sophie out, he couldn't possibly return to the Temple. Ever. Which meant he needed to retrieve the Crimson Grimoire, the book Simon had stolen from the Bonemaster. It was in his room at the Temple.

He skirted around the stomping Vernese merchants and set out for the Temple.

Strait Street was quiet, and Jinx could tell that he was being followed. The follower went in and out of range—sometimes Jinx could see a blue-green cloud of suspicion and sometimes he couldn't. The cloud was behind him, sometimes on the right, sometimes on the left. Then it was up above, on a rooftop. Jinx had difficulty managing not to look up.

Then a moment later the follower was down on the street, in the shadows of an alley.

Oh. So there were two of them.

Jinx walked faster.

There were no people around. Nobody to interfere. The man in the shadows was keeping quite close now, his mind always within reach of Jinx's sight. The one on the rooftops was still bobbing in and out of Jinx's range.

Up ahead Jinx could see a pool of light. If he could get that far . . .

Figures lurked in the shadows ahead. Jinx heard footsteps behind him; he broke into a run. The people ahead of him moved, blocking the alley. Jinx ducked and charged straight toward them. They reached out to grab him and he dodged to the left, and almost made it.

Something hit him hard in the back. A sack was thrown over his head. Jinx punched and kicked at everything around him, but rough hands caught hold of him. Then he was up in the air, still kicking and punching.

There were screams and grunts from beneath him. He fell, hitting the cobbled alley so hard he couldn't breathe for a minute. People fought above him. Jinx rolled to avoid getting trampled. He clawed the bag from his head, staggered to his feet, and ran back the way he had come.

Something tripped him, and he fell sprawling. Before he could move, ropes were pulled tight around his wrists and ankles. He yelled until someone stuck a rag in his mouth. He was blindfolded, thrown over someone's shoulder, and jounced along in the dark, headed who knew where.

 

They were going down a steep spiral staircase. Jinx would very much have preferred not to be doing it hanging upside down and blindfolded. The air was dank and moldy. It would have been nice not to have had the Bonemaster's secret catacomb full of skulls and bones in his memory.

Finally they reached the bottom. Jinx was set down on his feet, but they were bound so tightly that he fell right over.

“Cut his bonds.” It was a woman's voice, and Jinx recognized it. “We are not afraid of children.”

The ropes pulled tighter as someone sawed through them, and Jinx's hands and feet were free. He pulled off the blindfold and took the gag out of his mouth.

He was in a round room, lit by flickering torches. The Preceptress was looking down at him.

“So this is our errant scholar,” she said. “Hm. I didn't think the Mistletoe Alliance was really dead.”

She was flanked on either side by a preceptor. Their faces were sinister in the torchlight. And each of them was at the center of one of those insanely outsize preceptor-ish spheres of knowledge. The spheres hummed and buzzed in a way most people's didn't. Jinx hadn't noticed that before.

There were two men lurking behind them—the thugs who had caught him, Jinx guessed. Scholars didn't dirty their hands.

“Stand up,” said the Preceptress.

Jinx did, painfully.

“What were you doing at the Twisted Branch?”

“Eating dinner,” said Jinx. “Isn't that allowed?”

“You could have eaten at the Temple,” said the Preceptress. “Scholars who don't stay in the Temple are dangerous.”

“Is that why you've been having me followed?” said Jinx.

“There is no need to follow you. Your movements have been noted and reported. The people of Samara are loyal to the Temple. We permitted your visit to the prison. We knew we could capture you whenever we chose—as we have now done. All your efforts have done, you know, is to prove to us that Sophie Maya really is in the Mistletoe Alliance.”

“Neither of us is, actually.” Jinx looked around the room—no way out but up. He had his back to the stairs.

“When will you people learn?” she said. “We know how to recognize spies from the Mistletoe Alliance. We watch each class of lectors carefully. Surely your leaders have realized that, after so many deaths?”

“I wouldn't know,” said Jinx. “I haven't got any leaders.”

There was a sudden blurp of surprise from the Preceptress. “You're that boy. The one that came into the Temple with Simon Magus.”

Sudden green gleams of interest from all of the preceptors. Jinx had just become someone important. And that was not to his advantage.

There was nobody between Jinx and the stairs. But could he outrun the preceptors and their thugs?

“Where's Simon Magus?” said the Preceptress.

“I would really like to know that,” said Jinx.

He sucked the flames from the torches, spun, and rushed up the stairs, stumbling and grabbing at the wall. Behind him, he heard thumps and cries as the thugs and preceptors crashed into each other in the dark. Then someone was coming up the stairs behind him. Jinx climbed faster.

Bam!
He hit a door at the top. The thugs were just a few yards behind him. He yanked at the door. It was locked. He tried the door spell on it, but it didn't work—the door hadn't been locked by magic.

KnIP. He
knew
there was a hole in the door. And there was. Not a big enough one, though. There was no time to keep making little holes—Jinx needed more knowledge. He grabbed the knowledge of the thugs behind him and
knew
a bigger hole in the door. There were more footsteps climbing the stairs behind him. The hole in the door was still too small—maybe twice as wide as the cat flap back home.

Jinx stuck his head through the hole, and painfully squeezed his shoulders into it. It was a tight fit and he had to wriggle like a snake. It felt like his ribs would crack. Someone grabbed his robe. There was a ripping sound, and he fell through and landed on stone pavement.

“Let him go,” came the Preceptress's voice. “We know where to find him.”

 

Which was more than Jinx knew. He had no idea what part of the city he was in. Nothing looked familiar.

The houses were far apart and there were no lights. Jinx started walking toward the west, hoping that would take him to something he recognized.

He walked for a long time before he realized he was being followed. Again.

Well, he had had enough. He wasn't interested in having any more people jump on him, kick him, or throw sacks over his head.

He stopped beside an abandoned house with empty staring windows and an old wooden door hanging off a single twisted hinge. He backed up to the wall, his fists clenched.

His follower moved along the wall toward him. Jinx could see the thoughts—determined, suspicious, faintly annoyed. Scared. His follower was scared. Well, fine.

The follower came closer. And closer still—Jinx could hear his footsteps now. He waited.