The Magickers (29 page)

“Why?”

“Well, if she's fallen a step behind, she had not even chosen it yet.” Eleanora made a slight face. “Time is very difficult to deal with. We don't, usually, unless there is an accident of this sort. It takes a lot of manna and discipline. And we can't alter Time. But Bailey is like . . . well, let me think of a way to put it. If Time were a stream, a river, Bailey would be a stone put into it . . . a stone that didn't belong there, then. We can retrieve her. We can't change the tide or flow of the river in any way whatsoever.”

Trent edged closer. “Can't . . . or won't.”

“Both.” Eleanora considered him. “Sets off too many ripples, don't you think? And every one of us, for some reason or other, would want at least one small moment in our timelines changed. The final effect would be like, oh, a covered pan of popcorn kernels being heated up and popping more and more rapidly until the pan is one big explosion. No.” She shook her head. “I don't think any of us wants that.”

“Removing Bailey won't harm anything?”

“No. But the longer she stays, the more potential harm she can cause. She is not meant to be there, and not only will Time fight her, her own body will begin to fight her. The Bailey we know will cease to exist. We have to rescue her, and I fear we've only one or two more chances to try.” She stood. “How about we head to the mess hall? I think I can persuade FireAnn to put some ice cream aside until later. With any luck, Bailey can join us.”

Trent trotted a little behind them as they went down the gentle sloping trails toward the bright lights, muttering to himself. Jason cast him a puzzled glance over his shoulder, wondering where the “I'll try anything” Trent had gone to. Cheers and the happy clattering of spoons in dishes greeted them at the mess hall.

Three silvery and frosted kegs sat on the counter, with FireAnn's crew dipping out great spoonfuls of ice cream from them. There was vanilla, with flecks of the savory bean in the ivory cream; chocolate, deep and rich looking; and fresh berry ice cream in swirls of pink and purple fruit. Everyone licking his or her spoon looked extremely happy. Jason slowed down unhappily. Despite Eleanora's suggestion, it didn't seem that there would be any left for later! That chocolate looked as if it were meant for him. He sighed.

Eleanora looked about. “I don't see Gavan yet. I think perhaps ice cream now is in order,” she said in sympathy.

Without further urging, Jason and Trent dashed to the small line still waiting for the frosty desserts. Up at the front, Stefan growled a bit, saying, “No chocolate. Just the berries. I want the berry ice cream.”

Rich's jaw dropped. “But, Stefan, my man. You're crazy about chocolate.”

“I said . . . berries. I want berries!”

“And that you shall have,” FireAnn said joyfully. She towered his bowl and smiled as Stefan shuffled out of line, a blissful smile on his broad face, Rich trailing behind with a look of disbelief plastered all over his.

Jason was able to get his bowl heaped with a good helping of all three, FireAnn winking at him as she dolloped the last bite of vanilla on top. Behind him, Trent broke out into a happy hum, back to normal. Eleanora settled for fresh berries only, with just a bare spoonful of the fruited ice cream on top.

She looked at her dish with a wry smile. “Diets,” she remarked, before joining them. “Although,” she added, with a faint purr after the first taste, “this is quite a treat!”

Jason had just finished, and Trent had gone back to beg for seconds, when Gavan came in. He searched the hall before spotting Eleanora and heading over. She spooned up a last mouthful of fresh berries, offering them to him as he sat down.

“Yum.” His blue eyes sparkled with appreciation. “Think I could get FireAnn to save me a bowl?”

“I'm sure you could.”

He nodded, and then ran his hand through his hair. “Well, lads.” He smiled at Trent and Jason. “The lot of you did some nice work earlier today. There are some good mappers about. You, in particular.” He patted Trent's shoulder.

“Thank you,” Trent mumbled around the bowl of his spoon, his words muffled and half-frozen.

“Another day or two of mapping like that, inputting into the computer, and we should have a good idea of what immediately surrounds the camp. We'll have to go farther afield, of course, to get the whole area done, but . . . well, it looks promising.”

“Is it safer away from camp?”

Gavan looked down at his cane. “No, Eleanora, it won't be. This is a project I have to take, literally, step by step. They have us at a disadvantage, and they know it, and they'll harry us.”

“Bad news with the good, then.”

“Aye, it is.” He took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders.

“I've some more good news, then. Jason here has solved the conundrum of Bailey's whereabouts.”

“What?” The sparkle returned to his blue eyes as he looked upon Jason. “Spit it out!”

“Well.” Jason set his dish aside. “She's not lost somewhere, but somewhen. She's a step or two out of time. I'd guess behind, but I'm not sure about that.”

“In time. Of course, of course! I should have thought of that . . . she's parallel.” He frowned. “We'll get her back, then, but it'll take a bit of planning. Someone with a definite link to her will have the best shot, someone who can go in, get in rhythm with her, and bring her back.”

“That would be me,” Jason said firmly.

“You?” Gavan arched his eyebrow. The wolfhead crystal seemed to glow at him.

“As Bailey would say, ‘Send a cheese to catch a cheese.' I've heard her, once or twice. She's been able to leave a hint or two for me, and I'd have thought of where she was sooner if I'd been smarter.” He took a deep breath and said, “I don't know what to do, but if you show me, I'll do it.”

Gavan nodded solemnly. He said to Trent, “Sorry, lad, but I think Jason had better go this alone.”

Trent nodded back, but Jason thought he saw an expression of relief cross his face quickly before he ducked his head and finished off the last of his dessert.

Something pinched his ear again, leaving a fleeting feeling behind of cold fingers, tweaking to get his attention. If only it
was
Bailey. Perhaps she already knew what they were going to try and do! If only things could be that easy. . . .

 

The three sat around Gavan's desk. He cleared it with a sweep of his cane, papers flying and Eleanora settling with a slight frown on her face as if she realized she might well be the one picking up the mess. He fetched Bailey's amethyst crystal out of his drawer, unwrapping it from the silk handkerchief and setting it in the center of the desktop. “Yours next to it, but comfortably within reach,” he directed Jason.

“Yes, sir.” Carefully he placed his crystal next to Bailey's. His was larger, he hadn't realized that, but either was small enough to cup in the palm of his hand.

“Cover both.”

He stretched his arms out and began to do that, his left hand over her crystal, right hand over his, and his crescent moon scar gave a sudden throb. He jerked his hands back, wincing.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” Jason touched the fetish bag at his throat and put his hands out again. He switched the crystals first, then settled his left hand over his own. No lancing pain. He relaxed a bit and settled into position, Eleanora and Gavan trading glances over his head. He squirmed in his chair a bit and Eleanora hooked her foot over the chair rung, scooting him close to the desk. He shot her a grateful look as he rolled his shoulders and got more comfortable.

“Now,” said Gavan firmly. “If anything goes wrong, you're to find us and return immediately. Close your eyes.”

He did so. He felt a hand settle on each of his shoulders.

“This is where we shall be, Jason. Find us there.”

A bit bewildered, he answered, “I can feel you.”

“Not with your everyday senses. Find our Magick there, anchoring you.”

He didn't know how! Jason clenched his eyes shut, till his lids crinkled together. How did they expect him to know something like that? He couldn't do this! He had no way of knowing; what had they shown him of Magick really? And yet . . . and yet . . . on his right shoulder, he could feel a steady warmth, like a banked fire. And on his left, well, it wasn't a feeling at all, it was a sound. He could hear the very faint chime of music rippling past his ear. Slowly he said, “Eleanora is music. And you are fire.”

“Very good. Now, open your eyes. Focus on your crystal first and when you feel good about it, you're going to look into Bailey's. You're going to see if you can find that door she disappeared through, and follow her.”

Jason nodded carefully. “Yes, sir.” He looked at his crystal, seeing in his mind's eye the way the jeweler's glass showed it to him, magnified into all its various layers and angles. He loved the look of his stone. Even the flawed part of it. With reluctance, he shifted his attention to Bailey's amethyst and looked at it intently.

A spiky crystal, with many, many facets and sharp edges, like a dozen or so brilliant purple gems stacked up unevenly and fused together, it was still a beautiful cluster. He could see why Bailey had chosen it. It would have looked pretty in a setting for a necklace, he supposed, or some piece of jewelry. With a faint pang of homesickness, he thought of his stepmother and how she loved to shop for jewelry. She rarely bought any; her taste was expensive, but she used to talk to him and Alicia when they were along. He hadn't listened then and wished now he had. He looked sharply into the gem blanketed under his right hand.

He thought he saw a faint line, stretching and then opening, like a door slightly ajar. He knew that vision and plunged forward toward it eagerly. It was a door, it was Bailey's, and he had to catch it!

20

H
E dove through into a threshold of stunning cold, like plunging headfirst into an icy pool. He sputtered in surprise, shaking his head vigorously as it pounded with the sensation. Jason stood for a moment in purple shadow and looked about, then saw a fleeting glimpse just ahead of him. He ran after, calling, “Bailey! Wait!”

The wispy nothing turned about, then became solid. It was Bailey in all her freckled and golden-brown-haired glory. She spun around, her jaw dropping in surprise, and then she let out a cry of joy. “Jason!” She started to bound toward him.

He stopped short, as a loud grating noise came from in front of him. A deep black crack opened up as the crystal under his feet vibrated for a long moment, rather like an earthquake. He stared down into it. Was it breaking up around them? Time did not seem to be on his side. “Come on,” he said urgently, and held his hand out.

“I can't.” Her voice trailed off, and she came to the edge of the chasm and stood hesitantly. “I've tried and tried.” She shivered and hugged her arms about her ribs. “I'm cold. I'm hungry. And I'm sleepy.”

“Sleepy?”

“I don't dare nap. I doze off now and then, but . . .” She looked at him, her face pleading. “Please help me, Jason!”

He leaned forward across the darkness, stretching closer. “Bailey, you've got to meet me halfway.”

“I can't.”

“Bailey, you can't stay. You're going to . . . you're going to die in here.” As he spoke, the chill settled around him like a cloak, until its numbness went right to his bones. His ears felt brittle, like icicles that might break off. The only part of him that stayed warm was a small spot on his right shoulder.

Gavan,
he thought. He shrugged his shoulder high, putting his ear and cheek to the warm spot for a moment. It heated him right through, as though he'd spread his body near a fireplace, and he managed to shake off most of the cold.

She just stood and looked at him, her heart-shaped face pale and afraid behind her freckles, her hair tangled and disheveled. She lifted her hand to her face and nibbled on the corner of a nail. “I . . . can't.”

“ 'Course you can!” He stood on the brink, and stretched out both hands. “Come on! You can't get home from there.”

She turned on one foot, pointing into the shadows behind her. “The camp is that way.”

“The way back to our camp is this way.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “You're out of step, Bailey. Just a Ghost. You've got to come with me.”

“No one saw me.” Bailey frowned. “I'm so hungry! All I've had is that cookie. And I want to sleep in my warm bed and . . .” She took a step backward.

“Bailey!” Jason sharpened his voice. “Listen to me. I'm here. Take hold of my hand and come with me.” Music played softly in his ear, as if Eleanora tried to remind him of something. Was she hurrying him? Encouraging? He couldn't tell; all he knew was that

Bailey was balking and he couldn't lose her. “We don't have a lot of time anymore, Bailey.” He couldn't understand why she hesitated, why she just looked at him. Why she seemed so pale. Then he realized that she was fading, gradually. She was not the Bailey he knew, not quite, not altogether. And it would only get worse. He
would
lose her. “Come on,” he coaxed. “FireAnn made ice cream. More cookies than you can eat.”

“I want a hamburger.”

“Those, too. And your own bed at Kittencurl waiting for you. Ting has it all ready. Jennifer has letters from your mom. Everyone is this way.” He half-turned, showing the way.

She stood on tiptoe. She looked down into the dark crack between them, then back up at him. “I'll have to jump.”