The Passage to Mythrin 2-Book Bundle (7 page)

Heads down, hands stuffed in pockets, they scuffed along Park Street towards the bridge across the gorge.

“Hey, Ammy!” Ike, always the first to perk up after a disappointment, dropped back level with her. “You still got that artifact?”

“The ring, he means,” Simon said.

“I know what he means.” Her gloved right hand clenched.

“Can I see it a minute?” Ike took off his mitt and held out his hand. Ammy looked like she was going to refuse, then shrugged, pulled off her glove, and handed him the ring. She'd been holding it against her palm. In the sun the stone blazed like fire. The scratches on it stood out clearly.

“There's a picture on it, a sort of cat's eye.” Simon nudged it with his mitt as it lay on Ike's palm. “Maybe it's valuable after all. It could be a signet ring, like kings used to wear. To stamp papers with,” he explained to Ike, who was looking puzzled. “To make things official.”

“Your minute's up.” Ammy reached for it.

Ike whisked it aside. “One more sec!” He knelt down and carefully wedged the band into the crack between two cement slabs, so that the stone shone up at them. Then he stood up, hefted his hiking pole, and stabbed it straight down at the stone. The steel point bounced back. Ammy shrieked and punched Ike in the shoulder so that he sprawled in the snow of somebody's lawn. She scooped up the ring and peered at it. “Don't you
ever
—” she began.

Simon leaned in for a better look. “Now, that's weird.”

Ike was on his feet again. “Is it —”

“Not even cracked.”

“You see? Looks like glass, but harder than steel. Obviously it's made of some exotic mineral not known on this planet.”

“Ike, a ruby is harder than steel, and it's known on this planet.”

“Well, maybe it's harder than that. We'll go and test it properly.”

“How?”

“You are not touching it again!” Ammy shoved it into her jeans pocket.

“Diamond,” Ike said across her to Simon.

“Where would you get a diamond?”

“I have my sources.”

“You keep your paws off it.” Ammy sidestepped them and clomped away up the street.

Ike and Simon followed her across the Queen Street bridge. The town hall clock bonged three times as they rounded the bend onto King Street. Ammy quickened her step. The next three blocks were already closed to traffic. People were stringing lights in the trees and hanging banners above the street: “DUNSTONE'S 15th ANNUAL NIGHT OF MAGIC.” Other people were setting up booths along the sidewalk.

Ammy ignored the activity. She ignored Ike's pleading, too. He would have followed her into the lobby of the Hammer Block if Simon hadn't diverted him.

“C'mon, I could use a doughnut. And then let's ask your dad about those tracks, eh?”

“That's right!” Ike forgot about Ammy. “We've got proof, now. Pictures never lie. Dad can tell the police.”

§

“Good pictures, Ike. Well composed, beautifully clear. Simon, keep that jelly doughnut away from my keyboard, would you?” Oscar Vogelsang zoomed in on the image on his computer screen. Ike's father was huge, red-bearded, and untidy. Ike leaned on his left shoulder, beaming, while Simon edged in on the other side, holding his doughnut out sideways.

“When are you going to call the police?” Ike asked.

“I'm not. Sorry.” Oscar swivelled his chair to face him.

“But why not?”

“These pictures aren't proof of anything, let alone a UFO. You could have made those marks yourself.”

“Dad, no!”

“We would never —” Simon started.

“I know, I know!” Oscar waved both hands. “Of course I believe you! But my belief isn't proof, you see? Certainly not to the police.”

“Bummer.” Ike picked up his camera. “So what do you think made those marks?”

Oscar swivelled back to look at the screen. He scratched his jaw through his beard. “Mm ... a giant lizard?”

“Aw, Dad.”

“Never mind, Ike. If you get a really good picture from the street party tonight I'll run it in the paper, how's that? I'll even pay you.”

“Cool!”

Ike and Simon walked back past the service desk to the front of the office and stood at the window finishing their doughnuts. A young woman with short dark hair sat behind the desk tapping at a computer. “There's my diamond source,” Ike said. “Melissa. New engagement ring.”

The phone rang. Melissa snatched it up on the third ring. “
Dunstone Independent
. Yes, you are too late. You should have had it in before closing Saturday.” She dropped the phone into its cradle and shook her head at Simon. “People! They know the deadline for placing ads, but they always push it.”

“An ad. Right! Simon, that's what we should do.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That artifact Ammy found. We should run an ad for her in the lost and found column.”

Oscar sauntered over. “An ad? What did you lose?”

“It's just something my cousin Ammy found out on Riverside Drive yesterday,” Simon said.

“Valuable?”

“Could be,” Simon began.

Ike broke in. “It's a ring. We think the stone may be a gem. A ruby, maybe. It's harder than steel.” He said to Simon out of the corner of his mouth, “I'd like a sight of the character that dropped it.”

“It's too late to place an ad.” Simon pointed at Melissa. “She just said so.”

“Oh, I think we can squeeze in two lines for a neighbour,” Oscar said.

Melissa looked at the clock. “No way, we're just about to send the disk to the printer.”

“We can, if we're real quick. I'll take care of this, Melissa.” He waved her away and sat down at her computer and started typing. “Found: December 30, Riverside Drive, small object, possibly valuable.”

“Shouldn't we say what it is?” asked Simon. Then he smacked his forehead. “Of course not! Then we'd never know if the person is telling the truth.”

“You got it.” Oscar's fingers flew. “If confirmed, owner pays ad cost.” He looked at Simon. “How about a phone number? Celeste's? Perfect. There, done — just in time, eh, Melissa? Two dollars, please. Best deal in the county.”

The apartment was deserted when Simon returned. So was 3A. Simon found Ammy and her new friend on the roof. The girl sat cross-legged on the parapet at the front of the building, looking down at the street. The low-slanting sun and the wind caught her hair and it streamed out like a flame.

“Not again!” Simon said.

Ammy looked back over her shoulder and then crunched across the snow to meet him. “I think she just likes being in high places,” she whispered. “Be cool. Don't scare her.”

“
She
scares
me
.”

The girl smiled back at them. “So much moving down there!” She waved a hand over the street. “What they do?”

“It's a party,” Simon said. “To celebrate the first
night in the new year.”

“Parrr-ty? Parrr-ty.” She turned the word over in her mouth. Then spun herself around on the parapet, still cross-legged, and fixed her eyes on him. “Means what?”

“It's when people get together and have fun.”

“Ah! Fun. What way they have fun?”

“Well, they play games, and dance, and skate. Stuff like that. There's music and food, too. And there are prizes for the best costumes.”

“Coss-tumes.”

“That's when you dress up,” Ammy put in. “You disguise yourself. You make yourself look different.”

The girl spun herself around again and bent at the waist to look down at the street. Simon's hand shot out. Ammy took a quick step forward.

“Blue, white, shining.” The girl shaded her eyes. “So sharp!”

“What is?” Ammy bent over the parapet beside her. Simon grabbed the back of Ammy's jacket. She swatted his hand away.

“The colours of this — this place.” The girl held out both arms. “So cold, so bright! Where I come from, the colours are soft and hot.”

Aha, a clue!
Simon poked Ammy in the arm. “So it's hot where you come from?”

“Yes, much. How I wish I know what happens there!”

He cleared his throat. “Um ... where is
there
?”

“My home.” Her voice went flat.

“I give up!” Simon shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away. He stopped at the nearest chimney and kicked at the snow at its base. Then he stopped his foot in mid-kick, put it down, and studied the snow. “Uh-oh.”

“How about coming inside?” Ammy coaxed. “You don't have a coat. Aren't you cold?”

“Ammy!” Simon broke in. “Over here!”

“It's
Amelia
!”

“Amelia. You'll want to see this.”

“Oh, all right. What's the big deal?”

He pointed. Next to the chimney, where the snow was sheltered from the wind, a trail of scuffed footprints marked the surface. Some of them looked like they were wearing crampons. Beyond the chimney they faded into the blown powder.

“But that's just like...”

“Right. How did he get up on the roof?”

“Well, if he could climb out of the gorge...”

“But why is he still wearing the crampons? That's just weird.”
Unless those aren't crampons
, he thought.
Unless those prints are his actual...
“Nah.” He shook his head.

A long shadow fell across the snow. The girl stood beside them looking down. Her mouth widened slowly into a smile that bared all her teeth.

“I saw these marks somewhere else today.” Simon watched her face. “You know them?”

“Yesss.”

“Friend of yours?”

“Friend!” She threw back her head and laughed.

“Amelia! We will go to this party. We will have fun!”

Still laughing, she strode towards the hut, with Amelia trotting at her heels. Simon dodged around in front of them. “I asked you a question!”

She grinned down at him. “Answer is no.” She started around him. He sidestepped to stay in front of her.

Ammy grabbed his arm. “Simon, don't be a jerk!”

“Use your head! Last night there was a blue light in that cave, made by — who knows? Then she turns up, and I know for sure she's new — this town is small enough that I'd know. Then today we find those prints by the cave. And now we find them here.”

“And that means what?”

“Add it up! She's part of some kind of...” He waved his hands in frustration. He had no idea what she was up to. But it smelled of secrets, of trickery. “Some kind of plot!”

“What is plot?” asked the girl.

He swung back to face her. Blinking at him like she didn't know anything! He was mad enough to stare her down — if only he were six inches taller. “A plot is people
sneaking around to make trouble for other people. You in politics, back home?”

“Politics.” Her smile twisted. “I know that word from radio. You would call it politics.”

“Wow.” Ammy sounded admiring. “Aren't you awfully young to be in politics?”

“Six days ago, I was too young.”

“What hap—” Ammy began, but Simon couldn't let her finish.

“Those marks?” He pointed at the snow. “What made them?”

The girl's eyes sparkled. “He comes from my brother.”

“So, he is a friend!”

“No. This means my brother is not having things so easy, back home!” Her lips quirked.

“Then he's a messenger?” Ammy ventured. “He brings news?”

“He wants you to come home?” Simon suggested.

“That, no!” She laughed.

Enough is enough
! He met the girl stare for stare. “Look — we kept our promise. We haven't told anybody. So why can't you be honest with us?”

“Hon-est?”

“Honest! I mean, we don't even know your name, and you know ours. Is that fair?”

The girl stared down at him from what suddenly
seemed a great height. Her head slanted back, her face looked longer and sharper. Her eyes were two green slits. Now I've done it, he thought. Now she's really mad! There was a crunch as Ammy stepped up beside him.

For a moment nobody breathed. Then the girl sighed and he'd have sworn she'd shrunk down again by eight or ten inches. “Where I come from it is not a small thing, the telling of names. But you are right. I ... what is the word ... I owe. I owe you, Amelia.” She touched Ammy's arm. “I was a ... a stranger. And you were friend. You could let me die in the snow, last night.”

“No, I couldn't!”

“We couldn't!” Simon added.

“I would not die, of course. I do not die so easy. But you did not know that. So...” She held out her hands. “My name is” — she took a breath — “Marathynarradin.”

“Mara...thar...” Simon tried. “Marathin...”

“Marin...” Ammy said. “Say again?”

“Marathynarradin,” the girl said firmly, as if she'd made up her mind about something.

“We'll call you Mara for short,” Ammy said.

“For short!” Mara's eyes narrowed. “You would cut my name?”

“Sure, why not? Mara's a cute name.”

“Cute.” Mara frowned down at her angora- and jean-clad length and let out a bark of laughter. “Why
not? I am less, so why should my name not be less? Let it be Mara, then.”

“Good.” Ammy took her hand and tugged. “Can we go down now?”

“Yes, now!” Mara led the parade towards the hut. “There is a party. We disguise ourself.”

Simon crunched through the snow behind them. “You know, it's funny how fast your English has got better.”

“Amelia gives me a radio. I talk, it doesn't answer, so I listen. I learn. But most I learn from Amelia.”