Tris & Izzie (18 page)

T
ogether, Tristan and I rode on the black sail toward the rising sun. It was less scary than the ride in the skiff, because we didn't go as fast, and I could relax with the rhythm of the sail's beating wings.

It was still morning when we circled over Tintagel, and the black sail landed a few blocks away from my house, in an open field.

I helped Tristan off and guided him home. Outside the house, there was a faint smell of magic still in the air, but the bodies of all the animals Gurmun had sent against us had disappeared. I didn't know if that was because the animals had never been real—just magical—or because Mom and Mark had taken care of disposing them.

I opened the door and called for Mom. She came running, along with Mark, and together we got Tristan to the couch.

“Izzie, what happened?” asked Mark. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine, but Tristan's blind. Serpent poison,” I said, more for Mom's sake than for Mark's.

When we'd left the house two nights ago, Branna had been lying on the couch, still injured, but she walked into the room a few minutes later. She seemed mostly recovered from the giant's attack. In fact, she looked better than ever. There was a glow about her that I had never seen before. I didn't think I'd ever had that glow with Mark—but I had it now. Even with Tristan's being blind, he was mine and I was his, and that made all the difference in the world.

“Izzie, I need your help,” said Mom. She had a vial in her hand. “Keep him calm,” she added, because Tristan was turning his head to the side, refusing the potion.

I sat down next to him and rubbed his arm. “Tristan, it's okay. It's Mom's potion. It will help you feel better.” He immediately went still.

“If you need any more help, I can sit on him,” Mark offered.

I waved him off.

Mom poured the potion gently into Tristan's mouth. He made a face, but he swallowed it.

She went into the kitchen and brought back another potion, which she made him drink, too. Later that night, she brought a third.

“Is it that bad?” I asked, not wanting to hear her tell me that he wouldn't see again.

Mom smiled. “That one is to make sure he keeps his hair when he gets older. Just a little thing from me to you.”

“Isolde,” said Tristan after a long moment. His hands were over his eyes.

I moved to his side eagerly. “Yes? Do you need something?”

He looked into my eyes, and I could tell that he saw me, that his sight had come back. “No, not anymore. I think I will never need anything else, for the rest of my life, but the sight of your beautiful, loving face.” I had never been so happy before.

Mom pushed me out of the way so she could check him. “He looks fine,” she said at last.

“So that means he won't have any problems with his sight, ever again?” I asked.

“Well, I can't guarantee he won't lose sight when he gets older, but it will be the same as any other age-related sight loss, I think.”

“Will you let me stick around with you long enough to see you need glasses for old age?” I asked Tristan.

Tristan answered me with a kiss so long and passionate that Mom had to walk away.

“You know, I would have loved you even if you had been blind forever,” I told Tristan.

“And I would have loved you if you had not come back and killed Gurmun,” said Tristan. “But luckily, we don't have to.”

“Luckily,” I agreed.

Later, Mom came back in to remind me I should let Tristan rest.

“Tristan is still weak,” said Mom. “And he needs time to recover.” She told Tristan he could stay with us, since he didn't have anywhere else to go. Or, she said, he could go to the hospital again.

Needless to say, he did not choose to go to the hospital. Instead, he slept on our couch, and Mark slept on the living-room floor in a sleeping bag. Branna shared the bed in my room. I guess Branna and Mark could have gone home, but they'd been waiting for us, and now they wanted to hang out and make sure things were okay with Tristan.

The next
morning, Branna asked, “What is this?” She was

holding out the crocheted doll from the girl in Curvenal.

“A gift,” I said.

Branna sniffed it. “Who is it from?” she asked suspiciously.

“Someone who had nothing else to give.”

Branna looked as if she wanted to ask more, but she didn't. She handed the doll back to me, and I put it on the shelf above my bed.

Two days
after we got back, Branna's parents called and demanded to see her. Mark finally took her home. She didn't really need Mom's potions anymore.

When they were gone and Tristan was asleep, Mom and I sat in the kitchen and argued about magic and whether we should come out in public about the truth. I wanted to tell people, to protect them from Mel Melot and others like him. Mom said we would be deluged with reporters and people who wanted love potions that worked better than the one I had tried on the Internet.

“I don't want to tell reporters about it. At least, not yet.”

“Well, I've always said you could tell people that you know well,” said Mom. “As long as they agree to keep it secret.”

“I know, Mom. It's not a matter of calling the news-papers. Just telling more and more people. Not one or two.” I was thinking about Mark's whole posse, for example, and a few others at school.

It was only a start, but after I explained about Mel, Mom nodded. “You know, Izzie, I think your father would be proud of you.”

“Does this mean you agree with me about the magic?”

“Yes.”

Later Tristan and I talked about it, too. “The people of Curvenal should be allowed to come out and live in the rest of the world. And other people should be able to go there and visit,” I said.

Tristan thought about it. “I wouldn't want the beauties of Curvenal to become cheapened,” he said. “All the magic there should be honored, not sold off to the highest bidder.”

I could see what he meant. “But Branna and Mark could go there sometime. We could show them the black sails.” They were my best friends, both of them, and I wanted them to be able to see what I had seen.

Mark and
Branna came back over a couple of nights later, and I was surprised at how easy they were with each other. It was like they had been together for a year already, the way Branna seemed to anticipate what Mark was going to say, and how he moved to match her.

I couldn't believe I hadn't seen how right they were for each other. There is more than one kind of blindness, but I had recovered from mine without the help of potions.

Mark and Branna sat on the couch, his hand on her leg, her arm wrapped around his waist. The jealousy, the competition, the anger were gone. We all had what we wanted, and we could just talk about what would happen next.

“We can't go back to school, obviously,” said Mark. “The school district has offered to bus us to Parmenie for the rest of the year.” He made a face. “Or we can do some online high-school classes and take work-study credits if we help with the cleanup and the rebuilding.”

“How long do you think it will take?” I asked.

Mark shook his head. “Six or seven months at least. We have to do the cleanup before we can really figure out how bad the damage is to the foundation. And the district wants to make sure any new building is up to modern earthquake codes, in case anything like this ever happens again.”

“It won't,” I said.

Mark looked at me. “Are you sure?”

“I'm sure,” I said.

“No more magical creatures attacking you?” asked Branna. “How can you be sure of that?”

“Well, I don't think so,” I said. “Not this year, anyway.”

Mom came in with a tray of drinks.

“Um, I hope you don't take this the wrong way,” said Branna, “but at this point I don't think I want to drink any-thing I haven't seen come out of a hermetically sealed container. Not unless I'm dying and have no other choice.”

“It's not a potion,” said Mom.

“Or a love philtre,” I added. “Not that you need one, you two.”

“It's just lemonade,” said Mom. “And you can give me a truth serum for that, if you don't believe me.”

The next
week, Tristan and I met Mark and Branna at the school. One of the teachers was there with a crew of kids, all of them wearing hard hats and orange vests. He didn't let them use any of the heavy equipment, but they searched through rubble in the parking lot and made notes.

Tristan was really interested, but I didn't think it was for me. I felt a little adrift until Mom came up behind me.

“Oh, you surprised me. I thought you would be at work,” I said.

“I quit,” said Mom.

My eyes went wide. “What? But that's what you've always done. Helping people with magic.”

“It was one way to help people. The best way I could think of at the time, when I was trying to keep you safe and not show my magic openly. But I think you're right. It's time for a change.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Actually, I was hoping you would do it with me,” said Mom. “Along with some online classes so you graduate from high school on time, that is.”

“I'm not a witch like you,” I said. “What use would you have for me?”

“I'm going to look for people who have latent magic. At the high school, around town, maybe elsewhere.”

“Latent magic?” I echoed.

“Well, when we lived in Curvenal, everyone knew what magic they had from birth. But there has been magic in the world for a long time, and many people tried to conceal their magic. It's possible there are thousands of people who have powerful magic just waiting to be revealed. And it could be dangerous if it comes out without them knowing what it is or how to control it.”

“That makes sense,” I said.

“I'm going to start with Branna,” said Mom. She nodded in her direction. “I thought I should tell you.”

“You think Branna has magic?” I asked.

“I wonder. She believed in it so easily when you told her. And the fact that she was drawn to you in the first place may mean something. And there's that great-aunt with visions, the one she was named after.”

“The rich one,” I said thoughtfully. You could use magic to get rich if you wanted to.

“So do you want to help?”

“I think so,” I said. I was glad Mom would have something else to do besides watch over me all the time. I was tired of that. And Tristan had taken over that job quite nicely now.

I watched as Mom went over and tapped Branna on the shoulder. I didn't hear what she said, but I saw Branna nod slightly, then nod again. She looked over at me.

I gave her a thumbs-up sign.

That night
, Mark and Tristan came back to our house, looking tired but happy, dust all over them. Mark was repeating some joke I didn't get, so I guessed they were friends again.

“What about Mel Melot?” I asked. “Anyone heard from him?”

“Actually, I heard he left town the day after the earth-quake,” said Mark.

“Really? Why?”

“Well, the rumors are that he started babbling about magic and giants and potions. His parents were feeling pres-sure to send him to a therapist, for post-traumatic stress or something like that. Because of the school falling down,” said Mark.

“But they didn't?” I have to admit, I felt a certain amount of satisfaction, thinking that Mel Melot had told a little too much of the truth himself in the end. It seemed fair that it got him into trouble.

“He ran away first and took a bunch of family heirlooms with him. His parents swore out an arrest warrant against him because they were so valuable.”

“Hmm,” I said. I guess his family really was scary.

After dinner, Branna and Mark went home, and Mom left me and Tristan alone in the kitchen to do the dishes.

“I am going to go look for my own apartment,” he said.

“Not going to just live under bridges and overpasses, then?” I said, though I was really going to miss having him so close by all the time. I could see that it mattered to him, though. He had come from Curvenal, and that would always make him a little different from other boys my age.

“This time I know I'm staying,” he said quietly.

I took his hand and pulled him out to the porch, and we watched the sunset. We stared into the dark sky as the stars began to appear.

“Are you thinking of home?” I asked Tristan.

“You are my home now, Isolde,” he said. “Wherever you go, I will follow.”

“Except if I ask you not to,” I said.

He answered gravely, “Except then.”

I laughed. “Good thing you don't have to worry about that.”

He kissed me, and it was a kiss of safety and happiness, and there was plenty of heat in it, too. Magical and non-magical.