At Laurel’s look of surprise, he shrugged and mouthed, “Gypsy.”
She smiled wryly. He really was a good friend, to anticipate, to be ready.
Jassy swung up his pack and Laurel helped adjust his straps. Over her shoulder, she said, “Another thing: my father will worry when I don’t return home tonight.“
“Shall I tell him that you went to tend the old man and planned to help Ana-Maria watch through the night?”
Laurel sighed in relief. “Yes. Father will believe that.” She went to her corner worktable and uncovered her Christ child carving. “And another thing, if I don’t come home, please give this to my father.”
Master Gimpel took the carving and turned it around in his hands. Looking up, he said, “You did this?”
She nodded.
“You’re talented. When you come back, we’ll carve together.”
A thrill shot through Laurel. “Thank you, Master.” She was almost breathless from the compliment. But she sobered quickly and turned to face the red stone. Laurel was glad that Jassy was an old hand at traveling because she just wanted to run away.
“Ready?”
The mason was too eager, warned Laurel’s intuition. But she had no choice. She nodded.
“We’ve been thinking about the Troll’s Eye.” Jassy was firm: “We don’t want to look through it. We just want to get into the stone world.”
Shaking his head, the mason said slowly, as if trying to work out a difficult problem: “But looking through the Troll’s Eye is the only way in.”
“What if we held hands and just one looked,” Laurel insisted. “Would that one pull the other through the Eye?”
“I don’t know.”
“We’ll try it. We need a blindfold so there’s no chance of peeking.”
Nodding, Jassy dug inside his pack and pulled out a strip of linen.”
“Perfect,” Laurel took the linen and said, “We’ll tie this around your eyes. Turn around.”
He nodded, solemn now and turned so Laurel could tie the blindfold.
Laurel hesitated, studying his face, remembering the first time she saw him just a few days ago. His quick action had saved her father, and she only hoped that he would have no reason to save her while they were inside the Troll’s Eye. “I’ll look through the Troll’s Eye,” she said firmly. “That means if anything happens to me, you must get us both out.”
“I will make sure we are both safe,” he promised.
“It’s time.” The mason lifted his eye patch and pried out the jewel.
Jassy gaped, and Laurel winced, remembering her own surprise. It was time for action, not prayers, but everything within her wanted to run back to the cathedral and stay there.
“Why do you hide it there?” Jassy asked.
“It’s one place no one would look for a treasure.” The mason held out the gemstone to Laurel.
Quickly, before she could regret it, Laurel put the jewel to her eye and looked through. It was opaque, dark.
Then, the Troll’s Eye winked and a door opened, and she could see through the stone.
There was the worktable and the mason–
He was beautiful.
“Wha–” Laurel jerked the jewel away from her eye and thrust it at the mason. “No!”
“What?” Jassy stepped between Laurel and the mason.
Laurel sidestepped him, though, and the feeling of calm from the cathedral overwhelmed her again, and she felt the awe. She reached a finger toward the mason’s face, ran the finger gently down his scarred cheek. “Your face was normal,” she accused him.
The mason stood still until she dropped her arm to her side.
Jassy looked from one to the other and whispered, “Ugly becomes beautiful. It’s the curse. Laurel, this is too dangerous.”
Suddenly, she smiled, almost giggled. “It’s too easy. And too late now, I’ve already looked through the Troll’s Eye.” The stone was warm in her hand. “Besides–” With an effort, she turned away from the mason and concentrated on Jassy. “–everything is the right way now. It was probably nothing.”
Master Gimpel said, “The effects of the Troll’s Eye build slowly. At first, the reversals come and go. Eventually, though, it changes for good.” He took the Troll’s Eye from Laurel’s hand and fitted it into a hole he had chiseled into the side of the blood-red stone. He interrupted them, “Laurel, look.”
Jassy would have stopped her, but she pushed past him and bent to the jewel.
The Troll’s Eye winked again and a door opened. She saw a plateau that stretched fifty feet in front of her until it dropped away to a forested valley below. From somewhere came the sound of tumbling water, and from somewhere overhead, the song of a lark. She wanted to be there, to turn and see the lark, to walk in this strange land.
Jassy tapped her shoulder and she pulled back, reluctant to take her eye away from the sight. As soon as she turned, though, a chill fell on her, and the vision of that other world faded away. She jerked upright and tapped on the stone, suddenly angry. “Where did it go?”
Walking around the stone, she rapped her knuckles, listening for a hollow sound. “Solid. Yet, I saw a world within.”
Jassy’s eyebrows were knitted in a frown; the mason merely smiled.
“Let’s go,” Laurel told Jassy.
He held out the linen strip to her. She walked in a mental fog, and it took her a moment to realize what he wanted of her. She tied the linen firmly around his eyes. As she finished, he grasped her hand. Firm and warm. Steady. She closed her eyes and tried to remember why it was important that Jassy be the steady one. She shook her head; it didn’t matter. All that mattered now was to go through the Troll’s Eye.
“We’re ready,” she told the mason.
“Remember, the Eye closes in three days. Only one bag of jewels each can leave the treasure cave, and you must come back out together.”
“Yes, yes,” Laurel said.
The mason gestured to the jewel still embedded in the stone.
Eager, Laurel bent and stared through the Troll’s Eye.
When it winked, the beautiful, strange world lay before her again. She stepped forward, pulling Jassy with her. Strangely, they didn’t run into the stone; instead, she grew heavy, and heavier; then she was falling through a deep silence of light and shadow. She stumbled, but Jassy’s hand held her. He ripped the linen cloth from his eyes. And together they stood on a mountain plateau.
FIFTEEN
IN WHICH A GARGOYLE COMES TO LIFE
Laurel clung to Jassy’s hand, an anchor in this new land, and waited for a sudden dizziness to pass.
He grabbed her shoulders and bent to look in her eyes. “What do you see? Did the Troll’s Eye hurt you?”
The dizziness had passed, “I’m fine.”
Jassy’s eyes focused on something behind her.
Whirling, she saw a strange rip in the cliff wall, an opening covered with something like red stained glass. On the other side of this strange window was the workshop they had just left. The old mason was already busy, turning a statue around and around, his head bent to his work. It was the Eye, their way back home. They had to be back here by the end of the third day.
Turning a half circle, Laurel surveyed the land before them. A warm breeze—it was either late spring or early summer here, a few months ahead of their own land—lifted Jassy’s curls and blew them around.
“What do you see?” repeated Jassy. “I need to know if we are we seeing the same things.”
Her line of sight was blocked by two rows of linden trees with heart-shaped leaves and long branches that formed arches, dividing the plateau into three wide corridors like the nave of a cathedral. The central corridor had deep shadows, with lush splashes of ferns and mosses and occasional yellow flowers. The outer corridors were brilliant in the morning sun, rocky and almost barren.
To their left a waterfall fell about fifteen feet, bounced over monumental boulders, and then tumbled to a stream that flowed toward the edge of the plat
eau. To the right, the cliff face was a deep red, too steep to climb. The plateau rose slightly from their position so they couldn’t see if a path dropped off of any of the three corridors.
“I see two rows of linden trees and a large plateau,” Laurel said.
Jassy let out his breath—Woof! “I do, too. We’re in one piece and you’re seeing the same thing I do.” The corners of his mouth turned up in an attempt at a smile. “We’re going to make it.”
Laurel was more cautious. “For now, we see the same thing. Master Gimpel said the Troll’s Eye affects you slowly.”
“But for now—all is well?”
Laurel smiled back, but it was a surface smile. She thought: that must be the way of Gypsies, always thinking about the now. But in this stone world, they had to anticipate. She would have to think ahead for both of them.
Jassy turned practical, taking off his cloak in the warm air and stuffing it into his pack. “Which way?”
“You explore one side, I’ll take the other.”
“No. I’m your shadow for the next three days.”
A wave of irritation swept through Laurel. “That’s ridiculous. The clock is already ticking. It would be more efficient to have both of us search for the path.”
“No. Two in, two out.”
“You’re right.” She took off her cloak, rolled it up and stuffed it into her pack. They had just started, and already she felt heavy, irritable. Breathing deeply to calm herself, she straightened and looked around again. “We still need to find the right path, and I don’t see any trail leading anywhere.”
A sudden twitching in her apron pocket startled her. Cautious, she reached inside and pulled out her stone gargoyle bird.
It croaked.
She gaped.
The bird raised its head and opened its eyes.
Jassy stood with wide eyes, gawking, and Laurel felt faint.
The bird struggled to stand on its stilt-like legs. Its tiny claws ran across Laurel’s palm to her wrist.
Laurel thought: my bird is alive.
Then: It’s stone; it can’t be alive.
Then: I can’t enter a stone world either, but here I am.
She hadn’t wanted to gasp, but she knew she had by the way Jassy jerked around to study her, and then jerked back to check on the unnatural bird. Jassy’s eyes were huge, bright blue in the bright sun.
“What is it?” he whispered.
Coarse red feathers covered the bird’s fat body and scrawny wings. Now, it stretched high and flapped its wings before settling back into Laurel’s palm. The tiny claws tightened, digging into her hand. It felt like a bee sting and Laurel flung the bird away.
With a glare back at the Eye, Jassy repeated, “What is it? Something from Master Gimpel?”
“No, no. My father—he gave me the stone bird when I was only five. No—” she paused, confused. “He gave me a stone bird. Why is it alive now?”
The bird flapped across the plateau to the stream to the left, and then hopped onto a boulder and squawked at them. Laurel took a step toward the bird and the squawk turned into a happy chirp. It was like the bird’s voice was becoming unfrozen.
Jassy grabbed her arm, “Stop.”
She glared at his hand, and then turned her glare to his face.
Dropping his grip, he stepped back and held up both hands in a peace gesture.
In a level voice, she said, “We must follow the bird.”
“What?”
“Master Gimpel said we must find the right path. He didn’t know we would bring our own guide.”
“What makes you think that unnatural creature is a guide?”
“Don’t you see? My father said the bird would always protect me. Apparently, here, in the stone world, it is alive. We must trust it.”
“I don’t like it.”
For an answer, Laurel turned and took another step toward the bird, which promptly hopped off its boulder and ran a few steps downstream. Then it stopped and chirped at her.
“Let’s follow it,” she said.
“No, let’s find all the paths we can before we decide.”
Without answering, Laurel followed the bird, knowing that Jassy must follow. After all, it was two in, two out.
The bird led past the waterfall to where red rocks and boulders lay jumbled along the stream’s edge. When Jassy caught up, his lips were compressed and his jaw was tight. He was mad.
But Laurel didn’t care: she had grown up with her bird and he wouldn’t betray her now. It was just logical to follow him.
The stone bird didn’t stop: he hopped and flitted over the boulders, leaving Laurel and Jassy to climb up and slide down the jumbled rocks.
It didn’t take Jassy long to grumble, “We’re going too slowly.”
“We could move away from the stream and try to follow.”
“No.” Jassy hitched up his pack and sighed. “We’d just lose sight of your bird.”
Laurel tried to move faster, but the rocks were slick and smooth. In spite of herself, her feet often slipped off into the waters until both boots were soaked. Finally they came out from behind a large boulder to find the bird waiting for them on a small empty plateau.
Relief flooded through her, “Look!” She pointed along the cliff wall to a well-worn dirt path.
“I hope it’s the right path,” Jassy said. He slung his pack to the ground and lay down beside the stream to drink. He rolled to his back and said, “We need a short rest.”
Laurel drank, too, and then sat up to look around, trying to get her bearings. Their clearing was on the backbone of a great range of mountains. Some peaks were streaked with black or yellow, but most were the blood red of the stone they had entered. Their mountain curved off to the left, forming a U-shaped valley filled with a dense wood.
Jassy pointed across the valley. “If this path is the right one, the treasure cave is in some valley down there.”
“It’s the right path.” Laurel scanned the sides of the mountains, searching for a dark opening. But the mountains curved and folded, hiding their secrets in tucked-away valleys. Now, she shivered. The bird had better be right, or they’d never find the cave.
Suddenly, an urgency filled her, they had no time to sit and daydream.
She hopped up and pulled Jassy up, too. But the sudden energy burst drained her. “It’s too hot.”
Laurel frowned. Usually her emotions didn’t bounce around so wildly. Maybe the mood swings were caused by the Troll’s Eye because she couldn’t control it.
Jassy grinned, “Be grateful it’s not too cold. It’s a good day for traveling.”
Looking out over the mountain range, the vastness of the world they had entered, she agreed. She was still tired, but her mood swung back to almost giddy, and she leaned her head back and spun around and around. “We made it through the Troll’s Eye!”
Joining her laughter, Jassy grabbed her hands and swung her around, and they laughed even more with the joy of being alive and spun around until they collapsed onto the ground, laughing and letting the tension of the last few hours wash away.
“We are alive,” Laurel said.
“There’s hope for us, yet,” Jassy agreed.
Squawk! Awk!
Laurel pointed at her noisy bird. “He says we need to travel.”
Jassy nodded and pulled her up. “So now you understand Gargoyle Bird Language?”
Laurel nodded and grinned.
But Jassy sobered. “The bird is right. It’s time for speed.”
SIXTEEN
IN WHICH THE GIRL AND THE GYPSY SPEAK OF SWEET BERRIES AND DREAMS OF TREASURE
The rest of the morning’s travel was speedy. Laurel had heard travelers speak of a “road coming up to meet you,” but now she understood the phrase. The path here was easy and the world was full of joy. Birds flitted and sang sweetly; squirrels scampered along and chattered and scolded them; the streambed sang a lilting melody. Everything was right with their world. Even Laurel’s boots were drying out.<
br />
As they traveled, Laurel kept watch for the vine with white flowers, but saw nothing. From the description, it should be easy to recognize when they saw it.
By mid-morning, Laurel needed another rest.
Jassy agreed, but warned, “Only a few minutes.” He pulled off his pack and lay down in a clump of red clover and closed his eyes.
Even the gargoyle bird rested; perched in a low bush, he turned his head to rest on his back and closed his eyes.
Laurel lay flat along the stream again and drank, and then trailed her hand in the ripples until the cold made her fingers tingle. Sitting up, she spied a white flower. With a beating heart, she shoved aside branches from a bush for a closer look. Maybe it was the white star flower that would heal Father and Antonio. But it was just wild strawberries. She picked a handful and brought them to Jassy.
“Here, lazy. Strawberries.” Laurel dropped some on his chest and popped one into her own mouth.
Suddenly, a scalding fire burned all down her throat. “Ahh!” She spit out the berry.
Jassy started up, the berries tumbling into the grass. “What?”
She stuck out her tongue and waved her hand at it.
He picked up a berry from his lap. “You didn’t eat this, did you?”
Stumbling up, Laurel staggered to the stream and threw her head into the water and sucked, swishing the cool water around in her mouth, and then spitting it out again. Still it burned. Throwing her head back, she gargled water, and then spat again. Still it burned. She drank and spat again, and yet again, before the fire dimmed to something she could stand. Tears ran down her cheeks and she was sweating.
Jassy knelt beside her, hands by his side, helpless.
“What was it?” she managed to gasp.
“A fire berry.”
She stared at the berry in his hand and it wavered, changing shape from a strawberry to a smaller, burgundy fire berry; and then it changed back to a strawberry, so succulent and lovely that she almost wanted to bite it again.
Her voice trembled, “It changes. I can’t see it right. Sometimes, it’s a fire berry. Sometimes, a strawberry.” She sat back on her heels, blinked, and then rubbed her eyes, and when the images kept shifting–fire berry, strawberry, fire berry, strawberry–she clapped her hands over her eyes and wailed, “What’s happening to me?”
The Girl, the Gypsy & the Gargoyle Page 7
