by Jon Berkeley
“Mumbo Jumbo isn’t about answers,” said Arkadi. “It’s about asking the right questions. Like this one: How can you overcome your fear of Ike Ledbetter?”
Bea thought about the creeping Ledbetter clan. The very sight of them filled her with dread, ever since she had first seen them surrounding the Millers’ house. She pictured them climbing silently toward the windows, and saw Ike tumble from the shoulders of the stocky man below him, and the momentary start of shock on his face as he fell into the thornbush. It was the only glimpse of weakness she had seen any Ledbetter show.
“I’ll have to find out what he’s afraid of?” she said.
“That’s the right question,” said Arkadi approvingly. He was silent for a while as he chewed on the end of a twig to make himself an impromptu toothbrush. “How is your mother holding up?” he asked presently.
“She took up tattooing again,” said Bea. “That’s what she used to do before Theo was born. She worked nonstop for two days until she’d tattooed everyone in sight. I think she was trying to distract herself.”
“No doubt,” said Arkadi. “Is that the only reason she did it?”
“What other reason would there be?”
“That’s also the right question,” said Arkadi. “What are the tattoos like?”
“I only saw one up close,” said Bea. “It was beautiful. There was a lot of forest, and things hidden in it.”
Arkadi raised his bushy eyebrows, but said nothing.
“Things hidden in the forest!” said Bea. It seemed so obvious now. “Granny Delphine said that Ma has a natural aptitude for Mumbo Jumbo, but that she was afraid to learn about it.”
“Natural aptitudes have a way of coming out,” said Arkadi. “I think a closer look at your mother’s tattoos might be very instructive, don’t you?”
Bea nodded. “Can I ask you something?” she said.
“Of course.”
“Why did you pretend to be…” She searched for the right words.
“Not very bright?” suggested Arkadi.
“Yes.”
“I needed you to trust me,” said Arkadi. “It’s easier to trust someone if you don’t think they’re capable of deception.”
“I suppose.”
“Do you trust me now?”
Bea looked at Arkadi. His face seemed as open as ever. “I think so,” she said.
“Then let me give you one little piece of advice.” He leaned closer to her and dropped his voice. “Those Tree People that your brother talks about—it might be best not to mention them to anyone else.”
“Why?” said Bea. “Who are they?”
Arkadi straightened up. “No idea,” he said cheerfully. “Have you?”
“No,” said Bea.
“Then until we have a good reason to believe otherwise, we should leave them in peace, don’t you think?”
“They might have kidnapped Theo,” said Bea.
“Or they might have saved him,” said Arkadi.
Key
Bea Flint walked slowly back toward the Millers’ house as the sun warmed the air and the bees went into busy mode. She came to the main square, where stallholders were setting up their weekly market around the broad steps of the library. There was bustle everywhere, and already the stalls were piled with colorful fruit, tools and plant pots, pickles and preserves, shoes, candles, colored glass, cloth by the yard, belts, buckles and bridles, songbirds in wicker cages, knives, ropes, maps, balms and bandages, pâtés and sausages, bread, books, and a hundred other things. She passed them by with barely a glance.
A pale fish stared sightlessly from a bed of ice on the last stall. Its colorless fat lips were frozen around its last gasp, giving it a witless expression that reminded her uncomfortably of Ike Ledbetter. She groaned. Even when she was awake she could not get Ike out of her mind. She knew what she had to do, but the prospect filled her with dread. She was so tired that it would be difficult not to fall asleep, but how was she to overcome her fear of the dream squatter? He had never even spoken to her, except to intone the demand of his clan: Give us the Hidden Boy.
It did not come as a surprise to her to find that the Millers’ house was once again surrounded by people. At first she thought that news of Ma’s tattooing skills had spread even further, but on second glance she noticed that the people bunched up around Ma in the clearing were already tattooed. They did not all seem entirely pleased about it either.
“I’m telling you it wasn’t there yesterday,” said a man with grizzly hair. He had his shirt rolled up to his armpits and was pointing to a figure half-hidden in the picture on his stomach. “When you done this it was all plants and birds. That was what I asked for. It ain’t natural for new details to sneak out of a tattoo in the night.”
“Same thing happened to mine,” said a woman with elaborately decorated shoulders. “I’ve got bees everywhere now, where yesterday there was just flowers.”
“You must be mistaken,” Ma said to them.
“You can rest assured,” said Pa, “that nobody will be charged for any extra details that may have emerged.” He had descended the ladder to see what the commotion was about, and was now looming over the crowd. Looming was one of Pa’s specialties.
“That’s not the point,” said the woman with the bees, a little doubtfully. “How do we know what might come out in the future?”
“Nothing will come out that isn’t there already,” said Pa. “My wife is the fastest tattooist in history. You just didn’t notice all the details when they were being done.”
Bea could see that Ma herself was a little shaken by the notion that her tattoos might be continuing to grow without her. The rings under her eyes were even darker than before, and she looked ten years older than she had when they set out for the holiday of a lifetime.
Bea stepped forward and cleared her throat. “Why don’t we take a look at these tattoos,” she said loudly. “Maybe we can figure out what’s happening.”
The townspeople looked around to see who was speaking. Ma and Pa looked at her too, surprise on their faces. There was no sign of Granny Delphine, but Bea could almost hear her grandmother’s voice in her mind, and she knew just what she would say.
“Don’t stand there gawping,” she heard herself say. “Bring that bench over here and sit down in a line. We’ll get to everyone, if you all have a bit of patience.”
Grizzly Hair and another man went obediently to fetch the garden bench, and the tattooed and discontented sat themselves down in a line. They had stopped muttering now.
Bea put her arm around her mother’s waist and gave her a quick squeeze. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s see what we can see.”
Ma nodded. She looked at Bea as though she were seeing her for the first time.
“Where’s Granny Delphine?” asked Bea.
“She’s gone to the Quorum. She called another extraordinary meeting.” Ma smiled weakly. “She’s only just gotten here and already she’s running the place.”
Grizzly Hair was first on the bench. He was a pig farmer from just outside Bell Hoot, and since he made it a point always to test his own products for quality he had made a broad canvas of his belly over the years. Ma’s artwork curled across it, a tangle of vines and mossy branches, dotted with brightly colored birds. He pointed at the offending figure. “This wasn’t here before. I watched the whole thing being done, and I’d have seen it.”
Bea peered closer. The figure of a girl was barely visible in the shadows. Her face was turned away, and she carried what appeared to be a large key. “Looks a bit like you, Bea,” said Pa, leaning over Ma’s shoulder.
“I don’t remember putting you in,” whispered Ma.
“You worked nonstop for two days,” said Bea. “You couldn’t remember every detail.”
“Why’s she holding a key?” said Pa.
Bea glanced at Ma. She remembered what Granny Delphine had said about Ma’s aptitude for Mumbo Jumbo, and how Arkadi said that aptitudes had a way of coming out. She
said nothing. Grizzly Hair looked at Ma expectantly, and Pa’s question hung in the air. Suddenly Ma seemed to snap out of her daze. She took a deep breath, and some of the spark came back into her eyes. “Yes, of course I put her there,” she said to the pig farmer. “I often put my children into my tattoos.”
“But—”
Ma straightened up and gave Grizzly Hair a brilliant smile. “You must have nodded off while I was putting her in.”
“I’m sure I only asked for birds,” muttered Grizzly Hair.
Pa loomed closer. “Are you saying you’d have preferred another parakeet to a picture of my daughter?”
“I…er…of course not,” said the pig farmer hastily. He rolled his shirt down and got up from the bench. “Like you say, it was a long day. I must have been dozing. I was just curious.”
“Thank you. Come again,” Pa called after him as he hurried away.
“Next,” said Bea. She was conscious of Ma looking at her as the tattooed townsfolk slid up along the bench.
“You’ve grown up all of a sudden,” said Ma quietly.
Bea looked at her and smiled.
“Your grandmother says…” Ma hesitated. She seemed to change her mind. “You’re carrying a key in that man’s tattoo,” she said.
“I know,” said Bea. “Let’s see what the next one shows.”
The woman whose shoulders were tattooed with flowers was next in line. Among the flowers the bees were visible, making a complex pattern that Bea recognized from listening to the flight of the bees around her. She was pretty sure she could even tell which hive they came from. It wasn’t long before the tattooed woman was convinced that the bees were a welcome addition to the flowers that curled around her shoulders. “The inks brighten up as the tattoo heals,” said Ma brusquely. “That’s when you can see things you hadn’t noticed before.”
“And what good are flowers without bees?” added Bea.
There were several more people waiting to have their tattoos inspected. They had arrived disgruntled, but having listened to Bea and her parents dealing with the first few complaints they were starting to see their evolving tattoos as a valuable novelty. They forgot their dissatisfaction, and lined up to have their tattoos admired and interpreted. Bea examined each picture carefully, noting especially the details that their owners said were new. She tried to make sure she remembered everything. The line eventually dwindled to nothing, and Bea climbed the ladder, followed by Ma and Pa, and sank onto one of the familiar cane chairs.
For a while she lay slumped in the chair, listening to the reassuring pattern of the bees as they went about their business. She knew that bees had some part to play in solving this whole puzzle, but she could not yet imagine what it was. The details in Ma’s tattoos buzzed around in her mind in no particular order: a stand of tall thin trees that might be the place where Theo was hidden, the girl with the key who looked like Bea herself, a bare island in still waters. Another tattoo featured mysterious figures wrapped in scarves and mittens that reminded Bea of the curiously overdressed Ledbetters. Why would they choose to make their home in such a barren place? She was sure that if she could just line up all the tattoos in the right order the answer would be as clear as the water that cascaded over Cambio Falls.
Ma’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Your grandmother says that you’re the only one who can find our Theo,” she said.
Bea sat up with an effort. “She told me that too,” she said.
“Do you think you can?”
“I hope so,” said Bea, “but I have to sleep first.”
“Sleep?” said Ma, shaking her head in puzzlement. “You can’t sleep now, Bea. There’s no time to waste.”
Bea got to her feet. Her mother sat on the edge of her chair, worry stretching the skin on her face. Bea kissed her softly on the forehead. “Trust me, Ma. I have to sleep. It’s the only way I can find him now.”
“I don’t understand,” said Ma.
“I know,” said Bea.
Boat
Bea climbed the stairs slowly and closed the bedroom door behind her. Phoebe’s bed was empty, but Bea was too tired to wonder where she had gone. She lay down and stared at the ceiling, trying to prepare for her encounter with Ike. She was not aware that she had fallen asleep until she found herself sitting in a plain room with her back to the wall. There he was, squatting against the wall opposite, his blank stare fixing her to the spot. He did not look as though he had blinked since she saw him last.
Now, she thought, I have to ask him to leave. She opened her mouth to speak, but her voice was stuck in her throat. Ike stared on. He knows that I’m scared of him, she thought helplessly. How can I hide that from someone who’s inside my head?
She wondered if it would help to look away, but she could no more move her head than make her voice work. It seemed that the glue of fear that Arkadi had talked about bound her just as much as Ike. She had no choice but to stare back at him. His eyes were colorless and his face too smooth, as though he had not been finished properly. His mouth opened, reminding her of the fish in the market stall. “Give us the Hidden Boy,” he said.
She caught that look again, as though she had somehow offended him, even though it was he who was intruding on her sleep and not the other way around. She remembered the first time she had seen him, pulling himself from the thornbushes and trotting after Maize Ledbetter like a whipped dog. Maize had called him an idiot boy, and he had thrown Bea and Phoebe a wounded look then too, as though they were responsible for getting him into trouble. A sudden thought flashed into her head. That was what he was afraid of. She opened her mouth and forced the name out through lips as dry as cuttlebone. “Maize,” she croaked.
At the mention of the old woman’s name, Ike gave a tiny start. It was a mere flicker of uncertainty, but it was enough.
She tried again. “Maize sent you.” She could see worry creeping into his eyes. The glue seemed to melt a little.
Ike opened his mouth as though to answer, then changed his mind. “Give us the Hidden Boy,” he said instead.
“Is that all you can say?” said Bea.
Ike shifted uncomfortably.
“You don’t have to sit there staring at me just because Maize tells you to,” said Bea. “Why don’t you leave me alone?”
“You got to give us the Hidden Boy first,” said Ike.
A giddy feeling came over Bea, as though her stomach had turned into a helium balloon. It was a tiny variation on the Ledbetters’ usual words, but it was a reply rather than a demand. The giddy feeling passed just as quickly, leaving her with a chill. “A girl died the other day from…from not sleeping or eating,” she said. “Did you know that?”
Ike shrugged. “Everyone dies,” he said.
“Not that way,” said Bea angrily.
“You got to give us the Hidden Boy,” Ike repeated.
“If you mean Theo, I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I don’t know where he is. Nobody does.”
Ike settled back into his squatting position. His instructions were to stay until they got the Hidden Boy. That was simple enough.
A thought struck Bea. “What are you really doing?” she asked. “I mean, while you’re in my dream. Do you have to be asleep too?”
Ike looked puzzled. He was not used to such questions. He thought for a moment. “No,” he said finally. “First time I got to get a look at you to find the way in, but after that I just got to stop what I’m doing. I got to think hard.”
“What were you doing just now?” asked Bea.
“Making a boat.”
“Really?” Bea was genuinely surprised. “I wouldn’t have a clue how to do that.”
“It’s easy,” said Ike. “Well, sort of.” A spark glowed briefly in his eyes. It looked like the boat was something that he kept very much to himself.
“I bet it isn’t,” said Bea.
“It’s my third boat,” said Ike. “You learn more each time.”
“Why don’t you go back to work on it n
ow. Then I can get some rest, and you can be doing what you like.”
Ike shook his head. “I got to stay here,” he said.
“Nobody will know,” Bea persisted. “I’m hardly going to tell Maize, am I? Anyway, she thinks you’re stupid. I heard her call you ‘idiot boy.’”
Ike looked at his feet. “I’m not stupid,” he said sullenly.
“Maybe you are,” said Bea, “and maybe you’re not. How smart is it to be sitting here staring at me when you could be working on your boat?”
The boy stared at her with his pale eyes. He was confused now. He couldn’t remember having had a conversation like this before, either dreaming or waking. Things had been very simple until this girl started asking awkward questions. Now he didn’t know what to do. “You won’t tell?” he said at last.
“Of course not,” said Bea. Ike looked at her a moment longer; then he melted into the wall behind him and was gone.
Bea stared at the empty spot for a moment, not daring to believe her eyes. She had gotten rid of him, and it hadn’t been as hard as she had imagined. Now that she was free of Ike she could try to find Theo again. She was still in the blank room, but she supposed it was as good a place as any to start from. “Theo?” she said aloud.
“It’s me, Phoebe,” said Phoebe’s voice urgently.
Bea frowned. That wasn’t right. Someone was shaking her shoulder.
“Wake up,” said Phoebe.
Bea opened her eyes and found herself back in her bedroom in the Millers’ house. “What did you wake me for?” she said, the sleep slowly draining from her. “I was just about to speak to Theo.”
“Granny Delphine wants you,” said Phoebe. “You’ve been summoned by the Quorum. They want to hear everything that Theo’s said to you from the Squeak Jar.”
“You’d better go,” said Ma. She was standing in the doorway. “Your granny spent all day yesterday persuading the Quorum members to hold another extraordinary meeting.”
Bea groaned, and swung her legs out of bed. It felt as though she had been asleep for only five minutes. She felt a twinge of guilt. She had not told anyone that the Squeak Jar had lost its squeak. “I suppose the Pearlseeds will be able to tell just by counting the hairs on my eyebrows, or smelling my socks from afar,” she muttered under her breath as she stepped out onto the verandah. She descended the ladder and followed Phoebe, who was already trotting back toward the tree where the Quorum met. “Are you going to wait for me?” called Bea.
