by Jane Kelley
“How are we supposed to read that?” she whispered.
“He reads Latin and Greek,” the Captain said.
“It’s Aramaic,” Tasman said to the Captain. Then Tasman turned to Val. “I will translate. Take some parchment from the table. Write down what I say.”
Val picked up a piece of heavy paper and a pen.
Tasman shut his eyes and held his hands a few inches above the pages. He bowed his head. Then he opened his eyes and started to read.
“‘Be gracious to me, Providence and Psyche, as I dare to call upon these mysteries to save one of your children.’”
The words rolled off his tongue in an unfamiliar voice. He read as the ancients might have done, standing in a temple, trying to be heard by the moon.
“‘First, I restore to you a gift from the gods, that my message to you may travel with all possible speed.’”
Val wrote as quickly as she could. She wished she dared to ask him to slow down, but she didn’t think he could control what he was doing. The words came unbidden.
“‘Second, I bring to you a gift from the Star Tamer, who from his great heights has given proof of his devotion to our cause.’”
Gradually her writing began to flow. Transforming sounds to symbols became part of the ceremony, too.
“‘Finally, I bring from my own heart, the origin of the ministering wind. Gather these things with fire and spirit. Then when the spirit has been restored, when Archandara, Photaza, Zabythix, let the doors be thrown open. Let your child come out from the depths and take her place among those who are whole.’”
A breeze that couldn’t have come from anywhere lifted the page. It stood straight up for a moment and then fell back onto the book. Then all the other pages followed in succession until the red leather cover slowly closed.
It was done.
Nineteen
The silence was so complete that even the clock stopped ticking. Tasman took a step back from the book. His head hung down. His shoulders raised and lowered as he tried to breathe his way back into his body. Finally he raised his head and blinked. He glanced sheepishly at Val like he was hoping to be praised. Or at least thanked.
The Captain stood up. He carefully carried the book to the cabinet. The door banged shut. He locked it with the key.
Tasman and Val just stood there, not knowing what to do next.
“Tarnation,” the Captain shouted. “I let you look, didn’t I? Get out of here before I cast a spell on you!”
Val left the shop. She stood by the wedjat and looked at the piece of paper in her hand. Her writing looked strange, especially in the light of day. She could read the words, but they didn’t seem like any she would ever write.
Tasman came out and looked over her shoulder. “Did you get it all?”
“I guess. But I don’t know what any of it means.”
“Wasn’t I speaking English? Was it sufficiently Americanized?”
She pointed to the words Archandara, Photaza, and Zabythix.
“There is no translation for them,” Tasman said.
She felt foolish. They’d gone to all this trouble, but she still had no idea what she was supposed to do to help Lanora. She sighed.
“What’s the matter?” Tasman said.
“Where am I supposed to find a ‘gift from the gods’? Which gods? I don’t think we’ve got the same gods anymore.”
“That’s what you’re supposed to figure out.”
“How?”
“You want an instruction manual? A recipe? A scientific formula?”
“Yes.”
“That shows a great lack of imagination.”
“Since you’re imagining this whole thing, why can’t you imagine something more specific?”
“Believe me, if I were, I would imagine it differently.”
He rolled up the piece of paper and handed it to her. He stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a rock, a feather, and three baby teeth. “Alas, I possess no means of securing the scroll. Nothing worthy of this momentous moment, which, for some reason, you have decided to dismiss.”
She tightened the tube. “I don’t dismiss it. I just worry that it won’t help.”
“I could share my imagination with you. We could have a meeting of the minds and cause storms with our brains. We could return to the rock and the hard place.”
“I guess. But I have to get home now.” Val waved.
“Wait.” He pulled a thread from a ripped place in his jeans and tied the scroll with that. “It’ll be your fault if I become unraveled.”
“I think you already are.”
Tasman frowned and quickly walked back into the shop.
“Your jeans, I mean,” Val called after him.
He didn’t answer. She didn’t know why he was so sensitive. She stared for a moment at the scroll. Then she went home.
* * *
Drew was waiting for her in the hallway outside the apartment door.
“You’re in big trouble. Don’t even go in there. Run. Run away. Take this so you won’t be hungry. At least not for the first few days.” He handed her a large bag of uncooked pasta.
“What’s this for?”
“It’s all I could reach. I grabbed it when Mom was in the bathroom. Now, go.”
He looked so serious that she wanted to laugh and cry.
“They’re not that mad, are they?”
“Mom said you were something awful. I never heard the word before. It started with a T. She got a phone message. She said you were marked.”
“Marked? How?”
“Go!” He pushed her toward the elevator. “Don’t take the stairs. They can throw a net down over the railing and catch you.”
Val hugged him and opened the front door. “I’m hungry. Can I run away after dinner?”
“But Val, I think they might yell at you.”
He was correct.
Mom’s face was nothing but straight lines. The pot on the stove was rattling like crazy, on the verge of boiling over.
“Hi, Mom,” Val said.
“Mom, I need Val to help me in my room with my homework. Okay? Come on, Val.” Drew grabbed Val around the waist.
Mom silently separated Drew from Val, turned down the stove, and pointed to a kitchen chair.
Val sat.
“Your school called,” Mom said.
Then Val knew. She had forgotten that they take attendance after lunch. When she hadn’t returned, she had been marked truant. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
“She’s sorry, Mom!” Drew shouted from the safety of the living room.
“Do you know how worried we were?” Mom said.
“My watch stopped during lunch,” Val said.
Mom frowned. She vigorously stirred something in a pot on the stove. Red drops splattered all over the jars of dried beans and whole grains that stood guard along the back of the counter. “Don’t lie to me.”
Val knew she couldn’t. But she didn’t think her mom would believe the truth. She glanced down at the scroll, which was still in her hand. She slowly hid it behind her leg, hoping her mom wouldn’t see it. “Okay, it didn’t stop. I lost track of time.”
That part was true. Time had disappeared while Tasman read from The Book of Dares.
“What were you doing?” Mom accused her.
“I was in a bookstore. Reading.” This also was true.
“Reading?”
Val smiled. Reading was the one activity her mom would always approve of.
“What were you reading?”
Val had to think for a moment. She knew she’d better not mention the name of the book. “Something about ancient gods. And goddesses. I’m sorry you were worried, Mom.”
Mom sighed and put down the spoon. “I was worried. When the school called to say you were missing, I jumped to the conclusion. You see, I know you were in the store when Lanora got in trouble. And I thought, well, maybe you…”
“You thought I was shoplifting?” Val couldn’t believe it.
“Of course it’s unlikely. But it’s unlikely that Lanora would. She used to be such a wonderful girl. So clever. So imaginative.”
“Maybe she still is.”
“Maybe so.”
Drew stuck his head into the kitchen. “Are you done being mad at Val because I need her.”
“If you really do have homework, then you have to do it yourself,” Mom said.
“I need help tying my strings. I don’t want my ankle wings to fall off while I’m speeding through the air.” He jumped into the kitchen, balancing a feathered object on top of each of his sneakers.
Val picked up one of the squares of denim. Black and white feathers had been glued to one side. The laces were tangled red velvet ribbons. Lanora had made these for Drew several years ago. Val couldn’t remember why. “What are they for?”
“Did Werd zap your memory? Is that why you didn’t come home? You forgot where you lived and everything from your past?”
“Not everything. I just can’t remember why Lanora gave these to you.”
“They came from Mercury.”
“The planet?”
Drew snorted with disgust. “The messenger to the gods. To give me superfast running powers. I got out my ankle wings so I could warn you that you were in trouble.”
“I’m not in trouble anymore.”
“You might be again. Tie them on me. Hurry up.”
Val picked up the second ankle wing. The black feathers were iridescent. She seemed to hear Tasman’s voice whisper, “First, I restore to you a gift from the gods, that my message to you may travel with all possible speed.”
She moved her arm so that the feathers flew through the air.
“Give them back.” Drew grabbed the feathers and took them into his room.
“Can I borrow them? Just for a little while. It’s really important.”
Val heard him slam the door. She had to find a way to get Mercury’s ankle wings. This couldn’t be a coincidence. This had to mean that The Book of Dares possessed wisdom after all.
Twenty
Mau trotted along the sidewalk with her tail held high. She wanted to keep well ahead of the man who ran after her shouting, “Vermin!” Mau never acknowledged human speech, except for certain words pertaining to food. She certainly wasn’t going to respond to this person. He was far too excited.
In truth, she didn’t trust humans. Not even humans she knew. In fact, she trusted them least of all. They often forgot the rule that banned any touching that hadn’t been initiated by Mau.
When she reached the street next to the park, she ducked under a parked car to wait for the man to pass. His odor was unusual. But to Mau, he smelled human. The others, with their scents of fake flowers and spices, were the ones who reeked.
“Where’d you go? Can’t you get rid of my vermin?” he whimpered.
No, Mau could not.
After the man had staggered on by, she jumped onto the wall and down into the park. She was near the Bower, but she didn’t expect to see the girls. They hunted elsewhere now.
She made no sound. She kept herself low to the ground, her tail straight back, her legs slightly bent. She stalked.
She always felt happy in times like these. Her senses alert. Her purpose complete. Anticipation was such a delight; she might never have wanted to actually pounce at anything.
And yet she was hungry. She hadn’t had anything to eat since yesterday. Today the offerings of the cat ladies had all been half-eaten, contaminated by some other creature’s saliva.
Her nostrils flared. Her whiskers twitched. A mouse would be nice. A squirrel was more of a challenge. A bird wasn’t worth the trouble; Mau didn’t care much for feathers. She went deeper into the bushes, so deep that she emerged on the other side.
The boy—Tasman—was there.
He sat on a low rock, with his back to her. His hat was on the ground next to him. Mau wasn’t pleased. She didn’t want to go to her other hunting ground. She was hungry now. She batted his back with her paw.
Tasman turned quickly and then sighed with relief. “Oh. It’s you.”
Mau flicked her tail back and forth. Whom did he expect? The Bower was her place. The girls were just visitors. Mau hadn’t decided if she would allow Tasman to stay.
“Have you seen Val?”
Mau blinked.
“I thought we were meeting here this afternoon. Of course it wouldn’t be the first time that what I thought was completely different from what someone else thought. Reality is just a perception. That must be true even for cats.”
Mau ignored him and sniffed the air. Was that mouse?
“And yet some people perceive a reality that is much more … unreal. Why is that?”
Mau shut her eyes. Not a mouse. It was a dog passing by. A small dog, but still, a dog.
He sighed. “I should have left an hour ago. She makes me dare. Here I am, after all. In the park. And yesterday, I actually read from The Book of Dares. Could that be why I came here? Why I risk an encounter with that which cannot be named? Even though I haven’t found the incantation bowl. Even though the Captain may have gotten rid of it. Here I sit. Somewhat calmly.”
He studied his hands, waiting to see if they would tremble.
“Has a spell been cast on me? I don’t care. I do care. I stand on the fence, caught between hope and fear.”
He got up and extended his arms, as if he were balancing on a great precipice, even though his feet were flat on the hard schist.
Mau glared at him. She didn’t appreciate sudden movements.
“Tell me what to do, oh wise one. Can my wild nature be cooled down, as you were by the waters of the Nile? Will I be transformed into a gentle cat and settle in the house, as many of your sisters did? Or will I remain like you? The feral cat that walks alone.”
Mau blinked several times, as if considering the question.
“I ask you, descendant of the Egyptian goddess Bastet. Killer of rats. Protector of the golden grain. Bastet, what should I do?”
Before she could answer, another human shouted, “Bastet! Bastet!”
It was the man who smelled like human. He reached over the wall to point a pink wand at Mau. “Kill my vermin!”
Mau puffed up her fur until she was three times her typical size. Her ears flattened against her skull. Her head became just a large mouthful of needle-sharp teeth. She hissed and spat as the man climbed over the wall and tumbled to the ground.
Mau hissed and raised her paw to swipe at him.
“You think I’m scared of you? Not after what I see.”
Mau growled from deep within her body.
He spent several minutes straightening his sheets and retying the electric cord around his waist. When he had finished, he looked around, shading his eyes with his hand. “What happened to the boy?”
He used the wand to part the bushes. “Boy? Where are you? Who are you, why are you, when are you, what are you?”
Suddenly a blue boot fell to the ground, quickly followed by its mate.
The man picked them up. He sniffed them. He toyed with the buckles. He scratched a few bits of mud from the soles. Finally he looked up to the sky from whence the boots had come. “I need gold,” he wailed.
There was no answer.
The man mumbled as he tucked the boots into a large bag. “Nobody gives you what you need. You tell them and tell them. And they throw their junk at you.” He shuffled off deeper into the park.
Mau looked up at the tree. Its leaves quivered. Mau sat beneath it. She spent a long time grooming herself to restore order to her fur. Even after the bath was complete, Tasman still hadn’t come down.
Twenty-one
When her mom came home from work, Lanora was lying on the sofa. She thought she had time to reach the safety of her bedroom. But her mom was quicker than she used to be. Or maybe Lanora was slower. Whatever the reason, she got caught standing by the TV. Suspended. Dangling between what had happened and what might happen, neither here nor ther
e nor anywhere, really.
“My goodness, are you still in your pajamas?” Emma said.
Lanora looked down, as if surprised to see her sweatpants and her cat T-shirt.
“Didn’t you go to school?” Emma said.
Lanora shook her head.
“It isn’t going to get any easier,” Emma said.
Lanora shut her eyes. She knew that. Each day that passed, each day she was discussed, she became more and more of a freak, and less and less of a Lanora.
“Sweetheart, you have to go to school. Aren’t you in enough trouble?”
The word made Lanora wince, as if she felt the broom against her head again, even though it had been an entire day since that miscalculation. The broom had been new. Its bristles soft and still wrapped in plastic. The key had dropped to the sidewalk as Lanora ran down the street. No one bothered to pick it up.
“When I left this morning, you were all dressed. You were going to go. You told me you were going. You promised me.”
“I know,” Lanora said.
“So what happened?”
What happened? Lanora asked herself this all the time. What had happened?
“Never mind. You’ll go tomorrow. Oh. Tomorrow is Saturday. You’ll go on Monday. I’ll fix us some dinner. How about some macaroni and cheese? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Lanora sighed. She didn’t like it. Not anymore. The blue boxes with the orange noodle smiles were relics of her past. In fact, the box her mom got out of the cupboard had probably been bought when Lanora was nine years old. When she had eaten so much of the stuff that she’d built a fortress of the empty cartons. NO DADS ALLOWED. When she kept him out so she wouldn’t notice he wasn’t trying to come in.
“Or maybe we should go to the diner on the corner? You haven’t been out all day.”
“Yes, I have.” Lanora had sat on the fire escape. She had hoped she might find Mau. Even if Mau wouldn’t let Lanora hold her, at least Mau would see her for who she had been. But Mau hadn’t come to the alley.
“Where did you go?” Emma said.
“Nowhere,” Lanora said.
“You didn’t go to a store, did you?”
“Of course not.”
