by Patricia Bow
Amelia didn’t want to look at his eyes. That would be getting too close. But she made herself do it. The eyes, under thick black eyebrows, were large and pale grey. She looked away again quickly. Most people would say it was a good face, she thought. Not handsome, but kind of ... well, noble, in a worn sort of way. She put up a hand and rubbed her eyes. Her head hurt.
“You may sit without fear,” he said. “I will not eat you.” His accent sounded only a little foreign. Less than at first. That worried her.
“N-no, thanks.” Amelia wondered where Ike was and if he’d got his picture yet. “I ... I have to ask one more question. To be sure.” She’d seen him before. Where?
“Then ask.”
“This, uh, ring you lost. What size is the band?”
“The same size as the ... dial...” His eyes searched her face. Pain walked in her head. She flinched. “... of the ... watch ... on the table beside your bed.”
“How would you know that?”
Simon sidled closer. “Ike needs more time,” he breathed in her ear.
“There’s only one way you could know. You were the thing at my window.” Her voice trembled. “You’re the Assassin.”
The corners of his mouth curled up. “And the ring in your glove is mine.”
“I — ah —” How did he know it was in her glove? She took a step back. Her fist clenched tighter.
Simon grabbed her arm. “’Nother sec,” he murmured.
“I have no quarrel with you or your friends. You are perfectly safe.”
His eyes were tight to her face. It felt like something was walking around on the inside surface of her skull. Digging at her brain with a spade. “What are you doing?”
“Reading you. Learning.” His white teeth showed. “You are so open, you people. You don’t guard your thoughts at all.”
“You’re reading my mind?”
“Of course. A moment ago you were thinking quite loudly, ‘If he’s the Assassin he mustn’t get the ring. It must be something he needs to hurt Mara. I can’t let him hurt Mara.’” He smiled up at her. Such a nice, warm smile, she thought wildly.
“The way you talk has changed,” Simon said suddenly. “You’ve been skimming it off Ammy’s mind, haven’t you? Is that how Mara learned? By reading our minds?”
“No!” Amelia snapped. “Mara would never do a thing like that to me.”
The Assassin laughed at her. “Wouldn’t she? Ask her. And while you’re at it, see if she’ll tell you who she is, and what she is. Ask her why she was exiled, and what was her crime. Perhaps you’ll think again before you help such a one as Marathynarradin. And now — the ring, if you please!”
Trying to think of nothing at all, Amelia took the first step away. The Assassin leaped straight over the table at her. She shrieked and crashed flat in the snow. A weight squashed all the breath out of her lungs. She stared up into eyes like diamonds, too bright. She shrieked again. Sharp things tore at her right glove. She hit out with her left fist and kept on shrieking.
Then there were shouts, and chunks of snow hit her in the face, and the weight suddenly lifted. She sat up dizzily. Simon was scrambling to his feet. His left side was coated with snow. Another snowball flew past her, followed by Ike and a fat, grey-haired man wearing a white apron over a red shirt. She looked around for the Assassin. He was gone.
“So much for him,” said the man, wiping wet hands on his apron. “You all right?” He held out a hand and pulled Amelia to her feet.
“Y-yeah, thanks. Just — just shaky.”
“You watch who you talk to after this, eh? Don’t get taken in by how nice they dress.”
“I — I won’t,” Amelia said.
“I’ll tell the police to keep their eyes open for this character. Shows you can’t tell a book by its cover, eh?”
“Thanks, Bruce,” Ike said. The man waved and walked back to the doughnut shop. Ike held out a honey-glazed cruller with one bite out of it. Amelia shook her head. Her stomach churned.
“Did he get it?” Simon asked her.
“No. But...” She held up her right fist. White fleece poked up out of four parallel slashes in the black leather. The back of the glove looked like someone had taken a razor to it.
Ike made a choked sound. Simon said, “I didn’t see a knife.”
“No,” Amelia said. “He didn’t have a knife.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
IN A HIGH PLACE
The ruined glove lay on the table between them. Ammy touched it with her fingertip. “I’m sorry. It was your dad’s.”
“Never mind,” Simon said. “It kept you from getting cut.”
He was just starting to feel warm again, and Ammy’s hands had almost stopped shaking. At least, she could hold a drink without sloshing it. They’d been in the doughnut shop twenty minutes. Bruce had brought them mugs of hot chocolate and half a dozen doughnuts, all kinds. “On the house,” he said. “Today’s a writeoff anyways.”
They sat at a table close to the kitchen, away from the window. The square outside still whirled with snow. Simon kept his eye on the window, but nobody moved out there.
Ike had not been able to get a photo: too much snow in the air. “I wish I had. Funny, when I see that” — he touched the glove — “I think of those footprints. You know, with the pointy crampons. Did you get a good look at his feet?”
“Shoes,” Simon said. “Ordinary shoes.”
“You talked to him a lot. Who is he, anyway? What does he want?”
“Um...” Simon looked at Ammy.
She shook her head. “We promised!”
“He already knows some of it. Besides, he could help find Mara.”
“Maybe he won’t want to, when he knows.”
“Hey, I’m here!” Ike waved his chocolate-glazed between them. “Talk to me!”
“Ammy?”
“Oh ... all right!”
And so Simon told the whole story. Everything he knew for sure, anyway. Not all his fears and guesses. When he finished Ike said, “Huh,” and put down the last doughnut half-eaten. “Y’know, there’s an obvious explanation for all this.”
“Ike,” Simon began patiently.
“UFO, right?” Ike looked even perkier than usual. “I mean, it fits so well. They both came here on a transporter beam — that was the blue light in the cave. And your Mara, she obviously has super mind powers. She’s an alien. They both are.”
“Ike,” Ammy tried.
“Only, that would be a story. Not real.” Ike looked from face to face. “And this is real. Isn’t it? You’re not fooling me. It’s not a game.”
Ammy nodded. So did Simon.
“So, so, who ... what...” Ike swallowed.
“Ike, listen.” Ammy leaned over the table and spoke quietly, so Bruce wouldn’t hear. “You’re closer than you think. The Assassin isn’t human. He looked human for a bit. But then he started to change. We think maybe he comes from somewhere else. Not Earth.”
They all looked at the glove, with its parallel slashes.
“And ... and Mara,” Ike said unsteadily. “Can she change too?”
“She’s not like him!” Ammy sat back. “She’s a person like us! No matter where she comes from.”
“What did he say?” Simon put in. “‘See if she’ll tell you who she is, and what she is. And what her crime was.’”
“But he’s the enemy. Why should we listen to him?”
“Ammy, how can we be sure who’s the enemy? Maybe there is no enemy.”
“Or maybe they both are,” Ike said.
“Well, look!” She pointed at the glove. “He would have done that to my hand. But Mara, last night — she was trying to protect me. So, what do you think?” She pushed back her chair. “Snow’s stopping.”
Simon caught up with her at the door and followed her out. “Where are you going?”
“To find her. To give her the ring. Like he said — if he wants it, then it could be something she needs.”
“We d
on’t even know where to start looking!”
“Might as well start at the apartment,” Ike said. He grinned nervously when they both turned around and looked at him.
“You don’t have to be mixed up in this,” Simon said. “You could go home.”
“And miss the fun?”
“Ike, it’s not —”
“Not a game. I know. I’m in!”
They went back to the Hammer Block, but Mara wasn’t on the roof or in apartment 3A. It was close to three o’clock, and the sunlight was long and slanting, when Simon said, “She’d be lying low somewhere, if she’s hurt.”
“Uh-uh.” Ammy shook her head. “She’d find somewhere high. She really likes being in a high place.”
“Of course! More strategic,” Ike said. “Where’s the last place you saw her?”
“That park on the north side of town, last night.”
“Founders Park,” Simon said. He looked at Ike and Ike looked at him and they said in unison, “Founders Tower.”
§
It stood on a ridge above the town, a mile east of where Ammy had lost Mara the night before: a tower built of rough stones, fifty feet high, with a cone-shaped shingled roof.
“It was one of those heritage projects,” Simon told Ammy. “It marks where the first settlers in the county started farming. People picnic here in the summer. They go up the tower for the view.”
“But it’s locked in winter,” Ike said. “Supposed to be, anyway.”
An iron gate blocked the arched opening at the base of the tower, but the chain that normally stretched across it hung loose at one side. Ike fished in the snow and held up a bent iron staple with some bolts dangling from it. “That was the piece the chain looped through.”
Ammy pulled the gate open. She stepped inside, and Simon followed her, with Ike crowding in behind. After the brilliance of the sun and snow, it was dark in here. Narrow stone steps spiralled upward into the gloom. Not much light got in through the slits in the thick walls.
“Mara!” Ammy called. No answer. “Mara! Are you up there? It’s me, Amelia!”
Still no answer, except a sighing sound that might have been the wind whistling through the slits in the walls. “Either she’s not there —” Ike began.
“Or she’s hurt.” Ammy started up the stairs, sliding both hands up the curving walls. There was no hand rail. Simon kept close behind her.
They climbed out at the top onto a platform with a chest-high stone parapet all around and wide spaces between the arches that held up the roof. Snow had drifted in and piled up at one side against the parapet. There was nothing else to see.
Then the snowdrift moved. Ammy said “Oh!” and dropped to her knees beside it. “Mara!” The snow fell away in big crusty sections. Mara sat up, stretched, and yawned like a cat.
“Mara, what happened? Are you all right?”
“We fight. I don’t win, I don’t lose. I am a little burned.”
“Burned!”
“Yes. He is good, that one. Or else it would be me that burns him up! But look, the firebird coat — I keep her safe.” She picked up a neatly folded bundle by her side and shook it out to show off the sequined coat. “I take off all the clothes you give me before I fight, of course.”
Ike gasped. “You mean you —”
Mara struggled up, shedding clumps of snow. “What is that?”
Ammy grabbed her arm while Simon backed away, with Ike behind him. He’d forgotten how tall she was. Her head dipped at Ammy like a snake, her teeth gleamed. “You promised! You broke your promise!”
“No! Yes! But we had to! This is Ike — he’s a friend!” Ammy kept a grip on her arm. “He — he saved me from the Assassin!”
Mara went very still. She sniffed at Ammy’s jacket. “Yes, I smell him on you. Tell.” She leaned against the parapet and slowly slid down it. She can’t stand up, Simon thought. “You two.” She pointed at Simon and Ike. “Sit. You must not be higher than me.”
“Why —” Ike began, but Simon shushed him. Ammy described their meeting with the Assassin and how it ended. Then she pulled off her torn right glove and held out her hand. “This was what he wanted, but he didn’t get it. Is it yours?”
“Yes!” Mara reached for the ruby ring, then dropped her hand. “You have kept it well. You are a true friend, Amelia. And you, Simon. And you, Ike. He could do great harm to me with this.”
“Um...” Simon cleared his throat. “Does this mean you’ll be going home soon?”
Ike leaned forward. “And by the way, where is home, exactly?”
“Leave her alone!” Ammy flared. “She’ll go when she’s ready!” She held out the ring again. “Why don’t you take it?”
“Because you may need it.” Mara narrowed her eyes at Simon. “Soon you will see me no more. That will please you.”
“Are you reading my mind?”
She grinned with all her teeth. “No need. Your face says it.”
“I just think,” he said carefully, “that we’ll all be better off when you’re back in your own world. That’s if you can get back. He said you were exiled.”
“Simon,” Ammy said warningly.
“What did you do, to get kicked out? Did you steal that ring?”
“Simon!”
“Steal?” Mara’s head rose. “I?” She seemed to get bigger, in that way she had when she was angry. The shadows darkened and spread around her like wings. How did she do that?
Behind him, Ike eased towards the top of the stairs. Simon kept his eyes fixed on Mara, glittery-eyed in her cloak of shadows. If only Ammy wasn’t right next to her. It would be hard to grab her away if Mara moved suddenly.
Mara sighed and sank back, and the shadows ebbed. “Don’t fear.” She touched Ammy’s arm. “He pleases me. He is brave.” She looked at Simon. “The ring is old. It is from my ... old ones, grandmothers, far back in time. Amelia?”
“Ancestors?”
“Yes, good. It stays with the chief of my people.”
“Then you did...” Simon began.
Mara growled in her throat. “It is mine! Bone of my bone, blood of my blood. Mine!”
The only noise was the wind, wuffling past their ears. “You mean,” Ammy said, “you are the chief of your people.”
“Since seven days.”
Ammy let out a little whoop and sat back. “I’m not surprised! It all fits!”
Ike said, “Seven days? What happened seven days ago?”
“My grandmother died. She was chief. I am ... one who follows. Who is chosen. Amelia?”
“Heir,” Ammy supplied. “You’re the heir. And your brother — don’t tell me — he stole the crown!”
“Crown? There is no crown.”
“I mean, he...”
“Staged a coup,” Ike said. “A takeover.”
Mara blinked at him. “First, he challenge. That is fair. We fight before the people. I win, of course — the ancestors are with me, not with him. But then I make a mistake.” She smiled and shook her head. “I did not want to show a small spirit. So I let him live.”
“Of course!” Ammy sat back. “And he wasn’t grateful?”
“He hated me for it. It made him less. So he bowed his neck and he waited, and then he sent his followers to catch me alone. They were many.” She turned her head away. “I could not fight.”
“So you came here. And he sent the Assassin to make sure you wouldn’t come back.” Ammy looked at the ring in her hand. “And to get this, I guess.”
“Without it even his own followers will say he brings bad blood.” Mara leaned back against the parapet. “When I go back I must be ready to fight. I go as soon as I am strong.”
Ammy kneeled forward. “We have to get you to a doctor!”
“Doctor: this is healer? No. I heal myself.”
“But —”
“If you bring a doctor I am gone.”
“At least let us get you somewhere warm.”
“No. I like this place. I am warm enough.
And the Assassin will not attack here; he is not stupid. But maybe you can help.”
“Anything.” Ammy sat down cross-legged beside her. “There is a thing I need now. If I were strong I would get it.”
“What, some kind of weapon?” Ike asked, from behind Simon’s shoulder.
“No, a thing to see and hear. To know what happens in my country.”
“A TV?” Ammy guessed.
“You would call it a book. The Book of Lands. A thing the elders found long ago.”
“Book of Lands,” Ammy repeated. “Really? Well, how do we get it?”
“Listen close.” Mara leaned forward. “They keep it in a safe place, but you can go there. The ring will open the door. If you do what I say, there is no danger.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
PASSAGE
It was 4:50 by Simon’s watch and the sun was shining dead straight along the gorge when they stood together on the ledge in front of the cave.
“There’s a lot about this that bothers me,” Simon said. “There’s too much she hasn’t told us. Like, where exactly this passage goes, and why we have to come straight back.”
“Maybe she isn’t hiding anything,” Ammy said. “Maybe she isn’t all that sure of how it works, herself.”
“Funny how that doesn’t make me feel any better.” Ike dug two flashlights out of his pack — heavy, powerful ones, this time — and handed one to Simon.
Simon held his flashlight up like a weapon. “Okay, in we go!”
“Aren’t you scared?” Ike demanded.
“You kidding? ’Course I am — just like you.”
“I’m not.” Ammy’s voice trembled only a little more than her hands. “Mara said it won’t be dangerous, and I trust her.”
Duck under the low place, crawl and crawl, stand up. There they were. Two bright flashlight beams lit up the cave. “So, where is it?” Ike demanded. “I don’t see it.”
“You weren’t listening.” Ammy faced the wall with the graffiti on it. “We won’t see it at first,” she said rapidly. “Not till I unlock it. I have to use the ring. It’s like a key. Like I did the last time, accidentally. When I did ... this.”
She took off her glove and held out the ring towards the rough stone face. “Only, last time, the ring was inside my glove. It didn’t actually touch.”
