by Patricia Bow
“And now nobody will believe us,” Simon said to himself.
§
Mom, Dad, never mind what I said last time. Please let me come to Peru now!!!! Please! It’s urgent! I hate it here and I miss you so much. Hugs and kisses, Amelia.
§
“Ammy? Message from Celeste. She says you should eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“There’s hot milk in the kitchen. And oatmeal cookies.”
“Go away!”
§
Hi Silken. Sounds like you’ve had a great holiday so far. I wish I was there with you. Everything here is awful. I hate everybody.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
TRUE DREAMS
Amelia thought she would never sleep. Her chest hurt too much. Could this be a heart attack? Could it kill you, this kind of pain?
Not that she cared if Mara was a monster and a liar. Not that she cared one bit.
She dreamed she was soaring over a fantastic city, all points and pinnacles. It was sunset, and the glowing red spires were striped with their own long shadows.
Huge figures sprang from the towers and arrowed up at her. Climb! snapped a voice in her head. She beat her wings and surged upward. The pursuers fell away. The city shrank to a carpet of ruby needles.
We are too swift for them, said the voice, smugly. It was familiar, but not...
“That’s not my voice.”
No, it is me.
“Mara? What are you doing in my dream? Can’t I even dream without —”
It is my dream.
“Uh?”
My dream, that you share these three nights. I dream of home.
“Well, that makes a weird kind of sense. Except, why am I sharing your dreams?”
I can dream you the answer. For the Urdar, dreams are truth.
“Go right ahead,” Amelia said. “It’s only a dream. Nothing that happens here is real.”
You are wrong. It is more than real.
The far-below landscape tilted and lifted. The pinnacles swept past, and then a wind-blown plain that glistened red in waves, where the sunset light caught the bending grasses. Ahead rose a long mountain crowned with a ridge of bare cliff, and in the cliff was a gate with stairs leading up between pillars.
Screams broke out behind. They had a gloating sound. The dream sped up. Rows and rows of library shelves whirled past. Behind, more screams, and the clatter and crash of things falling off shelves. Heavy feet battered the floor, closer, closer. Ahead, a blue door. Then a tunnel of blue light. And then...
Terror.
“You? Afraid? I don’t believe it.”
This world, it was the demon world of the old tales.
“Wait a minute. Demon world?”
Many ages ago the Urdar departed this world. The tales say it was overrun by demons. We took the new world and called it Mythrin, our world. We set a watch on the gate so that none of the demons could pass through.
“Demons. Brother!”
And so I — yes, I — was afraid.
The blue light died, the passage closed. Alone, and safe, but... The demon world was dark and cold and smelled of danger. Minds whispered all around — distant, but unguarded. And one nearer. Something watched from across an abyss. A demon! Two, three demons! They saw! They would call the other demons!
“But that was us! Simon and Ike and me!”
I was afraid. I did a coward thing.
Reached for the watching minds to muddle the memories. Too late, felt a mind like leaves and fog that tore at a touch. Blundered, felt its pain and fear. The two others, close by — touched them too, but gently now, delicately. Sealed off the memory. Shame. No honour in that, harming creatures so weak. Watch them, then. Follow them, leaping through the black skies from roof to roof.
“This is true, isn’t it? I think I saw you following us.”
Lying is not possible in the dream.
The demon world was strange. The buildings short and fat and covered with crusty white stuff, the stars so bright they hurt the eyes. Everywhere, the whisper of demon minds.
I was afraid. I wished I am home.
“You never showed it. You were so brave.”
I sit down then and dream of Mythrin. In my dream, I am not alone. I have a friend.
“That was me. I guess our minds got a little mixed together then, eh? You knew I had the ring.”
I knew but I could not claim it. You would begin to guess about me, and then you would hate me. The way your ancestors hated my ancestors. I did not want you to hate me. And so I put on your people’s shape. Like costume. And then I wake up, and you are there.
“But you forgot the clothes.”
I did not understand clothes.
“Why didn’t you just look around in my head until you knew what was what?”
I am no Assassin!
“And you didn’t make me like you?”
Anger. Hurt.
“Okay! Okay! I believe you!”
Happy.
“Well, I’m confused. Are we still dreaming? Or are we remembering?”
Yes.
“Mara? Do you have to go home? Can’t you stay here?”
I must go. Here is a sign that I am true. A sign for you to hold, and to give back. I go tomorrow at noon.
“What sign? What do you mean? Mara?”
§
“So then I woke up, and I was in my bed. And this was in my hand.” Ammy unzipped a hip pocket in her jeans and pried out something that winked red in the morning sun. She held it out on her palm.
“The ring!”
“The ring of the Urdar chiefs. Probably the most important thing in her whole world. And she gave it to me to keep for her, till she leaves. To show she trusts me.” She pushed it down deep in her pocket and zipped the zipper.
They had just climbed down out of Founders Tower. That had been the first thing Ammy wanted to do when she woke up, even before breakfast — go and check on Mara — but they couldn’t have rushed off like that without a lot of hard questions from Celeste.
Mara wasn’t in the tower.
Simon pulled his hat down over his ears and his mitts up over his wrists and started down the hill, picking his way between the crusted, icy ridges and the deep, snow-filled pits. “You still haven’t told me what Mara is. Guess that means you don’t trust me.”
“I do trust you. She asked me not to tell anybody.” Ammy crunched and slithered beside him. “She’s sure people will hate her and try to kill her if they know what she is.”
“Well, that sure makes me feel better! Why aren’t you scared?”
“Because she’s...” Ammy balanced on the edge of a long, icy patch and took a deep breath. “She’s amazing. I wish I could be like her.”
“Anyway, I wouldn’t hate her.”
“It’s not up to me. Whoo!” She slid down the icy patch on her feet, spreading her arms for balance.
Simon detoured around. “So, it’s all over today at noon. Things are already starting to feel normal again.”
“For you, maybe.”
“You know what I mean. And without Mara’s book, there’ll be no way to prove there’s more than this.” He waved at the snowy roofs ablaze with sunshine below them, the hard blue sky, the cold, real world. “Maybe one day I’ll wake up and think all that stuff with Mara never really happened.”
“I won’t. I’ll never forget Mara. Never!” She dug her chin into her scarf. “I wish I was going with her.”
“What?” Simon grabbed her by the arm before she could slide on down the hill. “You don’t really mean that!”
“Why not? It wouldn’t be forever. Just a visit.” She yanked her arm away.
“But you can’t!”
“What’s the matter with you?” She shaded her eyes at him. “You should be begging to come with us! I mean, yesterday we missed the chance to see a new world. Didn’t that just kill you?”
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Yesterday we almost got killed!
By something that came out of Mara’s world! That wanted us for dinner!”
“Stop yelling!”
“I’m not! Who knows what else we’d find there?”
“But that’s the whole point!” She hacked at the air with her hands. “Nobody knows! Think, Simon!”
“No, you think.”
“A whole new world, and we’d be the first human beings to set foot on it! How could you turn that down? Besides....” She lowered her voice to normal and smiled. “We’d be with Mara. We’d be safe with her.”
He made a fist and thumped his forehead. “You are so... What do we know about Mara? What do we know about this world of hers — what did she call it, Merthin? Methrin?”
“Mythrin!”
“Okay. She was chased out of there, remember? She’s in some kind of war with her brother. And after she looked in that book she said, ‘My people are dying.’ Ammy, use your head! If you think this would be like a trip to Peru with your parents, you’re nuts!”
“Huh, some scientist you are,” she sneered. “I bet your Carl Whatsisname would’ve jumped at the chance.”
“He would not. That’s not how scientists work. They don’t jump. They observe.”
“Yeah, well, observe this!” Ammy stuck out a boot and swiped his feet out from under him and down the hill he went. He grabbed her ankle as he fell and they both rolled over and over down the steep slope, flailing and kicking, spraying snow.
At the bottom Simon lay flat on his back a minute with all the breath squashed out of him. Then he sat up and scooped snow out of his collar. “What was that for?”
Ammy was laughing. “That was for going all stuffy on me.” Her eyes shone and her cheeks were apple red. She looked wholesome and happy and even festive, with snow sparkling in her flame-coloured hair. He almost told her so, but knew she would have hated it.
He scrambled up. “Want to go over to Ike’s place? We could play video games.”
“Video games? Puh-leeze!”
“Shame to waste a nice morning like this doing nothing. Five more days till school starts.”
Ammy shuddered. “You had to remind me!”
All the way home Simon tried to tell Ammy about Dunstone Public School. “You’ll like it,” he told her. She didn’t look convinced.
“You, um, weren’t serious back there, were you? When you said you’d like to go with Mara?”
“Darn right I was serious.” She laughed. “Oh, don’t look like that! She’d never say yes.”
§
Back in the apartment, Amelia went to her room and opened her laptop. There was a new message from her parents. It sounded as if her mother had written it, and her father had gone over it afterwards and put in a few funny bits. Summed up, it said that Amelia was to act her age and not fly off the handle over every little upset, and she was to write out in careful detail exactly what was bothering her and then they would go over it with her and work out how to deal with it. And don’t forget your grandmother is there and she’s a wonderful listener.
Amelia read over the message she’d sent them last night, and her face reddened.
Dear Mom and Dad, she typed, forget that last email. Things aren’t so bad here. In fact, some things are pretty good. I have a new friend. Maybe I can tell you all about her soon. She wondered if she would really be able to tell them all about Mara, ever. All the same... I think I might be okay here, she typed.
§
Simon went and threw himself down on his bed. There was too much to think about. Mara, and the Book of Lands, and the Assassin, and the blue door, and the library — or was it a museum? — and the smell of fresh air from another world, and the whatever-it-was that stole the book last night and then just flew off with it, apparently, and now Ammy...
He sat bolt upright. “Ammy!” That’s right, that came first. He wouldn’t put it past her to try to run away with Mara, just to get out of that first day of school. And he wouldn’t put it past Mara to say yes. So the big thing was to figure out how to save Ammy from herself, then think about how the entire history of the human race had changed. He flopped back on the bed.
But save Ammy how? What could he say?
Celeste would know what to do. “If only I could tell her everything!” He’d promised not to. But that didn’t count any more, did it? Mara was in no danger now, at least not in the kind of danger they’d thought at first. And they’d told Ike. Telling Celeste couldn’t hurt Mara and it might help Ammy.
When the door opened and Celeste came in, he made up his mind. She sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed back his hair from his forehead, like she used to when he was small. He told her the whole story, starting from the minute the three of them started up Riverside Drive that first evening. His eyes were half closed and Celeste was a comforting shape against the light, a shape that made encouraging noises and didn’t interrupt. She stroked his forehead. His thoughts whirled slower and slower and finally spun to a stop.
§
“Hey there, Rip Van Winkle! Planning to sleep all day?” Celeste grinned at him past the open door.
Simon sat up and rubbed his eyes. “What time is it?”
“It’s half past eleven! How’s your appetite? I bought roast beef sandwiches at the deli. I’ve been working like a fiend all morning and I’m starving!” She vanished from the doorway.
Simon shook his head. Something funny there. She was too ... well, too normal. Like he hadn’t just told her all that amazing stuff. “Celeste!” He got up and lurched down the hall to the kitchen. “You were up here a while ago.” She looked at him blankly. “Weren’t you? We talked, right?”
“You must’ve been dreaming, my lad.”
But he knew that hadn’t been a dream. He went back to his room and looked at the dent in the quilt where somebody had sat beside him and smoothed his hair. Somebody. Not Celeste. Then who?
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
A CAP OF FEATHERS
Ammy was gone, too. A yellow sticky note stuck askew on her door. Mara phoned, said the note in a scrawly handwriting. She wants the ring now. I’m taking it to her in the tower. Amelia.
Simon ran back to the kitchen. “When did Ammy leave?”
“Haven’t seen her. Why?”
He dashed to the front door and out, grabbing coat and boots in passing. Celeste called after him, but by then he was halfway down the stairs, hauling on his boots in mid-step, clutching the banister to keep from pitching down.
He ran straight into Ike, who was just stepping out of the Independent office. Simon grabbed his arm and urged him around the corner and northward. As they thudded along Wallace Street and up Hill Street, Simon gasped out the story. They turned right at the entrance to Founders Park and headed straight up the hill towards the tower. The slope and deep snow and breaking crust slowed them to a trudge.
“That had to be the Assassin, disguised as Celeste,” Simon said between puffs. “He knows Ammy has the ring. He wants the ring. And he found out Mara’s planning to leave at noon.”
“So the phone call Ammy got was him?”
“Had to be. He’s used the phone before. Mara never did.”
Simon had no idea what he expected to see in the tower. There hadn’t been time to think. He had a vague picture in his mind of Ammy backed against the parapet at the top of the tower, clutching the ring and daring the Assassin to try to take it off her. He looked up as they reached the crest of the hill, but nothing showed between the arches under the conical roof.
He was two strides away from the bottom of the tower when Ammy stepped out. He stopped short. Ike piled into him.
“Ammy! You okay?”
“’Course I’m okay. Why not?” She laughed at them over layers of red scarf. “You can have the book back, if that’s what’s got you worried. It’s up there.” She waved a hand upward.
“You found the book? But how?”
She didn’t answer, just walked past them and started down the hill.
Ike dodged around Simon an
d charged into the doorway and up the stairs. Simon looked after Ammy. She seemed all right.
Somebody screamed at the top of the tower. Then, “Simon! Simon!” By then Simon was halfway up.
When he reached the top he had to push past Ike to find Ammy. She was lying on her back, hands crossed over her stomach, eyes closed. He fell to his knees and reached out a trembling hand to push the scarf back from her face. Her cheek was warm.
“Is ... is she...” Ike stammered.
“She’s alive. Ammy!” Simon shook her. Her head wobbled back and forth like a doll’s.
“What’s the matter with her?”
“I don’t know! It’s like she’s asleep, but...”
“And,” Ike squeaked, “and who was that down there that — that looked like her?”
“Who do you think?” Wake up, Ammy! “We already know he can change how he looks.”
“Then that must have been him last night, up on the school roof. The one who took this off us.” Ike pushed at something with his foot. It was the Book of Lands. It lay open against the base of the parapet, a foot or so from Ammy’s head. A charred square hole ran all the way through the pages from front to back. All the coloured squares had been destroyed.
Simon remembered when Ammy read the book — how her mind had seemed lost in the squares. Suddenly, what was happening dawned on him, and his face paled.
“She’s in there.” Simon whispered. “Her mind. He took the ring, and then he put her in one of those squares, and then he fixed it so her mind can never get out.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Call an ambulance. ... No, that won’t help.” Simon scrambled to his feet and looked out over the parapet. He had to search for a moment in the blaze of sunlit snow, but then he found it: a small figure marching briskly across the park. It stepped onto Hill Street and turned left.
Time? His watch said 11:48. At twelve, Mara would be gone. Or maybe dead, if the Assassin got to her first. “Mara. She might help. She has to help!” Simon tore off his parka and draped it over Ammy’s body, with its jeans and useless little leather jacket.
Ike crouched beside her. Tears dripped off his chin. “Try and keep her warm!” Simon said. “If I’m not back by...” Time. Time ran differently there. Time might save Ammy. “By half an hour, get her to a hospital.”
