by L. J. Smith
“You … hurt … my … head,” replied Elwyn.
A muscle twitched in Alys’s jaw.
“I told you,” said Charles.
“Please,” begged Alys, switching tactics abruptly. “Don’t you care at all? Unless you help us we are going to die. Do you understand ‘die’?”
“No,” said Elwyn simply.
Alys, with a terrible chill, felt that without in the least intending to she had at last put her finger on the heart of Elwyn’s problem. A whole universe of philosophic thoughts crashed through her mind at once. How could someone who could not die or be hurt understand fear or pain? No wonder Elwyn could be so heartless without being deliberately cruel. She never had to fear the consequences of anything, because to her there were no consequences, perhaps that was why she remained a child… . Perhaps you need to face death in order to mature … to take on responsibility… .
A great part of her mind wanted to stay and wrestle with these questions before she forgot them. Another part snapped, “Get on with it.” Alys, being mortal, made the only decision she could.
“Whether you understand or not,” she said levelly, “you are going to help us. Because we’re going to keep you here until you do. We won’t ever let you go.”
Elwyn clapped her hands in exasperation. “I do not wish to stay here and you have hurt my head. If you are not careful I will become very angry.”
“And do what, call us names? We’ve got you.”
“Er—Alys—” said Janie.
“Not now, Janie. You see, Elwyn? You’re trapped here.”
“Alys.”
“Hush, Janie. Look, Elwyn, just agree to help us, and afterward you can go home. Come on. Do it. Say yes.”
“Oh, I am angry now. I am incensed.”
“So spit. I am never going to let go of this branch—”
“Alys, I think there’s something you’re forgetting.”
“—until you give in. All right, Janie, what am I forgetting?”
“Sky-bolts,” said Janie, and there was an explosion of light against the far wall, and a crash like thunder.
Alys whirled. The wall now bore a smoldering black spot three feet in diameter. “Elwyn! What—”
Something whizzed by her head and struck the ceiling, shaking the house on its foundations.
“Stop it! Stop it!”
Whiz BANG! Whiz BANG! Whiz BANG!
Alys, appalled, realized that Elwyn was aiming to kill.
WHIZBANG! BANG-BANG-BANG!
Claudia shrieked, caught in a maelstrom of flying glass and wood as the window exploded. The room was thick with smoke and lit almost continuously by flashes like lightning. The air stank of ozone.
KA-WHOMP.
Alys felt as if the top of her head had been blown off. She reeled backward, her hair snagging painfully on a nail in the wall, and slid to the ground. She was clutching a now light and unresisting thornbranch.
“She’s getting away!” Charles darted out of the room. Tearing free of the nail, Alys ran after him. They skidded, steadied, and careered into the next room just in time to see an orange-red silhouette disappear in the mirror.
“After her!” cried Alys, but Charles held her back.
“You’ll never catch up,” he said. “And besides, Cadal Forge is there. I saw him. He’s got a whole crowd with him.”
Alys sagged. With glazed eyes she stared at the thornbranch in her hand. There was a goodly amount of silver hair hanging from it.
“How could she free herself like that?” asked Janie quietly, from behind them.
“I don’t think she did it. I think I pulled the branch free when I fell.”
“Yes, I saw that. I believe this is yours.” Janie held out a strand of Alys’s hair she had collected from the nail.
Claudia groped her way down the hall, which was now billowing with smoke. “There’s a hole in the wall back there,” she said, coughing.
“Several holes,” said Janie.
Charles opened a window. “There’s a lot of smoke coming out of the nursery, too,” he said. “Who do you like better,” he added, “Cadal Forge or the police?”
“Is that a hypothetical question?”
“No,” said Alys. “I hear sirens.”
The sirens swept up to the house.
Alys’s hands balled into fists. “I don’t care about Cadal Forge,” she said. “I don’t care what he does to me. When they come in here I’m going to go through a mirror and show them.”
“You can’t,” Janie pointed out, rather calmly. “The moon set twenty minutes ago.”
“But Elwyn—”
“She’s a Quislai, remember? Like you said, powerful.”
Downstairs the front door burst open.
Chapter 17
THE SOLSTICE
The last thing Alys said before the police came running up the stairs, followed by the firemen, followed by the paramedics, was, “Let me do the talking.”
For some time thereafter all was confusion, and none of them was quite sure whether they were being rescued or arrested. It seemed to be both, for after they were carried willy-nilly down the stairs, they were handcuffed, put in a police car, and driven to the police station of the city of Orange.
Hysteria reigned. Janie shrilled, Charles shouted, and Claudia, gentle Claudia, bit a police officer. Alys, although feeling dazed and desperate, managed to keep her head. She knew perfectly well that without proof it was hopeless to tell their story about the Wildworld again. At the same time it was essential—it was more important than saving themselves—to convince the police that something terribly dangerous was going on at the old house. If the police believed that, and watched over the house on the night of the solstice, they might have some chance against Cadal Forge.
So she told a story that was as close to the truth as she could get without mentioning sorcery. She said that last week a person had lured them into the old house. As for what had happened inside—well, it certainly sounded like a drug-induced hallucination, the way she described it. The person had then threatened them to make sure they kept quiet, and made them promise to come back. There were other people in the house, too, she said, all more or less crazy, like the pyromaniac who had set fire to the nursery tonight.
“Sounds like a cult,” muttered one of the officers.
The only problem was that the police wanted names and descriptions of these crazed, drug-dealing cultists. And when Alys couldn’t give these, the entire story was seriously weakened.
“I don’t believe this cock-and-bull about a mysterious white-haired stranger setting fire to that house today,” said the detective in charge of them. “I think you know perfectly well who did it and you’re lying to protect them. I think you’re probably part of this gang you described. In fact, I’m not sure you didn’t set the fire yourselves.”
But there was the evidence of the thornbranch—none of the children had hair that color. And the police, despite a search of the house, the grounds, and the children, could not find so much as a burnt-out match to explain how the fire had started. So they were forced to release them. However, it was made excruciatingly clear that if they ever went near Morgana’s house again, or were ever caught playing with fire, or made any kind of trouble for the rest of their lives, they would be busted.
Worst of all, it was obvious that although the police had searched the house, they did not intend to keep it under surveillance round-the-clock. They certainly weren’t going to stake it out at midnight tomorrow.
There was more hysteria in the car as their parents drove them home. Alys, her eyes swollen almost shut with crying, finally put her hands over her ears to block out her mother’s pleas to “just tell us the names of the cultists.”
When the moon next rose, it would be the solstice moon.
They all cried themselves to sleep.
They were kept home from school the next day, and spent it in Claudia’s playroom—the one with the bars on the window. Their parents stayed home
from work to watch them. It was nearly unbearable to huddle near the window with those pale, haggard faces on the other side of the room.
“What do we do now?” whispered Charles.
“Do?” said Janie.
“We … we have to do something. Can’t we—can’t we—”
“What?”
Charles shrugged, defeated.
Feeling stupefied, they stared out the window.
At last Claudia said, “Maybe the police will come tonight after all.”
“Not unless they have a reason,” said Charles. “And they won’t … Wait a minute.” A light had come into his eyes. “What if—what if we made an anonymous phone call tonight? Told them that—oh, the house was burning down or something. That would get them over there, all right.”
All this time Alys had not said a word, but she was not despairing or panicking; she was thinking. Now she slowly closed one hand until the nails bit into her palm, and struck the table a blow that shook the lamp.
“Alys? Is that what we’re going to do?”
“No,” said Alys. One word, like the beat of a drum.
“Then, what?”
“We are going to burn the house down ourselves.”
Claudia shrank back against Charles.
“Alys … ?”
“I am not crazy, Charles. I’m serious.”
Charles and Janie exchanged an involuntary glance, and then both of them looked quickly toward their parents, who were fortunately still out of earshot.
“Listen to me,” said Alys. “It’s the only thing we can do that will be of any use. If we set that house on fire just at moonrise, the place will be crawling with police and firefighters by the time the moon enters its quarter and Cadal Forge comes through. Maybe they can do something against the Society. And if not—well, I wonder if even sorcerei can step into the middle of a fire and live.”
Charles felt cold, but at the same time he was overcome by a sort of horrible fascination.
“It … just … might … work,” said Janie.
Everyone considered.
Everyone looked at everyone else.
Everyone let out a long breath and slowly nodded.
“We’re going to jail,” Charles whispered then.
“I know.”
“And—we might be killed. It isn’t going to be easy to set a fire that size and get away.”
“I think Claudia should be out of it,” said Janie.
Claudia didn’t even blink. “If you’re in it, I’m in it.”
“We need gasoline,” said Alys. “We’ll siphon some out of the cars before we go tonight. And we need a fuse.”
A bitter smile touched Charles’s lips. “The police accused us of playing with firecrackers. I’ll give them firecrackers. I’ve got some Tijuana speciales under my bed.”
“The kind that blow your hand off?”
“Oh, Janie. We’re probably going to get our heads blown off doing this. What’s a hand more or less?”
At quarter to twelve that night they were sitting in the dry brush on the hill by Morgana’s house waiting for the moon to rise, just as they had the night they made the amulet. They all wore the amulet at their necks now, as a sort of symbol.
It had been ridiculously easy to climb out their windows and leave the house. Their parents were exhausted after a long day of watching them.
Alys and Charles made precise adjustments in the positioning of the gasoline cans and wads of paper, while Claudia watched with enormous eyes. Only Janie did not participate. She was sitting, chin in hands, gazing unwaveringly at the distant hills where the moon would soon appear. Her face was set and unhappy, but behind the unmoving exterior her brain was running like the insides of a precision watch—which is to say, she thought, in circles.
Janie was a perfectionist. She found the idea of burning down Fell Andred distasteful and untidy. It wasn’t the elegant solution. And so even as a silver haze heralded the coming of moonrise she searched frantically for another answer.
The elegant solution, she thought, was to do what they had set out to do in the beginning, to find Morgana. Sherlock Holmes or even Hercule Poirot would have been able to deduce exactly where the sorceress was without ever leaving his armchair. But then, their brains weren’t half-asleep.
For that was how Janie felt, as if for weeks she’d been wandering around half-conscious, unable to see the larger perspective. It was because she’d been so afraid of sorcery in the beginning, terrified of the kind of magic she’d heard about in fairy tales, where things happened at random, without rhyme or reason, uncontrollable, unpredictable.
But Weerul magic wasn’t like that. The Wildworld sorcery obeyed rules, even if the rules were strange and fantastic. It had a beautiful order all its own … and Janie ought to be able to understand it.
Staring at the sliver of white which appeared at the top of the foothills, she put her fists to her temples and tried to think.
So many things about Fell Andred had bothered her, so many little things didn’t seem to fit—but she couldn’t quite make sense of them, and there was so little time. Disjointed fragments of thought rushed past her. The night they’d made the amulet, when they had found that no mirror could be moved from the house. The night she had gone through the double mirrors to rescue the others from Aric. The fight with Elwyn—
Oh, it was no good! With a sharp sound of frustration she shook her head, wishing wildly, illogically, that she were a sorceress like Thia Pendriel. Morgana was somewhere in the castle, Janie felt sure of that, and if they could only work the proper spell they could simply look through the mirrors and find her. That is, they could find her as long as …
A long, wondering breath escaped Janie’s lips, and as the full moon separated itself from the hill it shone upon her transfigured face.
That was it. That was the answer.
Alys was at the door, gasoline can in hand.
“Alys, Charles, put those down.”
“What?”
“You’re not going to need them.”
“What?”
“I know where Morgana is.”
Suddenly she felt as light as air. She got up and walked, or floated, to the house, passing Alys and Charles and not looking back to see if they were following her. She knew they were.
“Janie, what are you saying? Answer me, blast it! Where are you going?”
Janie swept through the living room, drawing the others behind her as a comet draws its tail of fire. She led them to the east wing, to the second floor, to Morgana’s bedchamber, and she pointed to the smaller of the two large mirrors in the alcove.
“That one, I think.”
“Janie, are you crazy? You went through that mirror yourself!”
“So I did,” said Janie, smiling, as she gently lifted the mirror away from the wall. Carrying it before her like a shield she walked back into the corridor.
“Where are you going?”
With her immediate family skidding behind her, Janie entered the barren nursery.
Alys was frustrated, bewildered, and furious. “But there isn’t even a mirror … in here… .” Her voice trailed off as Janie hung the mirror on the nail which had caught her hair yesterday.
“There is now,” said Janie, simply, and stepped through.
There was an instant when all three of the others stood frozen; then, with one accord, they leapt forward to follow, as if released by a spring.
They were so quick, in fact, that they were in time to witness Morgana’s first reaction.
“You fools!” she cried, aiming a blow at Janie, which, had it connected, would have laid her rescuer out flat on the floor. “You dolts! You incompetent, beetle-brained numbskulls, is this the best you could do?” She was no taller than Janie, and her gray eyes flashed fire.
“W-we did our best,” gasped Alys, thunderstruck.
“Your best!”
“I … we thought you’d be grateful—”
“Grateful? Grateful? Do yo
u realize the mirrors will open on the Stillworld in fifty-seven minutes? What in the name of Beldar makes you think I can save you under such outrageous conditions?”
“Possibly,” said a dry little voice near the floor, “the fact that they have it on very good authority that you are the best.”
“Oh, you’re safe!” cried Claudia, stumbling forward.
“There will be time for this later,” said the vixen, struggling in Claudia’s embrace. “But for now I strongly suggest that you stop ranting, Morgana, and go through that mirror. Why? Because someone is coming up the hallway. Make that several someones.”
“You talk too much,” snarled Morgana, and then the door shattered and Cadal Forge stepped over the rubble and into the room. He saw Morgana and he saw the mirror and then Alys witnessed the most terrifying thing she had seen in her life. Cadal Forge focused. His head whipped back toward Morgana and in his crystal gray eyes there was no longer any trace of abstracted brooding. The entire force of his tremendous will was focused on now. Alys reeled.
Morgana, shouting something, dodged into the mirror. But before anyone else could move, the midnight-gowned Thia Pendriel swept forward and touched the mirror with her Silver Staff, and it became transparent, showing Morgana’s retreating figure. In a twinkling the tall sorceress turned and snatched Claudia up in her arms. With a quick gesture she tore the amulet from Claudia’s throat and tossed it through the bars of the window.
“Now,” said Cadal Forge quietly. “To the great hall.”
“Claudia!” screamed Alys.
Charles, although he was having strange and inexplicable visions of himself running down Center Street to hide in their garage, joined Alys in following the sorcerei. To his infinite disgust, Janie did not, but vaulted through the mirror after the vixen.
Janie was aware of Charles’s scathing look as she passed into the human world. She ignored it and scampered after the sorceress.
“You couldn’t even be bothered to bring my staff,” said Morgana bitingly as she grabbed something from beside the bedroom fireplace.
