Jeremy Thatcher, Dragon Hatcher: A Magic Shop Book

by Bruce Coville

  Jeremy was leaving the building, still stinging with loss, when Mr. Kravitz stopped him.

  "Thatcher," he said.

  Jeremy turned. His stomach grew tight with the anticipation of something nasty about to happen.

  Mr. Kravitz paused. Then to Jeremy's surprise, he nodded and said, "Good luck next year."

  What was even more amazing was that he sounded like he meant it.

  But even that miracle did little to distract him from the coming loss, and he spent the afternoon in a daze of sorrow.

  After dinner, he placed Tiamat's baby teeth in a small leather bag his uncle had given him several years before. He had found nearly three dozen of them, the tiniest no larger than a pencil point, the biggest nearly the size of his litde finger. Their soft, pearly color disguised the fact that they were razor sharp and steel hard.

  Next he took her skins—she had shed seven times in all—out to the barn. When he had smoothed them out on the floor they were like a diary of Tiamat's growth. He laid the first skin, barely a foot long, in the palm of his hand. It reminded him of the night she had hatched.

  I was tiny! she sent, the message a combination of a crystal-clear image of the hatching, accompanied by a gentle sense of amusement.

  I was frightened, he replied.

  Remembering that night made him remember the magic shop, and something Mr. Elives had said to him.

  Did you really choose me? he asked.

  She replied with a flood of warm assurance.

  Why?

  I liked the colors in your head. I knew we could share beautiful pictures. She poked her head, which was as big as a horse's, over his shoulder. I will miss you.

  And I will miss you, replied Jeremy, stroking her scaly nose. Beneath her eye he felt a piece of hard material. It came away in his fingertips. When he held it up, it sparkled in the light.

  What is this?

  Dragons weep diamonds, replied Tiamat, turning her head away.

  Jeremy pressed the tear to his chest. In the distance he could hear his mother calling him to come in. He glanced at his watch. Almost bedtime.

  Placing Tiamat's skins one on top of the other, he rolled them up, then tied the crinkly red bundle with a strand of yarn he had found in his mother's knitting bag. Next to it he placed the box in which he had carried home Tiamat's egg. Inside, saved as per the directions, were the pieces of the shell. Next to that, he set the bag of teeth.

  Jeremy looked at the collection of material— the box, the bag and the scroll—and wondered if he should add Tiamat's tear. But the letter hadn't mentioned anything about this, so brushing away a tear of his own, he tucked the gem into his pocket.

  When he turned to go, he saw Mary Lou Hutton standing in the doorway.

  "I came to say good-bye to Tiamat," she said softly.

  Jeremy nodded.

  Mary Lou walked to the dragon. "Farewell, Lady Tiamat," she whispered.

  Tiamat dipped her long neck, and Mary Lou embraced her.

  After a moment she turned to Jeremy and asked, as she had several times over the last few days, "Do you want me to come tonight?"

  He shook his head. "I have to do this alone," he replied, as always.

  Mary Lou nodded. "Good luck," she whispered. Her voice was husky; he could tell that she felt nearly as bad as he did.

  Shortly after eleven o'clock, Jeremy tiptoed out of his room carrying the box, the scroll, the bag of teeth, and a flashlight. With no Tiamat to intimidate them, the kitchen cats rubbed around his ankles, begging for a late-night treat. Ignoring their pleas, Jeremy slipped out the back door.

  The night was cool and still, without a breath of wind, almost as if it were waiting for something to happen.

  Jeremy didn't need to walk to the barn; having sensed his approach, Tiamat was waiting for him in the yard. In the silvery light of the full moon she looked enormous.

  They started walking. It would have been easier to fly, of course. Only they couldn't, because Jeremy had no idea where they were going. That wasn't for lack of trying; two days earlier he had walked the entire length of Main Street looking for the corner of "Main and Not Main." As far as he could tell, it didn't exist. That didn't surprise him. He had lived in Blodgett's Crossing all his life and never heard of such an intersection. But its absence had worried him. How was he supposed to take the dragon to a corner that wasn't there?

  Finally he had decided they would just walk along Main Street and see what happened. If the old man wanted them, odds were good that he would find them.

  They were less than a block from home when Jeremy heard a car. He dove for the bushes. No telling what would happen if someone spotted him wandering around at this time of night!

  Maybe you should ride on my back, suggested Tiamat. Then no one will be able to see you.

  She crouched down, and Jeremy climbed on. In a way, it felt even stranger to ride on a dragon walking through town than to fly with her.

  The air was cool and moist, and as they neared the center of town fog began to creep toward them. It grew rapidly thicker. By the time they were two blocks past the main intersection, Jeremy could hardly see.

  Too bad we don't know where the corner is, thought Jeremy to Tiamat. Then we could fly, instead of walking through this stuff.

  She sent her agreement.

  The fog got still thicker, curling around Tiamat's feet like snakes made of smoke. Jeremy begin to worry again. He had a feeling that if they continued walking, they really would come to the corner of "Main and Not Main."

  But when we do, will we be in Blodgett's Crossing— or somewhere else altogether ?

  The fog seemed to muffle the sound of Tiamat's footsteps. Jeremy felt as if he and Tiamat were the only things moving through the silence and the darkness.

  Finally he slid off her back and asked her to fly ahead to see if she could see anything. She hadn't been gone more than a few seconds when he felt a great sense of isolation sweep over him. Come back! he thought desperately.

  He could feel Tiamat wheel above him. The rush of her wings as she landed made the fog swirl in a way that was almost angry.

  Nasty, she sent.

  Jeremy put his hand on her scaly neck, and they walked on. No need to ride her now. No one could see him through this stuff.

  Soon the fog was so dense that even with the flashlight Jeremy couldn't see more than a few feet ahead. The flashlight was still helpful, though, because if he stood right at the base of a street sign, the beam reached just far enough for him to read the name.

  After they passed Oak, Ash, and Willow, something strange began to happen. They started to cross.

  streets he had never heard of before—streets with names like Wand, Staff, and Stave.

  Two blocks past Stave, Jeremy thought they had found the corner they were seeking. He wasn't sure, because there was no street sign—only a narrow dirt path that led into a thick forest. The thing was, there were no dirt paths crossing Main Street . . . and no forests in Blodgett's Crossing.

  "Mr. Elives?" called Jeremy.

  His voice seemed to vanish in the mist.

  "Mr. Elives?"

  No answer.

  He pointed the flashlight at his watch. As the second hand swept up to make 11:30 on the dot, a hooded figure stepped from the mist. Jeremy swallowed. The newcomer was tall—much taller than the old man he had met in the shop.

  He was about to run when the figure reached up and pulled back its hood.

  Jeremy blinked. "What are you doing here?" he asked in astonishment.

  Thirteen - Nothing You Love Is Lost

  It was Miss Priest, the librarian. She wore a crown of daisies in her hair. She stared at Jeremy, and he saw something terrible in her eyes, fierce and sad and angry all at the same time.

  "Greetings, Hatcher," she said. "Did you bring the teeth?"

  Jeremy nodded and held up the bag. Then, thinking that Miss Priest might not be able to see him in the darkness, he whispered, "Yes."

  "And the sk
ins?"

  "Yes. And the eggshells."

  Miss Priest murmured her approval, then turned to Tiamat and made a deep curtsy. "And how are you tonight, milady?"

  To Jeremy's astonishment, Tiamat raised her head and shot a line of flame fifteen feet into the sky.

  "Indeed!" said Miss Priest. She sounded impressed. She turned to Jeremy and whispered. "You have done well."

  "Thank you."

  For a moment, no one said anything else. Finally Jeremy asked, "What happens next?"

  "You may go home if you wish," replied Miss Priest. "Your job is finished."

  Jeremy looked at her in shock. Just like that, it was over? He handed his dragon to a strange woman on a dark corner, and that was the end of it? "I don't want to go home," he said.

  "Then if you are feeling brave, you may come with me."

  Jeremy swallowed. He wasn't feeling brave at all. But neither did he feel like just letting go of Tiamat.

  "Where are we going?"

  "To a place you've already been."

  "The mag—"

  She pressed a finger to his lips, warning him to silence. "Careful, Hatcher," she whispered. "This is a strange night, and words have more power than you think, even under the best of circumstances. Try not to use them unnecessarily."

  Jeremy nodded.

  "Turn off your flashlight."

  He did as she asked. Miss Priest took his hand and led him into the darkness. The mist was damp against his face. It wove about the trunks of the trees, gleaming silver in the moonlight. The night was oddly silent, as if the darkness were swallowing

  all sound, even that of his footsteps. When he looked behind him to be sure that Tiamat was still there, he could see her green eyes glowing in the dark.

  No need to look, she informed him. You can tell if I'm here.

  Jeremy nodded. Even if she couldn't see the gesture, he knew she would sense his response.

  After a while he could see a light through the fog. As they drew closer, Jeremy saw that it came from the magic shop. But the store was not sitting at the end of a street, as he had first seen it. It was in a forest clearing.

  Jeremy swallowed nervously.

  The door swung open as they approached. Miss Priest entered first. Jeremy followed. Tiamat came last, tucking her wings against her sides. When Jeremy turned to watch, he had a sense that the door was stretching itself to let her pass. He blinked, and she was in.

  The hoot of an owl made him look to the back of the store.

  "Greetings," said Mr. Elives. He shuffled across the floor, stopping in front of Tiamat, who took up most of the available space. He examined the dragon for a few moments, then turned to Jeremy and said, "It appears that you have done a good job."

  "Thank you."

  "What is her spoken name?"

  "Tiamat."

  Mr. Elives snorted. "The Queen of the Universe! Well, her line always did have a streak of vanity. Of course, that's not her real name. She can't tell you that."

  Jeremy felt a twinge of jealousy. Did the old man know her real name?

  Mr. Elives turned to Miss Priest. She had moved to one of the counters, where she was unrolling the skins Jeremy had brought. "How is that coming?" he asked.

  "It will be ready," said Miss Priest, without looking up. "You'd best see to your part."

  Muttering to himself, Mr. Elives gestured to the dragon, and then shuffled out of the room.

  Folding her wings and pulling in her sides so she could get around the counter, Tiamat followed.

  Jeremy started after her, but Miss Priest put a hand on his shoulder. "Stay here," she whispered.

  Jeremy jumped. He had thought she was still at the counter.

  When Miss Priest saw that he wasn't going to argue, she returned to her work. After a bit, Jeremy walked over to see what she was doing. As he watched, she began matching the teeth he had brought with some pieces of dark wood.

  "Why are you doing that?"

  "I'm going to make a gate." She picked up one of the teeth and inserted it into a notch that had been carved in the end of one of the sticks. "You may help if you wish," she said, without looking at him.

  Jeremy thought he caught a hint of challenge in her voice. He hesitated. Helping her build a gate to send Tiamat to another world felt a little like helping to weave a rope for his own hanging. But it was better than standing around and feeling helpless. "What do I do?" he asked.

  Miss Priest picked up one of the sticks. It was about as long as her index finger, and slightly thinner than a pencil. "See this notch?" she said, pointing to one end of the stick. "You slide the tooth in like this."

  As she spoke, she inserted a small tooth in the stick. The tooth, which was wide at the base, tapered to a wicked point. The base fit snugly into the notch. At first, Jeremy thought the combination of stick and tooth looked like a little spear. Then he noticed the hole drilled through the other end of the stick, and decided that the whole thing looked more like a big needle.

  "You try," said Miss Priest.

  Jeremy picked up one of the smaller teeth. But when he tried to slide it into a stick, his hand slipped, and he jabbed the tooth into his own palm. It disappeared into the flesh. Crying out, he pressed his thumb against the wound to stop the bleeding.

  "That was an interesting thing to do," said Miss Priest. "We'll have to check to make sure we still have enough."

  Jeremy watched her spread the remaining sticks and teeth across the counter. Wasn't she going to offer him a bandage or something?

  Miss Priest matched the sticks to the teeth.

  "Good," she said. "We have just the right number."

  "What about this?" asked Jeremy, moving his thumb to show her his cut.

  Miss Priest looked at him. "What about it?"

  Jeremy glanced at his hand. The wound was gone. All that remained to show what had happened was a smear of drying blood and a short white line where the tooth had entered his skin.

  "Done!" said Miss Priest, setting the last tooth into the last stick. "Though I can't say you were much help."

  Despite the. chiding words, her face was still and calm.

  She reached for one of the skins. As she spread it in front of her, she turned over her right hand. In the center of her palm Jeremy saw a white line that looked exactly like the new mark in his own hand. He blinked. But when he started to ask her about it, Miss Priest shook her head and placed a finger against her lips. She tipped her head toward the back of the shop, where Mr. Elives had gone, then shook it once more.

  Each gesture was small and silent. Jeremy's head swirled with the sense of secrets within secrets. He felt trapped between powers that he didn't understand.

  Miss Priest turned her hand away from him. Pulling a bit of eggshell from the box, she used its sharp edge to cut the skin in a spiral shape.

  "You see?" she said, as she threaded a strip of the skin through one of the needles they had made. "Shell, skin, and tooth all work together. They are all supposed to go back to her world. Nothing should remain here."

  "I don't want Tiamat to go back," said Jeremy sullenly. "I want her to stay here with me."

  Miss Priest laughed. It was not a horrible laugh at all. "What a terrible idea!" she said. "Why do you want her to stay?"

  "Because I love her. I don't want to lose her."

  Miss Priest reached out and took his chin in her hand. She looked into his eyes. "You silly boy," she said. "Nothing you love is lost. Not really. Things, people—they always go away, sooner or later. You can't hold them, any more than you can hold moonlight. But if they've touched you, if they're inside you, then they're still yours. The only things you ever really have are the ones you hold inside your heart."

  She turned away from him and lowered her head. Then she crossed her hands over her chest and whispered:

  Full moon's light to wake the egg, Full moon's light to hatch it; Midsummer Night will break your heart All Hallow's Eve may patch it.

  Jeremy recognized the poem; i
t was the one he had recited on the night he hatched the egg.

  Or is it? It seems different, somehow.

  Before he could work out what had changed, Mr. Elives came back. "It's nearly time," he said softly.

  Jeremy looked at his watch. Five minutes till midnight.

  "Where's Tiamat?" he asked.

  Mr. Elives nodded toward the back of the shop. But when Jeremy started in that direction, the old man put out a hand to stop him.

  "I have to tell her good-bye," said Jeremy.

  Mr. Elives shook his head. "You can't go back there."

  "But I didn't tell her good-bye. I didn't tell her I love her."

  Before Mr. Elives could refuse him again, Miss Priest put her hand on the old man's arm. "Let the boy in," she said.

  The old man snorted, but shrugged.