“What’s that.”
“It is a tynka, a reading wheel, where I can see the future and the past.”
The Wizard put his staff in the fire and sifted the ashes. It was the day she learned about the other part of his name, why they called him the Wizard of Ashes and Rain. He knocked some of the ash out of the fire and into the cold sand. He scooped up the ashes and some dirty sand mixed with old wrappers and broken plastic toy parts, and poured it on the wheel. He set the tynka between them. She had heard that he could divine, but she had never seen him do it. He took her hand and held it over the plate. Uneasy, she resisted, but not strongly. He spoke words she did not understand, then released her hand.
“What are you doing.”
He picked up the plate and jiggled it, letting the ashes and sand crumble into pieces and spread across the plate. Water droplets splashed on the wheel, scarring the ash.
“The way the ashes fall across the symbols, the way the water runs, the creases and breaks in it tell a story. Everything tells a story.”
Sarah leaned forward to look.
“Yes,” the Wizard said. “I see.”
“Did it tell you about my mother? What should I do?”
The Wizard looked up into her eyes.
“Your father’s sorry. He’s sorry he had to die.”
Her father had died the year before.
The Wizard dumped the ashes back into the sand and sat humming to himself until she left. For a long time Sarah watched the waves push out and beach themselves, then run back into the sea. A light drizzle soaked her hair. Then she went home and negotiated rules that both she and her mother could live with.
* * * *
Sarah found her sister and her Grandmother Rebecca on a park bench near Stow Lake, eating cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches. Her sister had on her nice pink party dress with the ruffles, and black shiny shoes. Her grandmother wore a blue sweatsuit made of synthetics. By the time she found them, the sun had passed overhead and was already tangled in the treetops as it descended toward the sea.
It was still hours before sunset, though. The late afternoon duck feeders with their bags of bread were just being joined by the afterwork joggers and dog walkers. The winds had started up, blowing off the ocean, already pushing in the fog that would arrive with nightfall. The trees swayed, gathering around the edge of the lake in milling crowds, or standing alone, seeming to shift from foot to foot. The ducks complained as the bread ran out and the wind ruffled their feathers.
“Why, hello, dear,” her Grandmother Rebecca said, scooting closer to Amanda so Sarah could sit down, patting the bench. “Do you want part of my sandwich?”
“I brought the sandwiches,” Amanda said with her mouth full.
“Yes, certainly you did. They’re my favorite.”
“I have one for Sarah in the bag.” Amanda pointed at her feet without reaching down.
“What are you doing here, grandma?”
Sarah came closer, stood before her grandmother.
“Oh, the house, it’s too big. It’s filled with George’s books, crowding me out. I couldn’t breathe. It was his house, really. I just stayed there with him.”
Sarah didn’t believe her grandmother, but thought she understood. “It all reminds you of him.”
Sarah’s grandmother nodded. “Yes, I suppose that’s part of it.”
“Are you really going to sleep out here?”
Her grandmother picked up the bag, reached in and produced another sandwich.
“Yes, right on this bench.”
“It’s dangerous.”
“You’re beginning to sound like your mother.”
Sarah sat down. She accepted a cucumber and cream cheese sandwich. Benches lined the asphalt walkway around the lake. At night, the benches would be claimed one by one. Her grandmother might even get pushed out by someone stronger.
“Besides,” her grandmother said. “You have friends out here, right? That Wizard, he’s out here. Maybe he could look out for me.”
“He’s gone,” Sarah said. “He’s not coming back.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, dear.”
“He knew about my dream,” Amanda said with her mouth full.
“What dream? You didn’t tell me you had a dream. Your sister,” Grandmother Rebecca said to Sarah, “doesn’t tell me anything anymore. She has just been sitting there, eating, refusing to answer my questions. She just makes comments about the things she wants to talk about, what people are wearing, the dogs.” Grandmother Rebecca shook her head.
“I can’t talk to her anymore, either,” Sarah said.
Amanda, chewing, looking forward, pretended not to hear.
“I had a dream about a monster,” Amanda said, “over and over the same dream.”
Grandmother Rebecca looked stricken.
Sarah described the monster again.
“I used to have that dream,” Grandmother Rebecca said. “I used to have that same dream. But I told it to leave you alone. If I said yes it was supposed to leave you alone. Your mother, all of you. I told it.”
Sarah looked at her grandmother, hard. Her grandmother fretted with the zipper of her jacket. Only Amanda seemed undisturbed by their grandmother’s revelation.
“When was this?” Sarah asked.
“When I was a little girl, so of course none of you existed, but he said he’d come for you unless I said yes. He wanted in to this world. My mother warned me. It had come to her. It said if I said no, it would come for my daughters, and my daughter’s daughters. I had to. I thought I had to.”
“Wasn’t there anyone to help you? The Elves?”
“Elves? There are still Elves in the world? I thought they’d all left. Under the sea or something like that.”
“Here comes mom,” Amanda said.
They all looked. Sarah’s mother walked fast, taking short steps, her arms crossed on her chest.
She stopped before them, distracted. They could see it on her face. They had all failed her. She didn’t know where to start.
“Do you want a sandwich?” Amanda said. “There’s one in the bag for you.”
“Amanda it’s your birthday.” Sarah’s mother’s voice trembled. “Your party is ruined.” Her face looked pinched, her mouth small and drawn down, her shoulders tight. She wore a long dark print dress and a blue sweater.
“You know I work so hard for this family. Why won’t any of you do anything. Why won’t any of you even try.”
Sarah’s mother put her hands on her hips.
“Mother,” she said to Sarah’s grandmother, “you know this is just your way of getting what you want. I told you I can’t let you stay with us. You know I have two kids to raise alone. I’m trying so hard.”
She shook. Sarah thought of herself on the beach beside the Wizard two years ago.
“Sarah,” her mother faltered. She looked away. “Sarah, I told you to stay home. Take your sister home. I need to talk to your grandmother alone.”
Sarah stood, taking Amanda’s hand and pulling her up. Sarah’s mother sat down, slumping, beginning to cry, her shaking becoming sobbing heaves. Her mother cried a lot since her father’s death three years ago. Grandmother Rebecca put her arm around her daughter.
Sarah walked away with her sister, but not toward home. She took her sister to the Elves.
* * * *
Sarah walked her sister through the park, past the Japanese Tea Gardens, the Asian Art Museum and the Academy of Sciences, holding her skateboard in one hand and her sister’s hand in the other. Just before they left the park, two O-boys stepped onto the asphalt path ahead. One of them was James, the contacts in his eyes smoldering red in the twilight. SHe wondered again how they made them glow like that. His derby jacket seemed a size too big on his skinny frame. The other O-boy looked even younger, and bow-legged, with a ripped white t-shirt and no jacket. The younger one kept looking around nervously, pulling at his shirt, straightening and unstraightening it, unable to stand still, his red eyes shi
fting in the gloom. Beyond them, the City streets opened out and cars sped by behind the trees.
“Where’re you going?” the younger one said.
“She can pass,” James said. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. His pock-marked face sullen, he shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped out of the way.
“No one in or out,” the younger one said, pointing at Sarah.
“Shut up,” James said. The lines on his face drew tight as he clenched his jaw, staring down the younger one.
The younger one stepped out of the way.
Sarah led her sister on, pausing when she passed James.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Fuck you,” he said. “Get out of here.”
Sarah sneered, pulling Amanda past.
“Yeah, nice contacts,” she said, “so scary.”
It did unnerve her. That’s why she mentioned it.
“They’re not contacts,” James said.
Sarah didn’t look back.
“What does he mean by that?” Amanda asked.
“Quiet,” Sarah said.
“What are they?”
“Quiet.”
Two blocks out of the park, Sarah and Amanda ran into a group of Elves led by Aladuniel.
“You’re lucky you didn’t run in to any O-boys,” Aladuniel said. “They are everywhere. They’re gathering in the long shadow again. We’ve been sent to look for you. Lady G said you would bring your sister.”
Aladuniel knelt beside Amanda.
“Any sister of Sarah’s is a sister of ours,” he said. “I name you Elf-friend.” He bowed his head. The other Elves put their hands over their hearts. “Elf-friend,” they said together.
Sarah looked around, embarrassed. No one on the street, running errands or heading our for a late lunch, seemed to notice. No one ever did seem to notice the Elves. Maybe they just thought they were geeks and ignored them. Amanda giggled.
“We don’t have time for this, Al,” Sarah said, not knowing if that was true. “Take me to Lady G.”
When Aladuniel ushered Sarah and Amanda in to see Lady G on the second floor of the Elves’ warehouse, the Lady was not alone. The Wizard of Ashes and Rain sat in a rolling ergonomic chair.
“I heard you were looking for me,” the Wizard said to Sarah. The Wizard wore layers of ragged unbuttoned sweaters and a pair of grimy jeans. He was shoeless, and his salt and pepper hair hung past his shoulders. His face had the sunburnt and leathered look of steetpeople who slept outside too much. He had a long scar near his right ear. His staff, gnarled and black, sat across his knees. Behind the Wizard and Lady G, the screensaver on Lady G’s computer was on, filling in the red lidless eye dot by dot.
“Oh, it’s good to — I thought you were —”
Sarah wanted to hug the Wizard, though they had never hugged before. Except for the time he had held her hands over the tynka plate, they had never even touched.
“You were looking for me, so I came back to help you,” the Wizard said. “I guess I still have a part to play.” he sighed. “The story can be so demanding.”
Sarah told Lady G and the Wizard what her grandmother told her. Neither looked at all surprised. The Wizard just nodded his head.
Lady G leaned forward toward Amanda.
“It’s all right. You couldn’t have known.”
Then Sarah noticed that Amanda was crying.
“What is it?” Sarah said. “Amanda?”
“She already said yes,” Lady G said. “Sometime this morning.”
“I read it myself,” The Wizard said, “in the wheel.”
“I’m sorry,” Amanda said. She spoke in a rush. “The other me, the one from the dream, led me into the park, after you left, before I saw grandma. To the wooden bridge by the lake in the arboretum. The other me was the monster, or from the monster, or something. And if I said yes it wouldn’t bother me anymore, so I did.” She took Sarah’s hand again. “Please don’t go away again. I’m sorry. I know I was supposed to wait for you.”
“The monster is resting,” Lady G said, “waiting for the night to move against us.”
“I’m sorry,” her sister said again. “Please.”
“You’ve hardly even talked to me in the past year,” Sarah said, “now you’re worried I’ll leave you?”
“Amanda,” the Wizard said, “I’ve seen this sort of thing before, many times, and for all the dreamers, I’ve only known one to say no. One. It’s all right. The story tells itself. It always does. It didn’t let me go home, did it? So, you played your part. It’s all right. We all do.”
Amanda did not look away from Sarah. “Please.”
Sarah sighed, touching the tears on Amanda’s cheek. “Of course I’m staying.” Would she ever understand her sister? She supposed she never would. She hugged her.
Amanda, still holding Sarah around the waist, looked back at Lady G. “Am I still an Elf-friend?” she asked.
“Of course.”
Oh, God, Sarah thought, don’t hang with the Elves. Please, no.
“Come on,” Lady G said. “There’s not much time before nightfall. We have to be ready to head into the park, to the arboretum”
“To the bridge?” Sarah asked.
“Yes, where we should find the O-boys gathering. And then the story will be finished.”
* * * *
The Elves set out into the park after nightfall, fanning out in small groups. They met groups of O-boys almost immediately. There was fighting reported, though Sarah didn’t see it where she was, in the back of the main group with her sister, Lady G and the Wizard. But mostly, the O-boys fell back as the Elves advanced, as if wanting them to come in, almost showing them where to go. They entered the arboretum about midnight. The open area of the arboretum covered two fenced in miles. Except for the O-boys and Elves, the park was quiet and empty of people. The O-boys must have chased the other homeless people away. Amanda had to help her sister over the fence. She didn’t see how Lady G made it in.
“Mom’s going to kill us for staying out so late,” Amanda had said, jumping down on the other side.
“Unless the monster kills us first,” Sarah said.
Her sister just looked at her.
“It was a joke.”
Near the entranceway to the arboretum, an old tree stood in a large field. The Elves regarded it as sacred. Each one touched the trunk and spoke a word of Elvish before moving off toward a path across the field which sloped down to a lake where they found the O-boys massing on the far side, their eyes bright red in the moonlight. They seemed to be chanting something in a low guttural tone. It made Sarah’s skin crawl. She couldn’t stop watching their eyes, darting, blinking out or staring across at the Elves.
A wooden bridge spanned the lake at a narrow point in its middle. The Elves gathered on one side, the O-boys waited on the other, shouting taunts. The number of Elves was pitifully few, not even half the number of the black-booted O-boys. The ducks in the pond flew off as the O-boys began to throw rocks. The Elves backed out of range of the missiles, which hit the ground before them with loud thumps. The moon was full, shining behind the fog, making everything seem to glow, dimly luminous. The trees over them seemed to be holding up their arms and swaying in a slow-motion dance, crowding over them to see what would happen.
Sarah scanned the O-boys for James, but she couldn’t spot him in the gloom. She was surprised when her grandmother came up behind her.
“What —?
“I wouldn’t miss this.”
“How did you get rid of mom? She let you just stay in the park?”
“Oh, I agreed to stay at your house, for her sake.”
“Yes.” Sarah looked down, embarrassed.
“But I slipped out when she wasn’t looking. I haven’t seen Elves in an age. Aren’t they wonderful?”
“They are,” Amanda said.
Sarah looked at them. Not really, she thought. Though they did stand bravely in their overlarge shirts with the billowing sleeves, seemingly un
afraid of the much larger body of O-boys. But still.
“But where’s the monster?” Sarah asked the Wizard who sat nearby on an old stump.
“Under the bridge,” the Wizard said. He smiled at Sarah’s grandmother. “Hello, Rebecca.”
Sarah’s grandmother smiled back. She had on an overcoat, but Sarah could see she had slippers on her feet, and the edge of her nightgown peeked below the long coat. How had she gotten over the fence?
The Wizard laughed as a bare drizzle started to fall. He caught some drops on his tongue.
“I think it’s time to end this,” the Wizard said, sighing. He stood. “Goodbye, Amanda, Rebecca.” He shook their hands. “Goodbye, Sarah. If you need me again, look for me in the West, in the far place.”
“What are you going to do?”
“You’ll see.” The Wizard took her hands in both of his and squeezed.
The Wizard turned and headed toward the bridge. He’ll be hit by rocks, Sarah thought. But instead the O-boys became quiet, no longer shouting or moving, just watching. The rain increased. It seemed to cow the O-boys.
The Wizard looked older and more tired than Sarah had ever seen him. He leaned heavily on his staff, and picked his way carefully down the path that led on to the bridge. He waited on the bridge with his head bowed, almost fallen against his staff. His sweaters sagged off him, becoming heavier and heavier with rain.
It was not long before the monster emerged from under the bridge. A long, bony hand reached out and clasped the edge, then the monster pulled itself up and peeked over with one fish eye. Amanda took Sarah’s hand as the monster put another hand up on the railing and hauled itself out of dream and into the world. It stood for a moment outside the railing, regarding the wizard, before leaping over in one bounce and landing on the bridge. Sarah took a step back involuntarily. It was ten feet tall and had a long, impossible and grotesque corkscrew nose. Its two mouths where its eyes should have been gnashed and grimaced. Sarah couldn’t breathe or move.
The Wizard looked horribly small and overmatched before the monster. In his torn rags, barefoot, leaning on his staff as if he might collapse, the Wizard looked up at the monster towering above him. The monster reached out with its long bony fingers — sharp claws emerged as from a cat’s paw. This had come in her sister’s dream. Sarah thought, if it had come to me, I would have said yes to get rid of it too.
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