Rumors of War
Jinx awoke to the creak of wagon wheels and the smell of dye, wool, and sugarplum syrup.
“Try not to bleed all over the broadcloth bolts, wizard boy,” said Tolliver.
“Gooseberry Clearing is closest.” Quenild’s voice, speaking Urwish.
“Then take him there, please,” said Sophie.
“No way,” said Tolliver. “They’d eat him or something. They’re all cretins in Gooseberry Clearing.”
“Hey,” Jinx objected weakly. “’M from Gooseb’ry Clearing.”
“See? Proves my point,” said Tolliver. “Anyway I notice you didn’t stay there.”
Jinx didn’t answer. He was feeling very sick. Too sick to even mind that Sophie was fussing over him, or to count how many arms he had.
“They won’t be able to help him in Gooseberry Clearing,” said Quenild.
“Where can you take him, then?” Sophie said.
The Wanderers switched abruptly to their own language.
Sophie leaned over Jinx. “What are they saying?”
Jinx didn’t feel up to translating the whole thing. “They need to be in Bragwood b’fore th’ war starts. They know a place ’long th’ way.”
“What war?” said Sophie.
Jinx had no idea, and anyway answering seemed like too much work.
“King Bluetooth of Keyland’s declaring war on Rufus the Ruthless of Bragwood,” said Tolliver, switching back to Urwish. “We met the messengers with the war declaration back thataway. We gave ’em bad directions, sent ’em up toward the Boreal Wastes. But someone’ll probably set them straight.”
“Ours,” said Jinx.
“Hush, Jinx,” said Sophie, laying a hand on his good arm.
Jinx meant that the Urwald belonged to itself and its people, and that kings shouldn’t send messengers to declare wars across it. But he was much too tired and dizzy to explain.
“They told you they were carrying a war declaration?” said Sophie. “I’m surprised.”
“Nah, we guessed,” said Tolliver. “We’ve been expecting it for ages, ever since ol’ Ruthless let that Keylish boy king escape. What else was Keyland going to do?”
“We don’t like wars,” said Quenild. “Bad for business.”
“What are they saying?” came Wendell’s voice, in Samaran.
Sophie began translating for Wendell. Jinx realized muzzily that he hadn’t actually slept in three days. So he did.
“Better now, chipmunk?”
Jinx opened his eyes blurrily. The world was full of Dame Glammer’s face.
He tried to back away. “How many arms have I got?”
Dame Glammer cackled, which was not helpful.
Jinx looked down. His right arm was a mass of bandages. He tried to move it, and couldn’t. He panicked, then realized that was because it was strapped tightly to his chest, bound with the shreds of his Temple robe. His arm hurt. A lot.
“Broken in two places,” said Dame Glammer. “And torn up, right from one end to the other. Can you move your fingers? I won’t be a bit surprised if you can’t.”
Jinx tried. Pain shot through his arm. He gasped.
“You’re lucky you have an arm at all. I never did see a chickabiddy come out of a troll’s mouth in one piece before.
“The Wanderers brought you to me. Along with that wife of Simon’s that we’ve all heard so little about, and a very strange young man who doesn’t speak a word of Urwish—except your name.”
Her eyes gleamed orange, and Jinx was suddenly reminded that Dame Glammer was not on his side. Not on anybody’s side, according to Simon. Simon! Jinx remembered the Bonemaster’s deadline. He struggled to get up. Dizziness overcame him.
The witch’s clawlike hand landed on his shoulder. “Not so fast, chipmunk. We don’t want to faint again, do we? We’ve been doing nothing but faint for two days.”
Two days. Simon was surely dead. “What day is it?” Jinx demanded.
“Wednesday, chipmunk.”
Wednesday. He was too late to save Simon.
Suddenly Sophie was there. “Jinx! You’re awake. Thank goodness.” She was speaking Urwish. “This kind woman—”
“Don’t trust her,” said Jinx in Samaran. “She’s not on our side.”
Sophie frowned. “But she’s helped us.”
“She helps the Bonemaster too.”
Dame Glammer grinned. “Well, I’ll just leave you to talk in your funny language.”
“Pardon us,” said Sophie, in Urwish. The witch shuffled out. Sophie switched back to Samaran. “The Bonemaster? The evil wizard Simon was apprenticed to?”
“Yeah.” Jinx suddenly found he didn’t want to discuss Simon or the Bonemaster with Sophie at all. “Where’s Wendell?”
“Out digging a new vegetable patch for the witch. Jinx, we have to get you home. I’ll go and get Simon.”
Jinx felt sudden hope. “Get Simon? He’s here?”
“No, I mean go to his house, of course. He’ll know some magic way to move you. He can levitate you or something.”
“You can’t go there alone,” said Jinx. “It’s too dangerous.”
A blue flash of annoyance. “I certainly can.”
“No, you can’t. You’re not an Urwalder. You’ll get eaten by something. And it’s far, and you don’t know the way.”
Sophie pursed her lips. “Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Jinx. I’ll stick to the Path, and I’ll ask directions.”
Bright silver glow—she really wanted to see Simon. Jinx felt awful about this. “Look, there’s something I have to tell you.”
Sophie’s thoughts turned to ice-blue fear. “What?”
“Um, Simon isn’t exactly there.”
“What do you mean, not exactly there?”
“I mean he’s, um, well he’s kind of . . .”
“Is he dead?”
“Not exactly.” Jinx couldn’t bring himself to say that he probably was, by now.
“Not exactly?” Sophie’s voice rose angrily. “What exactly does ‘not exactly’ mean?”
“I mean the last time I saw him he was kind of trapped inside a giant slab of ice.”
“Tell me exactly what you mean,” said Sophie, with iron. “And don’t leave anything out.”
Jinx told her. He was feeling dizzier, and his arm and head were both aching abominably, so he kept it short.
“And you knew that, and you let me think he was at home waiting for us?”
“I didn’t know it when I saw you the first time.”
“But you knew it when you came to the prison on Sunday night. And you lied to me.”
“Of course I did!” said Jinx angrily. “If I hadn’t, you would have gone all gray and hopeless and refused to even try to get out of your cell!”
He really couldn’t believe how ungrateful she was being. He was about to tell her so, when he saw the thick brown cloud of pain surrounding her. He shut his mouth.
“We have to—” She looked down at his arm. “Well, I have to go and find the Bonemaster, then.”
“No way,” said Jinx. “That’s exactly what you can’t do. He—”
“I’m rather tired of you telling me what I can’t do, Jinx.”
“He’ll seriously kill you,” said Jinx. “Or else he’ll take you hostage to make me do something—like bring him Simon’s bottled life.”
“Simon’s what?” said Sophie.
Oops. “Nothing.”
“Simon’s bottled life? Are you talking about the Qunthk bottle spell?”
“Kind of,” said Jinx.
Dame Glammer came back into the cottage.
“Why on earth did Simon bottle his own lifeforce?” Sophie asked.
“He didn’t. The Bonemaster did. The same as Simon did to me that time. And now the Bonemaster wants Simon’s lifeforce back. And he wants a bunch of other stuff. Power. Magic. KnIP. Books. A way into Samara.”
Sophie frowned. “You’ve just created a way into Samara.”
Jinx
looked at Dame Glammer. She had definitely heard and understood “Samara.”
“I think we should stop talking about this right now,” he said meaningly. “But you absolutely can’t—I mean please don’t go anywhere.”
“I have to—”
“No, I have to,” said Jinx. “Because I’m a magician and you’re not. This is magician stuff.”
Bright blue determination. “Then I’ll become one.”
“What?” Jinx was feeling very dizzy, and the room and Sophie had unaccountably started to spin.
“I said I’ll become one. Jinx, are you all right?”
It’s not that easy, Jinx wanted to say, and anyway it’s already too late. But he couldn’t seem to say anything, or even think straight. He seemed to be sliding into a black pit and there was no way to stop himself.
Confusing things happened after that. There was a lot of pain in Jinx’s arm. But then the pain floated up to the ceiling, and slipped away through the thatch. It was then that Jinx realized that Dame Glammer’s cottage was underwater. This worried him at first, because he couldn’t swim, but it seemed to be all right. Nixies drifted past, but didn’t mess with him. Tall plants wavered in the water. Faces floated by—Dame Glammer, grinning, Sophie and Wendell, worried, and once, oddly, Elfwyn.
Then Jinx got up and walked through the water. He pushed it aside, and it parted. There was a path between high walls of glass. At the end of the path was darkness. Curious, he walked toward the darkness. It was difficult, like walking through heavy snow.
“Stop right there, boy.”
Jinx stopped, surprised. “Simon?”
“Don’t come down here.” Simon’s voice issued from the darkness ahead.
“But I have to get to you,” said Jinx. “I was supposed to rescue you.”
“Rescue me? You think I can’t take care of myself?”
“Well, you weren’t doing a great job of it last time I saw you,” said Jinx. “You were frozen into a big block of ice.”
“You mind your own business, boy. And stay away from here.”
“But you’re just down the path.”
“Nonsense. There is no path,” said Simon.
And Jinx realized that Simon was right—the path had been coming into existence only as Jinx walked.
“I want to know what the Bonemaster did to you,” said Jinx.
“Even he doesn’t know that,” said Simon. “And as long as we can keep him from finding out, you might have a chance.”
“What about you?” said Jinx. “Have you got a chance?”
“Once he figures out what he’s done, he can strike at you through me,” said Simon. “You think I’ll let that happen?”
“What do you mean?” said Jinx.
“Never you mind. Go and do what you’re supposed to.”
Jinx wavered. What he was supposed to do, he was pretty sure, was rescue Simon. He took another step. It was getting even harder to move.
“I’m warning you, Jinx. Three more steps and you won’t be able to stop any of this.”
“Any of what?” said Jinx. He took another step, and it was nearly impossible, as if he was stuck in deep mud. His feet and legs seemed to weigh a ton.
Simon didn’t answer.
“Simon?” One more step, and it was like moving through lead.
No answer. Simon seemed to be gone, but the darkness and the glass walls remained.
And going any farther might break things, things that he was pretty sure weren’t supposed to be broken, or at least not yet.
Jinx woke up, but couldn’t open his eyes. They were gummed shut. He heard voices, and was surprised that one of them was Elfwyn’s.
“He’s going to be all right, Grandma?”
“Oh yes. Just a spot of infection and a few days of babbling and screeching—he said the most surprising things—but that woman kept boiling up her brews and making poultices. Went through my cupboards like she owned the place!”
“Good,” said Elfwyn. “I like Sophie.”
“Where does she come from?” said Dame Glammer.
“Samara. Don’t use my curse, Grandma. I know where that came from.”
“Do you, now?”
“Yes. You cursed me.” Grim green determination. “And that means you can tell me how to undo it.”
“That’s just what I can’t do, dearie.”
“Yes, you can,” said Elfwyn. “You can if anyone can.”
“That’s what I mean, chickabiddy.”
There was an awful pause. Elfwyn appeared to figure out what the witch meant at the same time Jinx did.
“That fool of a mother of yours didn’t teach you a thing about witchcraft,” said Dame Glammer. “Don’t you know where the power for a witch’s curse comes from?”
Jinx listened. He didn’t know.
“Yes,” said Elfwyn. “Of course.”
“And don’t you know what happens to a witch’s curse, as time goes by?”
“No,” said Elfwyn. Churning orange trepidation. She at least suspected something.
“It gets ingrown,” said Dame Glammer. “The curse was made from your own lifeforce, when you were just a wee chickabiddy. But then what happened? Your lifeforce grew, and changed, and became more your own, and the curse grew and changed and curled into itself and sprouted through itself and wound around itself until it’s as much a part of you now as your own lovely voice. More.”
“But isn’t there some way to take it out?”
“No more than there’s a way to take out your skeleton.”
“How could you do that to me?” Elfwyn’s voice rose angrily. “You knew you were doing it, too! I was just a baby and you cursed me for life and you knew you were doing it!”
Dame Glammer cackled, and Jinx suddenly wanted to jump up and shake her. But he stayed quiet, so he could listen.
“You think it’s a curse, chickabiddy? You still think it’s a curse?”
“Yes, and yes,” said Elfwyn. “There, I answered both your stupid questions, because I had to. I hate you.”
“Of course you do, dearie. Now go talk to the chipmunk. He’s awake.”
Jinx heard the witch’s footsteps recede. He managed to get his eyes unstuck as Elfwyn came and sat down on the floor beside him.
“You look awful,” she said.
“Thanks.” Jinx’s mouth felt thick and dry. “Is there any water?”
She brought him some.
He drank it all down in one gulp. “That really sucks about your curse.”
“She can’t be right,” said Elfwyn. “There has to be a way to undo it.”
“Is that really—I mean, that’s really how witch’s magic works, I guess. It uses the lifeforce of the—” He realized his voice was rising into a question intonation, and stopped. “I mean I guess a witch’s spell uses the lifeforce of the person that the spell’s being done on.”
“Wizards aren’t supposed to know that,” said Elfwyn.
“And that’s why it’s easier for a witch to do magic on a person.”
“Don’t tell anyone, please,” said Elfwyn.
“All right,” said Jinx. “Simon doesn’t know—” His dream came back to him, or his hallucination or whatever it had been. “Is Simon, um, well, dead?”
“I don’t know,” said Elfwyn. “I think not.”
“The Bonemaster said he would kill him.”
“I don’t think the Bonemaster can kill him. I think that wherever he put Simon, he can’t reach him now.”
“That’s what Simon said,” said Jinx.
“What?” Blue-green confusion.
“I mean I kind of had this dream, and Simon said the Bonemaster didn’t even know what he’d done to Simon.”
“That’s very weird,” said Elfwyn. “Because I think that’s actually true. What else was in your dream?”
“Ice,” said Jinx. “And a path that I couldn’t walk down. Or no, there wasn’t actually a path. And—well, to tell the truth I thought it was kind of about death,
or something.”
“I don’t think he’s dead,” said Elfwyn.
Jinx refrained from saying that Elfwyn also didn’t think her curse was permanent. Elfwyn was maybe taking too positive a view of things.
“Anyway, he still looks exactly the same as he did before,” said Elfwyn. “He’s still inside that ice or whatever it is. The Bonemaster didn’t do anything else to him and he didn’t even try, and I really think he’s got no idea what he’s done. That’s what I came to tell you.”
“How d— I wonder how you knew I was here.”
“Oh, that. My grandmother sent a message to me.”
“And the Bonemaster let you go?”
“Yes. That was a question.”
“Sorry.”
“Anyway, I have to go back to him now.”
“You can’t!” Jinx struggled to sit up. “You really can’t, Elfwyn. Supposing you end up like Simon.”
“I’m the only one who can find out how to beat the Bonemaster.”
Jinx saw that grim green determination and knew he could argue all day and not talk her out of it. “I bet he let you come here so that you could find stuff out and then he could get it out of you by asking questions.”
“Maybe,” said Elfwyn. “But you haven’t told me anything important.”
And I can’t, Jinx thought. He would have liked to tell her about the portal, and about Malthus and what he’d said about paths of fire and ice. He would’ve liked to ask her what she thought he should do about it all. But her curse made her a spy.
There was one thing he had to tell her, though.
“When the Bonemaster does figure out what he’s done to Simon—I need to know right away.” Jinx remembered the dream Simon saying, “He can strike at you through me. You think I’ll let that happen?” What would Simon do to himself to stop it from happening? “I mean really, really right away.”
“All right,” said Elfwyn.
“Oh, and there’s going to be a war. Between Keyland and Bragwood, with us stuck in the middle.” He told her what Tolliver had said. “Do you th— I wonder what the Bonemaster would do in a war.”
“I don’t know,” said Elfwyn. “But I know what Reven will do. He’ll ally himself with Rufus the Ruthless.”
“The king of Bragwood? But that’s the guy that killed Reven’s stepmother!” Jinx knew that amid all those calculating blue-and-green squares, the dead stepmother was one person Reven had genuinely cared about.
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