The Children's Crusade

by Carla Jablonski

  After the first shock of the chaos had worn off, Marya could see why this place had fascinated Daniel. The shop windows were full of such amazing things. She couldn’t imagine what they were for or what they did. The people looked so interesting, their faces displaying every conceivable emotion, their clothing clashing in wild disharmony. There was so much movement, so much to see.

  Marya watched an unlikely pair of women cross a street. One wore thick, dark face paint, with black rings around her eyes. Tattoos covered the bare arms revealed by her black sleeveless shirt. Next to her was a woman dressed in bright colors, her blond curls pulled into a bouncy tail on top of her head. What struck Marya most was that the woman in black had a big smile on her face and the perky-looking one was scowling angrily. As they crossed to the other side, a young man on a wheeled board veered between them. And a man with exposed knees, white socks, and sandals nearly backed into them as he held a small device in front of his eyes and clicked, pointing the box at a tall building.

  “It’s like a dance,” Marya exclaimed. Somehow all the dancers managed to keep to the imperceptible pattern and not smash into each other.

  A sparkling display caught her eye. She stopped to peer into the window of a jewelry store. Bracelets and necklaces sat in velvet cases, glittering in the afternoon light.

  This might be just the place, Marya decided. Fixing her bracelet was one of the tasks she had been determined to accomplish in her time away from Free Country.

  She opened the door and stepped inside. A little bell jangled, announcing her presence. The store was quiet and clean.

  A stout man looked up when he heard the bell. He held a case of gold rings that he was just returning to the glass cabinet. He slipped the case onto a shelf and turned the key in the lock.

  He eyed Marya, and she realized it might be unusual to be barefoot in the city. She awkwardly stood with one foot on top of the other, trying to cover up the worst of the dirt.

  “Yes, miss?” the man said.

  “Do you fix things?” Marya asked.

  “We’ve been known to. If it’s jewelry you’re talking about.”

  Marya smiled. “Good.” She pulled her precious bracelet from her pouch. “Can you fix this?” She held the bracelet out to the man.

  He squinted at it. “Possibly, possibly.” He took the bracelet from her. His hand felt warm and clammy.

  “Mmm.” He turned the bracelet over, then held it up to the light. His squinty eyes opened wide. “Good lord!” he exclaimed. “A Lermontov!”

  His hand closed around the bracelet. Marya didn’t like the way it disappeared into his fat hand.

  He leaned over the counter and glared at her. “All right, young woman. Where did you steal this?”

  Shocked by the accusation, Marya replied indignantly, “My mother gave it to me! Empress Anna gave it to her. But it didn’t fit her right so she gave it to me.” There. That should settle things. She rummaged in her pouch and brought out an apple. It was shiny and perfect. “Will you fix it? I’ll give you an apple.”

  “An apple?” the man bellowed. He leaned over the counter even farther. His face was mere inches from Marya’s. His breath was stale. “Off with you this instant! And be glad I don’t have you arrested.” He pointed sternly toward the door.

  Marya stared back at him. Why did her bracelet make him so angry? She looked at the apple. It’s a particularly nice apple, she thought, the best of the lot. Maybe I should have offered two?

  The man came out from behind the counter, placed a meaty hand on Marya’s slight shoulder, and practically shoved her out the door. “Go! And don’t let me see you here again, or I shall call the police on you!”

  The door slammed behind her.

  “But…my bracelet…” she protested meekly. Marya had been in Free Country for an awfully long time. It had been ages since anyone had treated her so roughly. She wasn’t sure how to respond.

  Feeling defeated and forlorn, she leaned against one of the potted plants that stood on either side of the jewelry store door. “My mother gave it to me,” she murmured. She traced a pattern on the pavement with her big toe. “It’s all I have left…” Marya crossed her thin arms over her chest and tried to keep herself from crying.

  “What’s wrong?” the potted plant asked.

  This didn’t surprise Marya. In Free Country, that sort of thing happened all the time.

  “That store man took my bracelet,” Marya explained to the plant. “He said I’d stolen it, then he took it.”

  An interesting face appeared between the parted fronds of the plant. “Oh, he did, did he?” the person in the plant said.

  Marya was pretty sure it was a woman’s face. She wore paint on her lips and her eyelids, but her hair was short, even shorter than most of the boys’ in Free Country. And it was a purplish black, like the color of a bruise. Marya had never seen anyone with hair that color before. A sparkly jewel glittered in the side of the woman’s nose.

  “I just wanted the man to fix it,” Marya explained, “so I could wear it again. But now it’s gone.”

  The long ferns parted, and now Marya could clearly see that the plant person was a woman, even though her clothing seemed more appropriate for a man. She wore a white button down shirt, a skinny black tie, black pants with black suspenders, and a long white apron. She leaped through the leaves and over the side of the large cement container that held the plant. She dropped a cigarette to the pavement and stubbed it out with her heavy black shoe. “You just stay here,” the woman said. “I’ll take care of this.”

  Marya watched as the determined woman pushed open the jewelry store door and stepped inside.

  Marya sat down on the cement plant holder and waited. A few minutes later, the woman came out, dangling the bracelet in front of her. “Here you go,” the woman said.

  Marya had no idea how the woman had done it, but she was thrilled. “Thank you!” she exclaimed, taking it back. The bracelet could stay broken, as long as she never came that close to losing it again.

  The woman stretched, then grinned. “No problem.”

  “Are you a dancer?” Marya asked the woman. “You move like a dancer.”

  “Me? A dancer?” The woman laughed. “Not even close. Though this waitress gig has me on my feet all day. Spinning and ducking and lifting.”

  “Oh!” Marya reached into her bag and pulled out an apple. “Would you like an apple? They’re very nice.”

  She held the apple out to the woman. She wanted to give her something as a reward for retrieving her bracelet. She knew that when someone does you a favor you should always show your thanks with a gift. That was the way it was done in the palace. If her mother worked extra hard to be sure the empress’s dress had three dozen more feathers on it, the empress would often give her a little gift. Or if her mother delivered a secret message, or sent someone away that the empress wished to avoid, another gift would arrive. Sometimes a gift for Marya would be sent along, too. That was before Marya had been taken away to learn to dance. She never received any gifts after that.

  “My name’s Annie,” the waitress said, eyeing the apple.

  “I’m Marya. Really, the apple is quite good,” she assured Annie. “It isn’t a bit like in Snow White.”

  Annie laughed. “Believe me, I’d never be mistaken for that gal.” She took the apple and bit into it. A huge grin spread across her face and her eyes shut as if she were thinking the nicest thoughts in the world. “Mmmmm. This is delicious.” Her eyes popped open. They were a lovely shade of chocolate brown. “I haven’t had an apple this good since I was six or seven.”

  “Why were you in the plant?” Marya asked. After meeting the man who lived in a box, she wondered if the tree was where Annie lived.

  “I wasn’t in the plant,” Annie explained, crunching on the apple. “I was on the other side, sneaking a ciggie. I swore I’d quit, so I didn’t want anyone to catch me from the café. I heard you and wanted to find out who it was speaking on the other side.
”

  “Oh.”

  “I was on a break…which is quite over now. Well, it helps to be headwaitress.” She gave Marya a once-over, as she took another bite of the apple. A little juice trickled down her chin. She wiped it off and grinned. “For this, I owe you a fizzy drink at least.”

  Annie lay a hand with painted blue fingernails on Marya’s shoulder. Her hand was calloused and rough, but her touch was light. Not like the clamping paw of the man in the jewelry store.

  “All right,” Marya said. “But I can’t stay long. I have to find somebody.”

  Annie walked Marya around the plant and opened the door to a cheerful café. Black-and-white linoleum made a checkerboard pattern on the floor. Booths ran along the large windows, and red leather stools with chrome posts sat before a shiny silver counter. One little old lady sat at a booth, nursing a cup of tea. Two boys about Marya’s age sat at the counter, sipping tall frosty drinks through straws.

  “This place is a lot bigger than I thought it would be,” Marya said, settling onto a stool at the very end of the counter.

  “What, the café?” Annie asked. She slipped behind the chrome counter and reached below it for a tall glass, which she filled with ice.

  “No,” Marya replied, “the city.”

  Annie used a strange hose to fill the glass with liquid. “So you’re not from around here, I take it?” Annie gave Marya the glass and popped a straw into it. Marya took a sip of the sweet, bubbly drink.

  “No,” Marya replied. The bubbles tickled, and her nose wrinkled.

  “I should have guessed that from your accent,” Annie said, “which is quite lovely, I must say.” She leaned against the back counter and took another bite of the apple.

  “Thank you. So is yours,” Marya said. She liked the rough way the waitress spoke. It made her sound like she had grit in her teeth.

  “You’re supposed to meet someone here?” Annie asked. “Or near here?”

  “Oh no,” Marya said, making the high seat swivel. It squeaked a little. “He doesn’t know I’m looking for him.”

  “I know the feeling, luv.” Annie laughed. “So give us a hint. How do you propose to find this mystery man?”

  Marya held the glass and thought seriously about the question. She realized that she didn’t have a plan at all. “I haven’t decided yet.”

  She couldn’t fail this mission. No matter what she thought of Kerwyn, Free Country needed help. Besides, if she failed in getting Tim to Free Country, Kerwyn would decide it was because she was a girl, and she didn’t like that. Not at all.

  “I guess I thought I would just know how to find him once I got here,” Marya confessed. She hoped that didn’t make her sound foolish.

  Annie grinned. “Just as I suspected. You’re one of those optimists I keep hearing about.” She winked at Marya. “Well, it’s a slow shift. Tell you what. For a small commission, I’ll see if I can’t help you find your gentleman.”

  Marya could not believe her good fortune. First this kind woman had retrieved her bracelet, and now she was going to help her with her mission. “Oh, that would be wonderful!” Marya’s brow furrowed. “What’s a commission?”

  Annie tossed the apple core into a trash bin. “In this case, another of those apples. If you can spare another, that is.”

  That seemed fair. Marya solemnly handed over another apple, shining it first on the hem of her dress.

  Annie picked up a thick book from the back counter. “Now to business. This mysterious young man of yours. He is young, isn’t he?” She plopped the book down in front of Marya.

  “Yes. About my age.”

  “Splendid. And he does have a name, doesn’t he?”

  Marya giggled. “Of course he does. It’s Timothy. Timothy Hunter.”

  Annie flipped open the book. She turned several of the pages. Marya saw that the pages were filled with long lists of names with numbers beside them.

  Annie ran her blue fingernail along one page. “Figures. There must be a thousand Hunters in here.” She glanced at Marya. “You wouldn’t know his old man’s name, would you? Or his mum’s?”

  “I don’t think he has a mother anymore.” Marya bit her lip, trying to remember. “But I think Kerwyn said that his father’s name is…William.”

  “Then he’ll be a Bill or a Will or a William. There can’t be more than forty of them. Piece of cake.”

  “No, thank you.” Marya was too excited about finding Timothy Hunter to eat.

  “What?” Annie looked confused for a moment, then she smiled. “Oh. No. It’s an expression: piece of cake. It means dead easy.”

  “Oh.”

  Annie balanced the book on one arm and plucked a strange-looking device from a holder on the wall. She punched little buttons on it and grinned at Marya. “I’ll just phone them all,” she promised.

  So that must be what that interesting thing is, Marya observed. A phone. I’ve heard about them from the children who came to Free Country recently from this world.

  “Hello?” Annie said into the telephone. “Is this the Hunter residence? This sounds odd, I know, but do you happen to have a boy named Timothy? Sorry to trouble you, then. Ta.”

  She put the phone back into its cradle on the wall, then faced Marya and shrugged. “One down. Thirty-nine to go.”

  Annie punched number after number. She sometimes had to stop, as people came into the café. Annie chatted up the customers and brought them plates of food. While she did this, Marya held her finger on the line in the phone book so that Annie wouldn’t lose her spot in the long column of names and numbers.

  What with the frequent breaks, quite a bit of time had passed when they reached the end of the list.

  Annie placed a plate in front of Marya. “You must be hungry by now,” she said.

  Marya stared down at the plate. On it sat two slices of toasted bread, with something yellow and gooey oozing out the sides.

  “Go on,” Annie encouraged her. “That grilled cheese won’t bite.”

  Marya didn’t feel hungry, but she picked up the sandwich anyway and nibbled one corner, without moving her finger from the spot on the page. Annie had gone to the trouble of fixing her this snack. She couldn’t be rude and not eat it. Not after Annie had helped her so much.

  “Come on. It’s not the end of the world,” Annie said. She rested her elbows on the counter. “What’s so special about this Tim anyway?”

  “He’s magic.”

  Marya could feel Annie’s chocolate-colored eyes on her. Had that been the wrong thing to say? But it was the truth. That was what was so special about Timothy Hunter.

  Annie stood back up and placed her fists on her hips. “He is, is he?”

  Marya snuck a peek at Annie from under her long lashes and saw that she was smiling.

  “Well, perhaps we won’t give up on him just yet,” Annie said. “We’ve got one last William to try.”

  Annie turned the directory around so that it faced her. Marya lifted her finger so that Annie could read the number.

  Annie punched in numbers again. Marya wished and hoped for luck.

  “Hello? Is Timothy Hunter there?” Annie covered the mouthpiece with one hand. Her brown eyes twinkled. “We’ve got it!” she exclaimed. Then she lowered her voice and added, “The mister sounds a right old sourpuss though.”

  Marya’s heart thudded. It was finally going to happen. She was finally going to contact Timothy Hunter, the great magician!

  Annie uncovered the phone. “Is this Mr. Hunter?” she said. “It is! Well, I’m calling on behalf of a young woman who’s traveled a considerable distance to see your son.”

  Marya nodded. That was certainly true. She wondered how much farther she was going to have to travel.

  “Actually, I don’t know why,” Annie said. “Why don’t you ask her yourself.”

  She held the phone out to Marya. Marya stared at the odd-looking thing for a moment, then wrapped her fingers around it, blinking with confusion.

  It wa
s lighter than it looked. Marya turned it back and forth in her hands, puzzling over how to best use the talking device.

  “Hello?” she said tentatively, her mouth midway between the two circular ends.

  She heard a voice coming out of one side. She quickly brought that end up to her ear. “Hello?” she repeated.

  “What’s this all about?” a gruff voice demanded. “Has Tim caused more trouble?”

  The man in the telephone sounded harsh and angry. It made her stomach tighten. She reminded herself that she was terribly close to finding Timothy Hunter. That made her feel braver.

  “No, it’s nothing like that,” Marya explained. “I just want to talk to Timothy. It’s important.”

  “Tim’s not here. He never seems to be here these days.”

  “Oh. Maybe he’s not there because you’re so angry,” Marya suggested. “Would it be all right if—”

  Marya heard a click, then an odd, flat buzzing sound.

  She lowered the phone. “He stopped talking. Now there’s just this buzzy noise.”

  Annie took the phone, listened for a moment, then hung up. “I’m afraid he’s rung off on you, dear.” She glanced down at the phone book. “Well, if I had to live in Ravenknoll, I’d probably be a grumpasaurus, too.”

  Marya’s green eyes widened. “You mean that book tells where he lives?”

  “You bet.” Annie nodded. “Thirty-four Traven House, Ravenknoll Estate. That’s a Council home. I’ve got an A-to-Zed of London down here. I’ll show you where it is.”

  Annie reached under a counter and pulled out a book of maps. She flipped it open. “See, that’s where we are now. And that’s where your Timothy Hunter lives.”

  Marya stared down at the squiggly lines. So this is London, she thought. Somewhere in this jumble of streets lives a master magician. And it’s my mission to find him.

  Annie went to wait on more customers, and Marya studied the pattern of the map, memorizing names and turns and directions. Satisfied that she knew her way, she hopped off the stool and slung her pouch over her shoulder.