by Lynne Jonell
It worked now, too. The shimmering started, just as before. And, just as before, Will slowly lowered the book when he was sure he had the picture.
But the trees in front of him were no longer green and leafy. They were bare, and the ground before him was covered with snow.
Nan groaned. “It’s a different time!”
It was a different time from the one Jamie had gone into, and so was the next attempt. Half an hour later, Will had been to any number of times, and he was streaming with sweat. There had been three when the ground was white, two when the leaves were yellow, and five when the bracken was just curling out of the ground. There had even been two in summer, but Nan told him that the first was too late in the season—“Look at the hillside,” she said. “The heather is in full bloom.” And the second was obviously wrong even to Will, for when he turned slowly around, there was no castle there at all.
“It hasn’t been built yet,” said Nan, stating the obvious.
Will looked down at the place where, hundreds of years ago, two men had been murdered. “I have to get back to the point where we can see the bodies. Why can’t I? The first few times, the window opened on the very same minute, almost.”
Nan twisted a lock of hair around her finger. “Something must be different.”
“No lie.” Will shut his eyes to rest them.
“Let’s go over everything we did,” Nan suggested. “First, I was standing right here, and then Mum called up the hill to ask if we’d seen Jamie.”
Will stood up and faced the slope Cousin Elspeth had climbed. “I dropped the book when she came up. I put my hands in my pockets, like this.…”
He stopped.
“What?” said Nan.
“The cobnut.” Will swallowed. “It was still in my pocket from the day before. I tossed it up and down.…”
Nan looked at him. “The same cobnut? The one from the past?”
Will nodded once, jerkily. His neck felt stiff with dread.
“That’s what connected you to that time.” Nan put her hands on her hips. “And you threw it into the forest.”
A cold wave of terror washed through Will from his knees to his chest.
“Do you have any idea where it went?” Nan asked. “Did you see it fall?”
Will shook his head. He felt as if he had lost the ability to speak.
Nan’s straight brows seemed to join in the middle. “Right, then. We’ll just have to find it.”
Will said nothing. One tiny nut, somewhere on the forest floor, under bracken and rotting wood, surrounded by thousands of nuts left over from the year before? They would never find it, never. Some squirrel might have already eaten it for lunch.
Nan tossed her hair back out of her eyes. “I’ll go over and look. It’s got holes in it, right? You stay here and keep trying.”
Will gazed down at the faint forest track without seeing it. He was dimly aware of Nan’s crouching figure under the trees, busily pushing aside ferns and digging through the underbrush.
He sat dully on the ridge. Sooner or later, Cousin Elspeth would come back and help them search. After that, she would call the police, or the search-and-rescue team, or whatever they called it in Scotland. Then there would be a nationwide alert, and it would be in all the papers. Dad would have to be called, and Mom—
Will pressed his face into his hands. If only he hadn’t tossed the stupid cobnut! He had thrown away the one thing that could anchor him to the particular time in which Jamie had been lost.
Suddenly he pricked to the alert as a thought, faint and elusive, wafted through his brain. There was something else that connected him strongly to the past. It was Jamie himself.
Of course Will did not have Jamie in his pocket, like the cobnut. But the fact that Jamie was there, in the past, might act like an anchor, pulling Will back to the very same time. The question was how to go about it.
How did the Magic Eyeball book work, anyway? Will had the feeling that the book itself wasn’t the key. It was that, in trying to see the pictures the others could see, Will had somehow focused his eyes on a place beyond. Somehow, he could bring the past into focus. Just as a telescope could focus on near or far, depending on how much you turned the dial, so Will could look into different times. He hadn’t learned how to fine-tune his Time Sight yet, but maybe he could learn. He would try.
This time, when he picked up the Magic Eyeball book, Will let his mind go slack, soft, loose. He was vaguely aware of the sun on his skin, the quiet drone of insects. He thought of his little brother smiling, with the sun on his hair and a smudge on his cheek.
Jamie, he thought, and let the shimmer build around the edges of the book. But this time Will didn’t lower the book right away. He shifted his focus ever so slightly, back and forth. The shimmering took on a different quality, as if the picture behind the book was changing somehow. Will sensed the fine muscles in his eyes contracting, relaxing, contracting, a little farther each time—
Wait. There was something. It was faint, as faint as the forest track; it was as elusive as a distant radio station that came in crackling and unclear. But something felt familiar. With rising hope, he lowered the book and looked into the past.
The time of year seemed right. The heather was not yet blooming, but a moist scent of bluebells wafted through the time window and reached Will’s nose. The sun was low in the sky, and light slanted amber through the trees. “Nan,” he said hoarsely.
Nan left her cobnuts and came up behind him. Will turned his head slowly and the castle came into view. It looked exactly as it had before, battlements and all.
Nan swallowed audibly. “You did it!”
“Now to find Jamie.” Slowly Will scanned the forest—slowly he brought the picture to bear on the forest track. There was the same big oak where the horses had been tethered. There was the place where the path widened, where two men’s bodies had lain.…
There were no bodies.
Nan cleared her throat. “Maybe someone came and took the bodies away. Maybe Jamie ran to the castle.”
“There’s no blood on the ground,” Will said. His stomach began to hurt, and with it came a sick feeling, as if he had been punched.
“Coo-eee! Nan! Will!” Cousin Elspeth’s voice, faint but clear, floated up the hill. “Did you find him?”
The picture wavered, seeming to fade at the edges. Will beat back a rush of panic and forced himself to concentrate, to ignore Cousin Elspeth’s voice, to think of nothing but the view before his eyes. The picture steadied, sharpened, became clear once more. He was so close—if only Jamie would run into view—
Nan said quickly, “I’ll just go through and call, all right?”
“Call loud,” said Will through numb lips.
Nan stepped through the window and shaded her eyes against the sun. “Jamie!” she called. “Jaaaaammiieeee!”
No answer. Will watched as Nan gazed in all directions; she even tipped back her head to look up into the trees and lowered her chin to look down at the ground. Then, suddenly, she stooped and reached for something in the grass.
“Nan! Where are you?” Cousin Elspeth’s voice was coming closer.
Will watched Nan without blinking. Instinctively he felt that if he tried to show Cousin Elspeth the time window again, there would be such a confusion of explanations and disbelief and shock that he would lose the delicate connection, and any hope of finding Jamie would be gone forever. Plus, he would probably lose Nan as well.
He reached carefully through the picture and moved his hand back and forth to show Nan where he was.
Nan came running and reached for his wrist.
“Come on!” Will whispered. “Your mother’s almost here!”
“Look.” Nan held up something small and lumpy. “I found it on the ground.”
“The Highlander toy!” Will breathed.
“Come on,” said Nan urgently. “Jamie’s here. He’s got to be.”
With his heart beating double time, Will put one foot i
nto the picture, pressing past the thick, wavy air, and then the rest of his body followed, as if he were going through a gap in a fence. Cousin Elspeth’s voice stopped abruptly. He was through.
* * *
At first, the past didn’t seem all that different. The rocks and hills were in their usual places, and the river valley stretched out before them, golden and green.
The river itself was much closer to the castle, though, which seemed impossible. “How could the river have just moved?” Nan said, frowning.
“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” said Will. “Let’s get Jamie and get out.” He started down the hill, only to stumble over something soft that looked like a dingy cushion with buckles.
“Ha!” said Will. “There’s your school satchel, right where you threw it.”
Nan squinted. “That can’t be my satchel. Mine is brand-new.”
“Oh, right,” Will said. “They made satchels exactly like yours hundreds of years ago.”
“Don’t get stroppy,” said Nan. She picked up the satchel with the tips of her fingers and held it far from her. It was faded, and filthy with something lumpy and white that appeared to be bird droppings. “I think it’s been here longer than a day.”
“It can’t have been here too long—it’s the same time of year. Here’s the book. Come on.” Will began to jog down the hill. Nan wiped the satchel off on a patch of bracken, tucked the Magic Eyeball book inside, and followed him at a run.
But as they got closer to the castle, their pace slowed. Without any discussion, they found themselves edging closer to the forest and then moving just inside a stand of pines.
The pine forest was so thick that all the lower needles had died, leaving a forest of bare poles with a high, dense canopy. The trees moved and creaked ominously in the slight breeze, and now and then there was a louder crack, as if a branch had suddenly given way.
Will and Nan, watching from the shadowy forest, saw people busy at their tasks in the sunny fields. There were sturdy-looking figures plowing with horned oxen, and big-boned women pounding something in a cauldron with long poles. There were fierce-looking men with hair past their shoulders, all armed with swords and long knives. Even the children looked strong, carrying baskets and bundles of sticks or chasing pigs.
“Now what?” said Nan.
“You go ask if anyone has seen Jamie, I guess.” Will leaned against a pine tree and came away again almost instantly, his arm covered with sticky resin.
“Why me?” Nan demanded.
“You could understand them! Remember?”
“It was more like I could almost understand.” Nan kicked at a pinecone and it skittered ahead. “I probably need more practice.”
Will picked gloomily at the globs of pine resin on his arm. “Okay, let’s try to get close enough so we can hear them talking.”
They walked slowly through the pine forest, keeping the castle in sight. Nan stopped suddenly and lifted her hand in warning. “Listen!”
Will and Nan crept forward, stepping softly on a carpet of pine needles, until they reached the lip of a ridge. Below was a woodland path filled with people walking, carrying pots or bags or baskets covered with napkins. A subdued babble of voices rose, filling their ears with unfamiliar words.
Nan lay flat on her stomach, looking down. Will followed suit and put his mouth to Nan’s ear. “Can you understand them now?”
“Not quite.” Nan rested her chin on her arms and listened intently, her eyes narrowed in concentration. Another minute went by, and then she smiled triumphantly. “Got it! It’s market day, and they’re talking about what they’re bringing to sell!”
Will frowned. He still couldn’t understand a word. “I suppose you’re used to Scottish accents,” he said.
“No, it’s not the accent. I think it might be Gaelic. I heard my dad’s friend speak it once. It’s a whole different language.”
“How can you understand it, then?” Will persisted.
Nan looked blank. “I don’t know.… It’s sort of like trying to adjust my hearing. Like tuning in a radio station when the signal isn’t strong. At first it’s kind of faint and scratchy, but if you turn the knob exactly right, all of a sudden it comes in clear.”
Will twitched, startled. He had had the very same thought just half an hour ago, only then it had been about his vision. “I might have Time Sight,” he said slowly, “but I think you have Time Hearing!”
“Ah, well, everyone has their own wee talent,” Nan said impatiently. “Quiet now, will you? I want to hear if anyone is talking about Jamie.”
Will gazed down at the steady stream of market-goers. Their chatter rose in sudden small spurts, like birds rising. The syllables seemed oddly familiar, as if they were only a tiny bit removed from words he already knew. Or was that just wishful thinking?
He shut his eyes, the better to concentrate, and let the strange, soft language wash over his ears. Just as he had with his Time Sight, he deliberately relaxed, not trying too hard to understand. The voices made a kind of lullaby, a music with a lilt and cadence that felt right, somehow.… He stretched, and his wrist touched Nan’s elbow. Suddenly, below him, he heard a woman say, “If I don’t sell these today, I can always try again next week.”
Will’s eyes flew open. “I know what they’re saying!”
Nan turned her head. “Is it because you’re touching me?”
“Yes—I don’t know—maybe.” Will experimented for several minutes, putting a finger on Nan’s arm and then taking it away. At last he said, “It’s a lot clearer when I’m touching you, but I’m starting to understand bits even when I’m not. And the more I listen, the more I can understand.” He shook his head in wonder. “How can it happen?”
Nan shrugged. “How can you see a picture from the past and step into it? That’s just as impossible.”
Will sucked in his cheeks, thinking. “Has this ever happened to you before? Understanding a language you never learned?”
Nan let out her breath in a small derisive noise. “Not likely.”
“That’s how I am with Time Sight, too. I kept looking at the Magic Eyeball book on the plane, but no window ever opened up for me—”
“Good thing,” Nan interjected, “since you were thirty thousand feet up.”
“It only happened when I got here,” Will finished.
“In Scotland?” Nan asked with interest.
Will thought back. “No, just being in Scotland isn’t enough. I tried to see the pictures in the car ride from the airport, with no luck. It was only when I was in the castle, or close to it.”
Nan clutched Will’s arm. “I’ve got it! It only happens when you’re on Menzies land. It’s like Mum said—it’s in your blood!”
“Yours, too.” Will grinned. “Okay, here’s what we know,” he went on, ticking points on his fingers. “One, Time Sight only works on land that’s been in the Menzies clan for … how long?”
“Ages,” Nan said. “I mean, it’s not all owned by actual Menzies anymore, but our people have lived around here forever, practically.”
“Two. I bet you anything that Time Hearing only works around here, too—”
“But my school is close by, and I had plenty of trouble learning Latin when I started last year.”
“Hmm. Okay, maybe it only works when people are speaking a language that our ancestors used to speak?”
Nan raised herself on her elbows in her excitement. “That must be it! Dad told me everyone in the Highlands used to speak Gaelic, before English came along.”
“Get down, someone will see you!” Will pressed on her shoulder.
“Oh, sorry. Listen, here’s what I think.” Nan lay flat once more. “All the Scottish cells and bits come together in you, in just the right way, for you to have Time Sight. I have a bit—I made the air sort of shimmer when I tried it—but it made me so dizzy I had to quit or throw up. So that’s more your talent.
“Then, once we travel to the past, all those bits of me that we
re passed on through however many great-grandparents—well, it’s like those bits recognize where we are—”
“More like when we are,” Will cut in.
“Right. Anyway, something in me already knows the language, see? It just takes a while to remember it. That’s my talent. You’ve got it, too, only it’s harder for you, and it takes you longer. I bet Jamie might have something of it, too. It’s the Menzies bits in us, connecting to everything that went before.”
Will nodded slowly. Here was the place where his and Nan’s ties to the past went back for hundreds—maybe thousands—of years. Nan must be right—it was in their blood. Through their fathers, through their mothers, they were linked to every one of their ancestors who had gone before.
Did his mother feel that connection to him? he wondered suddenly. Did it still hold, no matter where she was in the world, or how far he had gone back in time?
Nan nudged him suddenly. “Have you noticed something about the way we’re talking?”
“We’re whispering,” Will said, puzzled.
“Not that. Listen to us! We’re speaking Gaelic now!”
“What?” Then Will’s eyes widened, for the word that came out of his mouth was not English.
Nan laughed to herself, her cheek dimpling as if poked. “I’m pretty sure we’ve been speaking it for a while, too.”
“I think you’re right,” said Will, just for the pleasure of hearing the words in Gaelic. When had they switched from speaking English? It had all happened so naturally that he hadn’t even noticed. Well, that made things easier.
The crowd on the path thinned, and the scent of pines thickened as the sun beat down through gaps high above. Will’s brows curled slightly. Why was it brighter now than when they had first arrived? The castle’s shadow, too, was not so long. It was morning, then, not afternoon, as it had been when Jamie went missing. Nan was right; her backpack had been outside for a full day at least.