Tomorrow's Magic

by Pamela F. Service

  “He could go to my family's place,” Heather said gloomily, “but they'd probably turn him back … or sell him.”

  “Yes.” Welly frowned. “In any case, this will give us time to organize something so he doesn't end up working in the mines or snatched by slavers.”

  For the first time in days, Earl smiled. “It certainly is good to have a strategist for a friend. I admit I hadn't given much thought to anything beyond getting away. But your slipping out to bring me food sounds too dangerous.”

  “Nonsense!” Heather said, jumping up from the bed. “We're your sworn retainers, remember? Besides, when have we ever turned our backs on adventure?”

  After leaving Earl's room, Heather slipped down to the kitchen to persuade Cook to send him up a meal. It was strictly against the rules. But Cook had heard rumors of the boy's good fortune and was anxious to be part of the excitement and see the reportedly beautiful aunt when she returned next morning.

  “No, it wouldn't be kind,” the stout woman agreed, “to send that poor quiet boy off without so much as a scrap of bread for his last dinner with us, and him having been so sick and all. You just take this dinner up to him and bring the dishes back when there aren't too many masters watching.”

  Hurrying upstairs with the food, Heather felt guilty about deceiving Cook. But maybe once Earl had escaped, they could let her in on the intrigue. Maybe she'd even help smuggle out food.

  Later, in their separate rooms, the three waited tensely for the agreed two hours after bed curfew. Then Heather stole silently over the roof to Welly's room, and the two met Earl in his.

  The three figures, dressed in fleece-lined trousers and hooded coats, crept quietly through corridors and stairways toward the small back door. They reached it, having caught no glimpse of a monitor, and breathed a collective sigh of relief.

  Confidently Welly lifted the ancient iron latch. Frost furred the inside of the door hinges, but they opened with barely a protest as the oak doors swung outward. Welly jumped onto the top step and looked directly into the swinging lantern of a monitor returning from the outhouse.

  The upperclassman grinned maliciously at the three startled faces. “Well, well,” Nigel sneered. “I suppose you are all geared up like that, backpack and all, just to go to the loo?”

  “We might be,” Heather said, chin stuck forward.

  “But you're not, are you? First our precious little foundling discovers some new relatives, then he and the other rejects are slipping off somewhere in the dead of the night. I want to know why and where.”

  “It's quite simple, Nigel,” Earl said, stepping down into the snow beside him. “I'm going away. And if I choose to leave this school tonight instead of tomorrow morning, that's my business. Either way, we're out of each other's lives.”

  “It's not quite that simple, is it?” Nigel put the lantern down on the steps and crossed his arms. “Everyone knows that aunt and uncle of yours promised Greenhow a bundle of money for feeding your miserable carcass all these years. So whether you want to go with them is irrelevant, isn't it, since they're not likely to give their money if he lets you skip out?”

  “He's not letting me; I'm going on my own. And I'm going now. So I suggest you get on with your duties.”

  “A pleasure!” Nigel yelled, jumping at Earl and toppling him backward onto the stone steps. In a second, he was sitting on Earl's chest, pinning him with his muscular weight. “And one of my duties is keeping upstarts like you in their place.”

  Earl flailed helplessly. A foot knocked the lantern into the snow, where it hissed and guttered out. Jumping from above, Welly and Heather set on Nigel, beating with their fists. To shake them off, he partway stood. In a flash, Earl brought up his arms. He grabbed the front of Nigel's coat, catapulting him over his head, through the doorway, and onto the flagstones of the hall.

  Quickly Welly spun around and shoved the door closed. No sooner had it thudded shut than they heard Nigel's furious yells for help.

  “So much for escape by stealth,” Earl said, starting at a run for the orchard. “You two had better stay behind now.”

  “Not us!” Welly said for the two of them as he and Heather raced to keep up. “We're in this together!”

  CLASH AT SUNSET

  The three fleeing figures had nearly reached the outer wall when the door behind them burst open. Lights and angry voices spilled out.

  Seeing the high wall ahead, Welly squeaked, “What do we do now? This is a trap.”

  “No, there's a way over,” Earl yelled. “I've used it before.”

  A dead tree, pale as a ghost, splayed against the foot of the wall. Earl leaped onto its gnarled trunk and reached a hand down for Heather. “There're footholds in the wall, chinks between the stones. Climb!”

  He boosted Welly up after her, then scrambled up himself. Crouching on the top of the wall after the others had jumped down, he looked back. Several lantern-swinging figures were coming their way, though clearly they had not seen exactly where their quarry had gone.

  Agile as a cat, Earl leaped into the snow beside his companions. “Let's move!” he whispered, then pushed off through the drifts with the others slogging in his wake.

  When out of earshot of anyone near the wall, Heather said, “In the morning, even a blind beggar will be able to follow the trail we're leaving.”

  “That's why I'm heading for the road. The snow there will be too packed for us to leave tracks.”

  Welly, both shorter and fatter, was having trouble keeping up. “Good idea,” he said, panting. “But where to then?”

  “Thinking of the old mines. Lots of ruins, good places to hide.”

  “What about bloodhounds?” Heather asked. “They can follow people anywhere.”

  “Those are creatures from old books,” Welly said confidently. “They don't exist anymore. Besides,” he added for effect, not having the slightest idea if it was true, “dogs can't smell in the cold.”

  They slowed up for Welly. There was still no sign of pursuit. Soon they struck the north-south road and made better time. In the silence of the night, their boots crunched noisily over the hard-packed surface. Perpetual overcast gave a gray tint to the sky. Against it, they saw the dark ruins of an ancient building. Jagged walls jutted like an upward-thrusting hand.

  “There's the main mine building,” Earl said. “There are house ruins east and south of it.”

  “Think there'll be any muties or fell-dogs?” Welly asked anxiously.

  “Doubt it,” Earl replied. “It's too close to town.”

  “Well, let's pick a house we can find again easily,” Heather said practically, “up at the top of the hill.”

  They trudged up the road until it crested and dropped into a darkened valley beyond. There they left it, striking off to the east along a ridge. To Heather, the mine building seemed an ominously brooding tower. Not that she needed the fantasy, she realized. This adventure was proving exciting enough.

  They approached the base of the building. “Careful of the shaft,” Earl warned. “The other ruins are this way.”

  Soon they'd crawled into a refuge. Crouching behind one wind-breaking wall, they discussed plans. Originally they'd thought that once Earl was settled, the other two would sneak back and be innocently in bed by morning. Nobody would connect them with Earl's disappearance. Then the next night they could spirit some supplies out to him.

  But now, when they went back, they'd probably be confined to their rooms with extra attention from the monitors and no chance to get out for days. The only alternative seemed to be staying with Earl the following day. Then they could sneak back, raid the kitchen for supplies, and deliver them the same night. After that, they'd have to return and face the consequences; but at least Earl would be provisioned until things blew over.

  The night was well on now. The excitement of their flight drained away, and exhaustion took its place. Moving into the back of the ruined house, they found a corner relatively dry and shielded from the wind. There
they curled up against a wall, pulling heavy coats close around them.

  Sleepily Heather recalled that in most adventure stories, fleeing heroes usually set someone to watch for enemies. But it really did seem a lot of trouble. Adventurers should be flexible, she decided as she drifted to sleep.

  When they awoke, it was midmorning. Gray-white daylight seeped through the broken walls. Welly sat up, brushing his coat free of snow. The first thing he realized was that he was hungry. The second was that there was de-pressingly little he could do about it.

  But Earl was already up, rummaging through his pack.

  “I brought along most of the dinner Heather got me last night. We'll have some sort of breakfast, anyway.”

  Sitting in the feeble sunlight in front of their refuge, they shared bread and cold chunks of turnip. When they finished, Earl started repacking but realized he was only putting off what he had to say. He turned to the other two. “I don't know how to apologize for dragging you both into this. I should never have let myself impose on you.”

  “Nonsense,” Heather began. “You couldn't know we'd get caught or that—”

  “No. The risk was too great. I had no business involving other people in my problems—particularly friends.”

  Heather shook her head. “That's the sort of people you're supposed to involve in your problems.”

  “But now you're both in real trouble.”

  “That's the chance we took,” Welly said. “The times you helped us, you took risks. You could've been chewed up by those dogs or beaten up by Nigel.”

  “Besides,” Heather added, “nothing terribly bad can happen when we finally go back. Not as bad, anyway, as you think going off with that Aunt Maureen would be.”

  Earl shivered at what the name invoked. “I wish I knew who she really is and what she wants with me. But I don't dare find out!”

  He began pacing nervously. “It's as though the answers I want are the bait to a trap. She could tell me, but if I get close enough to ask, she'll catch me.”

  “Are you sure she's not your aunt?” Heather asked after a minute. “I mean, there is a resemblance, same pale skin and dark hair.”

  “Oh, we're tied up somehow; I'm sure of that. But she's not my aunt Maureen. That's all wrong. And so is that Garth fellow. Very, very wrong.” Sighing, he sat down on a section of the wall, his thin shoulders slumping forward.

  Heather stood up and said briskly, “Well, anyway, you're free of them both now. They probably showed up at the school bright and early, put everyone in a dither, withdrew their offer to old Greenhow, and left in a huff. As far as they know, you could be anywhere.”

  “Tomorrow after we're back,” Welly said, “I'll get pen and paper and write a letter you can take to my family in Aberdare. They always need someone to help around the place, and it'll be a good spot to lie low until something better comes along.”

  Heather nodded. “Good idea, Welly. Your people seem decent enough to take him in. At least they want you back, soldier or not, after your schooling. Mine don't want me, or any friend of mine. They wouldn't care if they never saw me again.”

  She kicked angrily at a lump of snow. “You know, Earl, you might be lucky not knowing your family. Then you can fantasize anything you want—a home where you're needed, loving people who'd miss you.”

  “Maybe,” Earl said. “But if I'm going to imagine relatives, I'll start with something a lot better than Aunt Maureen and Uncle Garth.”

  The rest of the day passed in talking, thinking, or dozing in patches of hazy sunshine. Gradually the bright smear of light that masked the sun moved toward the western horizon. Except for themselves, the silence on the hilltop was complete. Once they saw some sinuous animal dart into another part of the ruins. But otherwise they might have been the only living beings in the world.

  They'd been sitting in silence for some time when Heather suddenly jumped up. “I've forgotten about Yule. It's tomorrow. Oh, and I bought you both little bags of candied chestnuts. I wish I'd brought them along!”

  “So do I,” Welly agreed wistfully.

  “Ah, but that reminds me,” Earl said. “I did bring your gifts. I never took them out of my coat pocket.” He stood up and, after fishing around, carefully pulled out two small parcels.

  “I hope you don't mind having them a day early. I probably won't see you tomorrow.” He handed Welly his gift. “It's nothing to eat, I'm afraid.”

  Slowly Welly unwrapped the scrap of cloth and rolled the smooth white chess piece onto his palm. It was beautiful, a figure in rare ancient plastic, its shape delicate yet strong. And it was a knight—as he was in fancy and had hoped to be in fact. Welly was surprised to find his eyes misting. He blinked and looked up, smiling.

  “I thought it was right for you,” Earl said. “But I've never given a gift to a friend before.”

  Heather leaned forward to look at and touch the figure, white and cool on Welly's dark palm. Then Earl handed her the other gift. With a delighted squeak, she quickly unwrapped it, then paused as she held up the ring with its faceted gem. Even in the dull light it sparkled.

  “It's beautiful, Earl,” she said at last. “I've never had anything like it.”

  Earl smiled with the success of his gifts. “You deserve beautiful things, Heather. Happy Yule.”

  “Oh, look. There's some writing inside.”

  “It says ‘Cracker Jack,’” Earl said. “Though I'm not sure what that means.”

  “Hmm, Cracker Jack.” Heather mused a moment.

  “That's right! I once read an old book where all the kids were always saying it. ‘This was Cracker Jack,’ or ‘Gosh, that's really Cracker Jack.’ I think it means ‘all right.’ ”

  “Good,” Earl said. “Then it is a good-luck charm. Thought it might be. So now maybe all you need do to make things all right is chant ‘Cracker Jack.’ ”

  Heather laughed. “Even in books, magic is seldom that simple. I think the real charm is that you gave it to me. Thank you, Earl.” She blushed a little as she slipped the ring onto a dusky finger.

  It was nearly sunset when Welly stood up, tucked the chess figure deep into a pants pocket, and said, “All right, let's launch this campaign! Now, I suggest, Heather, that you and I leave here as soon as it's dark. We go right past the mine building to the road and along it until we come to the town wall. Then we can just work our way along that until we … Earl, how do you know the place to get over? ”

  “That old tree has roots right under the wall. You'll see one sticking out of a bank. And there're footholds on that side, too.”

  Earl walked to the house's eastern wall and stepped around the corner. “This house is the closest to the mine building and right in line with the tower, so you shouldn't—”

  He froze. Turning to them, his face was drained of color. “She's coming.”

  The two scrambled to join him. “No, stay back!” he hissed. “They've seen me, but they needn't know you're here.”

  Heather slipped inside the house and peeped cautiously over the sill of an eastern window. It was the same woman, all right. She recognized the black cape and hood. At first she thought the figure beside her was a dog, and she wondered if she hadn't been right about bloodhounds. But when she looked again, she saw it was a man.

  “How did they follow you? ” Welly whispered. “They're cutting across country, not even using the road.”

  “One more thing I don't know,” Earl answered tautly. Then he stepped away from the wall. “Seems I can't run anymore. I'll have to face her. But you two stay out of sight, no matter what.”

  Deliberately he walked away from the house and uphill toward the shattered mine building. Moving quickly to another wall, Heather and Welly peered out a shadowed north-facing window.

  Earl stood waiting. At last, two other figures moved into the framed scene. The sunset-tinged sky and blackened ruins hung as a backdrop.

  “Well, young man,” the woman said as they approached. “You certainly led us a merry chase. Wh
y did you run away?”

  “I decided not to go with you.”

  “That was a foolish decision. Your uncle Garth and I run a very profitable business. Since it's our duty as kin to take care of you, we've decided to bring you into it. Right now we're setting up a new operation in Wessex.” She gave Earl a sidelong glance. “You'll like Wessex; it's run by a real king. And you do like kings.”

  “It depends on the king. Just as liking relatives depends on the relative. And anyway, I don't believe that you are my aunt, for all that you're as washed-out as I am.”

  “A perceptive boy, isn't he, Garth?” She frowned at her companion, then looked back at Earl. “All right, you deserve the truth. I am not your aunt. But we have known each other a long time. And you're a very important person, Earl. Or at least you can be, with our help. Think of it, Earl, I can help you learn all the things you've forgotten, all the things you've been trying to learn. I can help you find them and much more. You'll have power, and I can show you how to wield it!”

  “No! I don't want power—not through you. If I've got things to learn, I'll learn them on my own, or I'll be content to be a shepherd.”

  “You, a shepherd?” The woman threw back her head and laughed, a melodious, chilling sound. Her hood fell away, tumbling black hair about her shoulders. “Foolish boy, I know you too well. You could never be content with that. You need power, and you need us!”

  Earl stepped back, his voice rising in intensity. “No, I don't need you. Get out of my life!”

  “But I need you!” Striking like a snake, the woman jumped forward. She clamped his wrists in strong white hands.

  Alarmed, Heather and Welly watched the silent struggle. In the deepening dusk, it seemed that sparks actually burst between them, as though steel were striking steel. Garth watched from a distance, crouching, almost growling with excitement.

  The two twisted backward and forward as Earl fought to break free. Suddenly he lunged backward, pulling himself away. He staggered, swayed for a second, then fell from sight over the edge of the mine shaft. A terrible, long scream dropped away. Abruptly it ended.