by Jon Berkeley
She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that they were halfway home before she realized they had left the library. Pa and Phoebe were some way ahead, and Granny Delphine seemed to be walking deliberately slowly so as to be able to speak without being overheard.
“I suppose you knew we were in the library,” said Bea.
“Of course,” said Granny Delphine. “You were reading more about Arkadi. That showed initiative, although you should know that Mumbo Jumbo cannot be learned from a book.”
“How did you know—,” began Bea.
“That you were reading up on Arkadi?” said Granny Delphine. “Why don’t you tell me?”
Bea tried to imagine herself in Granny Delphine’s place, sitting on the verandah of the Millers’ house as the evening light faded. She knew that Granny Delphine used her eyes more than her ears in practicing Mumbo Jumbo, and she tried to visualize what her grandmother would have seen. “You saw it was getting dark and we weren’t back yet,” she began.
“Skip the obvious, child,” said her grandmother curtly.
“You didn’t see the Ledbetters,” said Bea. “They would have come from the direction of the lake.” She hesitated. “I’m not sure how you knew we were in the library.”
“I didn’t,” said Granny Delphine.
Bea frowned. “Then you were heading for Cambio Falls to look for us,” she said. “You knew a Ledbetter would be spying on us, and that we could talk there without being heard.”
“Correct,” said her grandmother.
“Then you saw the Ledbetters at the library window and the light on inside, and you guessed we were in there. You knew Miss Hopkins wouldn’t have locked us in by mistake, so we must have tricked her, which meant we were looking for something we weren’t supposed to have.” She thought for a moment, but she had reached a blank. “There’s a whole shelf of restricted books. How did you know we wanted a book on Arkadi?”
“What did you do when you took down the book?” said Granny Delphine. “Think, Bea.”
“I put it on the floor to read it.”
“Before that?”
“I…I blew the dust off it,” said Bea. “You looked on the restricted shelf and saw that it was cleaner than the others.”
“Well done.”
“But it was dark in the library,” said Bea. “There was only a lamp on the table.”
“I’ve got very good spectacles,” said her grandmother.
Bea glanced at her. She wondered whether to mention the fact that she had tried out her grandmother’s spectacles before they left for their holiday, then thought better of it. “Do they help you to…to see more?” she asked.
Granny Delphine threw her a sharp look. “Of course, child. That’s what spectacles are for, isn’t it?”
Bea changed the subject hastily. “How is all this going to help me find Theo?” she asked. She would have hesitated to ask Granny Delphine such a direct question only a few days before, but she no longer feared her grandmother’s tongue. She was afraid now that Theo was slipping from her grasp, and getting to him as quickly as possible was the only thing that mattered.
“I can only give you the groundwork, Bea,” said Granny Delphine. “I’ve been hiding for much of my life, and my powers are not well developed.” She sighed. “Your ma has far more natural aptitude for it than I will ever have.”
“Ma has?” said Bea, surprised.
“Certainly. I could see it from the moment she was born, but the Gummint was cracking down hard even then, and in school they taught her to fear even the mention of Mumbo Jumbo. She never became what she could have been. There are Pearlseeds here who are far more advanced in Mumbo Jumbo than either of us.”
“Couldn’t they find Theo?”
Granny Delphine shook her head. “You have a close connection to your brother. That is why you can hear his voice when even Captain Bontoc could not. It will take the combined efforts of the Quorum to teach you what you need to know, but you must find him yourself.”
“But I don’t have time for lessons,” said Bea. “You can tell so many things just by looking and listening. Isn’t that what I need to learn?”
“Learning to read the world is only the foundation of Mumbo Jumbo,” said Granny Delphine. “It’s like learning what all the lights and levers in a cockpit are for. That’s all very interesting, but then you must learn to fly the airplane.”
Bea thought about this for a moment. “Is that why things seem to do what Mrs. Miller wants them to, without her having to touch them?”
“Precisely,” said Granny Delphine. “There’s more to Gladys Miller than serving food and talking incessantly. She is a very powerful Pearlseed, but looking after Willow saps all her energy at the moment.” She lowered her voice as they approached the bottom of the ladder. “Every Pearlseed has their specialty. Hers lies in manipulating objects with her thoughts. Maize Ledbetter can manipulate thoughts themselves, if she is close enough to see her victim.”
Bea shuddered. That would explain why the Ledbetters liked to peer in through windows at night.
“I have pointed out to the Quorum that the Ledbetter problem is tied up with Theo’s disappearance, since it appears to be him they are after. I have been trying to persuade them that they must pool their skills to help you in your search.”
“Isn’t there someone who knows all the skills?” whispered Bea as she climbed the ladder behind her grandmother.
Granny Delphine stopped at the top of the ladder and looked down at her. “Only Arkadi knew them all,” she said.
Bea climbed the last few rungs, her heart thumping. She felt that she would faint from the weight of Ike Ledbetter’s stare. She threw herself down in a chair. She could hear Granny Delphine and Mrs. Miller talking in the kitchen, and she realized she hadn’t eaten for hours.
Clockwork Gabby emerged ticking onto the verandah. She seemed to have acquired some of Mrs. Miller’s whirlwind qualities, and within seconds the low table was piled with an assortment of foods. Phoebe filled her plate and attacked her supper with gusto. Bea sat up with effort and picked up a plumegranate. It felt cold and waxy. She put it to her lips, but could not bring herself to take a bite. She noticed Willow staring at her from the chair opposite. She smiled weakly and put down the untouched fruit.
Phoebe stretched and jumped up from her seat. “I’m going to bed,” she said, and she crawled through the window behind her chair because it was more interesting than using the door.
Bea lay slumped in the wicker chair, staring at the lamp that hung in the far corner. Around the house the crickets kept up a constant chirruping, like a thousand tiny sewing machines working at full tilt. The lamps burned on, their wicks hissing quietly, and in the distance the bees wound down their operations for the night. Bea felt unable to move.
Presently Gabby came back to clear up the dishes. She looked at Bea and shook her head sadly. “Dream-shut,” she said, and she ticked back into the house under a tower of plates.
Bea saw Willow get up from her chair and walk over to her. She felt the girl’s limp hand on her shoulder. “She knows,” said Willow. Her dark eyes looked searchingly into Bea’s for a moment; then she turned and disappeared into the house without another word.
Silence
Bea Flint sat in her bed and stared at the wardrobe on the far wall. In the dim light of dawn the knotty wood made itself into pictures—a silhouette of a little man writing with a huge quill, and above it a face with a twisted mouth, which changed into a strange knobbly landscape when she looked at it for long enough. She had been staring at these patterns for hours and already she hated them. Several times her eyes had closed without her permission, and she had had to pinch herself to stay awake.
She reached into Theo’s backpack and took out the Squeak Jar. She placed it on her lap and looked at it for a while. She knew now how her mother had felt when she first listened for Theo’s voice at Cambio Falls. She wanted to put off for as long as possible the terrible moment when she might put her
ear to the jar and hear nothing. The face in the wardrobe door leered at her, daring her to listen. She put the horn to her ear with a sinking feeling. “Theo?” she whispered. There was only silence. The jar felt cold and empty in her hand, and she knew with a terrible certainty that Theo’s voice had left it for good. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and replaced the jar carefully in the backpack.
Eventually her head nodded and she slipped straight into a dream. She was trapped in a blank room again, with Ike Ledbetter squatting before her. His stare was mildly accusing, as though she might have slapped him in the face on some occasion she could not quite remember. She tried to speak, but her mouth was bone-dry and her tongue would not move.
Eventually Ike spoke. “Give us the Hidden Boy,” he said.
Bea jerked awake. Her skin felt clammy. The light was the same as before, and in the other bed Phoebe slept peacefully, her breathing slow and shallow. Bea dressed quietly and crept down the stairs. She let herself out onto the verandah. The ladder crouched at the verandah’s edge like a sleeping insect. She could almost see the life in the ladder as it waited to open itself. She concentrated hard. “Ladder,” she said quietly. She was sure it was on the verge of unfolding. It was just waiting for her to really believe she could do it. “Ladder,” she said again.
There was an echo to her voice this time, and to her astonishment the ladder tipped itself smartly over the edge of the verandah and met the ground with a clack-clack-thump. Bea could not believe her eyes. She would have been impressed if she had even made it twitch. She had a sudden feeling she was being watched, and looked around quickly at the house.
Willow Miller was leaning out of her bedroom window. “Go on, then,” she said flatly.
Bea felt herself deflate as she realized where the echo had come from. “That was you,” she said.
“Of course,” said Willow. “Hurry up if you’re going. It’s cold hanging out of this window.”
Bea climbed swiftly down the ladder and stepped onto the dew-soaked grass.
“Ladder,” said Willow from the window, and the ladder creaked reluctantly back into place.
“Thanks, Willow,” said Bea.
Willow shrugged. “Good luck,” she said, and she closed the window.
Bea turned and ran lightly along the path in the direction of the falls. She dreaded passing beneath the blank gaze of the library’s windows, but she did not want to risk getting lost looking for an alternative route. She kept her eyes down and ran on, light-headed from lack of sleep. She plunged into the woods when she judged she was near Arkadi’s hut. Brambles scratched her legs, but she barely noticed. She could not detect Ike’s presence anywhere nearby. He probably doesn’t have to follow me anymore, she thought, and she wondered with a shiver if he could see any of her thoughts when she dreamed of him.
When she reached the hut she found the door standing open, and the hut looked empty. Her heart sank. “This is no time to be hiding,” she said aloud.
“I’m not hiding,” said Arkadi. “I’m washing.” He was stripped to the waist and half hidden by a broad tree trunk. In front of him was a battered basin filled with water.
“I need your help,” said Bea. She glanced at Arkadi’s skinny body and was about to look away when she noticed that he had a tattoo on his left shoulder blade. Arkadi met her eye and pulled on his grubby T-shirt, but not before she had seen what the tattoo depicted. It was old and the lines had softened with the years, but she could clearly see it was a meerkat, standing tall in a tuft of faded grass and looking out into the distance.
“You want something fixed?” said Arkadi.
“I want to find my brother,” said Bea. “I need to learn Mumbo Jumbo.”
“Just like that?” said Arkadi.
“I don’t have any time left,” said Bea. “I’m the only one who can find him.”
“I don’t know anything about Mumbo Jumbo,” said Arkadi.
“You didn’t know what a meerkat was either,” said Bea, “but there’s one tattooed on your shoulder. What did you ask the tattoo artist to draw—a doggie?”
Arkadi smiled. “You have a quick eye,” he said. “And a sharp tongue. You get both from your grandmother.”
Bea’s heart quickened. “You know Granny Delphine?”
“Used to,” said Arkadi, “a long time ago.”
“Then you are the real Arkadi,” said Bea. “Why are you hiding?”
“I have my reasons,” said Arkadi.
“But nobody here has seen you for years. Wouldn’t they be happy to know you’re alive?”
“Some would, no doubt.”
“Were you hiding all that time?”
Arkadi suddenly looked tired. “I was unavoidably detained,” he said.
“But you’re here now,” persisted Bea. “Why don’t you just—”
Arkadi interrupted her. “A river must flow from the mountain to the sea, but it never does so in a straight line. Why?”
Bea thought for a moment. “Because there are obstacles to go around.”
“Perhaps,” said Arkadi. “Did you bring sandwiches?”
“No,” said Bea. “I got up before anyone. I couldn’t sleep. Are you going to help me or not?”
“Not,” said Arkadi.
“Then I’ll have to report you to the Quorum,” said Bea. “They need your help with the Ledbetters anyway. What good is hiding in the woods?”
“You made a promise.”
“My little brother is missing. If I have to break a promise to find him then I will.”
Arkadi gazed at her steadily for a while. After three days in hiding his hair was no longer slicked neatly back. It stuck out in all directions, reminding her of one of Theo’s drawings with a scribble-fringed face. His eyes were calm, like the center of a storm. “Very well,” he said. “Where do we start?”
Bea sat down on the log where Arkadi had whittled the meerkat the previous day. She had come out without the backpack, without Nails. She had not eaten, but neither did she have any appetite, and she felt giddy from lack of sleep. “Theo disappeared on the crossing,” she said. “I was able to hear his voice from the Squeak Jar, but then I dropped it and the lid came off, and now I can’t hear him anymore.”
Arkadi winced. “That’s not good,” he said. “Did you get a chance to ask him where he was?”
“He said he was somewhere where the trees were thin and wavy. He’s with some people he calls the Tree People. He was about to tell me where it was, but…”
“But you dropped the Squeak Jar?”
Bea shook her head. “I was able to hear him when I was dreaming too, but my dream was interrupted.”
“Then you can ask him next time you’re asleep.”
“I can’t sleep anymore,” said Bea. Tears were starting at the corners of her eyes, and she blinked them back impatiently.
Arkadi clicked his tongue. “Ledbetter trouble, eh?” he said, as though he were talking of nothing more serious than a mosquito bite.
“How did you know?”
“Sounds like one of Maize’s tricks,” said Arkadi. “She was always knocking on people’s skulls, that child, though it used to be just a game.”
“She’s hardly a child,” said Bea. “She’s almost a hundred.”
Arkadi shook his head in puzzlement. For a moment he looked like the confused ice-cream mechanic again. “That long,” he muttered.
“It’s Ike Ledbetter who’s squatting in my dreams,” said Bea. “I think he’s her grandson. Or maybe her great-grandson.”
“Why don’t you ask him to leave?”
Bea looked at Arkadi to see if he was joking. “I wish I could,” she said.
“A wish is no good unless you can give it legs,” said Arkadi.
“That’s what Theo said,” said Bea in surprise. “What does it mean?”
“It means that you can just wish something would happen, or you can try to figure out how to make it happen. Both are wishes, but the one with legs is more likely
to get where it’s going.”
“It’s not as simple as just asking him to leave,” said Bea. “There are people all over Bell Hoot with…with Ledbetter trouble. One girl died yesterday. I can’t make him leave. It’s like he’s glued to the floor.”
“Glued, eh?” said Arkadi thoughtfully. “Tell me, whose dream is it?”
“It’s mine,” said Bea. “At least, I think so.”
“Then everything in it is created by you,” said Arkadi.
“Not Ike Ledbetter,” said Bea.
“The Ike in your dream is,” said Arkadi, “and so is the glue.”
“That was just a phrase,” said Bea. “The glue isn’t real.”
“It’s as real as your dream. What do you suppose the glue is made of?”
Bea thought about this. She made herself picture her dream, and the immobile, blank-faced figure of Ike Ledbetter squatting before her. Arkadi was right: It was her dream, so what was it that made Ike impossible to remove? She remembered the feeling of her tongue sticking to her mouth, and her heart racing with fear. “Fear?” she said.
“That’s a good answer,” said Arkadi.
“Is it the right answer?”
“Maybe.”
Bea felt a surge of irritation. It didn’t sound like Arkadi was taking her situation seriously. “I thought you were supposed to be the master of Mumbo Jumbo,” she said.
“So they say,” said Arkadi mildly.
“Then why can’t you tell me if it’s the right answer?”