Timothy scanned the crowd frantically, his fear of Tristan nothing compared to the deep dread of seeing Balor once again. And his hip was growing uncomfortably warm. He thrust his hand into his pocket and pulled out the Greenman’s leaf. Sure enough, it was a burning, angry red, searing his fingers. No question, Balor must be near.
At that very moment, he saw Jessica at the stall. She’s gone mad, Timothy thought. What can I do to save her? He crept forward until he was crouched at the very edge of the caravan under which he had been hiding. He watched Jessica approach other cages, heedless of the gunfire and of Tristan, who had obviously spotted her.
“You there! What do you think you’re doing?” Tristan’s face was so red, Timothy thought he might explode.
“It’s perfectly fine, Tristan. She’s with me. Just as this one is,” the Animal Tamer said.
Timothy recognized the voice, and it was as if a black pit opened beneath him. Balor was here, at the Market, and he had Sarah. He was dragging her by the arm out into the center of the melee. Sarah had never seen Balor and had no idea at all with whom she was dealing. Where was the boy who was with her before?
“We must stop this horrible slaughter of innocent animals,” the Animal Tamer continued in his smooth voice. “Tristan, put away your gun. The crows have left us.”
The dark cloud of birds was rapidly receding into the distance, though the bodies of several lay scattered across the ground around the Market.
Tristan jumped down from the barrel. “I’ll have order in my Market, Animal Tamer. I am the Master of the Market. And your friend there is wearing something that catches my eye.” The crowd of people who had initially fled the crows and the wild shots of Tristan drew back now to watch this new development.
Looking positively regal, Timothy thought, Jessica fastened her eyes on the Animal Tamer, and her lips drew back in a grimace. “You will let go of my friend,” she said, her voice as calm and sure as if she were ordering a young child.
“A fair trade, miss,” Balor replied with a sneer. “A necklace for your friend. Tristan would like your bauble. Give him the necklace, and I will release the girl. Then perhaps you, too, will consider being my assistant.”
Timothy waited and watched. Her arm tight in the Animal Tamer’s grip, Sarah eyed the tamer with disappointment and confusion, but her expression betrayed none of the loathing evident in Jessica’s face. For the first time, Jessica hesitated. The Animal Tamer strengthened his hold on Sarah’s arm. She winced. Timothy clenched his fists.
“See, she is reluctant to leave me.” The Animal Tamer ran a finger down the side of Sarah’s face. “And she would make a fine assistant.” He looked calmly at Jessica. “Come, your necklace for the Master of the Market. He fancies it. And I let your friend go.”
Timothy could feel the contest of wills between them. Even Tristan was silent. Jessica dared not give that evil little man the necklace that had been a gift from Cerridwyn; but she had to do something to make the Animal Tamer let go of Sarah. Timothy wanted to rush in and save his sister, but he knew whatever he did might make the situation worse. He wiped the smudges from his glasses and glanced back to where Sarah and the boy had been sheltering before, but he saw no sign of the boy. There was only a mangy dog, tethered to the side of a caravan.
“It looks like she won’t trade, Tristan, so I guess I’ll have to keep my young assistant.” With that, the Animal Tamer barked a laugh, and in a rapid movement drew Sarah close. He locked one arm around her neck. With the other hand he pulled an emerald chain and collar out of his pocket. He fastened the collar around her neck and chained her to a cage. The mangy dog barked furiously, straining at his tether.
Timothy could bear it no longer. He scrambled to his feet and rushed into the middle of the yard. “Let my sister go!”
But Jessica interrupted him. “Take the necklace, Balor the One-Eyed, though it will do you no good. But remember your bargain!” She snatched the necklace from around her neck and tossed it at him. It flew through the air in a golden arc. Balor leaned forward and caught the chain in his right hand. No one saw him draw a vial from his pocket with his left until he unstopped the cork and, in one swift motion, poured it over Sarah’s head.
By using the key provided here, you can decipher the Ogham script that appears in this chapter. Zoom in or increase font size to see code more clearly.
CHOICES
WHITE ERMINE on an emerald chain curled around the legs of the Animal Tamer. Sarah was nowhere to be seen.
Jessica advanced on him. “You’ve broken your bargain!”
“Perhaps you should be more careful with whom you bargain. I don’t have your friend—just an ermine. And, of course, your necklace!” He unchained the ermine and scooped it into a sack. He held out the necklace to Tristan, who grabbed for it with a face flushed with pleasure. “Take your bauble, Master of the Market. It will not serve you.”
Tristan blustered and strutted as the pendant sparkled on his chest. “Go back to your business, people!” he ordered with an imperious sweep of his arm. “The Market is about to close for the day.”
And those who had not left already hurried off, glad to be away.
Timothy stepped forward. He stuck his hands in his pockets so the Animal Tamer couldn’t see them tremble. “Let my sister go!”
Balor turned. “Ah. So we meet again, Timothy. And where is the wolf to protect you this time? The time will come when no one can protect you. I have your sister, and I believe you will do anything I want in order to save her.” The ermine thrashed in its cloth prison. “Perhaps I shall now make a bargain with you. What do you say, boy? Your sister or your mother? Whom do you want to save? She’s very ill, isn’t she, your mother? And I do know where to find the only thing in this Market that will save her.”
“Timothy, let’s go!” For the first time, Jessica addressed her friend.
“And leave Sarah—are you crazy?” Timothy turned to Balor. “What do you have for my mother?”
But Balor, who had slung the sack over his shoulder, was already climbing the steps to his caravan.
“She’s right; you need to come with us now.” Nom appeared suddenly, plucking at Timothy’s elbow. “Can’t help her like this, you can’t.”
Timothy felt his anger building like floodwaters about to burst a dam. He shook Nom’s hand away. There was no way he was going to walk away and leave Sarah with that man, with that … thing!
“Free my sister, Balor!” he shouted. “In the name of Cerridwyn and of the Greenman, free my sister!” He didn’t know where the words came from, but they apparently were the right ones, for all at once Balor hesitated. And when he turned, Timothy saw the golden man’s handsome face melt. In its place, Balor the One-Eyed gaped back at him. The single eye in the middle of his forehead remained hooded.
Nom covered his face. Tristan touched his forehead and spat.
Winds scuttled the clouds across the sky. Again the birds came. They rode the winds and blocked the sun like a living cloud. Finches, hawks, kestrels, fickle crows, and the great eagles. Arkell and Andor flew low. Swooping between the Animal Tamer and Timothy, the two eagles blocked Timothy from Balor’s eye, preventing Balor from casting it on the boy. The flap of their mighty wings lifted the hair on Timothy’s head. Nom dropped to the ground, cowering facedown, but Jessica still stood defiantly. Tristan ran, arms protecting his head, into the nearest caravan.
Balor measured his enemy. “I see you have friends willing to die for you. They need not worry. For now, I need my strength, and I need you to live a while longer, until I have all I need.” He laughed and ascended the steps into the caravan, taking the squirming sack with him. In moments, the sky changed from noonday to dusk.
The air was alive with wings and birdcall. The largest birds swooped down to Balor’s empty cages, carrying them off in their talons. Others, the long-beaked species, pecked the locks of the remaining ones until they sprang open and their animal prisoners were released. Timothy remembered the
scene in Balor’s workshop, when he had frantically tried to free the animals from their cages.
Jessica strode over to the barking mangy dog tethered to a caravan and laid her hand on his head. “Don’t worry, Peter.”
The dog gave a swift howl and lunged against his tether.
Jessica looked at Timothy. “There’s nothing I can do. I thought if I gave him my necklace, he’d let Sarah go. But now we’ve lost Sarah and Peter both!”
Timothy heard the desperation in Jessica’s voice. He thought of the time he traded his crown for a drink of water; the memory still shamed him. “Who’s Peter? The boy who was with Sarah?” he asked, but he never took his eyes from the caravan where Balor had disappeared with the bag holding his sister.
Jessica nodded. “He’s our friend, and Balor has enchanted him, too.”
Timothy watched helplessly as Balor’s caravan rumbled away.
“But the battle isn’t over.” A familiar voice was at Timothy’s side, so near it was almost in his ear. “Do not lose heart. Your sister is not lost, nor is your mother, nor even the boy Peter. But your mother is the one who needs you now.”
Timothy heard Jessica’s quick intake of breath. He turned and looked up in astonishment into the leafy face and warm eyes of the Greenman. Vines sprouted from his ears and nose, and the leaves on his head blew about him like hair in the wind.
“Oh, Greenman,” Timothy cried, his voice catching. “Where have you been?”
The treelike man bent over Timothy until his leaves brushed the top of Timothy’s head. “Why, here,” he replied gently. “In the forests around you. At your house, and in far places. Always near.”
A flutter of hope stirred in Timothy’s heart. “What should I do about Sarah? I can’t leave her here. And my mother, I haven’t found anything to help her! And the boy—”
“Jessica will stay behind with Gwydon and the Storyteller to look after Sarah. You have another job to do. There is more to your story that you must hear from the Storyteller before you go, and it’s late. Your mother will need you before dawn.”
“But how can I know Sarah will be safe? And I can’t leave because I haven’t found anything to help my mother yet.”
The Greenman straightened up, shaking all his leaves. His branches stretched into the sky. Suddenly, Timothy felt very small. “Timothy James Maxwell,” the Greenman said gravely, “you must have faith in your friends. Once you know what to do and choose to not do it, I can’t be responsible.”
The Greenman turned toward Jessica, who said, “I tried to save Sarah. But it didn’t work out the way I planned.”
“Yes, and that was noble.” He towered over the dog, who sat and cocked his head as if trying to understand the words the Greenman spoke. A drip of sap fell from a branch, landing on the ruff of the dog’s neck. And in that moment he was transformed back into the boy Timothy had seen with Sarah.
“Peter!” Jessica threw her arms around his neck. “Greenman, why did you come now?”
“Because Timothy called my name.” And with that, the Greenman receded into the forest that bordered the Market, one more tree among many.
“What was that?” Peter continued to stare into the verge of trees.
“You don’t know? That was the Greenman!” Jessica’s eyes sparkled once more.
“The one from the old stories? My gram used to tell me about him! Never thought I’d see him myself!”
“Peter, this is Timothy, Sarah’s brother,” Jessica said.
Timothy nodded at the introduction. “If he could turn you back to a boy from a dog, why didn’t he help Sarah?”
Jessica shook her head. “I don’t know, but he said you have a job to do; you have to go back. I’m sorry, Timothy, but I’m going to stay and try to help her. And Peter will, too.”
It wasn’t an answer Timothy liked. Overhead, stars shone in a clear black sky. Timothy thought about Star Girl. Where was she now? Despite seeing the Greenman again, despite being with Jessica and Peter, he felt alone. Ever since the birds’ attack, caravans had been leaving the Market. The ones that remained were shuttered tight, lights glowing through curtained windows.
Peter broke the silence. “I have to get back to my mam or she’ll be worried, but we’ll find Sarah, Timothy.”
Timothy turned toward Nom, who still waited nearby. “Where has Balor gone with Sarah?” Timothy asked weakly.
“Away.” Nom peered at Timothy and Jessica. “He’ll be back tomorrow, and the next day, and the next after that. A sit-down and grub is what we need. Come with me.”
Heartbroken, Timothy shuffled after Nom. His thoughts ran circles in his head; he’d failed his quest, and he had lost his sister. It didn’t get much worse than that.
As if she could read his mind, Jessica linked her arm through Timothy’s. “I didn’t know what to do, either,” she said, “not really. I should have made the Animal Tamer give me Sarah first.” She looked just like any girl now, in her long, grubby, purple skirt; not majestic at all.
“I should never have let us split up. I could have warned her,” Timothy said.
“Should have, would have—that’s no way to be talking.” Nom shook his head. “Didn’t you just see the Greenman himself? Doesn’t he know what to do? And didn’t I tell you that the Market was full of draíocht?” He stopped in front of Julian’s caravan. “Now, here’s what we’re looking for.”
By using the key provided here, you can decipher the Ogham script that appears in this chapter. Zoom in or increase font size to see code more clearly.
KEEPERS OF THE WORD
ULIAN OPENED THE DOOR before they even knocked. His hair was disheveled and stood up in spikes, as if he had been running his fingers through it again and again. Gwydon stood at his side.
Timothy ran forward, burying his face in the wolf’s fur.
“Come in and rest,” Julian said. “But come in quickly. We don’t want to leave the door open long on a night like this.”
They were expected. A full pot of tea was already on the table, surrounded by large mugs and plates of meat, cheese, grapes, bread, and dates.
“I know you,” Jessica said. “You’re the librarian.”
“Yes, in your world. Here I’m a humble Storyteller.”
“This is my friend Jessica, and Nom. He brought us to the Market,” Timothy said.
“Welcome, Jessica. Nom and I have met before. Come and eat.”
Then, feeling as if he could no longer stand, Timothy collapsed like a deflated balloon on the cushioned floor, Gwydon at his side. “The Animal Tamer’s taken Sarah! Do you know who he really is?”
“Gwydon and I saw what happened. We were at the edge of the crowd. You both were very brave.” Julian looked from Timothy to Jessica. “And, yes, the Animal Tamer is more than who he appears.”
More than he appears? He’s a monster! Timothy wanted to shout.
Jessica sat cross-legged on the floor next to him and poured them both steaming mugs of tea.
Nom, meanwhile, began to shovel fistfuls of dates and grapes into his mouth. His pointy, yellow teeth flashed every time he opened his lips, and he paused every now and then to wipe his mouth on his sleeve. But Timothy’s stomach felt as heavy as lead. Only the tea slipped down easily.
“What are we going to do? We need a plan!” Timothy said.
“It is time you heard more of your story,” Julian said. “This time we won’t be interrupted.”
“Don’t we have more important things to talk about right now than to listen to stories?” Timothy was on his feet. The last thing he wanted was more fairy tales about trees. What they needed now was a plan to rescue Sarah and save his mother. It was vital. The word vital shimmered in his mind.
Jessica kicked him. “Listen to what he has to say.”
Nom popped pieces of cheese into his mouth.
Perched on his Storyteller’s stool, Julian ignored Timothy, his head back, his eyes half-closed.
“Throughout the ages, the Dark has returned to
do battle. Even Arthur, who battled bravely and managed to hold back the Dark for many years, could not keep it from returning. There will be the Final Battle, but before it occurs, there will be many skirmishes, small ones like today and great ones as well. People will suffer, and others will be misled. And every time that happens, the Dark rejoices. But the Light still chooses to work through humans, no matter how many mistakes humans make or how many times they side with the Dark. And so it is that prophets are sent to remind people of the Light. And like prophets, Filidhs are sent to remind people of the Truth. Without these reminders the narrative can become confused. It’s easy to believe that whoever is in power at one time is the victor for all time. And the Dark can be very persuasive.”
Timothy sighed and dropped to the floor. He might as well listen because no one else was ready to do anything.
“File means poet, learned philosopher. And for many years, here between worlds, the Filidh reigned as Masters of the Market. They were treated as kings. The murder of a Filidh invoked the same penalties as the slaying of a king. And the rank of Filidh was passed through the family named O’Daly.”
Timothy sat up straighter. “My mother’s maiden name is O’Daly,” he whispered to Jessica.
She put her finger to her lips, but her eyes grew very round.
“And in each generation, at least one Filidh rose up to lead the people, to rule the Travelers, the people of the Market, to keep the truth alive. They were assisted by Gwydon and others who remembered the old ways and were true to them. But in the end, the Filidh are only human. Like all humans, their temptations are great, and the Dark is quick to take advantage of that. The Dark wishes to control all things, all people, to pervert the symbols of justice and good. The Dark’s assault can come like a rushing sea, a roaring lion … or the slightest flicker of a rabbit’s ears.
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