by ILIL ARBEL
“Agree? I have never wanted anything more in my life!” Donna sobbed just a little more. Then she ate plenty of chocolate cake and ice cream, and Aunt Yolanda did exactly the same.
“Let’s go upstairs and put books in your bookcase,” suggested Aunt Yolanda when they finished eating. “I didn’t have time to arrange them, and they’re still in my room.”
From under the bed, Aunt Yolanda pulled a huge cardboard box full of books. They started carrying them to Donna’s room and arranging them in the bookcase. Some were old favorites, some school books, and some were mysterious, heavy books with strange titles. “Witchcraft books, of course,” explained Aunt Yolanda. “We will start soon. You’ll love it, it’s such fun.”
“The idea scares me a little,” confessed Donna. “I drop things, I break stuff. What if I have to look after bubbling cauldrons?”
“Witches don’t use bubbling cauldrons. I’m rather fond of microwave ovens. Like most people, you have a wrong idea of Witches, probably because of all those ridiculous medieval legends, not to mention the horrible Witch Trials of Salem. We are custodians of the Earth, caretakers, friends of animals and plants. We save and protect them. Of course we’re born with the talent, but my Ph.D. in zoology is real, and I use this part of my education every day in my work, just as much as I use my Witch Training. I am the keeper of a very special zoo.”
“A zoo! Can I go there? You know how I love zoos!” cried Donna, her eyes glowing with anticipation.
“Of course I know. I introduced you to them when you were a mere baby. Your real talent, though, I think, is with plants. Did you bring your herbarium, by the way?”
“Sure. My plant guidebooks, too. Here they are, in my backpack. I figured you have tons of interesting plants I can collect.”
They brought Donna’s suitcase from downstairs and began arranging her clothes. Donna unrolled the soft sweater in which she wrapped her new Cinnabar box, and was about to put it on the chest of drawers, when Aunt Yolanda caught sight of it.
“My goodness, child, where did you get this?”
“I got it this morning at the antique shop where Mom goes for her clients. The owner, Mr. Rose, gave it to me after I upset everything on one of his shelves.”
“I know Mr. Rose,” said Aunt Yolanda, smiling mysteriously. “In fact, I recommended him to your Mom, years ago. So he gave you this Cinnabar box… did he tell you how long he had it?”
“He said he had it for years and couldn’t sell it because it would not open.”
“It’s beautiful. Maybe someday we can figure out a way to open it, who knows,” said Aunt Yolanda.
“I don’t mind even if it stays shut,” said Donna, looking affectionately at the little carved animals.
They took a walk in the woods and identified about ten species of plants and flowers with the guidebook. Donna could always remember an amazing number of Latin names. The woods were wild and untouched, a naturalist’s heaven. When the sun set they went in for dinner, and cooked in the rather unsophisticated kitchen.
“What we need is more modern equipment,” said Aunt Yolanda. “Let’s go to town tomorrow and shop. Now, where shall we eat?”
Deciding to eat on the veranda, Donna brought the little old lantern with the candle from her room. Huge white Luna Moths fluttered around them, and they could see a few bats on their way to some hidden body of water. They heard the unmistakable sounds of flying squirrels, too.
“It will be so beautiful in winter, when the snow covers the pines, and the wind blows in the tree-tops. We’ll have pine wood fires in the fireplace, and the house will smell like a forest,” said Aunt Yolanda.
“I want to stay so much,” said Donna wistfully. “Even if I have to study both regular school and Witchcraft and do double homework it will be so much fun. Do you really believe they’ll let me stay?”
“I have no doubt of it. I’ve never failed to persuade them to do anything I want,” said Aunt Yolanda. She went into the house and came back with a package.
“I have something you will need,” said Aunt Yolanda and took a heavy silver locket, very much like her own, from the package.
“There is no stone in it yet, because you must either find or win it yourself. But you should start wearing the locket regularly.”
The old silver glowed with a dark shine. Strange carvings of flowers and tendrils wrapped all around it, and the flowing shape of a ribbon, or a river, ran through the foliage. Donna put it reverently around her neck and it felt just right, as if she had been wearing it for years.
“I’ll never take it off,” she whispered in awe, rubbing the old carving gently. “Thank you so much… I feel like a Witch already when I wear it.”
“I thought you would, darling. You have it in you, trust me. It just has to be developed, like any other talent.”
Moonlight filled Donna’s room with rivers of milk and liquid silver. She hung the tiny lantern back on the pine branch that entered the room, and the touch released the powerful, resinous scent of the pine needles. Unwilling to disturb the magic by turning on the light, she undressed in the semi-darkness, relaxed on the soft white pillows, and breathed the cool night air deeply. Two fireflies found their way into the pine branch and twinkled like little distant stars right inside the room. I don’t want to fall asleep, Donna thought, looking at the two blinking, golden dots. I’ll miss something wonderful… I want to stay up all night… She drifted off on a dark wave of dreamless sleep.
~~~
The heavy wooden door burst open, and the prime minister ran into the queen’s room with such unseemly haste that he tripped over his long robe and fell down. Fortunately he was plump and bouncy and so was not really hurt. Paying no attention to his undignified position, he cried, “They found the Cinnabar box! Camellia and Bartholomew – they just called!”
The queen looked affectionately at her old friend, a momentary smile lifting the patient sadness from her huge black eyes. She poured a glass of water from an earthenware jar and handed it silently to the prime minister. The queen was tall, thin, and not very young. She wore a simple white robe and had no crown on her graying black hair. But no one could mistake her for anyone but a great queen, daughter of an ancient dynasty.
The queen removed a black cloth from a crystal ball, mounted on a gold box with black buttons. She walked slowly to the window and looked out at the desert. Outside, the hot wind blew vigorously, driving the dust against the heavy glass of the window pane. The queen gazed at the gray and stormy sky, covered with clouds that never rained, and waited until the crystal ball started to shimmer with swirling streams of white smoke. Suddenly the face of a camel appeared in the ball.
“Camellia, my dear,” said the queen, touching and adjusting the black buttons on the crystal ball. “I am glad to see you are safe. This has been a long assignment.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” said Camellia. “I am happy to report that we have found the Cinnabar box. Mr. Rose, an owner of an antique shop, had it for years and didn’t know what to do with it, though he suspected something. He gave it to a young girl, named Donna. I believe he saw us spying on him, and I think he understood, but we couldn’t communicate. You know how it is in their bizarre reality.”
“And will the girl give you the Cinnabar box if you explain the need?”
“It’s a bit more complicated than that, Your Majesty. Let me explain…”
Chapter Three
The red sunset poured through the dark pines and turned the new white dishes rosy red. Donna sighed contentedly as she finished her second slice of warm cherry pie topped with vanilla ice cream, and curled into a small ball in the faded cushions of the old wicker chair.
“The new microwave did a good job on this cherry pie,” said Aunt Yolanda.
“And the little town is so cute,” said Donna. “The housewares store looks like a doll’s house. By the way, did you notice I didn’t break anything?”
“Must be the Wicca locket,” said Aunt Yolanda innocentl
y, sipping her coffee. “Pure magic.”
Donna laughed, but suddenly looked apprehensively at her aunt. It could just be true, she thought.
“The Country Club looks as boring as the one Mom belongs to,” she said quickly.
Aunt Yolanda laughed. “I guess that’s why you suggested visiting it some other time, perhaps? You’re right, anyway. We have much more important things to do. First, I want to tell you about my zoo.”
She brought a large photo album from the living room, and opened it at random. Donna stared a clear, sharp photograph of a large flightless bird. A somewhat familiar bird, but she couldn’t quite place it or read the Latin name scribbled under the photograph.
Next appeared a photograph of a sea-turtle, again different from the usual. The next was a gorgeous tiger, but it had large, menacing teeth, unlike the tigers in zoos, circuses, or zoology books.
“Stop one minute,” she said, intrigued. “I have seen this tiger somewhere. Wait – it was on the cover of a science fiction book called Attack of the Saber-Toothed Tiger Amazons of Tau Ceti, I think… excellent book, I really liked it … saber-toothed tiger! Are you kidding me? They are extinct! They all died thousands of years ago! How can you have a photograph?”
“Didn’t you recognize the Dodo bird? It’s just as extinct as the saber-toothed tiger. I am the keeper of a zoo of extinct animals. We take them from the past, transport them to one of our special zones in an alternate reality, and protect them for a safe future in certain realities where they will be ecologically appropriate.”
“A couple of years ago I saw a stuffed Dodo in the American Museum of Natural History in New York City,” said Donna. “But I never suspected they were saved. The museum bird made me cry, and the other kids laughed at me.”
“You will enjoy meeting the flock. We have a whole bunch of them in the zoo, tame and friendly. They love to eat out of your hand and follow you wherever you walk, like a row of ducklings. Actually, the zoo is more of a natural preserve. No cages. Witches disapprove of cages. Besides, the animals will eventually be set free, as I said before, so they must remain independent.”
“I can’t believe it,” said Donna suddenly, the blood draining from her face. She felt cold all over. “It can’t be real. It’s a joke after all. Witches – no. No way.”
“You want proof?” said Aunt Yolanda, amused. “You know it’s all true. You are just terrified.”
“Maybe. There must be many horrible dangers in your work,” said Donna.
“Yes, there is plenty of danger and excitement in being a Witch. But danger exists in your father’s line of work, too, and in many other fields. If you are a doctor, or a nurse, you can catch diseases. Pilots can crash. Police officers are always at risk. Professional hazards! I don’t worry about them until I must.”
“So when are we going to visit the zoo?”
“First, you must learn to move between realities. It will take about two weeks. Do you want more ice cream? I am going to get a second cup of coffee.”
“Move between realities? Is it done by space traveling?”
“No. It is done by thinking in a special way. We’ll start working on it tomorrow, but just for fun, watch the cherry pie.” She closed her eyes, and sat motionless. The pie suddenly shimmered, then became transparent, then completely disappeared. Donna stared at the white dish, covered with nothing but crumbs and smears of cherry filling. Aunt Yolanda opened her eyes and smiled at Donna’s dumbfounded expression. “This is no sleight of hand. The pie is on my desk at the zoo. Let’s bring it back before Gilbert, our pet lemur, eats it. He loves pie.” She closed her eyes again, and the pie reappeared, first transparent, then shimmery, then solid. Donna touched it gingerly with an uncertain finger. “Look!” she said. “There are teeth marks on it!”
“Nothing to worry about,” said Aunt Yolanda. “Gilbert took a bite. Shall I send him a nice large piece? He is somewhat overweight, and our vet has told my assistant that we feed him too much … oh, well … I really don’t see why Gilbert should be skinny, since he’s not going back into the wild.” She cut a piece, put it on a napkin, and closed her eyes. The piece vanished. “We travel the same way,” continued Aunt Yolanda, “by thinking, only we send ourselves – now what in the world is going on? Look up in the sky!”
The sky suddenly lost its golden sunset and a huge, heavy cloud snuffed out the light. Heavy purple lightening pulsated at its edges, and a deafening thunder rumbled throughout the woods. The cloud was so low it seemed to touch the tops of the trees. A violent gust of wind swept all the new dishes to the veranda’s floor, but in the wind’s fury Donna couldn’t even hear them breaking. The cloud oozed heavily down the trees, covering everything with soot-colored fog. It deposited a filthy layer on the broken dishes, the blood-red filling of the crushed cherry pie, and the white puddle of melted ice cream.
“Run into the house,” screamed Aunt Yolanda, barely audible above the relentless thunder. She leaned to clutch Donna’s shoulder and shove her inside, but it was too late. The sooty fog surrounded and separated them. Donna tried to grab her aunt, but the fog was slippery and oily and its sticky waves moved constantly like a giant smoke ring. “Run!” screamed Aunt Yolanda again. “Hide in the cellar!” But Donna, paralyzed with terror, couldn’t move. She stared helplessly at the fog and saw a giant purple face outlined just above her struggling aunt. The face grinned viciously with its toothless dark blue mouth and its hollow, yellow-green eyes winked at Donna. Then the fog lifted into the air, carrying Aunt Yolanda with it, and rose high above the trees. Donna lost consciousness and fell heavily on the veranda’s floor.
Some time later, Donna finally stirred weakly. She couldn’t move yet, but had partially regained consciousness and vaguely heard a conversation that obviously started a while ago.
“… but she is too young. Think of the danger!”
“She has to be young, you silly old camel. You know that perfectly well.”
“I am not a silly old camel. I am only four thousand, three hundred and eighty-two years old, and it is not even middle-age for one of my species.”
“Four thousand, three hundred and eighty five. We are the same age, remember? Who are you kidding?”
“All right, already! But we have to wake the girl up.”
“I am awake, I think,” said Donna groggily.
Next to her crouched two large animals. A well-groomed camel, wearing a flower behind her ear and a pearl necklace, and a disheveled gray donkey in a dirty straw hat.
“I am sorry if we startled you, but we had to see you. You are the first owner of the Cinnabar box who happens to be a child. We cannot talk to adults in this weird reality,” said the camel.
“Sometimes neither can I,” said Donna sleepily. “Except for Aunt –” she suddenly woke up completely. “Aunt Yolanda! She was kidnapped! A black cloud got her…”
“We know,” said the camel sympathetically. “It’s all connected to the Cinnabar box. We will do everything we can to save your aunt …”
“More important than any aunt is returning the Cinnabar box to the rightful owner,” growled the donkey. “Unfortunately, we are not allowed to simply steal it.”
“Bartholomew!” said the camel in an injured tone. “We are not thieves!”
“Yes, yes,” said the donkey rudely. “I have heard all this nonsense before. Neither the queen nor the prime minister know how to get things done. Rules and regulations …”
“What’s in the box?” interrupted Donna.
“A key. The box can only be opened under certain conditions … But I can’t tell you more now. The question is, do you agree to return it to the real owner?” said the camel.
“Of course. But how do we get there?”
“We? You don’t have to go. You only have to take us to the edge of your reality. We need you to translate in case we have to talk to an adult …” said the camel.
“If you want the box, Ms., ah, Camel, you take me with you. I am not deserting Aunt Yoland
a.”
“You see?” said the camel anxiously. “She will be in serious danger.”
“Who cares?” said the donkey. “If she is killed, she is killed, I say – as long as the queen gets the key. And anyway, the girl is a Wicca, right? These Wicca take chances all the time. Part of their job.”
For a moment Donna was taken aback. “I am not yet trained in Wicca, or in switching realities,” she admitted.
“You will ride on my back,” said the camel resignedly. “I will fly you there. There is no other way to cross the desert. And we can get you through the Reality Barrier, too.” The camel slowly spread a pair of magnificent wings, the color of pearls. Each feather shone like a delicate rainbow.
“How beautiful you are,” said Donna admiringly.
The donkey laughed. “Do you really think so, Wicca? This old camel will be your friend forever!”
The camel looked at him disdainfully. “Be quiet. We should introduce ourselves properly. My name is Camellia Baat-Laila, and this rude donkey is Bartholomew Ben-Harun. Don’t pay attention to his stupid jokes, please, they are quite out of place under the circumstances, but he is not so bad when you get to know him. We have been brought up together, believe it or not, and trained together as agents of the queen.”
“I just look so much younger, don’t I?” said Bartholomew and winked at Donna. Camellia glared at him without a word and adjusted her pearls daintily.
“Let me get a few things for the trip,” said Donna. She hastily threw some clothes into her backpack, and put on an old denim jacket that had a few buttoned pockets. In the pockets she stuck the Cinnabar box and a spare pair of glasses.
“Take a hat,” advised Bartholomew. “Only tough old camels can manage without hats in the desert. Even I need one. The sun will destroy someone like you.” She searched feverishly, and finally found an old gardening hat, a dilapidated straw affair with a torn silk rose. Bartholomew laughed at the sight and said that it was better than nothing, but she did look stupid in it. Donna ignored him, climbed on Camellia’s furry back and wrapped her arms around the camel’s neck. The animals spread their wings and rose into the air together.