"Welcome to Oz.” She must have read something in his expression then, because she quickly added. “Sorry. I'll bet you get that all the time."
He shrugged. “Just don't call me Dorothy."
"Okay, Toto, what would you like for dinner? The cook's fresh out of kibble."
He relaxed completely. “I guess I deserved that. My name's Gavin. Gavin Knight."
"Ah, a knight errant, from the Western Lands, by way of Pittsburgh. And I was supposed to say, ‘Hello, I'm Amanita. I'll be your server this evening.’ I always forget."
"Amanita?” He looked for a smile, but her homely face was unreadable. He decided she was pulling his leg. “As in, Extremely Poisonous Death's Head Amanita Mushroom?"
She arched a heavy eyebrow. “You know what it means! What, you're a mycologist?"
"No, I'm a—"
"A botanist, a doctor, a poison specialist?"
"No, I—"
"A poisoner! That's it, you're Mad Kansas Jack, the cat poisoner."
He laughed. “Not hardly. I'm a grad student, at UNH."
"Even worse. Why aren't you living in Durham, on campus?” she asked.
"My advisor lives here. He's got a big, old place over in what-cha-call-it, Strawbery Banke. Or is it Bankee?” He made point of pronouncing the final e.
She smiled, which mellowed her features a little, though not nearly enough. “It's Bank without the ee, at least among us groundlings."
"Do you live here in Portsmouth?"
"Ayuh."
He smiled at her pronunciation. “A born and bred New Englander, huh?"
"Nope,” she said. “I'm a changeling."
"A what?"
"A changeling. I was left in a basket on the front step of the richest man in town. Right there in Strawbery Banke.” Her smile dared him to disbelieve.
Gavin decided to take the dare. “That makes you a foundling. A changeling is switched with a human baby."
Her eyebrows lifted slightly; now her smile said, Do I look human? Gavin blushed again, certain he'd insulted her, but all she really said was, “Foundlings don't have second sight."
Gavin couldn't help glancing at her wandering eye, which was staring right at him at the moment. “Second sight. Okay. Like, see the future."
"That's right."
Gavin wondered if she was pulling his leg again or simply crazy. It was impossible to read her face. “Okay. If you can see the future, why did you have to ask where I was from?"
She smiled. “That's not the future, it's the past."
"Then why do you have to ask what I want to order?"
She snorted. “That's the present. And it's far too unimportant."
Gavin surrendered. “Okay. What do you see in my future?"
She closed her right eye and let the left one wander his way. Then it wandered the other way. Gavin stared, fascinated. She reopened her right eye and regarded him curiously.
"What?” he asked.
"You're going to meet a small, gray stranger,” she announced.
Gavin laughed. “Safe call! Everyone here is a stranger to me."
"Small and gray?” she asked.
"Okay, that's a new one,” he allowed. “Should I be afraid?"
"No, no dangers looming. But you will fall in love."
"With a small, gray stranger?” he asked.
"No,” she replied. “Well, yes, but that will be completely platonic. You've already met the true love of your life. Now, my turn to ask a question: What'll you have, Gavin?"
I guess the seance is over, he thought. “A grilled cheese sandwich. And a glass of milk."
"Fries? Salad? Batter-dipped mushrooms?” She flashed an evil grin. Her small teeth looked sharp.
"No, thanks. I'm on a budget."
"Ah, the poor, wandering student; the mendicant friar. Not a knight errant at all."
She took the menu and walked around the counter and into the kitchen. Dan and Ann's was done up in a retro style that went with the waitress outfits: red vinyl upholstery, chrome edging, Formica tabletops, and long windows between the counter and the kitchen, where a cook was hustling in front of the grill. Apart from a greatly sagging pot belly, he looked normal. Amanita—that couldn't really be her name, could it? Whatever, she seemed to be making his sandwich herself. She glanced up, and Gavin quickly turned to the miniature jukebox fastened to the wall at the end of his booth. He studied the list of titles, but the only one he recognized was “Love Me Tender,” by Elvis. He guessed they all must be from the ancient days of rock-and-roll.
Not that he could afford to waste a quarter on music. He had arrived with very little left in his pocket, and he wouldn't be paid for another two weeks. Gavin sighed. He was supposed to be in Scotland right now, researching medieval folklore with his new advisor, Professor Jury, but the funding had fallen through. Gavin's had at least; Dr. Jury had left without him, and wouldn't be back until halfway through the fall term. Gavin, meanwhile, was supposed to do his half of the research on the Web and at the UNH library, as well as take care of the good professor's big old drafty block of a house up in Strawbery Banke without the ee. Not the best of ways to get to know his new department and new town. He was not good at making his own introductions.
Amanita brought his sandwich, and he was going to ask her if that was really her name, but business had picked up and he didn't want to get in the way. The meal went down quickly, with no one for him to talk with, but just as he was finishing, she hurried past and set down a plate with a big slice of apple pie on it.
"On the house, Friar Gavin,” she said. “Pay at the counter when you're done."
Then she was off to another table. She was busy in the kitchen when he left, so he couldn't tell her how delicious the pie had been. He paid the other waitress (who had a very pretty face) and left feeling only half full.
Gavin walked around Portsmouth for a while. It was nothing like Kansas City or Pittsburgh, the only two cities he knew. The buildings were mostly brick, with shops or restaurants along the streets and apartments above. They were built low, too; the high steeple of a white church was taller than most. It was quiet by his city standards, but then it was a chilly Tuesday evening in May. It was after eight p.m., and the shops were closed. Following his nose, he came to a river. The water was low, exposing muddy walls and pilings that gave off a pungent odor. He wondered what caused it; it wasn't unpleasant but was definitely unfamiliar. He looked downstream; the river swept out of sight around a broad curve lined with buildings and wharves. He knew from the map that Portsmouth was right by the Atlantic Ocean. He'd never seen an ocean before. He wondered if the odor came from the sea.
He decided to walk that way, just in case the sea was near. The city streets didn't border the river or follow any regular plan, so he wound this way and that, catching glimpses of water between the buildings. He wasn't worried about finding his way back to the professor's house—Gavin never got lost.
Soon he came to a park that bordered the river. Boats of various sizes, some with masts even, were tied up in neat rows along the docks. Children were playing on climbers, and couples strolled on the pathways or sat under the trees. Gavin started to feel lonely again. He turned onto a path that cut across the park toward the street, ready to find his way back to Strawbery Banke. As he passed between two tall oak trees, a voice called out.
"Hello!"
Gavin looked around. He couldn't see anyone close by, but the voice called again.
"Hello!"
Gavin looked down. A small, gray parrot was standing at the base of the left-hand oak tree. It cocked its head and peered up at him. Its eyes were bright and round and rimmed with white feathers. Its tail was bright red.
For a moment, Gavin could only stare. The hairs at the back of his neck prickled. A small, gray stranger? Then he laughed; he couldn't help it. Of all the impossible and ridiculous coincidences, this had to take the prize. He knelt and spoke to the parrot.
"Hello, yourself,” Gavin said.
&
nbsp; "Here's a pretty boy!” the parrot squawked.
"You are a pretty one,” Gavin agreed. “Polly want a cracker?"
The parrot blinked. “Bite me!” he replied.
"Okay,” Gavin murmured. “Either you're not Polly or you don't like crackers."
He looked around to see if there was anyone near, and the parrot flew right to his shoulder. “Whoa!” Gavin exclaimed, almost toppling against the oak.
"Whoa Nelly!” the parrot agreed. It turned, batting his cheek with its red tail, leaned out, and looked him right in the eye. “Hello!” it said. “Let's go!"
Gavin asked everyone nearby, even overcoming his shyness to interrupt a couple snuggling on a bench, but no one recognized the parrot. The bird, meanwhile, sat on his shoulder, ignoring the other people and occasionally rubbing its evil-looking beak against Gavin's ear. Gavin finally stopped in the deepening twilight at a crossing of the paths.
"Now what?” he murmured.
"Go with the flow!” the parrot squawked.
It seemed like the only course. “I don't have any food for you in the house,” Gavin told the bird. But he thought he knew where he might be able to get some.
He retraced his steps to Dan and Ann's Diner. The parrot muttered on his shoulder, occasionally letting out a shrill whistle or a hoarse “Hello” at a passerby. As Gavin rounded the corner, he saw that the lights in the diner were off. His excitement dimmed a moment, until he realized that Amanita was at the front door, talking with two young men in suits. He hesitated, suddenly feeling foolish. He really wanted to hear what she'd say when she saw that her joking prediction had come so oddly true. But he also didn't want to break into her real life.
He started to turn away when the parrot let out another whistle and squawked, “Go with the flow!"
Amanita saw them. Immediately, she waved and called, “Hi, Gavin!” She said something to the two men and hurried up the street.
"Well, look who you picked up,” she said.
"She's a pretty girl!” the parrot squawked.
Gavin blinked. If anything, Amanita was homelier than he remembered. “Look,” he said, “I don't want to interrupt you and your friends."
She laughed. “Hardly. They're Jehovah's Witnesses. You have saved me from a cruel fate, oh knight in shining armor."
He smiled. “You're lucky they didn't follow you over. I never know how to escape from them myself."
"No problem. I just told them you were a practicing wiccan. Who's your new friend?"
"I don't know, but don't call it Polly. I just found it in the park by the river."
She pursed her lips and made chirping noises at the parrot. “Hey, pretty boy,” she said. “Have you got a name?” It chirped back. “Hmm. All right. How about Sancho?"
"Hello!” the parrot replied.
"I guess that's a yes,” Gavin said. “Why Sancho?"
She smiled at him. “Every knight needs a squire. Come on, let's get him some food."
She let them back into Dan and Ann's, sat them at the counter, and rummaged in the big cooler. Sancho nibbled gashes in the corner of a menu, nipping at Gavin's finger when he tried to stop him. When Amanita came out of the kitchen with some fruit and lettuce cut up in a bowl, Sancho whistled his thanks and began tearing apart an orange slice.
"You've made a friend,” Gavin remarked.
"How about you?” she asked. “More pie and milk?"
"Hey, that was great,” Gavin said. “I really appreciate it, but I can't keep—"
"Sure, you can,” she said.
So he ate the pie and drank the milk while Sancho ripped into his fruit and Amanita watched with her wandering eye. When he was done, she gave him a bag of fruit and veggies for Sancho and offered him a lift home. Gavin was about to refuse, but Sancho said, “Let's go!” So he wound up climbing into the passenger seat of her car, which turned out to be a sky-blue vintage Volkswagen Beetle in nearly perfect repair.
"Nice wheels,” Gavin said.
"It suits me,” she replied, and Gavin wondered if she meant its odd looks.
She headed in the right direction, but missed the turn that would have taken them into the narrow, windy streets of Strawbery Banke.
"Hey,” Gavin begin, “that's—"
"Yes, I know. I'm kidnapping you,” she said. “You've never seen the ocean, right? I didn't think so. I know a good spot. Don't worry, it's very public."
"Go with the flow!” Sancho squawked, nipping at Gavin's ear. Gavin took his hand off the door handle and tried to relax. He really was interested in seeing the ocean. But he wasn't sure he could handle any more of her surprises.
It only took ten minutes or so along quiet, winding roads. They drove out of the city glare and into the pewter gleam of moonlight. The pungent smell from Portsmouth's river receded, then resurged. They came out of the trees and houses and crossed a stretch of dark meadow land. Amanita stopped at a tee junction, and Gavin could hear a soft grumbling sound. She turned right, skirting a row of houses, then made a final turn and pulled the Beetle up to a bank of sand at the end of a narrow dead-end street. They got out. Gavin was shivering with anticipation. She led him through soft sand, up a low bank.
And there was a great sweep of darkness that stretched as far as he could see under the moonlight. The beach was a long, gentle slope of lighter gray that ended at a snaking line of silver, where waves thumped and growled at the lip of the sea. Stars dotted the horizon, and Gavin couldn't tell where the sky ended and the sea began. He felt a moment of vertigo, almost fear, at the unbroken immensity. The waves muttered a warning.
"Thar she blows!” Sancho cried, and Gavin jumped.
"Oh, yeah,” he said.
He tore his eyes from the grip of the sea's expanse. To right and left, the beach reached out in a broad, flat crescent. Houses looked down on it, lighting patches of sand with their glowing windows. The sky above and behind was bright with city glow and moonlight. A sea gull laughed from the roof of a nearby house. Gavin let his eyes wander back to the dark reach of the sea. He had stood at night on the wide plains of Kansas, where the sky and land were just as lost in distance and darkness, but he had never seen the world's end like this. He shivered again.
He noticed a light flash out to sea. In a minute, it flashed again. A lighthouse? he wondered. He noticed other lights to its left that were too large to be stars.
"Those are the Isles of Shoals,” Amanita said.
"People live out there?” It seemed crazy.
She didn't answer immediately. He glanced at her face, but it was blurred by shadow. Only her eyes showed: each a faint gleam fixed on the lights of the islands.
"The aides used to bring us here from the orphanage once or twice a year.” Her voice was soft, with none of the edge it held when she was joking. “I was sure the islands were my birthplace, that my mother's people still lived there. That I would have lived there, if she hadn't died.” She chuckled. “Childhood fancies. I didn't realize you can't see those islands, not in daylight or under the moon."
Gavin thought he understood. “Only in dreams?"
She turned her face toward him, half lit now by moonlight and window shine, half still smoothed by darkness, with her humped nose a stark edge between. “Not only in dreams. The darkness just has to be deep enough, and you have to have the courage to believe. Come on, I'll take you home now."
Gavin was happy to follow her up the beach, away from the dark sea, but he had the odd feeling that he had just done very poorly on an exam.
* * * *
The next day, he put an ad in the Portsmouth Herald announcing a lost parrot. He knew it was the right thing to do, but he also stocked up on fresh fruit and hoped Sancho would be around to share it. He bought a copy of the newspaper, too, to put under Sancho's perch. Sancho had chosen the back of a spindly chair for his regular roost, and he occupied it like a prince on a throne. It was by a window that overlooked the narrow street, and he commented shrilly on every passerby: There's a pretty girl! Let
's go! Hello! And a wide repertoire of whistles, including the opening measure of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony.
Gavin set up his laptop on a small, old table beside Sancho's chair. The house itself was more than 250 years old, if you could believe the date painted over the front door, and everything in it seemed to be an antique, except for a modern kitchen and the wireless Internet hub. Gavin's email was already filled with messages from Dr. Jury, asking him to research this old manuscript or to find the source of some equally obscure reference to a bit of lost saga. Gavin logged into the UNH library and got to work.
By evening, his brain was fogged. He nuked a frozen pizza, gobbled it down (Sancho stuck to his fruit), and went for a walk, with Sancho perched happily on his shoulder. He came back, found a book titled Legends of Faery in Dr. Jury's crammed library, and fell asleep after half a chapter. Sancho woke him at daybreak with his discordant rendition of the Fifth's first four notes. After the twelfth repetition, Gavin crawled out of bed to feed them both.
It became a comfortable routine: a quick morning walk to get a paper, followed by email, Dr. Jury's questions (most without answers), lunch, a trip to the store for groceries, more research, dinner, a walk, reading, bed. Gavin learned the layout of the town on foot, without really having to fit in. He let Sancho say hello for the both of them. Sancho was his companion, the computer his outlet, the research his only care. Apart from money, and that problem was eased at the end of the second week when his first paycheck arrived from UNH. That evening, he drove Sancho back to the beach.
It was June now, the days were getting long, and the sea was brightly lit. People walked along the crescent of sand or lay on towels. A few waded in the wash of the gentle waves. Gavin watched from the top of the beach.
"Thar she blows!” Sancho squawked.
"Yeah.” Gavin steeled himself and walked down the long slope to the edge of the dark, wet sand that marked the highest reach of the waves. Proximity didn't help any more than daylight; the unending expanse of water made his stomach knot. He could see the Isles of Shoals clearly in the daylight, rising in a cluster this side of the horizon. There were fields and buildings; one looked like a big, white hotel from the last century, but nothing really out of the ordinary. And they were only six miles away—he'd checked Wikipedia. But they might as well have been on the far side of the moon. He didn't linger. He drove back to the house, ate a dull dinner, then took Sancho for a late walk.
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