Ninja Girl: The Nine Wiles

by Steven W. White

  "That's because you're stoned."

  Ash reached them. They stank of weed, and one held a smoldering joint. The style of their clothing matched each other perfectly, one in white, one in heather gray. She had seen them around before, but didn't know their names. She wondered if they would be trouble.

  "Hi, guys," she said.

  "Hey, baby," said the first. He gestured elegantly with the joint. "Want some?"

  "No, thanks."

  The second leaned against the first. "'Want some?' It's my weed."

  "I'm being polite. Don't be stingy. Also... it's a girl."

  "I can see it's a girl."

  "You thought it was a mirage," said the first.

  "That was when she was way over there. Now... hey." The second guy peered at her suspiciously. "How did you get up here? You didn't use the tree." He waved a hand behind him, indicating the oak.

  Ash hesitated. "Well..."

  "She came up the wall," said the first.

  The second made a 'come hither' gesture for the joint, and accepted it. "She had to use the tree. Everybody uses the tree. She did not come up the wall. Nobody comes up the wall." He sucked delicately.

  "I saw her come up the wall," said the first. "She must be Nobody."

  "How can you say that?" the second wheezed. "She's clearly Somebody."

  "Well, if she's Somebody, then she must be... a wall crawler."

  The second nodded contemplatively. "Sweet."

  "I used the tree," Ash lied. "I came up here a while ago."

  "Bullshit."

  "Saw you."

  Ash smiled innocently. "Okay, guys. You aren't going to... tell anybody, are you?"

  "Are you kidding?" The second held up the joint. "Look at us."

  "That's good," she said. "Thanks, guys. I... I don't know your names."

  The first narrowed his eyes suggestively. "Bond."

  The second arced an eyebrow. "James Bond."

  The first broke into a fit of giggling. "I'm Bond. You're James Bond!"

  "Excellent," the second said. His watery eyes set on Ash. "Who are you?"

  "I'm..." Ash desperately wanted to say the ninja. "I'm..."

  Don't say the ninja, don't say the ninja, don't say the ninja...

  "Moneypenny," she finished.

  "Oh..." uttered Bond. "That's... perfect."

  "Epic," said James Bond.

  "Nice to meet you two," Ash said. "Guess I'll be going." She stepped to the edge, inspecting the oak.

  "Stay on that side," said Bond. "And the tree will block the cameras. Just put your feet where the bark is worn."

  Ash could see pale spots on the branches, and as she started down, she used them for handholds and footholds. "Bye."

  "See ya," said Bond.

  It was an easy climb. As her feet touched solid concrete, she breathed a sigh of relief, and heard the faint voice of James Bond, above. "Dude... did you... just see a girl?"

  Ash raced around the building, grabbed her backpack, and started home.

  #

  On the way, she dialed Mule's cell. It rang, then cut to voice mail. She left a message suggesting a tutoring session tomorrow – very nonchalant – and wondered if he had lost his cell phone again.

  As she was speaking, her phone beeped with an incoming call. She checked the screen.

  Drake.

  She stuttered through her message to Mule and clicked over. "Hello?"

  "Hi, Ash," Drake said. "What's new?"

  She couldn't think of anything to say. She found that it was getting harder and harder to answer that question. "The usual weirdness. You?"

  "Yeah, same. You busy Saturday?"

  She felt a sudden thrill, but quashed it.

  Why? You want to get together and call me kid again?

  "No plans," she said.

  "Good. You like movies?"

  "I do. No aliens or explosions, though."

  That stopped him. There was a long pause. At last, "Done. Two o'clock? A little matinée? I'll pick you up at your place. Convenience, like I said."

  "Okay."

  "See you then." And he was gone, just like that.

  Ash found she had a new lightness in her stride. She hadn't made up her mind about Drake. At least it would be an interesting weekend. She could picture, with perfect clarity, the curve of his lips when he smiled. And it was even easier to imagine the cold depth his eyes took on when he was scowling. She liked his eyes, and thought about them for the rest of the walk home.

  15

  During Ash's walk with Elsbeth, the night was cool and dry.

  "You're swelling like a balloon," Elsbeth said. "Tell me what's on your mind, before you burst."

  Ash let it out. "I ran up a wall today!"

  Elsbeth touched her shoulder. "Ash, that's wonderful." She hugged her. "How high?"

  Ash squeezed her aunt happily. "Two whole floors. Like, fifteen feet!"

  Elsbeth pulled back to look at her. "Only two?"

  Ash scowled. "What do you mean, only two? Come on!"

  "Well... it's a lovely start. Nicely done. No cameras?"

  "No way."

  Elsbeth nodded. "If you were seen doing something like that on camera, things would go very badly for us. So... no one saw you?"

  "Just these two guys on the roof. And they probably won't remember."

  "Just two..." Elsbeth shook her head. "Ash, Ash."

  "Don't worry. It'll be fine."

  "Discretion is your first responsibility. A tiger is fast and strong, but without its stripes to help it blend into the grass, it cannot stalk its prey. You have learned that you are a tiger. Do not forget your stripes."

  Ash sighed. "Got it. Remember my stripes."

  The sky had cleared and a few stars twinkled overhead. The tops of the tallest trees had a silver glow – maybe the moon was coming up. Ash wondered if she should tell Elsbeth about sneaking into the classroom and stealing the test. She didn't think Elsbeth would be mad. In fact, she wasn't sure if Elsbeth would care. There were bigger things on Elsbeth's mind. Which reminded her–

  "Hey," Ash said. "Why didn't you tell me that everybody knows about the Book Without Words?"

  "Everybody? I see. You refer to the fifteen pages in the Library of Congress."

  "I thought it was a secret! Guarded for centuries, blah blah blah!"

  "It is. Ash–"

  "Have you looked on the internet lately?"

  "Ash..." Elsbeth stopped on the broad sidewalk of a corner. "The Mutus Liber is nineteen pages."

  "Okay, but still! Most of it is... oh."

  "Without all the pages, the formula can't be understood. The final page, especially, is the key. It shows how to make sense of the rest."

  "Then, which page is in the school library?"

  "As it happens, page nineteen. The key. Without it, those fifteen pages are merely a historical curiosity. An artifact of an endeavor long abandoned."

  "Creating the philosopher's stone."

  "We tried to prevent its publication at the time. But we were still reeling from our failure in Japan. It was a difficult century for us. Luckily, the version Pierre Savouret had was incomplete. Else the world would be a very different place."

  A random SUV rolled down the street, its headlights falling on them. They watched it as it passed. It turned the corner and receded, leaving them in darkness.

  When it was gone, Ash said, "And that's another thing. If people can turn lead into gold, so what? We'd all be rich. Maybe you guys ought to lay off. Or better yet, publish the Mutus Liber yourselves."

  Elsbeth watched Ash with narrowed eyes. "Let's walk." She stepped off the curb, and Ash followed her across the street. They continued past the next row of houses, under the overhanging trees that blocked the streetlights. Elsbeth's form fell into shadow and became indistinct. Ash stayed at Elsbeth's arm and used her night-vision trick, checking her path for obstacles and trying to read Elsbeth's expression, both from the corner of her eye.

  When Elsbet
h finally spoke, her tone was hushed. "You don't appreciate the peace and safety humankind has enjoyed over the past four hundred years, because Savouret's copy was incomplete. Ash..."

  Ash was about to jump in, but stopped herself when she realized Elsbeth was struggling for words.

  "Ash, you don't know what the philosopher's stone is. It's a catalyst for changing the laws of nature. Transmutation of the elements – lead into gold, as you said – is only one facet. But try to understand what that power alone would mean. Substances lose their identity. Lead into gold. Gold into diamond. Diamond into flesh. Water into wine. Air into steel."

  "But... you can't–"

  "Others have thought as you do. Surely infinite power would mean an end to hardship, to famine, to strife. Savouret was such a fool. And there have been others. The last time someone managed to create a trace of the philosopher's stone was in 1908, at Lake Cheko. That's in Russia. Luckily, they destroyed themselves before we could intervene."

  They came to the next corner. The moon shone full and white, just above the trees, casting its glow on the sidewalk and reflecting in the windshields of cars parked on the street.

  "Before that," Elsbeth said, "there was the time when the formula was first discovered, a thousand years ago. Before it was decided that it was too dangerous and had to be hidden. Beyond the transmutation of the elements, it was used to create a new element, more pure than any that exist naturally on Earth."

  Elsbeth reached into her hip pocket and withdrew the star. Its four sharkfin blades caught tonight’s moonlight and played with it, filling Ash's eyes with brilliance it hadn’t possessed before. She drew in a stunned breath. The star's glimmer entranced her, and she forced herself to look away, afraid that she would be lost in it.

  Elsbeth admired the star, unblinking, fearless. Its glow turned her eyes silver. "They learned to manipulate it. Forge it, weave it – even though they didn't know what it was. Some spoke of earth, air, fire, and water, and decided it had to be a fifth. So one of its names is quintessence."

  Ash dared to look at the star again, and Elsbeth handed it to her. Ash slowly turned it. Its light seemed more than a reflection – as if it was sister to the moon. "It's... not metal?"

  "No. It's not metal." Elsbeth took it back. "It's one of the last ones made, about nine hundred years old. We keep things like it to remind ourselves of what the philosopher's stone is capable of, and why we keep the formula hidden."

  "So if I break it, you aren't going to mix up some more."

  Elsbeth's eyes turned hard. She crouched, and with one of the star's shining blades, carved letters in the sidewalk.

  NO

  "We will never use the stone!" she hissed. "Not before a century comes when humanity is mature enough to handle it." She stood, and her expression softened. "But... I wouldn't worry about breaking the star."

  Ash frowned at the letters and folded her arms. "That's, like... vandalism."

  Elsbeth shrugged. "I've done worse."

  #

  Thursday afternoon in the library, Ash met Mule for crash-tutoring. She had already reviewed Mrs. Wilson's math test and created a list of practice problems for him. As they worked through them together, Mule's test anxiety faded.

  When they finished the last problem, he said, "That's it?"

  Ash nodded. "You're done."

  "That was only forty-five minutes."

  "You're a math freak. There's nothing else I can teach you."

  "Okay. I feel good. I think I can rock this thing tomorrow."

  "Me too." Ash smiled and breathed a satisfied sigh, letting her brain unwind from the algebra. If Mule aced the test thanks to her, it would make up for her previous blatherings about Drake. She'd be square with her friend.

  "Cool." Mule eyed the equations on the scratch paper in front of him, as if they weren't quite defeated. "Hey... if it goes good tomorrow, you want to do something Saturday?"

  Ash felt her stomach plunge unpleasantly, a sudden roller coaster drop. "Like what?"

  "Something fun. We always hang out at school, but that's it. And the tutoring thing, you know. It gets old."

  Ash felt her heart pounding. How could he ask her this? Why Saturday? The temperature in the library seemed to drop ten degrees, and Ash felt icy perspiration on the back of her neck. She rubbed her eyes, pretending to be tired, buying a few seconds to think. How could she get out of this without telling him she had a date with Drake?

  Ash smiled at him and shook her head no. "Listen, you'd better ace this test first. Keep your head in the game."

  Mule watched her for a long moment, thoughtfully stroking the scar on his chin. "Maybe you're right."

  16

  On their walk that evening, Ash and Elsbeth doubled back and crept up to the roof of the house. The night was as dry as the night before and almost balmy, and Ash quietly looked forward to some sunny weather this weekend and her time with Drake.

  Together they leapt house-to-house to the corner. Ash concentrated on her landings and tried to make less noise. She still wasn't good at it, and each time Elsbeth's feet hit shingles with barely a breath, Ash came down with a thump, an awkward sort of echo.

  They stopped on the house at the corner, where Ash had failed her first test. The pieces of shingle broken by Elsbeth launching herself across the street had been washed by rain to the gutter. Moonlight broke through distant trees, brightening the rooftops.

  Elsbeth folded her arms and watched Ash serenely, eyes narrowed. In her gaze was – Ash didn't know – appraisal, judgment... pride?

  "Do you feel ready to hear the second Wile?"

  A thrill ran through her. "Yes, ma'am. Been waiting."

  "Then follow."

  Elsbeth crouched, winding up like a spring, and vanished with a wooden snap. She appeared on the roof across the street, and as she silently beckoned, Ash felt her heart start hammering. She had blown this last time.

  But this time, it didn't seem nearly as far.

  She took a deep breath, counting, and held it. She counted some more. As she let it out, the world slowed down. The moonlit roofs brightened from gray to silver, and the night seemed to fill with clarity and contrast. Ash eyed a patch of roof beside Elsbeth, like a predator watching its prey.

  It was going to hurt when she landed – she hadn't figured out how to handle that. It would be loud, too.

  But Ash didn't want to think about that now. She wanted the second Wile.

  She bent her knees, letting her hips drop and feeling the energy building in her legs. In a single effort, she released that energy and launched herself skyward. A powerful wind clawed at her, and she let it press her arms to her sides and extend her legs, streamlining her body.

  From her new height she could see all the streetlights of Magnolia, and the moon appeared above the trees. She glanced down at Elsbeth, who looked up at her, frozen. At the top of her arc, she hugged her knees and ducked her head, feeling herself spin end over end. She was too dizzy, too high, too airborne to be frightened.

  Cannonball! she thought.

  She extended her body, pointing her toes, and came down feet first next to Elsbeth.

  It hurt.

  She folded up and tumbled, rattling up the slope of the roof, and came to rest flat on her back. A broad smile stretched her lips. She had done it! And she was fairly sure she hadn't broken anything, but successfully spread the impact over her entire body. She tried to enjoy the twinkling stars as the pain slowly receded.

  "Ow," she said happily.

  Elsbeth's hand appeared over her, and helped her up. "I'm sure that drew some attention. Let's move before we have company."

  Ash rolled her shoulders, flexing, testing her body. "I should have stretched first."

  Elsbeth crept down to the roof's edge and hopped to the high wooden fence that enclosed the backyard. She walked it like a tightrope, and stepped neatly onto the neighboring roof. Ash followed, grateful for the break from jumping.

  They stepped over roofs and acro
ss fences, working their way back toward home. A few houses down, an enormous tree grew from the center of a backyard, three times taller than the house itself, visible for blocks. Its branches spread wide, overhanging the roof. Elsbeth crept among the branches, disappearing. Ash followed her. The branches cut the moonlight, leaving only silver beams that slanted through an enclosed space on the slope near the roof's edge. Ash immediately liked this little hiding spot. If she had climbed more neighbors' roofs as a kid, this would have been her clubhouse.

  "The second Wile," Elsbeth said, "is about vision."

  Ash leaned on a branch so the moon's glare was blocked. She adjusted to the new darkness, and could see Elsbeth clearly from the corner of her eye. "Good. Because I've got the night vision thing down."

  "Do you know what kind of tree this is?"

  Ash hesitated. What happened to vision? She didn't know anything about tree-ology. "The big kind?"

  "It's an ash tree."

  "Oh! Neat."

  "The Latin name is Fraxinus, which means spear. The word 'ash' comes from the Old English aesc, which also means spear. Interesting, hm?"

  "Huh." Ash wasn't sure what to make of that.

  Elsbeth set her hands on a branch over her head and gave it three quick shakes. A hundred tiny seed pods came loose and fluttered down. She plucked one out of the air and handed it to Ash. "What is it?"

  Ash held it in a beam of moonlight. It was a hard oval bud the size of a bean, with a single brittle fin coming off, like a dragonfly wing. "It's a helicopter seed."

  "What else is it?"

  Ash turned it in her fingers, uncertain.

  Elsbeth nodded, as if Ash's silence had been an answer. "Excellent jump tonight, Ash. You have gifts. But your gifts will only take you so far, and no farther. To reach all the way to the ninth Wile, you will need discipline. And the key to discipline is vision. So..." Elsbeth gestured to the helicopter seed. "What do you see?"

  Ash held the seed at the end of her nose, and it was silver in the moonlight.

  Now wait just a minute, she thought. If vision was the key to discipline, then Elsbeth meant the vision to see the future, the goal, the end of the line, the ninth Wile. If Ash kept the goal in mind, and wanted it badly enough, the discipline part would come easy. She'd learned that much in ballet.