by Jane Kelley
Then from a different part of the darkness, they heard a halting voice trying to speak. Or was it just the wind?
“Shhh,” the man said. He put the wand to his ear to listen.
“You are bound and sealed, all you … demons and devils.… By that powerful bond.…”
The man dragged Val toward the voice. Tasman came out of the eastern grove. He held the bowl against his chest.
“Who’s that? Who’s there?”
Tasman stopped just at the edge of the darkness.
The man squinted at Tasman. “Why do you have a bowl?”
Tasman held the bowl so that the opening was pointed toward the man. As he extended his arms, they trembled so much he seemed about to drop the bowl. But he clung to it.
The man released Val. The wand clattered to the bricks. He came closer and closer. Tasman tensed, but he didn’t back away. The man pointed at the drawing of the demon at the bottom of the bowl. Then he took several steps back and hid his finger inside his robe. He squinted at Tasman. “Where did you get it?”
“My grandfather found it in the desert, near Nippur, Iraq,” Tasman said.
“Your grandfather? No! Not your grandfather. My father. This is what my father found,” the man said.
“Your father. My grandfather,” Tasman said.
The man nodded. “Tasman.”
“Yes,” Tasman said.
“No,” the poets murmured.
The man stared into the bowl. He moved his head in a circle so that his eyes followed the spiral of words until they descended to the demon at the center.
Then he yelped. The poets gasped.
“Why do you have it?” the man said.
“To bind the demons,” Tasman said.
The man laughed. He spun around and around.
“Stop,” Lanora said.
The man stopped.
“We need to finish our ceremony,” Lanora said.
The man shook his head. “Why? Would it help? Nothing helps. Nothing except gold. Got-got-got get-get-get go-go-gold.” He tried to grab Val again.
Lanora rushed over to stand between them. She looked the man in the eyes. “Maybe you didn’t do it right.”
“Right right, wrong or right,” the man sang.
“Maybe you didn’t have enough people.” Val stood beside Lanora.
“Maybe you forgot some of the words,” Helena said.
“Maybe you were too loud,” Tina said.
“Maybe you were too clever,” Gillian said
“Maybe you didn’t speak from the heart,” Olivia said.
When they had all formed a circle around the man, Lanora said, “You’d better try again. Come on, Tasman.”
“Tas man, has plan, raz fan, jazz can,” the man said.
As he spewed his nonsense, Tasman slowly walked toward them. He hugged the bowl to his chest. He placed his cheek against its smooth surface. Then he sighed deeply. He held out the bowl. One by one, they all put their hands on its rim. Together they lifted it above the man’s head.
“You are bound and sealed.” Tasman’s voice was hesitant at first. “All you demons and devils. By that powerful bond.”
“No,” Lanora said. “By this powerful bond.”
Tasman looked at the man. The man tilted his head so that his hair fell away from his eyes. They stared at each other. Then they said together, “By this powerful bond.”
“You evil one,” the man shouted, “who causes the hearts of men to go astray, and appears in the dream of the night, and in the vision of the day.”
“You are conquered and sealed,” Tasman shouted, too.
“You demons and devils are trapped by this incantation in this bowl.”
The wind swept away the words and brought back a whisper from the trees. Then the bowl slowly began to rotate on the tips of their outstretched fingers.
Mau circled around their legs in the opposite direction.
The bowl stopped moving.
Mau cried out once. The clouds parted. The girls all let go of the bowl. Tasman and the man slowly lowered it all the way to the ground.
It sat on the plaza, upside down. The demons trapped underneath.
“Vanquished are the black arts,” the man said quietly.
“Vanquished are the mighty spells,” Tasman said.
“Tasman,” the man said.
Tasman nodded.
“Son,” the man said.
“Yes,” Tasman said.
“I’m sorry. Sorry I can’t be. Sorry I’m not.”
“It’s okay,” Tasman said. “I’m okay.” Tasman picked up the bowl. He took a deep breath. Then he handed it to the man. “Take it.”
The man blinked.
“Take the bowl. Bury it by the place where you dwell.”
The man sniffed the bowl. Then he raised it up above his head. He walked slowly down the stairs at the western edge of the plaza and disappeared into the night.
Thirty-eight
No one moved. The powerful bond held them. No one spoke. Not even the poets had words to describe what had happened—or what could happen next.
Then, from somewhere in the darker part of the park, they heard barking. They assumed it was a dog—until Mau, who wasn’t afraid of anything, dashed away from the obelisk.
The spell had been broken. They all ran after the streak of black cat. They didn’t stop to pick up the backpacks or the bag of food. They hurried away from the obelisk and the shadows, through tangled bushes, toward a large building on the eastern edge of the park. None of them recognized the Metropolitan Museum of Art from the back. Just north of the building, they discovered a neatly mowed lawn. They flung themselves onto the carpet of grass. The girls all sprawled close to one another. Tasman sat off by himself, with his head down and his arms locked around his knees.
They breathed deeply, as if for the first time since the man had grabbed Val by the neck.
Val sat up and coughed a little.
“Are you all right?” Lanora said.
The girls raised their heads to look at Val. Tasman shifted his position so he could see beneath his arm.
“Yes. I was just wondering. How will we get home?” Val said.
Lanora fell back onto the grass. She wasn’t ready to start thinking about any aspect of the future, however near or far.
“That is the question,” Helena said.
“How to return?” Gillian said.
“Can we return?” Olivia said.
“Go back in time?” Tina said.
“No,” Val said.
“She’s right. We can’t undo what has been done. We have seen what we have seen, heard what we heard. The neurons of our brains have been irrevocably altered. It’s foolish to pretend that we can forget the unforgettable, to return to a safe place. Why even try?” Tasman said.
“I mean,” Val interrupted him, “are we walking or taking the bus?”
The poets laughed. Helena hugged Val. “What would we do without our practical Val?”
“Does anyone have any money they could lend me?” Val said. “My metro card is in my backpack.”
“We could go get it,” Lanora said.
They all looked toward the park and quickly turned away. No one wanted to go back into that tangle of darkness—no matter how powerful the incantation had been.
“I guess we’re walking.” Val jumped to her feet.
The others were slower to rise. Tasman didn’t move at all.
Mau walked over to the building and sat on a ledge. Just barely visible beyond a wall of glass were limestone bricks and columns. An entire temple had been reconstructed inside this special wing of the museum.
“The Temple of Dendur,” Helena said.
“Who’s Dendur?” Olivia said.
“Did he endure?” Gillian said.
“Or did he donate a lot of money to the museum?” Tina said.
“Dendur is a place. Or was a place.” Tasman pulled up tufts of grass and let them fall away from his hands.
“What happened?” Olivia was saddened by even the loss of an ancient city.
“They built the Aswan Dam. Dendur was overwhelmed by the waters of the mighty Nile. The Egyptians gave us this temple to thank us for saving some other temples from that man-made flood,” Tasman said.
Lanora felt Val look at her, like there was something she wanted to say. Lanora didn’t want a speech of gratitude. She wouldn’t have known how to respond. She got up and walked toward the street.
Val followed. “Is it shorter if we go north or south?”
Val smiled. Lanora smiled back. Because of course Val knew that Lanora would know the answer to this question. That was what was good about an old friend.
“The top of the park is twenty-nine blocks from here. The bottom is twenty-two,” Lanora said.
“She has not only saved Val, she has saved us fourteen blocks,” Tina said.
The poets joined Val and Lanora at the edge of Fifth Avenue. Tasman hadn’t moved. Lanora wondered why Val didn’t go get him. But maybe Val couldn’t. So many things had happened after that kiss.
“Aren’t you coming, Tasman?” Helena called.
“It’s going to be a long walk,” Gillian said.
“We’ll need the distraction of your knowledge of arcane architecture,” Tina said.
Tasman jumped up and ran past Val to walk with the poets. “Are you only interested in arcane architecture? Or will any alliteration do? How about archaic architecture?” Tasman pointed to the massive stone steps leading up to the museum.
“But it isn’t useless. When the museum is open, the stairs are a destination,” Helena said.
No one sat there now. The sidewalk was deserted. A city bus stopped and waited, but they had to wave it away.
“Forty-four blocks plus the ones across the bottom of the park,” Olivia said.
“An epic journey,” Helena said.
“An Odyssey,” Gillian said.
“With Sirens,” Tina said, as the sounds of a distant ambulance wailed.
“Lash me to the mast,” Helena said.
“Ulysses was wrong to want to hear the singing of the maidens. He risked too much, and for what? Hearing that music probably drove him crazy because he knew he could never actually enjoy it,” Tasman said.
“Why not?” Val said.
“The ship sails on by.” Tasman ran ahead of them all.
Lanora walked silently beside Val. They were passing one of the places in the park where they used to play when they were little. Just over the wall was the pond where Stuart Little had bravely steered the toy boat to victory. Next to the pond were two statues. One was of Alice sitting on the magic mushroom. The other was of Hans Christian Andersen reading to the ugly duckling to let her know she would be beautiful in the end.
“So how did you get a cigar from my father?” Lanora said.
Val shrugged. “I asked him for it.”
“You’re kidding.” Lanora couldn’t believe it was that simple.
“Well, it was hard to get in to see him. But once I got past the guards, he was pretty cool.”
“Wow.” Lanora thought about this as she looked up and up and up at the buildings that bordered the park. Their glitter defied the night sky.
“Did he talk to you?” Val said.
Lanora nodded. “He said I don’t have to go to Greywacke Academy if I don’t want to.”
“So you won’t be going away tomorrow? That’s great!” Val hugged her.
Lanora stopped walking. “I don’t know. I can’t just go back to M.S. 10. So much has happened.”
The poets returned to where Lanora and Val stood.
“I guess it would be hard to go back,” Val said.
“So don’t,” Helena said.
“Don’t?” Val said.
“Go forward.” Gillian pointed with her arm.
“Go sideways.” Tina sashayed toward the curb.
“Go up.” Olivia climbed on a park bench.
The rest of the poets joined her. They pulled Lanora up with them. They laughed. They clung together even after they jumped down. It felt good to be surrounded by their silky robes as they continued on their way.
“Hey, I’ve fallen a little behind in math,” Lanora said to Helena.
“You’re still way ahead of the rest,” Helena said. “But you can count upon me for whatever help I can give.”
“Count on you?” Lanora said.
“I think you’ll be a fine addition to our club,” Gillian said.
“The missing variable,” Tina said.
Up ahead, Val was walking with Tasman. They were not holding hands. Their conversation was hushed until Val said, “But nothing bad really happened. Lanora saved me.”
“Yes. Lanora saved you.” Tasman ran down the sidewalk as best he could in his old snow boots.
“You save me, too,” Val called after him.
Finally they reached the southeast corner of the park. The end of the wilderness. They paused to admire the glitter of the tall buildings, the fountain with tiers like a wedding cake, a row of horses with carriages fit for royalty, and a brightly lit rococo building.
“Look! It’s the Plaza Hotel!” Helena cried.
“Eloise!” Olivia said.
“Eloise?” Tasman said.
“The girl who lived in the Plaza. Who dined on room service. Who terrorized the grown-ups. Who had a turtle named Skipperdee. How could you not know Eloise?” Lanora was shocked.
“The Captain’s library doesn’t have much in the way of contemporary literature,” Tasman said.
“What kinds of books does it have?” Olivia said.
“Is that where you found The Book of Dares?” Helena said.
“No.” Tasman walked over to stand next to the fountain.
“I have misspoken,” Helena said.
“Misspoke,” Gillian said.
Lanora waited to see if Val would go talk to him. But Val was kicking a rock across the sidewalk. So Lanora went to put her foot on the rim of the fountain, next to Tasman’s snow boot.
He brushed a leaf off of his snow boot. The leaf fell into the water. It floated—for now. But a tattered leaf wasn’t meant to be a boat.
“Did you come to make a wish?” Lanora said.
“My pockets, alas, are empty. If I picked up someone else’s penny, that crime would undo my desires. Just like it did tonight.”
“What crime did you commit?”
“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. That expression explains nothing, except gravity. But I think you know what I mean.”
“I’m not like my father.”
Tasman smiled. “I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting the Star Tamer, but I suspect that, once you have recovered from this detour, you will return to getting what you want.”
“Not just what I want.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve learned a lesson.” He placed his hands to his cheek in mock amazement.
“I saw you kiss her in the park.”
His hands fell helplessly to his sides.
“So you like her,” Lanora said.
“Past tense would be more accurate,” Tasman said.
“She likes you.”
“She feels sorry for me now. And don’t contradict me. It doesn’t matter whether you’re right or not, it’s what I think.”
Just at that moment, the leaf sank to the bottom. He smiled; his suspicions had been confirmed.
She pulled him around to face her. “Yes, I have learned a lesson. And this is it. That if you have a friend, you shouldn’t take her for granted. You should keep that friend. No matter what. Because you’ve got problems and I’ve got problems and we’ve all got problems. So does Val, believe it or not—even if hers aren’t as exciting as ours are.”
He jerked away his arm. He needed his sleeve to wipe his nose. “This is not the era of handkerchiefs. And it isn’t the era for the likes of me. I belong in the Captain’s shop. With the other antiquities shipwrecked by time.”
“I have no choice. You see, I thought I could be a Taz. Sadly, I was wrong.”
“You gave your father the bowl,” Lanora said.
“And I already regret its loss.” He leaned over and studied the money glittering at the bottom of the fountain. “So many wishes. None of them mine.”
Lanora shouted back to the others. “Who has a quarter?”
The poets came closer.
“Alas, robes have no pockets,” Helena said.
“Val? Do you have a quarter? A nickel? A dime?” Lanora said.
Val shook her head. “Why do you want one?”
“I need to wish,” Lanora said.
Val marched over to the fountain. She leaned over the edge and scooped up a handful of coins. She offered her treasure to Lanora.
Lanora carefully selected a thin dime. She clenched it in her fist. She whispered to it. Then she tossed it into the uppermost tier of the fountain.
The poets cheered. Then they each selected a coin.
“I don’t know what to wish for,” Tina said.
“I always wish for three more wishes,” Olivia said.
“Why not ten?” Lanora said.
“That dilutes the potency,” Olivia said.
“And this is potent,” Helena said, twirling around with her arms outstretched. “This has been the most astonishing of nights.”
One after another, the poets flung their coins into the fountain.
Val offered the last coin to Tasman.
He shook his head. “I don’t believe in wishes.”
“But you believe in believing,” Val said.
He looked at the coin in her outstretched hand. He touched it with his finger, to shift its position. But he didn’t pick it up.
“Of course you do. How can you not?” Lanora said.
Val put her other arm around Lanora and hugged her.
“How can you not?” Lanora said again.
“You’re right,” he said.
He grabbed hold of Val’s hand. He closed her fist around the coin. He kissed that fist. Then he stepped up onto the rim of the fountain. He raised his arms straight up into the air, and flung himself into the water.
* * *
The splash was tremendous. A multitude of tiny drops cascaded up toward the sky. And then there were more and more drops, as each girl followed Tasman’s example. The laughter resounded across the plaza. It bounced off the glittering buildings and disrupted the dark corners of the park.