‘I make this tea myself,’ she said, waving her hand in the direction of the window, ‘from herbs I pick in that meadow out there.’
When she poured them each a cup, it was a pale-pink colour, with a fragrance that reminded Kip of a plant that grew in one of the flowerpots at home.
‘You’ve all had an adventure, haven’t you?’ the Oracle said once everyone had their tea and a biscuit. ‘I’m glad you got here safely.’
‘We weren’t sure we’d make it,’ said Scruggs. ‘It was a good thing Kip spotted the footprints in the clouds; otherwise, we would never have found our way over the mountains.’
The woman smiled and looked across at Kip.
‘Yes, and without his help, you wouldn’t have been able to escape from Quarantine and run away from school,’ she said.
Kip felt himself beginning to blush because he really didn’t think he’d done anything special. He’d just helped his friends.
‘So, tell me, Kip, how do you like being a Cloudfarer?’ the Oracle continued.
He looked into her eyes and knew that he had to be honest and speak the truth, without hiding his feelings or keeping any secrets.
‘I’m not sure,’ he said. ‘Actually, I’m feeling kind of homesick right now.’
The Oracle nodded and sipped her tea.
‘That’s okay,’ she said, ‘it’s perfectly understandable.’
‘Will I be able to go home?’ Kip asked, glancing around at his friends, worried they might think he was being ungrateful.
‘If that’s what you really want to do,’ the Oracle said. ‘But, of course, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like, now that you’re one of us.’
‘Will I always be able to walk on the clouds?’ Kip asked.
‘As long as you believe that you can,’ said the Oracle.
Kip took a deep breath and then looked at his friends.
‘I think I want to go home,’ he said. For a moment, he felt as if he might break down and cry but then stopped himself and continued, ‘My parents are in prison and I want to help them get free.’
‘I know,’ the Oracle replied in a sympathetic voice, ‘and I also know they’re innocent.’
‘They’ve been sentenced to ten years,’ said Kip. ‘It’s not fair!’
‘I agree, it isn’t fair,’ said the Oracle.
The others were listening with worried expressions.
‘Why didn’t you tell us, Kip?’ Juniper asked.
‘I didn’t know what you’d think or if you’d believe me,’ he said.
‘Of course we would have believed you,’ said Scruggs. ‘After all, we told you our secret and you believed us.’
Kip let out his breath and took a sip of tea, which made him feel better, though a tear rolled down his cheek.
‘I just want to go back and help my parents get out of jail,’ he said. ‘But I don’t know what to do.’
‘Well, I’m not a lawyer,’ said the woman with a reassuring smile, ‘but I’m sure there must be some way to prove that they didn’t commit the crime.’
‘If you’re the Oracle, can’t you see into the future as well as the past?’ Kip asked, hoping he didn’t sound rude. ‘Can’t you just tell me what’s going to happen?’
‘I could,’ said the woman. ‘You’re right, of course. But it’s always better if you find out for yourself.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Kip. The cat beside him began nuzzling his arm, as if it wanted to be petted.
‘It’s like any kind of story,’ she said, pointing to the books around her. ‘You never want the author to give away the ending until the last page, do you?’
‘Yes, but this isn’t a book . . .’ Kip began.
‘Are you sure?’ asked the Oracle. ‘That cat, for instance. The only reason it’s here is because somebody put it in this story. Otherwise, it could have been a dog or a bird or even a pet fish.’
Kip reached over to stroke the cat.
‘But I can touch it,’ he said.
‘That’s because you’re part of the story too,’ said the Oracle. ‘Maybe the only reason we exist is because of words on a page or a voice in your ear. Because someone like me is reading your story. It doesn’t matter what language it is, or who’s telling the story, or whether it’s supposed to be fiction or fact. The point is that you’re here, right now, because you escaped from school and walked on the clouds. That isn’t something you do every day, right? It only happens in novels.’
Kip shook his head, confused and perplexed.
‘If all of this is nothing but a novel,’ Meghna interrupted, ‘then why can’t we rewrite it?’
‘We could, of course,’ said the Oracle. ‘Instead of saying Kip is “perplexed”, we could say he’s “puzzled” or “bewildered”.’
‘But that’s not what I mean . . .’ Meghna started to say.
‘What if I don’t want to be a part of anyone’s story any more?’ Kip said. ‘What if I just want to go home?’
‘Of course, that’s your choice,’ said the Oracle. ‘You’re free to leave whenever you want, but since you’ve come all this way, why not stay for at least one more night?’
By now, Kip could see that it was getting dark outside and fireflies appeared above the meadow—tiny, blinking lights that flickered about like miniature stars. The Oracle lit a couple of candles, which gave the room an amber glow that reflected off the windowpanes.
‘Kip, your parents are missing you very much,’ she said, closing her eyes, as if she were looking inside herself. ‘They received your letter, but when they replied, it got lost in the mail.’
‘Do you know what they wrote?’ Kip asked.
‘They said you shouldn’t worry about them. They’re okay,’ said the Oracle. ‘Everything will be all right. And they love you very much.’
‘But can’t you do something?’ pleaded Kip. ‘Please?’
The Oracle opened her eyes and looked at him with a comforting smile.
‘What would you like me to do?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Something. Anything. Maybe you could go back in time and change what happened so that my mother and father never go to jail.’
‘It’s not that easy to change the past,’ said the Oracle, ‘because if you change one thing, then you have to make a whole lot of other changes too.’
‘Then what about the future?’ asked Kip. ‘That must be easier because it hasn’t happened yet.’
‘I suppose you’re right.’ The Oracle nodded. ‘But it’s complicated too. If something hasn’t happened yet, it’s hard to know what the consequences might be. Let’s see . . . I can’t promise, but I’ll do my best.’
Twenty-Four
By the time the five of them got back to the inn, they realized how tired they were from all their travels. Kip went straight to bed. As soon as he lay down, he felt his eyes closing and an invisible weight pulling him down into sleep. The clean sheets and pillow were wonderfully soft after so many nights spent outdoors, and the woollen blanket was warm and snug. For a few moments, he thought about what the Oracle had said, but he was too exhausted to figure it out. Then, before he knew it, he heard her voice once again, speaking softly in his ear.
This is your dream, Kip . . . I’m reading your story.
Don’t be afraid. You’re one of us now.
It doesn’t matter who you are or where you’ve come from. You can be yourself or whoever you want.
So, tonight, let’s imagine you’re a brave mountaineer who sets out to scale an unconquered peak. After climbing alone all day, you reach a high pass, where you set up your camp for the night. Your ambition has always been to stand atop the summit, where nobody else has stood before—the first person to climb this mountain.
But in the morning, when you crawl out of your tent, you see a line of footprints in the snow and realize that someone has gone before you—a human being or a monster, you can’t tell which. Of course, you’ve heard stories of strange beasts that pr
owl the glaciers and crags, Abominable Snowmen, yetis, demons of the mountain. Placing your boots in the frozen prints, you set off for the summit, wondering who has stolen a march on you. And for the first time in your life, you are afraid, knowing that you are following in the footsteps of an unknown creature, the enemy of your ambitions, the challenger of your dreams. Will you be ambushed on the mountain? Gripping your ice axe tightly, you get ready to defend yourself.
For hours, you ascend the snow-clad ridges and rocky pinnacles, while those mysterious footprints lead you on, taunting you with the knowledge that you may never be the first! With each step, you place your own boots in the tracks ahead of you, so there remains a solitary line of footprints leading to the summit. As you approach the last 100 feet, where the slope grows steeper and every stride becomes a struggle, you keep searching for the creature ahead, but all you can see are anonymous tracks in the snow.
When you eventually reach the top, there is no triumphant sense of victory, only an inner shadow of defeat. In front of you lies a final footprint on the summit, where you now place your boot. Peering over the other side of the mountain, you can see nothing on the slopes below. The tracks have disappeared. For a moment, you wonder if this strange creature has ascended directly to heaven from the summit. Or has it leapt to its death on the hellish cliffs below?
But then, as you turn around and glance back down the mountain, you see a lone figure coming up behind you, stepping carefully in each of your tracks. Startled, you watch the stranger make his way slowly towards the top. Several times, he pauses to catch his breath, and it looks as if he might be ready to give up. Eventually, the unknown climber arrives beside you on the summit, with a weary look of satisfaction on his face, greeting you with a breathless, ‘Good day!’
‘Good day!’ you reply, wondering why his voice sounds familiar. ‘Who are you? And why are you following me?’
The stranger smiles, then begins to laugh.
‘What’s so funny?’ you demand.
‘You’re asking who I am!’ says the stranger. ‘What’s wrong? Do you need a pair of glasses?’
‘No, of course not,’ you respond in irritation. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘Come on!’ the mountaineer replies. ‘You don’t even recognize yourself?’
Hesitating, you study the stranger more closely and realize that you might as well be staring into a mirror. Looking at yourself, you feel confusion and fear, wondering what is going on. But after a moment, you too begin to laugh.
‘All this time, I thought you were a monster or a demon,’ you exclaim, wiping tears of laughter from your eyes, ‘but in the end, it wasn’t anyone other than myself.’
The two of you throw your arms about each other, and the stranger disappears into your embrace. After that, you turn around and retrace your steps alone, no longer two figures but one, leaving a single line of tracks in the snow.
But as you descend farther and farther down the mountain, your doubts return. Was it really yourself you were following or was it someone else? Maybe you weren’t the first to reach the summit after all. When you get off the mountain, should you tell this story or hide the truth? Should you confess that you may have failed? Will anyone believe you?
In the end, of course, the truth remains a secret, and the world celebrates your achievement. Parades and felicitations are organized in your honour. You receive many awards and medals, including The Most Excellent Order of Excellence from the King of the Carpathians. You are living your dream. Nevertheless, in your heart, you know that you may not have been the first to climb that mountain.
Whose footprints were those? Were they yours or someone else’s? Could it have been a reader who was following you up the mountain, retracing your footsteps? Was it me?
So, as you can see, Kip, life is always going to be full of questions and doubts. But one thing’s for sure: you’re never alone, even when you’re all by yourself.
Twenty-Five
Early the next morning, Kip and his friends left the inn at dawn. The Oracle had given them instructions and told them to walk east out of town, along a cart road that took them to the foot of a hill overlooking the river. Higher mountains stood all around them, but the hill itself was a steep climb, up a winding path that zigzagged through a forest of oaks and maples. By the time they reached the top, it was mid-morning, and they ate a breakfast of bread and cheese, which the innkeepers had packed for them the night before.
‘I wish we could go with you,’ said Juniper. ‘Do you think you’ll be all right on your own?’
‘Sure,’ said Kip, trying to put on a brave face though he was feeling nervous inside. ‘The Oracle said it would be easy.’
His school uniform had been cleaned and mended by the innkeepers, though the blazer felt as if it had shrunk even more under his arms. The others were dressed in their new clothes, which were much more comfortable.
From the top of the hill, they could see all the way to the glacier and the gleaming white summits of the mountains through which they’d entered the valley.
‘Did you hear the Oracle’s story last night?’ asked Ameel.
‘Yes, I did,’ said Kip, ‘but I’ve forgotten it already.’
‘That’s how it always is,’ said Meghna. ‘But the best part is, she’ll tell us another tonight.’
‘Do you think I’ll always share the same dreams as you?’ asked Kip.
‘Of course,’ said Scruggs, ‘no matter where you go, her voice goes with you.’
Kip couldn’t help feeling sad saying goodbye to his friends, but he was eager to set off. A few clouds drifted overhead, but mostly, there was blue sky.
‘That’s the tree over there,’ said Juniper.
She pointed to a twisted cedar that looked as if it had wrestled with the wind all its life. It stood at the highest point on the hill, with crooked branches all leaning in the same direction.
‘I think it’s time to go,’ said Kip, swallowing the last bite of breakfast.
‘Be careful,’ said Juniper, giving him a hug.
The others embraced him too, Ameel and Meghna, then Scruggs.
‘Here’s something you can take with you to remember us by,’ said Scruggs, handing him a small packet wrapped in tissue paper.
‘What is it?’ Kip asked.
‘Open it,’ said Juniper.
As Kip unfolded the paper, a tiny bright object fell into his palm, and for a brief moment, they were surrounded by the colours of a rainbow.
‘The cloud crystal!’ he cried, looking up.
‘Keep it safely,’ said Meghna. ‘It’ll bring you good luck.’
‘Thank you,’ he said, folding it back inside the paper and tucking it into the inside pocket of his blazer. ‘I’ll never forget you.’
Kip then waved to his friends before he started to climb the tree. The old cedar had plenty of knots in its trunk that he used as handholds, and it was easy enough for him to scramble into the gnarled branches. The bristly needles brushed against his face as he worked his way up to the top of the tree.
Scruggs and the others shouted instructions from below.
‘Don’t worry, Kip! Just hold on tight.’
‘It’s coming!’
‘Get ready.’
He tried to smile and wave as a lone cloud swept in, carried on a sudden breeze. It was about 10 feet long and 4 feet wide, much smaller than he had expected. Kip was standing on a fork of the tree, holding the uppermost branch. Quickly, he stepped out on top of the cloud and sat down. The Oracle had explained all of this the evening before and made him repeat her instructions several times.
‘Once you’re on board, you won’t need to do anything at all,’ she said. ‘It’s simple, just like riding a flying carpet.’
Kip had wanted to say that he’d never ridden on a flying carpet before, but now that he was seated and felt a little more secure, he looked over his shoulder and saw the others waving from on top of the hill. He waved back and watched them grow smaller and smal
ler, until they finally disappeared.
The wind was behind him. As he flew towards the mountains, the cloud began to rise. It was much cooler now, and he buttoned up his blazer and shivered a little, partly because of the cold but also because he was anxious. Nobody else was around. The cloud seemed thick and firm enough to hold his weight, though it shook and trembled on the wind as they rose higher and passed over the snow peaks. Soaring above the glacier and snowfields, he glanced back and caught a last glimpse of the hidden valley before it vanished from sight. He thought of his friends and smiled to himself, knowing they were safe.
Kip’s hair blew back from his forehead, and he squinted as the cloud surfed the air currents, tipping from side to side. After passing over the mountains, he saw two eagles ahead. Within a few seconds, the cloud had caught up with them and raced by, leaving the huge birds flapping their wings in surprise.
For half an hour, he saw nothing but clouds below. Kip remembered trudging across that white expanse a few days ago. It was much easier and faster now, flying above. In several places, he could see the tops of hills and ridges protruding above the clouds. He tried to spot the hermit’s garden, but from this height, he couldn’t make out anything more than dark-green islands of trees rising out of a still white sea.
Finally, the clouds below him began to disperse, so that he could see fields and villages. It was like being in an airplane but without seat belts. There wasn’t even a seat. Looking down, Kip saw a broad river flowing across farmland. He spotted roads and highways, with cars and trucks going in opposite directions. Already, his cloud had begun to descend. For a second or two, he was worried that Captain Lovelock might appear again and chase him down, but he was far away from Paramount now. As they dropped lower, Kip could see the flat plains below and a patchwork of green fields. At one point, he caught sight of a train going by on a set of tracks that stretched off into the distance. There were buildings too, factories with smoke stacks and shopping malls. He knew they were getting closer to home as the city began to assemble itself below him.
The cloud wasn’t moving as fast any more, as they swooped down over the rooftops. Roads converged into crossings and roundabouts. He could see traffic jams below and began to hear the familiar sounds of the city, the mumble of engines and the bleating of horns. Sunlight flashed against glass-fronted towers. The city parks looked dusty and brown after the bright-green hues of the hidden valley.
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