“I know how to find out where this place is,” grinned Sigfried.
“How?” asked Rachel.
“Walk away from Zoë.”
“What?” Valerie punched him in the arm. “You’re making no sense, boyfriend.”
“Actually, he is.” Gaius straightened up from where he had been watching mist reform into a crumbled brick. “If we walked away and fell into the waking world, we would be there. In the place these—” he gestured around them, “—columns and ruins represent, right?”
“Yes!” Rachel clapped her hands with delight at the simplicity of it.
“And then we could go ask a bunch of Greek or Arabic speaking people where we were. And they wouldn’t have an owl’s hoot of a clue what we were saying. Great plan.” Zoë rolled her eyes. “And how do we get back? Not a lot of people in the Middle East dreaming about Roanoke…unless we just so happen to run into Mrs. March again…which is not that likely. Who’s for violating our promise not to leave school grounds and getting expelled! Hmm? Raise your hand? Anyone?” She looked back and forth.
Rachel sighed. Siggy scowled.
“We could invite Mrs. March here,” said Joy. “She’s the princess’s family friend.”
“Is she?” asked Gaius. “She’s the conjured woman, right? The Grand Inquisitor’s wife? Why don’t we try to reach her on a talking glass? Maybe she’d know where this place is.”
Nastasia replied primly, “Dean Moth had a photo taken of the image that appeared in the thinking glass when I showed her this vision. I have no doubt that the Wisecraft will find it.”
“Wish I could get a photo back home.” Valerie snapped a picture. Everyone else covered their eyes from the glare of the flash. “My friend Wally could do an image search and see what came up.”
“That would only work if it is a mundane place,” Gaius replied. “If it is a place of the Wise, a place obscured from mundane men, it won’t show up on the Internet.”
“I will make the dean aware of Sigfried’s idea. Perhaps the Agents will ask for Zoë’s help. She could bring them here and let them drop out into the real landscape,” promised Nastasia. “I don’t believe there is more we can do.”
“There must be more we can do,” said Gaius. “This demon must be stopped.”
“At all costs,” murmured Rachel and Sigfried, simultaneously.
“Not all costs,” Nastasia replied graciously. “The ends never justify the means. But, since this demon is a bad thing, we should be willing to do anything within our means that is moral to stop it. Even if it is difficult or requires great sacrifice.”
“You don’t hesitate when fighting evil,” Sigfried said, an angry grimness in his voice. “That thing nearly killed me! Besides, it was evil. Really evil. I could feel it. Doesn’t matter what you have to do to stop a thing like that!”
“It always matters,” admonished the princess. “We can fight bravely, of course, but not in a fashion that is immoral or unlawful. Rules are rules.”
“At any costs,” repeated Sigfried fiercely.
Rachel felt in her heart that he was right. And yet, her thoughts returned to her conversation with Vladimir about letting the world burn to save her sister. Hard as it was for her to say this, especially while recalling the horrible feeling she had experienced when the demon started to appear in Beaumont, she offered cautiously. “I guess not at any cost. I mean…we would not want to sacrifice the very things we wish to protect.”
“In other words, we do not want any Pyrrhic victories,” said Gaius, “which is appropriate, considering that we are discussing a deity worshipped by the Carthaginians. Oh…wait. Wrong Roman war. That would be a Punic victory, wouldn’t it?”
Rachel giggled.
There was something really cute about a boy who knew his Roman wars.
“Against pure evil, there are no rules,” Sigfried insisted, an angry light burning in his eyes. “Right, Lucky?”
“Course, boss,” said Lucky, in his gruff, dragon voice. “He killed the nice-smelling elf who let us roast marshmallows in her cheer-fire.”
“At the orphanage,” continued Sigfried, “you could always tell which of the new kids would end up as hamburger, and which would end up on top. The ones on top were those who were willing to do whatever it takes to win. Gouge eyes, bite ears, burn faces, whatever. You do what it takes, or you lose.”
“And we don’t want to lose,” added Lucky. “Losing is bad. We might lose important stuff, like our gold!”
“We have to be willing to do anything to stop this guy,” Siggy continued, “mow him down, blow him up, char him, fillet him, explode him, burn him, incinerate him. Whatever it takes.”
“No, Mr. Smith,” insisted the princess sternly, “only what is moral, legal, and proper.”
Nastasia spoke calmly, but Rachel could tell that her friend was extremely agitated. The subject was of extreme importance to her, yet Siggy was oblivious to the princess’s distress.
On the other hand, Rachel could tell that the issue mattered to Sigfried in a completely different way. There was a strange sort of emotion, almost panic, in Siggy’s eyes. Rachel wondered if he were seeing again the charred body of the Elf, or perhaps something from earlier in his life, some humiliation or beating he had seen or had done to him.
“That’s ridiculous!” Sigfried raged. “Proper? These guys did not throw down a gauntlet or issue a challenge or anything! We cannot tie our own hands! If the world is destroyed, what does it matter that we fought according to proper rules? If they are all ganging up on you, you fight dirty. You hurt them! Hurt them until they stop! You fight to win, or you are a nothing!”
“But if you do not behave morally, then you yourself become evil,” replied the princess. “Then you are also nothing.”
“If that’s what it takes, then that’s what it takes!” Siggy declared fiercely. “He must be stopped! At all costs!”
The scene around them wavered and faded away. They were standing in a blurry haze.
“You are no longer my knight!” snapped Nastasia.
Sigfried’s eyes grew round with horror. “You…you can’t do that! Liege-lords can’t fire their vassals!”
“I may do as I like. You are dismissed.”
Sigfried looked utterly devastated. His expression wrenched Rachel’s heart.
Nastasia, however, had turned away. “Miss Forrest, I would appreciate if you would take these people out of my dream. I would like to wake up now.”
• • •
Back in Room 321, the group split up, heading in different directions. Siggy stomped from the room followed by Lucky, who faithfully tried to stomp in imitation of his master, but who really was not built for it, his claws scrabbling against the floorboards, and Valerie, who looked resigned. Nastasia, her face stony, set off in the opposite direction, followed by Zoë and a fawning Joy. As Rachel turned to go, Gaius caught up with her, touching her elbow.
“I nearly forgot.” He smiled at her. “I have something for you.”
“For me?” she asked.
“It’s yours. I wanted to return it.” Out of his pocket he pulled a familiar, thin, cedar box.
“Oh, my wand!” Rachel cried with delight. She took the box and slipped it into her pocket. “What did you find out?”
“Sorry it took so long to get back to you. I had to wait for William to get back. He was at O.I. helping put the final touches on that secret project I told you about. The one based on Blackie’s work. Looks like I might be able to tell you about it very soon. Which is good, because if we can find out where the demon is, their new invention might prove useful.
“Anyway, now that he’s back, I had William take a look at your wand. He discovered that vestal wands have the unique property that they are very good at catching incoming spells. If you can do an oré in time, or if you have some stored in the wand, you can catch spells being flung at you about fifty-five percent of the time. Which might not sound like a lot, but with a fulgurator’s wand, the perce
ntage is closer to twenty-two. Apparently, this has been tested extensively.”
“Really!” Then, she sighed. “Unfortunately, I’m horrid at the oré cantrip.”
“I happen to be excellent at it, Miss Griffin.” Gaius gave her a cocky grin. “Maybe we could work something out.”
“Maybe,” Rachel replied, throwing him a coy, sideways glance.
He grinned, adding, “Also, William was able to determine what spells are currently stored inside the gem…beyond those you’ve added. There is an enchantment that will dispel a storm. A number of bey-athe shields. Seven, I think he said. Also, when I ran back to get this while you were talking to Nastasia earlier, I put a few bedazzlements in there for you—in case you guys need to get to dreamland quickly.”
“Thank you! That’s very thoughtful.”
“There was one more thing.” He grinned. “William says the wand also contains three charges of the Eternal Flame. That white and gold stuff that burns the innocent and doesn’t hurt the guilty.” He paused and then chuckled. “Oops…I meant the other way around.”
“Excellent!” cried Rachel.
“Let me emphasize,” said Gaius, “how rare and valuable that is! Vlad has some charges…because he’s a crown prince. But the Vestal Virgins don’t give the stuff to just anyone. Even Agents sometimes have trouble getting charges of it.”
“In other words, once I’ve used these three charges, I may never be able to get more,” said Rachel, adding, “The dean can conjure Eternal flames.”
“Yeah, I saw that.” Gaius sounded awed. “Being able to do that is a very, very rare gift.”
Rachel held up her wand. “I wonder if these flames would be effective against demons?”
“Let’s hope you never have to find out.” He smiled at her. “And now, unfortunately, I need to actually study. How are you feeling? May I walk you home?”
“Of course.”
Gaius offered his arm, which she took. He led her down the stairs and across the campus to the porch of Dare Hall. Once there, he leaned down and gave her a kiss, quick and sweet.
Ah. Perfect, thought Rachel, drifting off into girl heaven.
• • •
That night, in bed, Rachel recalled her day. It had been two parts joyful to four parts disturbing, and some of the more disturbing aspects had not really hit yet. She had been aware for some time of the diverging paths of the proper and rule-bound Nastasia and the rebel-who-lives-by-his-own-rules Sigfried, but she had not expected them to diverge quite so dramatically. Feeling as fragile as she did, Rachel did not know if she would survive being asked to take sides in their disagreement. If only she could go away until they were done sorting themselves out. Maybe she should take her sister Sandra up on her invitation to visit.
There was another reason to go to Sandra’s, as well. Today, it had been Sigfried who butted horns with the princess, but it could just as easily have been her. She was more eager to placate Nastasia than was her blood brother, but their philosophies were still at odds, especially when it came to rushing into danger versus obeying the adults.
But one reason Rachel constantly ran towards danger, flew at planes, and crashed the waltzes of the dead was because if she stood still, she would have to face the darkness that threatened to engulf her—darkness born of all the emotions she had thrust aside in order to stay calm. She needed a chance to confront the horrors she had encountered, to mourn, to weep, to be weak. And she needed a place to do this where her boyfriend could not see her.
No boy wanted a girlfriend prone to madness.
This would be doubly true for a boy who worked for Vladimir Von Dread—because losing one’s mind was just another way of saying one was too weak for the task at hand.
Her thoughts drifted back to the day’s few joyful parts. Seeing Illondria had been joyful. Rachel realized that she had forgotten to tell the others about her encounter with the elf woman. She made a mental note to do so the following morning. Were all ghosts solid in the dreamlands? Or was their Elf special because she had been a mistress of dreams in life?
She was relieved to have discovered that she was not a murderess after all; however, the fact that she had been willing to take responsibility for Sigfried’s decision to tell Valerie stayed with her. She suspected that however long she lived, she would bear the weight of it. Of all the things that had happened to her since the start of the school year, that one decision had changed her the most. In that one act, she had become a little less like the young girl who arrived at Roanoke and a little more like her grandfather.
Or, she thought, recalling their conversation by the koi pond, a little more like Dread.
The other joyful part had been the excitement with which Gaius greeted her news about the Library of All Worlds. His avid interest in her future plans delighted her. She continued to be impressed with how in sync she and her boyfriend were on, oh, so many things.
She had already decided not to hold his outburst this afternoon against him. Looking back through her memory, watching his face and his reactions, she realized that—in the same way that he had been too absorbed in the matter of his having been spied on to notice her distress, she had been too caught up in her excitement over sharing her secret to properly notice how upsetting he found much of what she had told him. The idea that scientific evidence might not be reliable and that his farm had not always been there had been very disturbing to him. Then, on top of that, he suffered the embarrassment of finding out he had been spied on when he felt so vulnerable.
She lay for a time, staring at the bunk above her and dreaming of their future life together. She imagined a library that somehow spanned worlds. The Elf had said that the worlds hung from the World Tree like fruit. Could a library be built inside the Tree, spanning its branches? Or maybe it should be built in Bavaria, some handsome edifice surrounded by forest. She could then work as a librarian, while he worked for the prince—most likely Von Dread would be happy to support such a venture.
Each idea formed a picture in her head, pretty and perfect like the photos on Yule cards. Some even showed their six children running hither and yon. Rachel pictured the littlest one, the future librarian, who in this particular fantasy was towheaded and dressed in beige lederhosen, nestled in her lap as she read.
And yet, despite all her thoughts of literary and domestic bliss, the scars of the agony she had felt, when Gaius announced that he was going to repeat things that she had told him in confidence, still ached. What would have become of her had the Elf not appeared? If she were not careful, next time it would be the keel, and not merely the rudder, of the ship of her soul that snapped.
Much as she was willing to forgive him, Rachel finally had to face the painful truth that a sixteen-year-old boy, however worthy, did not make a very good center of her universe.
She needed to pick someone else, someone wise to trust above all others.
Caw!
A very large Raven, with eyes that shone scarlet as blood in the darkness, flew through her window without bothering to open the glass. By the time he had entered the room, he looked like a man. Standing eight-feet-tall, he was incomparably handsome, with hair that fell about his face and shoulders like dark feathers. His chest and his feet were bare. Between them, he wore baggy black trousers that reminded Rachel of pirate’s garb. From his back spread a pair of truly enormous black wings.
A circle of gold hovered above him, glowing a warm buttery yellow. Its light filled Rachel with a diligent zeal. The emotional radiance ceased the moment he removed the circlet from over his head, but a soft golden light continued to issue from it. In its glow, Rachel saw that her sleeping roommates were completely motionless; not even their chests were moving. Near the bottom of her bed, Mistletoe had been caught by the time freeze in mid-stretch, which looked rather uncomfortable. The only thing that moved was the Comfort Lion, who opened one golden eye and then closed it again.
Rachel scampered from her bed and ran to stand before him, smiling up at him
in her white, flannel, Victorian nightgown.
He gazed down at her. “I have come to make a request, Rachel Griffin.”
“Certainly!” cried Rachel. “Anything!”
“Would you ask the Romanov princess if she will return Illondria to her home in Hoddmimir’s Wood? It would be a kindness to allow the greatest of all Lios Alfar queens to speak with her husband one last time, before she must travel on to brighter shores.”
“Yes, of course. I will ask her,” promised Rachel.
Her heart beat with such excitement that Rachel could hardly hear herself thing. They would be accompanying the Elf to her homeland, perhaps see the broken World Tree with their own eyes? Rachel could not wait. It was all she could do to keep from running over and waking Nastasia right then and there. But she knew if she turned her back on the Raven, he would be gone, and there were things she wished to know.
As Rachel looked up at him, a question burst forth from her. “Please! Can’t you do for our Elf what you did for Enoch Smithwyck? Bring her back from the dead?”
The tall being shook his head sadly. “I foresaw Enoch’s fate and acted to shield him. I kept his spirit safe.” He paused. “You might understand better if you thought of it as if he had not been entirely dead. I had no such opportunity with Illondria. She was attacked by the machinations of my nephew and slain in a manner I had no means to subtly counter.”
“Oh.” Rachel looked down sadly. Then her head came up again. “What about Xandra? She helped Siggy. Could she…” Her voice faltered at the severity of his expression.
“Would you bring more woes down upon your helpless people? Another demon, perhaps? Or a worse one? Would you have Belphegor or Beelzebub or Amon himself walking your world? Do you think that is a price Illondria would willing pay for her restoration?” The Raven shook his head. “No. Xandra’s gift is one that, if used on this world, will always do more harm than good.”
Rachel gathered the skirts of her nightgown and curtsied. “Sir, may I ask one more question?”
Rachel and the Many-Splendored Dreamland (The Books of Unexpected Enlightenment Book 3) Page 41