by Marina Cohen
Liah knew this was wrong. An unspoken truth was no better than a lie. She knew if she were caught, she would be severely punished. But the music whirled around and around in her head, entwining itself with her thoughts.
She was desperate to see the palace. Just one tiny glimpse. And perhaps it truly was no lie if the bone carver never knew to ask.
She sprung to her feet and scrambled to join the others. The path upward was treacherous, no more than three feet wide, steep and uneven. Her footing must be sure and solid, or she would plunge over the edge of the cliff.
Partway up, Liah began to notice strange wooden boxes clinging to the rocky flanks as though suspended by magic. The boxes were dark and rutted, and they appeared to have been carved from hollowed-out tree trunks. She had not noticed the boxes from the foot of the mountain, as the old wood blended into the shadows of the gray and brown stone. With each one she passed, she grew more curious as to what purpose they served—though, fearing her true motives might be discovered, she kept her head bent and spoke to no one.
At last, Liah reached the top of the mountain and stood before a great entrance guarded by a thousand armor-clad figures. Fabricating her lie, Liah approached the guards. She claimed her master had forgotten one of his precious carvings. Hiding the scuff, she held out the magnificent cup. Struck by its beauty and craftsmanship, the guard let her pass.
Once through the enormous wall, Liah followed the other merchants into the palace. As she passed through the great wooden doors, she gazed about, her jaw slackening with amazement. Enormous alabaster columns sprung from gleaming marble floors stretching toward a high gilded ceiling encrusted with sparkling jewels.
The walls were adorned with enormous, embroidered tapestries, thick and lush, and each telling a tale. At either end of the room, grand staircases curled upward, their railings fashioned from giant pearls and sea coral. Liah’s eyes strained to take in all the grandeur and opulence of the space as she made her way toward an archway that led out to a courtyard nearly as large as Liah’s entire village. Once outside, she slipped away from the crowd and ducked into the shadows.
Strange animals of all sizes moved freely through the space—horned beasts, spotted beasts, and countless exotic birds. There were all sorts of trees and potted plants. And in the center of the courtyard was a great scarlet pond—the one she’d heard tell of. By its earthy, acrid aroma, Liah recognized immediately it was not filled with blood, but rather with wine.
Drunken guests lazed about, dipping cups, allowing the fermented, tannic liquid to spill down their chins and stain their garbs, while others drifted in small boats, plucking skewers of roasted bird—quail, thought Liah—suspended from a large tree on an island in the center of the pool.
And high above the courtyard, on a stone belvedere, surveying the chaos beneath her, sat the Empress. From the distance, she appeared thin and statuesque, swathed in fine cloth of flax thread and spun gold.
Liah was somewhat disappointed, for none of the whisperings had been true. There was no blood pond, no forest of roasted enemies, and the Empress appeared no larger than herself. Not at all the imposing figure Liah had come to expect.
So mesmerized by all the detail was she, Liah nearly missed the small figure of the bone carver. He stood in line, awaiting his audience with the Empress. As though sensing her presence, he turned sharply toward her.
16
THE POWER OF SUGGESTION
The charcoal slipped from Kallie’s fingers. It dropped to the floor along with the clipboard that landed at her feet with a hollow thud.
Kallie stood, her knees trembling. “Not feeling well,” she muttered, sweeping past Mr. Washington, who had stooped to pick up her drawing.
She left the class as quickly as she could without breaking her stride. She marched down the corridor and burst through the door to the girl’s washroom. Fortunately, it was empty.
Something was happening to her. Something completely and totally beyond her control. It was as if she had become a puppet and someone was working the strings.
It was a terrifying feeling not knowing what might happen next. But something was coming. She could feel it, but she could not yet see it. She did not even know where to look.
She reached out a shaky hand and turned on the faucet. She scooped cold water, splashed her face, and then took several cleansing breaths. She stared hard at her piqued complexion in the small mirror hanging above the sink. At long last she regained some composure. Rule number one in any crisis: Remain calm.
The fourth piece from the box had a castle on it. And now, on the art paper, etched in dark, bold lines, shaded perfectly, was a castle. It sat perched high on a cliff, with a narrow road winding up toward its entrance. At the base of the mountain stood a small, cloaked figure. In one of the castle windows was a blurry face, staring down, ghostly.
She’d sketched all of it. A perfect castle with shadows and highlights, value and texture. There was depth and contrast and even a hint of movement. And she’d done it all without even looking at the paper.
Kallie shook her head as though responding to an invisible inquisitor. No. She could not have been the artist. There was no way. She had zero talent. She was certain of it. She’d made certain of it. Hadn’t she?
A short time later, Pole and Anna approached Kallie, who sat despondent at what had somehow become their usual lunch table. She was staring sullenly at the triangular tuna and alfalfa half-sandwich in her hand.
When she saw them, she frowned. They were walking side by side. Close together. As though they were friends. Best friends.
“Mr. Bent likes the idea, but he feels we need support from the student body before going to Principal McEwan,” Pole was saying.
“We can make flyers!” beamed Anna. “And get signatures. And I was thinking we could have a Periodic Picnic Table Lunch, an Element Dash, a Guess the Element contest…”
“Great idea about the flyers,” said Pole. “I’ll work on it tonight. And by the way, I’ve decided I’m going to be helium.”
“You would choose a gas,” giggled Anna.
Kallie frowned harder.
“What’s wrong?” asked Pole, seating himself across from Kallie. “Why did you run out of art class?”
“You left your binder,” said Anna, placing it on the table. She took a sip of water from her cup.
Kallie eyed the jagged line of glue where it had been repaired. She opened her lunch bag and retrieved a second container. She handed it to Anna.
“What’s this?”
“I know you eat huge breakfasts,” said Kallie. “But I made an extra sandwich. For you. Just in case…”
Anna took the container and smiled. “Yes. Mrs. Winslow really outdid herself again this morning. I am pretty stuffed”—she patted her belly—“but maybe just a bite…”
Pole stared at Kallie as though she had grown a second head. She was not acting like herself. And she hadn’t answered his questions. Mostly because she wasn’t sure what she could tell him.
He opened his lunch bag and unwrapped a tofu burrito. “What’s happened to you? You’re acting irrationally.”
Kallie’s eyes shot daggers in his direction. It was the worst thing he had ever said to her. First, he shows up with Anna as if they’ve been best friends forever, planning Periodic Table Day without her, and now he insults her. He was right, of course, but that did nothing to dull the sting. She knew she wasn’t acting sensibly. But couldn’t he see it wasn’t her fault? Something was recklessly guiding her actions. He’d know that—if he weren’t paying so much attention to his new friend.
Kallie swallowed a bite of sandwich and secretly scolded herself. Emotions were untrustworthy, and hers were running amok. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that truly smart people know they do not know everything. A truly smart person knows when it’s time to seek help. And if anyone could help her, surely it was Pole.
“Can I tell you something?” she said. “Will you listen to the whole st
ory before you pass judgment?”
“A story!” said Anna. “Hurray! Does it have fairies? And trolls? Because those are my favorites! Or is it more of a mystery? Oh! A romance! Oh, please say it’s a romance!” She clapped her hands vigorously.
A sinking feeling settled into Kallie’s stomach. She put down her sandwich. Things were much worse than she had thought. She was no longer in control of her actions or her words.
“It’s not a story.” She corrected herself. “It’s merely a … a … recounting of events … of happenings … of occurrences. A report. Yes. That’s what I meant to say. A report.”
Anna looked deflated and slightly peevish.
“Something is happening to me,” Kallie said softly.
She watched Pole intently, his face as unreadable as a book of squiggles and squares. But he was a good listener. Kallie knew he approached everything scientifically, so she was certain he’d gather all the facts and hear everything she had to say before forming an opinion.
Slowly, methodically, Kallie recounted the events leading up to the drawing, including the faceless man, the box, the nine pieces, and their connection to recent events in her life: the jackal. The broken cup. The ocarina. And now the castle.
Anna sprung to her feet, a wild glint in her eyes. She pointed an aha finger in the air. “I know exactly what those things are! The pieces—inside the box—they’re story bones!”
“What?” said Kallie.
“You know—story bones!” she repeated excitedly.
Kallie and Pole shook their heads, looking blank.
“You’ve never heard of story bones?” said Anna incredulously. She looked in disbelief from Kallie to Pole, but both shrugged.
“It’s like a game. You toss the bones,” said Anna, “then use the pictures to create a story. Only, yours are bewitched, don’t you see? And now you’ve become part of the story!” Her triumphant gaze swung like a pendulum from one lackluster expression to the other.
Pole averted his eyes and cleared his throat. “Well. That certainly could be one explanation. But I offer another, slightly more plausible one. What I think you have here, Kallie, is a simple case of the power of suggestion.”
His eyes were steadfast, his voice calm, bordering on casual, which put Kallie immediately at ease.
“The idea a person—or object—can guide the thoughts, feelings, and even behavior of another. Influence their surroundings. It’s nothing new. Simple nineteenth-century psychology.” He tucked a straying piece of lettuce into his burrito.
“The power of suggestion,” Kallie repeated slowly, with each word becoming all the more convinced.
Anna frowned and shook her head defiantly.
“Consider it, Anna,” said Pole. “If something has been planted in our mind, and we come to expect a certain outcome, then we automatically set in motion a chain of thoughts and behaviors producing that exact outcome.”
Anna narrowed her eyes. “I still say the pieces are story bones … bewitched story bones…”
“You’re right as usual, Pole,” said Kallie. “I saw the pictures on the pieces from the box. I must have stored the images in my subconscious and then went about re-creating them in my life … Or something like that, anyway.”
Pole took a huge bite of his burrito. “Precisely.” A black bean fell out of his mouth and onto the table.
“The power of suggestion,” repeated Kallie. “That has to be it.”
“Of course it is.” He popped the bean into his mouth. “So stop thinking about that box. Clear your head. Put it away. Out of sight. Out of mind.”
Kallie nodded. Clear her head. That was the solution. The box had caused the exact trouble her father had warned her about. It had fueled her unconscious mind and let it run wild. He’d be furious with her if he found out. It was time to rid herself of the box and regain control of herself and her surroundings.
“Out of curiosity,” said Anna, finishing the last bite of her sandwich. She sealed the container and handed it back to Kallie. “What were the next pictures on those cubes?”
“Well,” said Kallie. “There was a cylinder spouting flames, and then a coffin, and then…”
“A coffin?” gasped Anna. “Oh no. That can’t be good. Luckily you’re putting a stop to this suggestion power straightaway. Before things get really bad.”
“Yeah.” Kallie gulped. “Good thing.”
17
THE UNSINKABLE TRUTH
The rest of the day sailed on like a seven-masted schooner. Kallie knew she could count on Pole to be the voice of reason. She dismissed all the strange happenings as mere coincidence—what else could they be?—and did her best to put them and the box out of her head.
Still, Anna had sown a tiny seed of doubt, which already began to take root. On the very odd and unlikely chance Anna was right, something terrible was going to happen, and Kallie had no way of knowing what it would be, let alone how to prevent it.
* * *
That afternoon was gym class. Physical education was the least offensive of all the nonacademic subjects as Kallie recognized the body’s need for daily, vigorous activity. She owned a well-worn copy of Brain Training: Physical Exercises to Enhance Academic Achievement. She lifted one arm and circled the other while performing deep lunges.
“Bench!” called Coach Mandala.
Kallie frowned and took her seat. She continued drawing giant infinity symbols in the air, known as lazy eights. Next she began yawning while massaging her cheeks. “Energy yawns,” she said to Anna. “Provides oxygen to the brain while relaxing the eyes. Helps promote motor control.”
Anna joined her.
As Kallie waited for her turn to sub into the flag football game, her eyes wandered to Anna’s shorts—the same ones she’d sported the first day they’d seen each other in the marketplace. Anna followed Kallie’s gaze and then ran her hands over them, concealing spots where the threads had worn thin.
“I have a trunkful of designer clothes at home. Really expensive stuff,” said Anna, “but Mrs. Winslow doesn’t like me dressing too fancy. She’s worried someone might get the idea I’m extremely wealthy and try to abduct me. She’s such a worrywart.”
“I like that shade of yellow,” said Pole. “It reminds me of my mother’s homemade lemon curd.” He grinned.
Kallie rolled her eyes. “How long do you have to live with Mrs. Winslow?”
“Well,” said Anna thoughtfully. “I told you my parents were magicians, right?”
“The Amazing Alonzo and his Alluring Assistant Ava,” said Kallie, recalling the previous conversation.
“Well, then,” she sighed. “I suppose it’s time I tell you the whole truth…”
“Jones! Glud! Offense!” shouted Coach Mandala. “Rodriguez—Defense!”
Kallie and Anna took to the field, but since neither could catch or throw, they hung as close to the sidelines as possible without stepping out of bounds, so as to avoid any unnecessary contact with the football. Pole was on the opposing team and stood facing them.
“You see,” said Anna. “My father is a marvelous magician. He can do all sorts of amazing illusions. But he is most famous for his magic cabinet—an enormous, elaborately carved wooden box. He can make people and objects disappear.”
Another box. One that makes people disappear. Kallie was sorry she’d asked.
“Well, he’d inherited the magic cabinet from another old magician he’d met in a pub one dark and stormy night. That magician had inherited it from another, who had inherited it from another, who…”
“Yes, yes,” said Kallie. “We get the idea. Go on.”
All eleven players were on the line of scrimmage preparing to run downfield, but Anna kept talking. She was able to talk at such a high speed she could get a thousand words out in an instant.
“The old magician said the cabinet possessed powerful magic—but you could use it only once each night. He warned my father never to do the trick more than once. Not ever, or…”
“Jones! Glud!” shouted Coach. “We’re playing football here! Not having afternoon tea! Rodriguez—stay focused!”
Kallie glanced along the line at Ivan. He was the quarterback and was shouting numbers. The football was snapped, and everyone began to run downfield, except the three who strolled along in no particular hurry.
“Anyway, this one night…” Anna’s voice dropped low. “… After my father had made my mother disappear and reappear, he was offered a great sum of money by a mysterious stranger in the audience to repeat the trick. It was so much money, my father couldn’t say no.”
“Touchdown!” shouted Jonah. He was doing a ridiculous dance in the end zone. Kallie thought it made him look like a cross between an amorous gorilla and an agitated chicken. Coach Mandala barked several instructions, and the players began to reorganize.
“So,” said Anna. “Reluctantly, my mother stepped into the box a second time and disappeared. Except when it was time for her to return, the box remained empty.”
“Wasn’t she behind the stage?” asked Pole. “I know that trick. It works with trapdoors or mirrors.”
Anna shook her head. “I told you, the box was real. It was magic. But it was cursed. My father had ignored the warning by doing the trick a second time, and so my mother was gone. My father spent all night trying to get her back, and when nothing worked, he stepped into the box himself to try to find her and bring her back, but then he disappeared, too. I’m staying with Mrs. Winslow until they return.” Anna smiled. “Which should be any day now.”
The ball flew so quickly across the field Kallie didn’t have a chance to warn Pole. It hit him in the stomach, knocking him to the ground.
“Wake up, Rodriguez!” shouted Coach Mandala. “This isn’t a slumber party!”
Kallie and Anna helped Pole to his feet. The wind had been knocked out of him. They stopped talking, keeping their eyes open for more assaulting footballs, but Kallie couldn’t help but think about what Anna had told her.