Jinx's Fire (7 page)

“Hm.” Sophie leaned back on the workbench. “Nonetheless, Elfwyn's pretty sure he's gotten through somehow.”

“Excuse me,” said Wendell. “But doesn't that mean that he's—well, out of the Urwald, and that's a good thing?”

“No,” said everyone at once.

“If he learns KnIP, that's going to make him even more dangerous,” said Jinx. “And if he finds a way to bring the preceptors into the Urwald . . .” The only hope there, Jinx thought, was that the Bonemaster wouldn't necessarily
want
the preceptors in the Urwald.

And the only hope of him not learning KnIP was that the preceptors didn't exactly volunteer the information that KnIP existed.

Other than that, not much hope.

Wendell went home to Samara. Jinx and Elfwyn stayed up late talking. Jinx wanted to know about Simon.

“He's still the same,” said Elfwyn sadly. “Frozen inside that slab of ice, looking like he's about to cast a spell.”

“And you don't—” He stopped himself.

“No,” said Elfwyn. “I don't know what the Bonemaster did to him. I looked in his new books, because I thought it might be in there. But I couldn't understand them.”

“We
have
to get Simon back,” said Jinx.

They both looked at the bottle on the workbench.

“Sophie said she might find the answer in the Eldritch Tome,” said Elfwyn.

“She's been trying to find an answer there for over a year,” said Jinx. “She needs to show it to Malthus. I bet between them they can figure it out. But she won't let him—”

“I think maybe she's already figured something out and doesn't like it,” said Elfwyn. “Who's Malthus?”

Jinx told her. Then he told her everything that had been going on with the clearings and the war.

“You know what I think?” said Elfwyn. “I think
Reven might be trying to conquer the Urwald
first
, and then Keyland.”

Jinx hadn't thought of that. “Wh—I don't see why.”

“Because conquering the Urwald might be easier.”

“That's what he thinks,” said Jinx.

“Tell me what it's like in Samara,” said Elfwyn.

So Jinx told her about his adventures in the Temple, and about Crocodile Bottom, and how he'd taught himself KnIP and broken Sophie out of prison. It had been a pretty exciting time; he hardly had to exaggerate at all.

Unfortunately the result was that Elfwyn decided she wanted to go to Samara.

“But I just told you how dangerous it is!” said Jinx. “And you don't speak Samaran.”

“I'm learning,” said Elfwyn, hurt.

“‘Aquifer' isn't going to help you much if you get attacked by thugs or kidnapped by the preceptors.”

“I don't see why that would happen. They're looking for you, not for me.”

Jinx tried to think of something to distract her from this crazy idea. “We're going to have to go and strengthen the ward around the portal,” he said. “We'd better do that tomorrow.”

To anybody who didn't know the portal was there, it looked like just another bit of Urwald—tall trees rising
from a tangle of undergrowth and fallen branches. But to Jinx, who had made the portal a year ago, the stark stone hall of the Samaran prison was clearly visible among the trees. A Samaran guard stood staring blankly out at the Urwald. What the guard actually saw, Jinx was almost certain, was the gray prison wall.

A wolf was curled up on the forest floor, right inside the ward. Its paw rested on a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles.

“Hi Malthus,” said Jinx. “Um, this is Elfwyn.”

The wolf and the red-caped girl looked at each other.

Malthus stood up, stretched, and kept stretching, sliding into a shape that stood on its hind legs. He put on his spectacles.

“Malthus is the werewolf I've told you about,” said Jinx.

“Nothing bad, I hope,” said Malthus. “And you must be the girl that I have been told a great deal about. I'll ask you no questions.”

“Um, thank you,” said Elfwyn.

“What are you doing here?” said Jinx. “Have you been guarding the portal?”

“Somebody ought to,” said Malthus. “Unfortunately I've been unable to awaken much interest in the task among the werewolves. They don't understand the seriousness of the situation. Nor, I fear, do you.”

“Elfwyn thinks the Bonemaster has gotten through to Samara.”

“Correct,” said Malthus.

Jinx felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. “Is he there now?”

“That I do not know,” said Malthus. “I'm not able to get here as often as I like, nor stay as long as I'd wish. Other responsibilities intervene. There are new cubs.”

“Um, yours?” said Jinx.

“Yes. Six of them. I have a picture.” Malthus flipped open his ever-present notebook and held up a pencil sketch of what looked to Jinx like a heap of bald puppies.

“Congratulations,” said Elfwyn. “They're, um, adorable.”

“Um, yeah. That's great,” said Jinx. “Why didn't you try to stop the Bonemaster?”

“You're aware that he's an extremely powerful wizard?” said Malthus. “Quite aside from being the other wick, of course.”

“Yes, but—” said Jinx.

“I had no desire to be burnt to a crisp, or turned into a toad,” said Malthus. “So I took cover behind that tree over there, and lurked.”

Some help you are, Jinx didn't say. “How long ago was this?”

“About six days,” said Malthus. “I tried to come and
tell you, but it's difficult to get near your lair with all those people running around. People so often misunderstand werewolves.”

“And we so often don't. I was away anyway,” said Jinx.

“Six days ago?” said Elfwyn. “That's before I left Bonesocket. I think he'd been back and forth through the portal a lot of times before then.”

“It's quite possible,” said Malthus. “As I said, I haven't been around much. What I don't understand, though, is how he knew the portal was here.”

Blue-green guilt from Elfwyn.

She told him something, Jinx thought. But they didn't need to talk about this in front of Malthus.

“I must say I envy him,” said the werewolf, gazing at the portal. “The libraries of Samara!” He gave a hungry sigh, then turned to Jinx. “Was it there that you saw the Eldritch Tome?”

“Yes,” said Jinx, not adding that he'd brought it home with him. He wondered if Malthus would be able to help Sophie decipher the Tome. Preferably without eating Sophie. He'd have to talk to Sophie about it. Meanwhile— “We have to work on this ward spell.”

Malthus gave Jinx a thoughtful look. “Then I'll just be slinking off.”

He did so.

“He doesn't like to hang around when I'm doing magic,”
said Jinx. “In case he accidentally eats me while I'm concentrating. Did you—” He stopped himself. “I guess you must have told the Bonemaster that the portal was here. But how—I mean, I don't know how you knew.”

“Well, I knew
something
was here,” said Elfwyn. “Because when I came to my grandmother's cottage to visit you last year, she told me where the Wanderers had found you. And I went to look for the place. And there was the ward spell, of course, I noticed that. And—well, the Bonemaster asked me a lot of questions. I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault,” said Jinx. Except that you insisted on being at the Bonemaster's house to begin with, he didn't add. “The Bonemaster's really good at asking questions. He's gotten stuff out of me whenever I've talked to him, and I don't even have a curse on me. He makes me tell him things I didn't even know I knew.”

Jinx said this to make her feel better, but he could see it wasn't working. The fact was, the Bonemaster finding the portal was a disaster. And Elfwyn knew it.

“Are you good at—I mean, I wonder if ward spells are something you're good at,” said Jinx.

“So-so,” said Elfwyn. “He didn't really want me to learn them, so I had to work it out on my own. I can see what you've done here. It's really strong, but it doesn't have enough exclusions.”

“Yeah,” said Jinx. “I know.”

They worked on the ward together. They told it to keep anybody, anybody at all, from passing through.

Once again Jinx found that the Urwald's lifeforce wasn't all there. When he tried to pull power into the spell, something pulled back.

He didn't tell Elfwyn this.

Instead he explained how the KnIP portal worked, and he was rather put out that within a few minutes she was able to see the Samaran prison corridor.

“That's amazing,” said Elfwyn. “You did that?”

“Yeah,” said Jinx.

“And you used the preceptors' knowledge as power for the spell?”

“Yup.”

“So, do I have a golden ball of knowledge too?” she asked.

“Yeah. Everyone does.”

“Can you see my knowledge-ball?”

“Of course,” said Jinx.

She looked vaguely uncomfortable at the notion.

“It's nice, it's all sparkly,” Jinx assured her.

“And you could use it to do a KnIP spell?”

“If you were standing close enough to me, yeah,” said Jinx.

“Well, don't!”

“I won't without asking you first,” said Jinx.

Elfwyn pressed her hand against the ward. “The space between the portal and the ward is a problem,” she said. “I wonder if someone from Samara stood in that space and showed the Bonemaster how to get through the portal.”

“One of the preceptors,” said Jinx. “Yeah, I guess they could have. If they noticed him sniffing around the portal site.”

“Can we push the ward further in?” said Elfwyn. “So there's no space?”

“The ward can't touch the portal,” said Jinx.

“Why not?”

“Because KnIP spells and wizard's spells can't touch,” said Jinx.

“Well, we can put them closer together, anyway,” said Elfwyn.

And that was when Jinx discovered the Urwald's lifeforce wasn't there at all. Or not in a way he could draw on—any more than, say, Elfwyn could. All he had was the power of the fire inside him, which wasn't enough to shift a ward this strong. Neither was Elfwyn's power.

“Why can't we move it?” she asked.

“Because something's happening to the Urwald's lifeforce,” said Jinx, fighting panic. “I can't reach it. It's like it's being pulled away from me.”

“You use the Urwald's lifeforce for power?”

Elfwyn listened as he explained what had happened.

“Cripes,” she said. “Do you think it has something to do with the Bonemaster getting through to Samara?”

“I don't know.” Jinx thought of what Malthus had said. Once the Bonemaster understood that he and Jinx were both wicks, he would act against Jinx.

“You do think that,” said Elfwyn. “You just don't want me to feel bad about helping him get through.”

Jinx shrugged.

“But what could he do to take over the Urwald's lifeforce?” said Elfwyn. “He thinks it's impossible to draw power from the Urwald. He told me so.”

“I don't know how he's doing it,” said Jinx. “But it's making it easier for Reven to invade the Urwald, and harder for us to fight back. And I've got to stop him.”

“How?” said Elfwyn.

“I don't know. I have to find out,” said Jinx. “I need to get Sophie to let Malthus look at the Eldritch Tome.”

Peas and Beans

S
ummer blazed out into autumn, the leaves turning the many colors of fire. It quickly became the coldest autumn Jinx could remember. He yearned to go and find out what had become of Simon
.
But he couldn't. He had to get all the clearings armed and protected by wards.

The drain on the Urwald's lifeforce went on. It wasn't constant. Sometimes the lifeforce was there and Jinx could use it. Other times it was gone.

As soon as Jinx had a chance, he went and asked the trees about this.

The lifeforce goes deep,
said the trees.

Well, it doesn't seem to be there at all sometimes,
said Jinx.
What's happening to it? Where's it going?

We do not know.

How can you not know?
Sometimes Jinx found it hard to be patient with the trees.
The power comes from you.

The trees were confused by this.
The lifeforce power? From us? No. The power does not come from us.

Now Jinx was confused.
It's your power! How can it not come from you?

The lifeforce runs through us. It runs much deeper than the roots of trees,
they said.
It doesn't come from us. We come from it.

Your roots go deeper than ours,
the trees added.

There was no getting any sense out of them. They were worse than the Eldritch Tome.

Blacksmiths' Clearing was under siege. Reven's soldiers surrounded it, attacking anyone who came out.

When a party from Deadfall Clearing came through the doorpath to deliver iron blooms, Reven's soldiers were momentarily too surprised to do anything. They just weren't used to people appearing out of thin air. But then the soldiers closed in. One of the Deadfallers was killed. A few managed to flee into the safety of the Blacksmiths' Clearing ward. The rest ducked back into the Doorway—or, from the invaders' point of view, simply vanished.

“What about the iron?” Jinx asked, at a crowded meeting in Simon's kitchen when the angry Deadfallers
showed up there the next day.

“Forget the iron,” said Oswald. “They killed Gustaf!”

“We had to drop the iron,” said Griselda. “It's sitting on the ground twenty paces outside Blacksmiths' Clearing. The smiths owe us for it.”

“It won't be there anymore,” said Elfwyn. “Reven will have taken it, because he knows we need it.”

“Well, that explains why we haven't received those axes we expected. The blacksmiths can't get out,” said Sophie. “And we can't get in. Oh dear, and the blacksmiths don't grow their own food. Jinx, you're going to have to make them a new doorpath. One that ends inside their clearing.”

“I can't,” said Jinx. “KnIP won't work against Urwish magic.”

“But you
made
their ward spell,” said Elfwyn. “It wouldn't stop you anyway.”

“It'll stop KnIP, though,” said Jinx. “No one can KnIP their way through a ward spell.”

“What if you take their ward down, make a new doorpath that ends inside Blacksmiths' Clearing, and then put the ward up again?” said Elfwyn.

The crowd shifted uncomfortably. They weren't used to hearing magicians talk about magic, and Jinx could see that they felt there was something vaguely dirty about it.

“Making a doorpath right into Blacksmiths' Clearing would make them too easy to attack,” said Jinx.

“They're already being attacked!” said Griselda angrily.

There was grumbling in the crowd. The residents of Simon's clearing didn't approve of a westerner speaking rudely to Jinx.

“They're not being attacked. They're under siege,” said Elfwyn.

“How about another ward?” said Sophie. “One that protects a path from the Doorway to Blacksmiths' Clearing? A sort of ward tunnel?”

“I could do that,” said Jinx. “But—”

He stopped. He didn't want to tell everyone how much trouble he was having accessing the Urwald's lifeforce. It was worst on the coldest days—the lifeforce seemed to struggle and slip away from him. It was like trying to catch eels with your hands.

What was the Bonemaster
doing
?

“I'd have to concentrate for a long time,” he said. “And while I was doing that, the soldiers would kill me.”

Cottawilda, Jinx's ex-stepmother, spoke up. “We have to attack. We have to drive those soldiers away.”

“There aren't enough of you to drive them away,” said Oswald.

“There are at least a hundred soldiers there,” said Griselda.

“We just have to hold them off for long enough for Jinx to make that fancy ward-tunnel thing the scholar-lady's
talking about,” said Cottawilda.

There was near silence as everyone considered this.

“I suppose,” said Sophie. “With all of us here, we may have enough people to—”

“I hope you're not counting us Deadfall folk,” said Oswald. “Because we don't want to risk our lives any more against those soldiers from Keyland. We've got our own problems with our war in the west.”

Patience. “It's the same war,” said Jinx. “Rufus and Reven are planning to divide the Urwald between them. The axes the blacksmiths make defend your clearing.”

“If it's a war, then why aren't you people fighting?” Oswald demanded. “Why haven't you dealt with those soldiers around Blacksmiths' Clearing?”

“We're trying to!” Cottawilda shot back. “We're willing to fight, but you Deadfallers just want to run back home and—”

Cottawilda's husband, Jotun, who seldom spoke, gave a low preliminary rumble. “I never said
I
was willing—”

And then everyone started talking at once. Some people wanted to go to the aid of Blacksmiths' Clearing and fight Reven; others wanted to leave the blacksmiths to their fate. They went from talking to yelling, and soon there were a couple of fistfights. Jinx and Elfwyn broke them up by freezing the combatants' clothes.

“Let's put it to a vote,” said Sophie, when relative calm was restored.

“A what?” Cottawilda demanded. “Is that some kind of spell?”

Sophie explained.

The Urwalders eyed each other suspiciously. They all liked the idea that
they
got to vote, but some of them, Jinx could tell, weren't too thrilled about the idea of
other
people voting.

Sophie went to the cupboard and rummaged around. She dumped a handful of dried beans and a handful of peas on the table. “Pick up a bean if you think we should fight, and a pea if you think we shouldn't, and put it”—she clunked a bucket onto the table—“in here.”

Everyone crowded around and grabbed at the two piles. Jinx listened to the plink and rattle of beans for battle and peas for peace. Other than that the kitchen was tensely silent.

When it was his turn, he dropped a bean in the bucket.

“Now we'll count,” said Sophie. “Oh dear.”

Jinx peered into the bucket. There were far more beans and peas in the bucket than there were people in the kitchen.

“We'll have to try again,” said Sophie. “And—”

“We need people to watch the bucket,” said Cottawilda. “I'll watch.”

“You?” said Oswald. “You think we trust you? You're—”

“If you could both watch,” said Sophie, “that would be wonderful.”

Everyone voted again.

“Now we'll count—” Sophie began.

“The Truthspeaker,” someone said. “Let the Truthspeaker count.”

So Elfwyn counted. There were twenty-seven peas in the pot. And thirty-seven beans.

Jinx felt simultaneously relieved and somewhat ill. He'd been terrified that they wouldn't fight, that they intended to let the blacksmiths starve and the Urwalders' source of axes vanish. But it hit him that if they fought Reven's soldiers, some of the people in the kitchen were probably not going to survive. And one of them might be him. And one of them might be Elfwyn.

“I don't think girls should be allowed to fight,” he said.

Sophie frowned at him. “I don't think anyone under eighteen should fight.”

“
I
intend to fight,” said Cottawilda.

“Well, I don't,” said Oswald. “So we'll just be on our way.”

“Wait a minute!” said Jinx. “You have to! We voted! It's what was decided!”

“
I
voted no,” said Oswald. “So good-bye.”

Everyone started yelling again.

When the shouting was over and the fistfights had been stopped, Sophie announced there would be another meeting that evening to plan the battle. “And anybody can
come to it who thinks they should,” she added.

The Deadfall Clearing people began to shout and argue with each other. Jinx was surprised that in the end, they all decided to join the attack. Including Oswald.

The battle plan meeting began with shouting, and ended with calm, tense talk, long after midnight. There was a plan. Everyone more or less agreed on it. Jinx wasn't crazy about it, but he didn't want to hear any more shouting, so he didn't say so.

People wandered off to their various sleeping places. Sophie, Jinx, and Elfwyn headed back to the south wing.

Sophie went upstairs. Elfwyn started to go, too, then stopped, sat down on the bottom step, and sunk her chin on her hands.

“I don't think I can do it,” she said.

“We have to,” said Jinx. “Everyone's counting on us.”

“Do
you
think you can?” said Elfwyn.

“Well, I—” Jinx had been having exactly the same thoughts, but there was no way he would admit it. “Yeah, of course.”

“Without giving those soldiers any warning or anything?”

“If we give them a warning, they'll kill us. They outnumber us. Besides,” said Jinx, “I've set people on fire before. Well, one person. And some trolls.”

“When they didn't even know you were there?”

“Well, no,” Jinx admitted. “When they were attacking me.”

“That's different.”

“But—”

“I don't think you can do it either,” said Elfwyn.

“I have to. Magic's the only advantage we've got. And you and me are the only magicians in the clearing.”

Elfwyn looked up suddenly. “No, we're not.”

“You're right! We forgot—”

“He likes to be forgotten,” said Elfwyn. “It's a witch thing. Let me get my coat.” She hurried upstairs.

They picked their way through the kitchen full of sleeping people, and went out into the dark clearing. It was so cold that Jinx's knuckles stung as he rapped on the door of the shed. He had to knock for a long time. “Witch Seymour! Open up!”

At last the door creaked open and the witch blinked blearily at them. “What do you mean by pounding on one's door at this hour? Something had better be on fire.”

“It is,” said Jinx. “Let us in, please.”

The witch grumbled and muttered and stepped aside. The doorway was only four feet high. Jinx and Elfwyn ducked through it.

The witch was stirring up the fire. “Since one isn't to be allowed one's beauty sleep, we might as well have some brew. Sit down.”

Jinx and Elfwyn sat down on a log, displacing several chickens, which flapped and squawked before settling down again—one on Jinx's knee, two on his shoulders, and one on Elfwyn's head. Jinx explained what had happened at Blacksmiths' Clearing, and at the meetings.

“And you intend to go marching off like heroes in a story, outnumbered five to one, and give your lives for Blacksmiths' Clearing?”

“It's more like two and a half to one, I think,” said Elfwyn.

“And we're kind of hoping not to,” said Jinx. “Give our lives, that is.”

“So are the heroes, generally,” said Witch Seymour. He handed them each a cup of brew. “Well, it will make a good tale, I suppose. Pity you won't be around to hear it told. With luck, there may even be a song.”

Elfwyn took the chicken off her head and set it on the floor. “We were hoping you could help.”

“I don't think so,” said Witch Seymour. “I'm not much good at writing songs.”

Whitlock the goat butted Jinx's arm, making him slosh his brew on the dirt floor. Jinx shoved the goat away. “You know what we mean. Magical help.”

“In a war?” said Witch Seymour. “One scarcely approves of war.”

“Does one approve of having one's cottage overrun by soldiers?” said Jinx. “Wouldn't you rather have it back
than—” He shoved another goat away, jostling the chickens on his shoulders. For a moment the world was full of wings. When they settled down, one of the hens gave Jinx an admonitory peck on the ear.

“Well, it's cozy in here,” said Witch Seymour. “But it's not quite like home, I admit. And though one does try to keep the place clean, there's a certain odor. But how is this battle you're planning going to get my cottage back?”