The Magickers (18 page)

Bailey elbowed him. “How'd you get yourself on duty with me? That's too cool. Now we can find out what Cook is doing in that stewpot for sure.”

His jaw dropped. She didn't remember a thing about last night. And not only didn't she remember a thing, she didn't care about getting stuck with another week of mess duty.

“Not telling, huh? Some day, Jason Adrian, you're going to be too clever for your own good.” She crunched down happily on raisin bran. “Trent, why don't you take next week, too? Cook likes volunteers, and it's not so bad, really.”

Trent scratched his head. “Actually,” he considered. “It could be fun.”

“Great! I'll tell Cook. Now all we have to do is vote and see who gets to vanish first.” Bailey grinned and dug seriously into her breakfast.

He could have used disappearing cream last night. The only question was—whom would he have used it on first?

Trent drummed his fingers on the tabletop as he demolished his stack of pancakes and began to work on a pile of crispy bacon strips. He dipped his chin now and then as if bobbing his head in time to a tune no one could hear. He looked up to see Jason watching him with a sideways look, and grinned. “I hate it when the voices in my head get louder than the music.”

Jason laughed. He pulled his plate of what seemed to be nicely scrambled eggs with chopped bits of ham and French toast closer and dug in. Bailey finished her breakfast, took the tray off to the cleanup counter and came back with a glass of juice. “What's up today?”

“Arts and Crafts at ten. Lanyards again.”

Trent cracked his knuckles. ‘'Hey, don't knock lanyards. That's weaving. Probably for dexterity or something.”

“Dexterity? Are you crazy?”

He shook his head at Bailey. “Think about it. Finger agility. Who knows what we need to cast spells and such? They didn't pass out any magic wands, you know.”

“Cabin,” Jason got out, still chewing and swallowing.

“Cabin?” Bailey arched her brow, staring at him.

“Cabin cleaning is first.”

“Oh, yeah. Right.”

All three of them sighed.

“It's not so bad,” Bailey said finally. “I mean everyone pitches in.”

“Maybe you'll find your stuff.”

She considered that a moment then shook her head. “I didn't lose it. It just disappeared.” She stood and finished her juice. “See you guys later. I might as well go get started.”

Trent got a second stack of pancakes and sat down, rolling them and eating them like breadsticks, syrup and strawberry jam tucked inside.

“Where do you fit it?”

Trent laughed. “That's why I roll 'em up. Easier to stack 'em inside!” He licked at a dribble of jam. At last he pushed his tray away. “Ready?”

“Sort of. I want to look at Dead Man's Cabin first.”

Trent wiped his hands on a paper napkin, aimed, and made a basket into the trash can as they walked out the mess hall door. “How come?” he asked when they were outside and headed down the gravel path.

“Bailey and I went down to see it last night.”

“You did?” Trent scrubbed one hand through his hair, spiking it up. “She didn't say a word. Keeps a good secret.”

“I don't think she remembers.”

“How could she not remember?”

“She fell asleep,” Jason replied simply. He paused at the bottom of the path, which curved around through evergreens and snaked its way toward the empty cabin. Last night they'd come from above, and he swore he could see slide marks down through the carpet of old pine needles and leaves.

Trent kept a lookout while they approached the cabin and watched it for a moment or two, to see if any noise or movement came from inside. Then both boys dashed inside. For a moment, the total darkness blinded them, and then the thin ray coming in from the door was enough to see by.

Dusty, empty, not even a chair. Jason squinted.

“Nothing,” said Trent.

“Not a thing,” Jason agreed. “Except . . .” He took a deep breath. A faint aroma lingered on the air. It smelled faintly familiar.

Trent inhaled. “Cook's stewpot,” he said.

“That's it! But why . . . ?” Jason took a step or two deeper into the cabin. His sneaker kicked something, and it clattered into the corner. A half-eaten spoon rocked in the corner, its silvery, jagged edges catching the light rays. He stared at the evidence.

Trent jerked. “I hear something outside.”

He didn't want to be caught again. He'd have to think about this later. “Let's go!”

Later, hiking through the camp behind Sousa, picking up strays as they went, Bailey joined them, her face pink with frustration, muttering to Ting who also looked very unhappy. Their explanation, however, could not be heard over Sousa's spirited marching music.

The two boys could only wonder what had happened. They watched curiously, though, unable to figure out what the problem seemed to be. Sousa marched down the winding pathway, cornet in hand, trotting them across the grounds, then leading the campers out in a parade behind him as they wound through Ravenwyng's acres. Bailey bumped shoulders with them finally, still frowning, and muttered under Sousa's happy tooting, “Someone took my candy money this time.”

“Your candy money?”

“A shoe full of quarters, in case we ever find civilization again. I had it in my old, stinky, swamp waders. Someone had to be desperate.” She wrinkled her nose.

“No kidding!”

Trent dodged her elbow.

“How much did they get?”

“Close to three dollars. Not a fortune, but enough for a handful of candy bars.” She sighed. “I'm going to set a trap!” The cornet peeled again, and they trotted after the paraders. After working their way across a meadow of summer flowers, even Bailey seemed cheered, all of them following Sousa as if he were the Pied Piper. Trent fished around in his pocket and came up with a kazoo. He started a lively tune that had Bailey in red-faced giggles by the time they got to the craft tables by the small lake.

Although it was midmorning, the sun reflected hotly off the lake and the small breeze felt good as they scattered to their various tables. Gavan and Eleanora stood to one side, quietly talking. It looked as if a thousand diamonds had been scattered over the table-tops but there was an immense banner hanging from the old oak's branch. DO NOT TOUCH.

Trent glanced at Jason. “Looks like they mean business.” He slipped his kazoo into a pocket and sat down.

Jason considered the crystals and quartzes shimmering in front of them. Bailey sat down across from them, uttering a small word of awe. Her dusting of freckles paled on her face. She put a finger out and a tiny arc of lightning zapped forth, snapping.

“Ow!” She yanked her hand back, pinking.

Eleanora's gaze swept the campers. “No touching,” she said quietly.

No one else dared. Bailey sat for a moment with her finger in her mouth, as if burned, before sheepishly leaning back. Her eyes, though, stayed on the glittering objects.

Sousa gave a trumpeting flourish on his cornet, saluted Gavan, and marched off, his tailed coat swinging as he walked.

Gavan moved to the center of the craft area and waited. In just a moment, there was an absolute hush. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “Welcome to your first lesson as a Magicker.”

Jason sat straight. A chill ran down the back of his spine.

“You've had fun these past few days as campers, but you all know now why you are here and I'm sure you're more than ready to learn. Today Eleanora and I will introduce to you what will become your closest friend and ally, your closest bond as a Magicker . . . your crystal. The crystal you choose will probably not stay with you more than a few years as you grow, but most Magickers never entirely put theirs aside. It remains as a talisman to those first, exciting, hazardous years learning your crafts.

“We will lose some of you over the years as Magickers,” he added solemnly. “There can be accidents in this world as in any other. I want you to take your time this afternoon, as we work with you. If your life does not depend on your crystal today . . . it
will.
”

Eleanora began to walk between the tables. Not too far from them, Jonnard ran his fingers through his hair and commented, “No crystal is alike, just like fingerprints.”

She looked sharply at him. “That is correct. So today, what we will do is something as simple and complex as picking out your crystal. Needless to say if, after study and observation, the crystal you reach for shocks you . . .”

Rich snickered, and Bailey blushed again.

Eleanora patted her on the shoulder. “It is not meant for you.” She leaned down and whispered to Bailey, but not so quietly that Jason could not hear her say, “Don't worry, dear. Someone had to make the mistake of touching them. It just turned out to be you. I did the very same thing, way back when.”

Bailey smiled gratefully as Eleanora floated down the aisle. She took a place just behind Jonnard although even standing she could scarcely be seen behind the tall, seated youth.

Gavan nodded at Eleanora. “All right, then. As you look at the crystals, I want you to consider each one. I suggest not making a choice unless it is clear to you that there is no other crystal that appeals as much to you. Stand up, Magickers, and begin your first lesson.”

Trent rolled his eyes as he clambered to his feet. “Just what I need,” he muttered to Jason. “Belted by a piece of rock.”

“Hmmm?” Jason answered. He leaned over the table, intrigued by the walnut-sized gems. They all seemed to want his touch. How could he choose? And there wasn't just this table . . . there were seven other tables. How could only one become his?

With a snort, Stefan scooped a rock off the ground and tossed it onto the table in front of him. “This one's for you, Jason.” He looked at Rich, and their shoulders rocked in mirth, which they smothered as Gavan looked over at them, and said, “I suggest you find your own matches.”

Still chortling, the redhead shrugged and reached for a pale yellow quartz across the table from him. There was a crackle, a pop, and a yell, followed by a dust cloud as Rich sat down abruptly. He shook his head, eyes round and blinking.

Gavan cleared his throat. “I also suggest you all take this a bit more seriously.”

Trent slowly put his palm out over a pale blue stone. There was a rustling rather like the crackle of static electricity, and he pulled his hand back quickly. His brow knit in a expression of concentration.

Jason decided to look at all the tables before even thinking about a stone. Most looked as if they had just been chiseled out of their quarry or vein, not polished or even cleaned, but they were still beautiful. The edges were sharp or brittle. As he leaned over, he could see the shadowy hint of the planes inside, the facets that made them the kind of stones they were.

Bailey had evidently followed him. Her freckled arm darted past him, as he paused, and without hesitation she plucked a large amethyst from the table and cradled it triumphantly in the palm of her hand. He smiled at her as she threw him a wide, beaming grin.

“Well done,” Eleanora murmured as she passed them by.

Bailey retreated to their table in the shadow and stood, turning the crystal over and over in her fingers. “Jason, look at this,” she breathed in a voice full of soft wonder.

“I'm trying to find my own,” he answered. He drifted farther away.

“But I can see inside . . .”

He found himself drawn to a rough quartz of nearly flawless clear beauty except for a rough vein of gold and dark blue chips. He started to do as Trent had done, hold his hand over it to see if the warding energy inside would react to him. Inside, a cooling warmth drifted up.

Gavan was behind him. “Not,” he began to say, but he was too late, as Jason picked up the quartz and a welcoming thrill went through his entire body. “That one,” Gavan finished. Jason twisted around to look at him.

“Why?”

Gavan instead looked at Eleanora. “I thought we decided not to put that one out.”

She looked back, a defiant expression on her face. “I agreed to no such thing.”

Gavan met Jason's curious stare. “You may pick another if you wish. I will Unbond that.”

“No.” He shook his head quickly. “I like it.”

“Yes, but . . .” Gavan paused. “I'll discuss it with you later.”

“Come look at mine, Jason,” called out Bailey persistently.

“Hold your horses.” He took a moment to look at his crystal closely, turning it over and over on his palm. It was both a fine and rough object, beautiful and ugly.

Jason heard a muffled shriek. He turned back to Bailey impatiently, only to see thin air where she had stood. Thin air and a crystal hanging in it. Then it quivered and plunged to the ground. His jaw dropped, and he blurted, “Bailey's gone!”

13

“
T
HE absolute first rule of Magicking is never drop your crystal.” Gavan sheathed his cane inside his short cape and then added briskly, “No one move.”

Too late. Jason had already jumped the bench and scooped up the amethyst before the words left Rainwater's lips. The purple gem felt warm in his hand as its rich facets twinkled up at him. No wonder Bailey had picked it, he thought, cupping the crystal. As to what had happened to Bailey . . . he looked up as Gavan reached him and gently took the crystal from his hand.

With a shake of his head and a knotting of his brow, Gavan rolled the object between his palms. The camp leader seemed to blink in and out of focus for a moment. Jason rubbed the corner of his eye and tried to fix Gavan firmly in his sight as Rainwater glanced toward Eleanora and shook his head, once. She paled.