Jinx's Magic (15 page)

“Two snakes.”

Jinx thought that was a lot, but decided he was too arrogant to argue. He got in and they started across. It was hot in the sun, and he trailed a hand in the cool water.

The woman reached out her paddle and whacked Jinx's arm back into the boat. At the same instant a long green snout shot out of the water right where Jinx's hand had been. Oh right. Crocodiles.

Jinx was like Reven in the Urwald, not taking the dangers seriously.

When they reached the other side Jinx paid the woman. He turned and looked up at the prison. It loomed, gray-black and horrifying, and even in the hot sun it made Jinx shiver. If he managed to get inside, he might never be allowed out again.

But Sophie was in there. So he started up the long, curving road.

It looped back and forth, overlooked by the guard towers atop the high walls. It was a long, hot walk, and Jinx was thirsty when he got to the top of the hill.

Now to be imperious, arrogant, and superior.

There were two guards in gray uniforms standing at the great iron door of the prison. They wore swords and held steel-tipped halberds, which they lowered, crossed, in front of Jinx.

“Remember,”
Satya had said.
“People will believe you are who you pretend to be . . . as long as you don't give them any reason not to believe it.”

“State your business,” said the taller, older guard.

“Bring me a drink of water, fellow,” said Jinx.

The guard looked at Jinx doubtfully.

“At once!” Jinx rasped.

The guard turned to the younger man. “Fetch him some water.”

It worked! Jinx struggled not to let surprise show in his face. A moment later the young guard was handing him a mug of water. The man's expression was somewhere between dislike and respect.

Jinx drank it straight down. He gave the empty cup to the guard, remembered in time not to thank him, and said, “I'm here to see a prisoner.”

“On whose orders?” said the older guard.

“On whose orders? On the Preceptress Cassandra's orders, of course. I am not accustomed to having Temple business obstructed by mere guards.”

The guard bridled, but he was a little afraid, too, a tiny purple puff of fear. Jinx was grateful to Satya and Wendell for the acting lessons.

“What's your name, fellow?” Jinx demanded.

“There's no need for that, sir,” said the guard hastily. “I just thought you were a bit young, that's all.” He inserted a key in a lock, and the prison door creaked open.

And Jinx was inside.

“Take him to Felix, Seth,” the guard said to a man inside, who was very large and looked like he could easily carry Jinx under his arm. “Temple business.”

Temple business. The new guard—Seth—nodded at Jinx to follow him, turned sharply on his heel, and led Jinx down a cold, creepy-feeling hallway. Behind him Jinx heard the grate of the key in the lock—he was locked in now, and the only hope he had of ever getting out again was to keep pulling off this act successfully. Arrogant, imperious, superior.

“What's this, Seth?” Felix was a roly-poly little man behind a desk, with a face like an annoyed kitten's, but his thoughts were deep and red and angry. He was a dangerous person, Jinx thought. Much more dangerous than the giant Seth.

“Temple business,” said Seth.

“I'm here to see our prisoner,” said Jinx, not giving Felix a chance to speak. “The preceptors sent me.”

“A little chap like you?” said Felix.

Jinx looked down his nose at Felix—fortunately, Felix being seated made this easier. “Conduct me to her at once and I'll forget you said that.”

“Which prisoner is this we're talking about?”

“The woman Sophie,” said Jinx.

Felix smiled at Jinx, a little, dangerous smile. His thoughts were full of suspicion. “Take him, Seth.”

Jinx couldn't believe he'd gotten this far.

He followed Seth up and down corridors, lengthwise and crosswise, turning left and right. He was sure they passed the same corner at least twice and that Seth was deliberately confusing him. Jinx's heart was in his throat. Surely Seth was about to grab him, arrest him, and throw him in a cell.

He tried to focus on remembering where each staircase and barred door and passageway was. The place was a maze. It was also completely windowless and impregnable.

Finally they came to a long corridor of iron-barred cells.

“Down here,” said Seth.

Jinx stopped. “Leave me. I will speak to the woman alone.”

“How do you expect to find your way out again?” said Seth.

“You will wait for me. Not here. Down there.” Jinx pointed back the way they had come. “When I am ready to leave, I will summon you. Go!”

He grabbed the torch out of Seth's hand, leaving him to stumble away as best he could in the dark. He turned without waiting to see if Seth had obeyed him, and swept down the line of barred cells with his head held high. He walked fast, in a hurry to get away before Seth heard his heart thumping in terror.

He passed one iron gate after another, and behind each he saw a pile of straw, a bucket, and nobody.

The whole corridor seemed to be empty. He was beginning to suspect Seth had tricked him. Now Jinx was trapped, walking down a probably dead-end corridor with enemies at his back.

In the very last cell, there was something that looked like a heap of old clothes in a corner.

20

KnIP

J
inx stood there looking at the heap until it resolved itself into a person—who didn't notice he was there.

He stuck the torch into an iron ring in the wall. “Sophie?”

She looked up, confused—it
was
Sophie. Her hair was a dull tangle and her eyes, which used to have shooting stars in them, now looked like a clouded-over night.

“Jinx?” She reached a hand through the bars. “Are you real?”

Jinx grabbed her hand.

“You
are
real,” she said. “I've imagined so many strange things, but you're real.”

“Uh-huh,” said Jinx. He had this horrible sensation behind his eyes like he was going to cry or something. Sophie looked awful, pasty and thin and lifeless. It was as if someone had tried to make a fake Sophie out of mud and sticks and had gotten it all wrong.

“Listen, I don't know how long I have—” Jinx said, in Urwish.

“You're wearing a scholar's robe.”

“Yeah, because I'm a scholar. We have to figure out how to get you out of here.”

“There's no way out.” All her thoughts were like a thick gray cloud that covered the whole sky.

“There has to be,” said Jinx.

“I expect they'll have a trial for me eventually,” said Sophie.

And then they'd execute her. “We have to get you out before then.”

“They might find me innocent.” Her voice sounded gray, too.

“Do you think that's what's going to happen?”

“No,” said Sophie. The sky was darker than ever. She looked past Jinx, down the hall, as if searching for someone.

“So tell me what we can do to get you out,” said Jinx, desperately. He'd expected to find Sophie smart and quick and ready to figure it all out and tell him what he needed to do.

“I don't know,” said Sophie.

Her mood was contagious. What was the good of all his planning to get in here when he couldn't get Sophie out?

“Is—is Simon all right?” said Sophie, still looking down the hall.

“Um, he . . .” Jinx fumbled over the question. “He gave me a letter for you.”

“A letter?” Sophie showed signs of life for the first time. “What does it say?”

“I don't know. He told me he'd turn me into a toad if I read it.” Jinx drew the letter out of the inside pocket of his robe.

Sophie actually smiled. “I suppose he couldn't come himself.”

“Well, there's a price on his head,” said Jinx. And then, realizing that Sophie might not consider that a good enough excuse, “And he doesn't know you're in prison. I only just found out myself.”

Sophie had brightened considerably now. Amid the deep-gray clouds of her mind, Simon was like a glow of sunlight trying to break through. This struck Jinx as a really bizarre way for anybody to feel about Simon.

For the first time in his life Jinx was embarrassed to be seeing into someone's mind. “I'll just walk down the corridor a little bit while you read it.”

He went far enough that he couldn't see her feelings anymore, and then he leaned against the cold stone wall and thought.

He had seen nothing at all that suggested there was a way to escape from this prison. You might as well try to escape from the solid-stone dungeon under Bonesocket. He didn't dare tell Sophie how worried he was about Simon; he needed her brain to come up with an escape plan. If he told her Simon had gone off to look for the Bonemaster ages ago and not been heard from since, she'd go all gray and half-dead and useless.

He went back. Sophie was still poring over the letter. She was glowing brightly now, a sort of happy silver sunshine.

“You're not done yet?”

She folded the letter and smiled. “I was rereading. Goodness, Jinx, you've grown. What have you been doing? And why are you a scholar?”

Jinx told her, as quickly and quietly as he could, what he'd done since he'd seen her last. It was pleasant to be speaking Urwish to someone, and not to have to worry about them finding out who he really was.

“You fell off a cliff onto rocks? How were you not killed?”

“I was! But Simon had my life in a bottle and he put it back.”

A blue-brown puff of worry at that. Sophie didn't like magic. Jinx went on, though, and told her about his trip to Keyland, and his quarrel with Reven and Elfwyn—

“Wait—you turned a man into a tree?”

“It was an accident,” said Jinx.

“This Reven, your friend—”

“Enemy.”

“Some people would say Reven has a point,” said Sophie. “About the monsters, and the poverty—”

“He doesn't.”

“I'm not saying he does,” said Sophie. “But it's one point of view. You know, he doesn't sound like he'd be a bad king.”

“He can be a good king all he wants as long as he stays out of the Urwald,” said Jinx. “You know what he wants? He wants to turn us into more Keyland.”

He went on to tell her about his adventures, skimming over the fact that Simon had gone to hunt the Bonemaster. He left out the destruction of Cold Oats Clearing, too. It would only upset her, and she might guess where Simon had gone. But he did tell her about Malthus.

“I've never heard of werewolves talking or wearing spectacles.” Sophie frowned. “That doesn't mean it's not possible, of course.”

“He told me to think about balance.”

“And have you?” said Sophie.

“No, I've been busy with other stuff. What about elves?” said Jinx. “I think I talked to elves too. Only they kind of put a spell on me and I don't really remember much.”

“Elves are dangerous. You shouldn't be talking to elves. And—”

“Do you know anything about Listeners?” Jinx asked.

“Only that they're supposed to have roots deeper than the Urwald. But I'm not sure if that's meant figuratively. And there haven't been any in a hundred years.”

“But I'm one,” said Jinx.

“Really?” No surprise at all from Sophie. “I told Simon you might be. I've tried to research Listeners here—”

“There's nothing,” said Jinx.

“There's very little. And of course my colleagues wouldn't find my sources reliable.”

“The werewolf told me I had to find out about Listeners. Oh, and the trees showed me this kind of vision of a girl who was the last Listener,” said Jinx. “What happened a hundred years ago? That's when the doors to Samara were shut, too—the Bonemaster said.”

“I don't see how there could be a connection,” said Sophie. “But there were incidents. Crimes. There was a gang of young scholars misusing magic and trafficking in monsters. I'm surmising this. Nothing's been written. All the portals were shut—”

“You mean like the door to Simon's house?”

“That's the only one left. That nice old wizard who used to live there—”

“Egbert the Onion?”

“Even when he thought he was an onion, he was a very
kind
onion,” said Sophie. “I think years ago, before he got sick, he must have figured out how to unlock the portal. These friends that helped you get in here—you shouldn't trust them, Jinx.”

Jinx shifted uncomfortably. Maybe he had been wrong to trust Satya. But without her acting lessons he'd never have made it past the guards. “They're okay. Wendell's great. And anyway I can—” Jinx stopped himself. He wanted to tell Sophie that he could see what they were feeling. But that wasn't the sort of thing people liked to know.

“Jinx, you can't trust anyone from the Temple.”

“
You're
someone from the Temple,” said Jinx. “And I
can
trust Wendell.”

“And tricking your way into the prison by pretending to be on an errand for the preceptors . . . that was a terribly dangerous thing to do, Jinx.”

“So let's not waste it,” said Jinx. “Let's figure out what we're going to do to get you out of here.”

“Yes. There's—no,” said Sophie.

“No what?” said Jinx, frustrated.

“It's too dangerous, and it wouldn't be right.”

“Okay, fine, forget it then,” said Jinx. “What?”

“KnIP,” said Sophie.

“But you don't know any KnIP,” said Jinx.

“Of course not. Magic is a terrible crime. But Simon knows KnIP, somewhat. He's a user, and he's done some creating, but he's not a creator adept.”

This was so much more than Jinx had ever heard about KnIP—and he was hearing it from Sophie, of all people, who made a point of knowing as little about magic as she possibly could—that he could only stare.

“I don't know if anyone but a creator adept could create a door,” said Sophie.

“You mean, like, a door out of the prison?” said Jinx.

“That would probably be much easier than a door into the Urwald,” said Sophie. “Because it wouldn't require breaching a dimension.”

“You sure know a lot about magic all of a sudden,” said Jinx.

“In
theory
.”

“So is there anybody who knows enough KnIP to make a door?”

“It might have to be several doors. There are probably a lot of walls between here and outside. And it would have to be done quickly enough for us to get out before anyone knew what was happening.”

“So where can I find out more about KnIP?” Jinx asked.

The glowing sun told him the answer before she did.

“From Simon.”

Jinx took a deep breath and tried for as light a tone as possible. “Simon's away right now.”

Instantly a blue-brown pool of worry. “Away where?”

“He wants to get some witches and wizards together to help keep the Bonemaster locked up.” Which was technically true.

“Oh, well, we'll wait for him to come back, then.”

“I really don't think we should,” said Jinx. “They might decide to have your trial any day, right? How does KnIP work, anyway?”

“Knowledge is power,” said Sophie.

“I know that,” said Jinx. “But how—”

“That's how it works. All magic requires power, doesn't it?”

“Yeah,” said Jinx. “Oh! You mean . . .” He thought. “Okay, I know that's how the door into Samara works. You know it's there and so it opens for you.”

“But a creator actually
uses
knowledge,” said Sophie. “As power. The same way an Urwald wizard uses—I don't know, flames or chalk figures or dried leaves.”

Or lifeforce. “So, like—how does that work? Using knowledge as power?”

“Simon can tell you,” said Sophie.

“Aren't there books or something?”

“Oh! Yes, I forgot.” She reeled off three Samaran titles, which all sounded like they were about something else. “They're in the library, hidden among books about other things. They're pretty abstruse, I'm afraid. Simon can tell you more.”

She just wouldn't stop mentioning Simon. It was starting to make Jinx feel like a liar.

“If I read those books, will I be able to do KnIP?”

“You'll need Simon to help you,” said Sophie. “Don't worry, Simon knows.”

“But . . .” He hesitated, not sure how to put this. “What if Simon—well, what if he doesn't come back in time? I might have to figure it out for myself.”

“Couldn't you go and get him?” said Sophie.

“Sure,” said Jinx. “Yeah. That's what I'll do. I'll go and get him.”

He couldn't really say anything else without her realizing something was wrong.

“Oh, and Simon wants this book called the Eldritch Tome,” he added. “Do you know where it is?”

“Not everything Simon wants is something he should have,” said Sophie.

“He kind of really needs it.”

“Does it have something to do with the Eldritch Depths?”

“What are the Eldritch Depths?” Jinx remembered hearing the name somewhere.

“Where the elves live,” said Sophie. “Or
exist
, rather. The legends say it's part of the ice, half of the ancient balance, supposedly, in the Urwald. The other half is fire. It—”

Footsteps sounded in the corridor. Jinx jumped to his feet and tried to look imperious as Seth's huge form hove into view.

“Jinx, about KnIP,” Sophie whispered hastily. “Remember that knowing is having confidence in the infinity of possibility. What isn't true now may be true in the future. And don't underestimate the preceptors. They may have
let
you—”

She broke off as Seth arrived.

“Boss wants you out,” said Seth.

“I told you I would summon you when I was ready, fellow,” said Jinx.

“Sorry. Visits limited to one hour.”

“I shall report this to the preceptors,” said Jinx.

A little pink nervous ripple from Seth at that, but he was more afraid of Felix than of the preceptors. “Sorry. I have to do what the boss says. Come along, please.”

Jinx turned to Sophie. “I will certainly check the veracity of what you've told me, woman, and if I find any error, it will be the worse for you when I return.”

He hoped she got the message: he would return. He gave her a haughty nod and preceded big Seth down the corridor.

 

The first thing Jinx did when he got back to the Temple was find the books Sophie had mentioned. One was filed under Ancient History, one under Botany, and one under Physics. The books weren't just abstruse. They were complete gibberish.

Here was an example:

 

What is known is a matter of time, and time is a matter of what is not yet known.

 

What was that supposed to mean? Jinx shut the book in disgust. He'd read each of the three KnIP books twice, and he was getting nowhere with understanding them.

And so finally, Jinx went back to Simon's house.

He'd been putting it off because he was so much hoping that Simon would be there, and so certain that he wouldn't be, that he dreaded actually going into the house and finding it empty.