Jinx's Magic (23 page)

Jinx couldn't see the preceptors through the mass of trolls, but he could hear their cries and screams. He felt sick.

Then suddenly there were werewolves, too, seething among the trolls, leaping and snapping.

You did call them,
Jinx said shakily, to the trees.

There was snarling and roaring. Jinx could no longer hear the preceptors. The heaving mass of monsters surrounded the concealment spell on all sides. The creatures knocked and smashed and bit and growled, and they kept just missing Jinx and his friends. Then an enormous troll fell directly in front of Wendell, and Wendell stumbled backward.

“No!” Jinx grabbed Wendell, and the concealment spell broke.

Concealment spells kept you from being noticed. And now Jinx and his friends were being noticed by masses of monsters. The creatures came at them, snickering and slurping. Jinx, Sophie, and Wendell pressed close together in the shrinking circle.

“Stop!” Jinx yelled. “Where's Malthus?”

The werewolves looked at Jinx, and at each other. None of them was wearing spectacles. But there were jagged lines of green-gold puzzlement. At least he'd confused them.

“You can't attack us!” said Jinx. “The Urwald needs me! I'm the Listener. Ask Malthus! And you can't have my friends, either!”

“You
know
these werewolves?” said Sophie.

“Unfortunately, no,” said Jinx.

The werewolves muttered and growled to each other. The trolls laughed and advanced on Jinx and his friends, slavering and snarling.

Jinx really didn't like setting people on fire. But the alternative was to be eaten. He ignited the trolls' matted fur, one fire after another—green flames and red, purple and blue, as fast as he could.

Then there was a loud collective roar, and the werewolves turned on the trolls.

Flames,
said the trees.
Fire. Burning
.

The Urwald was not pleased.

The trolls yowled and roared and thundered away, some of them burning, some of them not. The werewolves pursued them. Jinx watched them go and, when they were almost too far away to sense, he sucked the flames out of existence. He concentrated hard on this. It was very important not to let any fires catch in the Urwald.

“Grandpa's arse!” said Wendell.

“That's all of them, anyway,” said Jinx.

“Not quite,” said Sophie.

Jinx turned around and looked up at an enormous, yellow-tusked troll.

The troll was missing an arm.

“You!” said the troll.

Jinx hadn't known trolls could talk. Even trolls that used to be human. Even trolls that used to be his stepfather.

“Get lost, Bergthold,” said Jinx.

“You
know
this troll?” said Sophie.

“Unfortunately, yes,” said Jinx.

“Owe you.” The troll reached out and grabbed Jinx by the arm, and lifted him into the air. Jinx kicked and flopped, too disoriented by the swinging to summon fire.

Sophie whacked the troll with a heavy stick. “Let Jinx go!”

Bergthold knocked Sophie casually aside. She rolled over, out of Jinx's line of sight. He struggled frantically, trying to see what had happened to her. He still couldn't find the fire.

Bergthold gave Jinx a shake. “Owe you for my arm.”

“You do not!” Jinx gasped. “You tried to kill me. All I did was cut off your arm. We're even. Not even even!” His own arm was agonizing. “I owe you!”

“Never did you no harm.”

“You beat me and starved me and abandoned me in the forest!” Jinx kicked at the troll, but couldn't make contact—he was too far from its body.

And Sophie—what had happened to Sophie? Where was Wendell?

Then Jinx saw them, circling to get behind the troll. Jinx looked away quickly. This couldn't end well.

“Gave you a start in life,” said Bergthold, in the tone of someone who had never been wrong since the world began. “Thanks I get? Chopped my arm off.”

He swung Jinx suddenly forward and opened his mouth wide, his yellow tusks and sharp yellow fangs gleaming. The smell of rotten meat was overpowering. Jinx kicked and hit with his free hand and tried to gouge at Bergthold's eyes. Bergthold's mouth closed on Jinx's captive arm. There was a horrible crunching sound. Then Jinx and the troll were tumbling to the ground. Jinx was in a sick red haze of pain. He had a very blurry sense of what happened next, but it involved Sophie, Wendell, sticks, a large rock—and a werewolf.

Jinx had the fuzzy feeling that he ought to do something magical, but he was in too much pain to think straight. But he needed to help his friends, and he really couldn't do anything useless and embarrassing like faint. Which he promptly did.

27

Rumors of War

J
inx awoke to the creak of wagon wheels and the smell of dye, wool, and sugarplum syrup.

“Try not to bleed all over the broadcloth bolts, wizard boy,” said Tolliver.

“Gooseberry Clearing is closest.” Quenild's voice, speaking Urwish.

“Then take him there, please,” said Sophie.

“No way,” said Tolliver. “They'd eat him or something. They're all cretins in Gooseberry Clearing.”

“Hey,” Jinx objected weakly. “'M
from
Gooseb'ry Clearing.”

“See? Proves my point,” said Tolliver. “Anyway I notice you didn't stay there.”

Jinx didn't answer. He was feeling very sick. Too sick to even mind that Sophie was fussing over him, or to count how many arms he had.

“They won't be able to help him in Gooseberry Clearing,” said Quenild.

“Where can you take him, then?” Sophie said.

The Wanderers switched abruptly to their own language.

Sophie leaned over Jinx. “What are they saying?”

Jinx didn't feel up to translating the whole thing. “They need to be in Bragwood b'fore th' war starts. They know a place 'long th' way.”

“What war?” said Sophie.

Jinx had no idea, and anyway answering seemed like too much work.

“King Bluetooth of Keyland's declaring war on Rufus the Ruthless of Bragwood,” said Tolliver, switching back to Urwish. “We met the messengers with the war declaration back thataway. We gave 'em bad directions, sent 'em up toward the Boreal Wastes. But someone'll probably set them straight.”

“Ours,” said Jinx.

“Hush, Jinx,” said Sophie, laying a hand on his good arm.

Jinx meant that the Urwald belonged to itself and its people, and that kings shouldn't send messengers to declare wars across it. But he was much too tired and dizzy to explain.

“They told you they were carrying a war declaration?” said Sophie. “I'm surprised.”

“Nah, we guessed,” said Tolliver. “We've been expecting it for ages, ever since ol' Ruthless let that Keylish boy king escape. What else was Keyland going to do?”

“We don't like wars,” said Quenild. “Bad for business.”

“What are they saying?” came Wendell's voice, in Samaran.

Sophie began translating for Wendell. Jinx realized muzzily that he hadn't actually slept in three days. So he did.

 

“Better now, chipmunk?”

Jinx opened his eyes blurrily. The world was full of Dame Glammer's face.

He tried to back away. “How many arms have I got?”

Dame Glammer cackled, which was not helpful.

Jinx looked down. His right arm was a mass of bandages. He tried to move it, and couldn't. He panicked, then realized that was because it was strapped tightly to his chest, bound with the shreds of his Temple robe. His arm hurt. A lot.

“Broken in two places,” said Dame Glammer. “And torn up, right from one end to the other. Can you move your fingers? I won't be a bit surprised if you can't.”

Jinx tried. Pain shot through his arm. He gasped.

“You're lucky you have an arm at all. I never did see a chickabiddy come out of a troll's mouth in one piece before.

“The Wanderers brought you to me. Along with that wife of Simon's that we've all heard so little about, and a very strange young man who doesn't speak a word of Urwish—except your name.”

Her eyes gleamed orange, and Jinx was suddenly reminded that Dame Glammer was not on his side. Not on anybody's side, according to Simon. Simon! Jinx remembered the Bonemaster's deadline. He struggled to get up. Dizziness overcame him.

The witch's clawlike hand landed on his shoulder. “Not so fast, chipmunk. We don't want to faint again, do we? We've been doing nothing but faint for two days.”

Two days. Simon was surely dead. “What day is it?” Jinx demanded.

“Wednesday, chipmunk.”

Wednesday. He was too late to save Simon.

Suddenly Sophie was there. “Jinx! You're awake. Thank goodness.” She was speaking Urwish. “This kind woman—”

“Don't trust her,” said Jinx in Samaran. “She's not on our side.”

Sophie frowned. “But she's helped us.”

“She helps the Bonemaster too.”

Dame Glammer grinned. “Well, I'll just leave you to talk in your funny language.”

“Pardon us,” said Sophie, in Urwish. The witch shuffled out. Sophie switched back to Samaran. “The Bonemaster? The evil wizard Simon was apprenticed to?”

“Yeah.” Jinx suddenly found he didn't want to discuss Simon or the Bonemaster with Sophie at all. “Where's Wendell?”

“Out digging a new vegetable patch for the witch. Jinx, we have to get you home. I'll go and get Simon.”

Jinx felt sudden hope. “Get Simon? He's here?”

“No, I mean go to his house, of course. He'll know some magic way to move you. He can levitate you or something.”

“You can't go there alone,” said Jinx. “It's too dangerous.”

A blue flash of annoyance. “I certainly can.”

“No, you can't. You're not an Urwalder. You'll get eaten by something. And it's far, and you don't know the way.”

Sophie pursed her lips. “Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Jinx. I'll stick to the Path, and I'll ask directions.”

Bright silver glow—she really wanted to see Simon. Jinx felt awful about this. “Look, there's something I have to tell you.”

Sophie's thoughts turned to ice-blue fear. “What?”

“Um, Simon isn't exactly there.”

“What do you mean, not exactly there?”

“I mean he's, um, well he's kind of . . .”

“Is he dead?”

“Not exactly.” Jinx couldn't bring himself to say that he probably was, by now.

“Not exactly?” Sophie's voice rose angrily. “What exactly does ‘not exactly' mean?”

“I mean the last time I saw him he was kind of trapped inside a giant slab of ice.”

“Tell me exactly what you mean,” said Sophie, with iron. “And don't leave anything out.”

Jinx told her. He was feeling dizzier, and his arm and head were both aching abominably, so he kept it short.

“And you knew that, and you let me think he was at home waiting for us?”

“I didn't know it when I saw you the first time.”

“But you knew it when you came to the prison on Sunday night. And you lied to me.”

“Of course I did!” said Jinx angrily. “If I hadn't, you would have gone all gray and hopeless and refused to even try to get out of your cell!”

He really couldn't believe how ungrateful she was being. He was about to tell her so, when he saw the thick brown cloud of pain surrounding her. He shut his mouth.

“We have to—” She looked down at his arm. “Well,
I
have to go and find the Bonemaster, then.”

“No way,” said Jinx. “That's exactly what you can't do. He—”

“I'm rather tired of you telling me what I can't do, Jinx.”

“He'll seriously kill you,” said Jinx. “Or else he'll take you hostage to make me do something—like bring him Simon's bottled life.”

“Simon's what?” said Sophie.

Oops. “Nothing.”

“Simon's bottled life? Are you talking about the Qunthk bottle spell?”

“Kind of,” said Jinx.

Dame Glammer came back into the cottage.

“Why on earth did Simon bottle his own lifeforce?” Sophie asked.

“He didn't. The Bonemaster did. The same as Simon did to me that time. And now the Bonemaster wants Simon's lifeforce back. And he wants a bunch of other stuff. Power. Magic. KnIP. Books. A way into Samara.”

Sophie frowned. “You've just created a way into Samara.”

Jinx looked at Dame Glammer. She had definitely heard and understood “
Samara
.”

“I think we should stop talking about this right now,” he said meaningly. “But you absolutely can't—I mean please don't go anywhere.”

“I have to—”

“No,
I
have to,” said Jinx. “Because I'm a magician and you're not. This is magician stuff.”

Bright blue determination. “Then I'll become one.”

“What?” Jinx was feeling very dizzy, and the room and Sophie had unaccountably started to spin.

“I said I'll become one. Jinx, are you all right?”

It's not that easy,
Jinx wanted to say,
and anyway it's already too late.
But he couldn't seem to say anything, or even think straight. He seemed to be sliding into a black pit and there was no way to stop himself.

 

Confusing things happened after that. There was a lot of pain in Jinx's arm. But then the pain floated up to the ceiling, and slipped away through the thatch. It was then that Jinx realized that Dame Glammer's cottage was underwater. This worried him at first, because he couldn't swim, but it seemed to be all right. Nixies drifted past, but didn't mess with him. Tall plants wavered in the water. Faces floated by—Dame Glammer, grinning, Sophie and Wendell, worried, and once, oddly, Elfwyn.

Then Jinx got up and walked through the water. He pushed it aside, and it parted. There was a path between high walls of glass. At the end of the path was darkness. Curious, he walked toward the darkness. It was difficult, like walking through heavy snow.

“Stop right there, boy.”

Jinx stopped, surprised. “Simon?”

“Don't come down here.” Simon's voice issued from the darkness ahead.

“But I have to get to you,” said Jinx. “I was supposed to rescue you.”

“Rescue me? You think I can't take care of myself?”

“Well, you weren't doing a great job of it last time I saw you,” said Jinx. “You were frozen into a big block of ice.”

“You mind your own business, boy. And stay away from here.”

“But you're just down the path.”

“Nonsense. There is no path,” said Simon.

And Jinx realized that Simon was right—the path had been coming into existence only as Jinx walked.

“I want to know what the Bonemaster did to you,” said Jinx.

“Even he doesn't know that,” said Simon. “And as long as we can keep him from finding out, you might have a chance.”

“What about you?” said Jinx. “Have you got a chance?”

“Once he figures out what he's done, he can strike at you through me,” said Simon. “You think I'll let that happen?”

“What do you mean?” said Jinx.

“Never you mind. Go and do what you're supposed to.”

Jinx wavered. What he was supposed to do, he was pretty sure, was rescue Simon. He took another step. It was getting even harder to move.

“I'm warning you, Jinx. Three more steps and you won't be able to stop any of this.”

“Any of what?” said Jinx. He took another step, and it was nearly impossible, as if he was stuck in deep mud. His feet and legs seemed to weigh a ton.

Simon didn't answer.

“Simon?” One more step, and it was like moving through lead.

No answer. Simon seemed to be gone, but the darkness and the glass walls remained.

And going any farther might break things, things that he was pretty sure weren't supposed to be broken, or at least not yet.

 

Jinx woke up, but couldn't open his eyes. They were gummed shut. He heard voices, and was surprised that one of them was Elfwyn's.

“He's going to be all right, Grandma?”

“Oh yes. Just a spot of infection and a few days of babbling and screeching—he said the most surprising things—but that woman kept boiling up her brews and making poultices. Went through my cupboards like she owned the place!”

“Good,” said Elfwyn. “I like Sophie.”

“Where does she come from?” said Dame Glammer.

“Samara. Don't use my curse, Grandma. I know where
that
came from.”

“Do you, now?”

“Yes. You cursed me.” Grim green determination. “And that means you can tell me how to undo it.”

“That's just what I can't do, dearie.”

“Yes, you can,” said Elfwyn. “You can if anyone can.”

“That's what I mean, chickabiddy.”

There was an awful pause. Elfwyn appeared to figure out what the witch meant at the same time Jinx did.

“That fool of a mother of yours didn't teach you a thing about witchcraft,” said Dame Glammer. “Don't you know where the power for a witch's curse comes from?”

Jinx listened.
He
didn't know.

“Yes,” said Elfwyn. “Of course.”

“And don't you know what happens to a witch's curse, as time goes by?”

“No,” said Elfwyn. Churning orange trepidation. She at least suspected something.

“It gets ingrown,” said Dame Glammer. “The curse was made from your own lifeforce, when you were just a wee chickabiddy. But then what happened? Your lifeforce grew, and changed, and became more your own, and the curse grew and changed and curled into itself and sprouted through itself and wound around itself until it's as much a part of you now as your own lovely voice. More.”

“But isn't there some way to take it out?”

“No more than there's a way to take out your skeleton.”

“How could you do that to me?” Elfwyn's voice rose angrily. “You knew you were doing it, too! I was just a baby and you cursed me for life and you knew you were doing it!”

Dame Glammer cackled, and Jinx suddenly wanted to jump up and shake her. But he stayed quiet, so he could listen.

“You think it's a curse, chickabiddy? You still think it's a curse?”

“Yes, and yes,” said Elfwyn. “There, I answered both your stupid questions, because I had to. I hate you.”

“Of course you do, dearie. Now go talk to the chipmunk. He's awake.”