Peter and the Shadow Thieves (47 page)

“What?” said Mol y.

“It
is
a ful moon,” said George.

“Yes,” said Mol y, irritated. “Peter just said that.”

“Wel , I just had a thought,” said George. “I’d been hoping to observe it through my telescope, though it’s been rather cloudy the past few days, but tonight—”

“George,” interrupted Mol y. “What
are
you talking about?”

“An eclipse,” said George. “A total lunar eclipse. Tonight.” He pul ed a watch from his pocket and consulted it. “In about an hour, in fact. The moon wil pass through Earth’s shadow and disappear for…let me see…I believe it’s fifty-three minutes.”

Peter and Mol y stared at him, “Go on,” said Mol y.

“Wel ,” said George, “I was just thinking that the eclipse might have something to do with the Return.” Mol y nodded. “I know it has to be at a certain time,” she said. “Father was very definite about that. And he knew the time months ago.”

“Lunar eclipses can be predicted years in advance,” said George. “It’s quite a coincidence, don’t you think? The Return and the eclipse, both tonight?”

“Yes,” said Mol y. “Quite a coincidence.”

“So if you’re right,” said Peter—a bit grudgingly, in part because he didn’t exactly know what an eclipse was—“the Return wil take place in about an hour?”

“Yes,” said George.

Mol y sighed. “But even if that’s so,” she said, “we know only
when
it wil happen. We stil don’t know
where.
” George smiled a self-satisfied smile.

“What?” said Mol y.

“If I’m right,” said George, “I know exactly where they’ve gone.”

T
HERE WAS NOBODY OUTSIDE the tiny vilage of Amesbury on this chily night. The sound of horse hooves clopping brought faces to a few windows. Peeking out from behind curtains drawn against the cold, the vil agers saw a man on horseback fol owed by wagon and driver—nocturnal travelers, not an especial y unusual sight on this wel -traveled road.

The vil agers could not see the silent loping gray shapes keeping pace with the horse and wagon, off to either side of the road, their paths taking them through the fields, out of sight.

The little procession passed through the vil age and disappeared up the road. The curious vil agers went back to their firesides.

Two miles west of Amesbury, the road rose to a ridge. Reaching it, Leonard Aster reined his horse to a stop. Behind him, Magil halted the wagon, raised his head, and barked. On either side, the wolves stopped, waiting, watching.

Aster and Magil surveyed the scene. Before them lay the Salisbury Plain, rising gently to the horizon, the ful moon il uminating it for miles. Just ahead the road forked. The left fork bore southwest, eventual y making its way to the city of Exeter. The right fork bore gently northwest, toward the heart of the rol ing grasslands of the Salisbury Plain.

On the left side of that road, a half mile away, clear as day in the bright moonlight, stood their destination. Slowly, careful y, the two men swept the landscape with their eyes: it appeared to be deserted. Aster checked his pocket watch, then nodded to Magil . They flicked their reins and, flanked by the wolves, started forward toward the Return.

“
S
TONEHENGE,” SAID GEORGE.

Peter frowned; Mol y gasped.

“Of
course,
” she said. “It’s right near Salisbury, isn’t it?”

“It’s quite close,” said George. “I’ve been there a half dozen times, at least. I doubt it’s five miles from this house.”

“Stonehenge?” said Peter. “The rock pile?”

“It’s not a
pile,
” said George. “It’s a man-made circular arrangement of huge stones. Some say it was built thousands of years ago—before the Romans.”

“But what do giant stones have to do with the Return?” said Peter.

“Nobody knows for certain why it was built,” said George. “But it has something to do with the heavens. The main axis of the circle lines up almost perfectly with the midsummer sunrise and the midwinter sunset. Some say Stonehenge also was used to predict lunar eclipses.”

“Like the one tonight,” said Mol y.

“Exactly,” said George. “So if this Return of yours has to happen during the eclipse, Stonehenge would seem to be the place for it.”

“Al right,” said Mol y. “We must go there now.”

“Urn,” said George, looking out the window. “Have you forgotten the wolves?”

“No,” said Mol y. She turned to Peter, pointing to the chain around his neck, and said, “How much have you got?”

“I don’t know,” said Peter. “I used some in London.”

“Wel , let’s hope you have enough,” said Mol y. “Enough for two, actual y.”

“Two?” said Peter. “
He’s
going?”

“Yes,” said Mol y. “We need him to show us where Stonehenge is. George, can you find Stonehenge? From here?”

“I suppose I could,” George said. “But how—”

“We need to find an upstairs window,” said Mol y, walking toward the staircase at the end of the big room.

“But,” said George, “what about the—”

“You’l see,” said Mol y, over her shoulder. “Come on.”

Upstairs they found a window that, with a bit of effort, the three of them were able to open. As chil y air flooded the room, they leaned out over the broad sil and looked down.

On the ground, fifteen feet below them, they saw three pairs of glowing yel ow eyes looking back.

“There had
better
be enough,” Peter said. “This wouldn’t be a good time to fal .”

“No,” said Mol y, eyeing the wolves.

“I don’t understand,” said George. “What are you talking about?”

“We’re going to fly to Stonehenge,” said Mol y.

“So you’re
both
mad,” said George.

“You’re going to fly with us,” said Mol y.

“Oh, of
course
I am,” said George. “I’m going to just flap my wings and
fly
over those wolves!” Mol y and Peter looked at him.

“What?” he said.

Peter said, “There’s no need to flap.”

“Peter,” said Mol y, “may I have your locket?”

Peter removed it and put it in Mol y’s hand. She held up the smal golden sphere, showing it to George, who eyed it with open skepticism.

“George,” she said. “I’m going to put some starstuff on myself, then on you. It’s going to feel strange, but in a pleasant way.”

“What about Peter?” said George, smirking. “Doesn’t he get any of this magical starstuff?”

“He doesn’t need it,” said Mol y. “He can already fly.”

George laughed out loud. “Ah!” he said. “How lovely for young Peter!”

“George,” said Mol y. “This isn’t a joke.” She put her thumb on the locket clasp.

“Isn’t it?” said George. “Because it certainly—”

George stopped in midsentence, mouth gaping, as Mol y opened the locket. Instantly her hand was enveloped in a warm golden glow. She tilted the locket slightly, and the glow flowed down her arm, gently surrounding her, being absorbed into her, as she emitted a soft, barely audible
Ahhhh.

“Give me your hand, George,” she said.

Cautiously, he held out his right hand. Mol y tilted the locket over it, and the glow swirled and cascaded along George’s arm.

“Oh, my,” he said. “This is…it’s…
Ahhhhhhh.
”

“Yes,” said Mol y. She closed the locket and handed it back to Peter.

Can I come out now
? chimed Tink.

“I hear bel s!” said George. “They’re quite lovely.”

“Tink wants out,” Peter said to Mol y.

Looking at George, Mol y said, “Why not? I don’t suppose it makes any difference now.”

Peter opened his shirt, and Tink emerged, blinking. She hovered for a second, then landed in the tousled red mass of Peter’s hair, where she sat, stretching.

George stared at her.

“Mol y,” he said. “There’s a pixie sitting in Peter’s hair.”

“Yes,” said Mol y.

Tink chimed.

“She prefers to be cal ed a birdgirl,” said Peter.

“I see,” said George, stil staring at her.

“Listen, George,” said Mol y. “…George? George?”

Reluctantly, George looked away from Tink. “Yes?”

“We’re going out the window now,” she said. “We’re going to fly.”

“Capital!” said George.

“The trick is to lean forward,” said Mol y. “You lean forward, then you swoop, then you soar.”

“Lean, swoop, and soar,” said George. “Got it.”

“Here we go, then,” said Mol y. “Peter, perhaps you should go first.”

Peter, with Tink stil in his hair, climbed onto the windowsil , then slid off, hovering in midair.

“Look at that!” said George, smiling hugely. “Bril iant!”

Below Peter, the wolves growled.

“What was that?” said George.

“The wolves,” said Peter.

“Ah,” said George, his smile dimming. “I’d forgotten about the wolves.”

“Don’t worry about them,” said Mol y, guiding George up onto the sil . “Just remember: lean, swoop, soar.”

“Lean, swoop, soar,” said George. He sat on the sil , legs dangling out.

The wolves were growling louder now.

“Are you quite sure,” he said, “that they…
WOOOOOOO!
”

Aided by a hard shove from Mol y, George slipped off the windowsil . For a moment, he hung motionless in the air, his eyes and mouth wide open in wonderment. Ever so slowly, he began to drift downward. The wolves moved into position directly beneath him.

“Lean,” said Peter.

The wolves rose on their hind legs, jaws snapping. George was now staring at them, as if hypnotized.

“George!” shouted Mol y, climbing onto the sil . “Lean!”

George remained motionless as he drifted down, his dangling feet now only a few feet above the wolves’ jaws.

He’s not very bright, is he
? observed Tink.

Peter darted to George and grabbed his arm; Mol y slid off the sil and grabbed his other arm. Together they swooped him away, then up, the snapping jaws just missing his shoes. As howls of frustration echoed behind them, the trio, with Tink flitting ahead, soared into the moonlit sky, chil night air rushing past their faces.

“George,” said Mol y. “Are you al right?”

George, having torn his eyes away from the rapidly receding wolves, was now looking up, gazing with wonder at the clear night sky, at the moon and the stars he had studied for so many hours, squinting into the eyepiece of the telescope in his room in London. Now, as he rose above the trees, with the open sky spreading to the horizon al around him, he felt as though he were part of the heavens, as though if he reached his hand out he could touch the moon itself.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m…it’s
wonderful,
Mol y. Wonderful.”

“Good,” said Mol y. “Now which way is Stonehenge?”

“Stonehenge?” said George.

Not very bright at all,
said Tink.

“Yes,” said Mol y, struggling to be patient. “We’re going to Stonehenge, remember?”

“Ah,” said George. “Right. Stonehenge. Let’s see. The river’s over there.” He looked around the sky. “And there’s Ursa Major, so Polaris would be…Ah, there it is. So we want to go…that way. How does one turn?”

“One leans,” said Mol y. “Like this.” She leaned and swooped left, fol owed by Peter and Tink.

George gave it a try and, after wobbling a bit, executed a passable left turn. “Bril iant!” he said.

“Now what?” said Mol y.

“Up ahead there,” said George, pointing, “wil be a vil age.”

“I think I see the lights,” said Peter, squinting toward the horizon.

“That wil be Amesbury,” said George. “From there we can fol ow the road. It’s only about two miles from the vil age to Stonehenge.”

“Let’s go, then,” said Mol y, leaning forward. “We need to get there before the starstuff wears off.”

“It wears off?” said George.

“Oh, yes,” Mol y cal ed back. Even as she spoke, she was aware of a slight weakening of the starstuff’s power. “
Lean,
George!” she shouted.

Then, more to herself than anyone else, she added, “We haven’t much time.”