Rainbow's End - Wizard (16 page)

She
gestured at the lip of the rock and they both sat down.

They had not seen each other for
many months, (although - in terms of gods and dwarfs, that meant nothing), and spoke of what had happened during them far into the night. About the place and its people and the animals and the plants; and the crystals and the keys, and Orson and Kraylle. And at last - about Thomas.

‘I think we have found him, Joshi,’ said Ariana.

The small man closed his eyes, and for a long time, was quiet. When at last he spoke, his voice was soft, and beautiful as a song.

‘I knew something had changed. I have felt it this past five or six
days. Weak at first - but getting stronger all the time.’ He paused, thinking, and then asked, ‘Was he sick, this boy?’

Ariana nodded and then,
so did Joshi. ‘It explains why,’ he said. ‘His life-force - his Ri, was much depleted when he got here…his signal very weak.’ He looked at Ariana and his wise old eyes searched behind her own.

‘You can feel him
too, can’t you? His will. His aura…?’

The young woman nodded and
he smiled. ‘He is going to be strong,’ he said, simply.

The occasion was too imp
ortant for the frog and cricket concert, and the goddess and the Magari sat contentedly listening and looking at the night for some time before Ariana spoke again.

‘His grandmother was Gypsy Rose,’
she said.  

The dwarf stayed silent
, and for a while, Ariana thought he hadn’t heard. But then he looked at her again and asked the same question as she had of Annie that morning.

‘You are sure?’ he asked.
‘The grandson of Gypsy Rose?
Our
Gypsy Rose?’

Ariana nodded. ‘That’s what Annie says. She’s looked at
Thomas’ photo-album, and she’s
very
sure.’ Ariana related what Annie had told her that morning, and when she finished, sat watching the dwarf for some time. His eyes were closed and she asked very softly. ‘What do you remember of Gypsy Rose, Joshi? Do you remember her at all?’

He
nodded and smiled, and it was sad and good at the same time. Memories and visions of a fire in the circle of ancient trees; and of a young woman with flashing hair and flashing eyes, stamping and twirling and twisting and jumping, and laughing and spinning her wide skirts, showing her long, long legs and clapping and shouting in Romany; and dwarfs forming a large circle around her and the fire, and clapping hands and laughing with her, shouting in a dozen more languages… And Orson mooning at her with eyes like a Basset hound’s…

‘She called her horse Samuel and she loved snow,’ Joshi said softly, and Ariana looked at him with surprise. ‘Of course I remember her,’ he said. ‘I remember her very, very well.’ Then, softer, ‘Who can forget?’ He jumped to his feet suddenly, and said, in a voice strangely choked and urgent. ‘I have to walk, Ariana. I have to think.’

‘Do you want me to come with you?’
Concerned.

He shook
his head, and then the dwarf, ignoring the footpath, walked into the long grass behind the Talking Rock. It made way for him.

Ariana, troubled, let him go. She had known Joshi for centuries and had seen him like this only once or twice before.
He started singing again as he moved further away and she returned to her own memories.

*

There had been many gypsies over the centuries. They had “windows” of their own and seemed able to come and go as they please. The first time Rose appeared was on the day Orson turned thirty-five. They woke up that morning, and the yellow wagon, with “Gypsy Rose” - painted in a curved half-moon shape on its side, had been standing under a copse of trees. As if it had always been there, as if it belonged there. A gleaming black horse, untethered, was grazing on the lush grass growing on the bank of a small, secondary stream; and next to a small fire, on a small, fold-up stool, sat a young woman. She was wearing a checkered shirt and corduroy pants and cowboy boots, and a straw hat so frayed it would have made a scarecrow proud. A mass of curly dark hair tumbled from under it; a blackened old kettle stood steaming to one side.

Annie had gone down from the cave
, and the visitor, six or seven years her junior and drinking coffee from a chipped yellow enamel mug, seemed not the least bit surprised to see her. Or for that matter: being invited into a cave lined and riddled with gemstones,
or
being treated to a huge English breakfast with all the trimmings. (It
was
Orson’s birthday, and he was still living in the cave then).

Gypsy Rose
, or Rose - as the grown-ups called her; or Rosie - as the children did, became one of them and part of Rainbow’s End. She went everywhere and was everybody’s friend - even into the Petrified Forest, which was supposed to be taboo - except to dwarfs and Travellers. She was offered a room in the cave on several occasions, but she was a loner, and preferred her wagon and her horse, whose name was Samuel.

Annie loved her. Rose was her best friend
. She was someone to talk to and to confide in, a good listener; someone you could laugh and cry with… But always with that…
aura
of mysteriousness about her.

Ariana loved her. They were both tall and dark-haired and beautiful, and the (original) age gap between them, small. The one time she had dared enter the Gypsy girl’s memory, she discovered Royal lines and Shamans and memories going back many centuries; some so deep and…
magical
, that Rose herself did not understand them…
Yet
. (Ariana never entered Rose’s memory again).

S
he remembered the milky-blue moonlit nights on which they swapped and tried on each other’s dresses - Ariana once a pair of Rose’s denim pants; and making a fire on Talking Rock; and Rose teaching her the Romany’s wild and sensual dances: twirling and whirling and stomping and stamping around the fire….

She remembered
talking until daylight, and sharing dreams and secrets. And letting it snow on Rose’s birthday… And the beautiful, wonderful Gypsy, lifting her skirts and running barefoot through it...

And then
, the next day, she was gone - as if she’d never been…

Two
years later, she came back; two more and she was gone again; staying away three, before returning once more - by now thirty-seven years old. This time, it seemed she would stay, and for almost seven years, Rainbow’s End was a happier place than it had ever been.

Rosie’s horse, Samuel
- by now very old - ran wild with the others on Rainbow’s End, and she took him lumps of sugar and shiny red apples and carrots every day. She also took a room inside the cave. It was next to Orson’s, and the ugly little man, who had been in love with her since day one - who became glum and withdrawn every time she left - became happy and smiling again. 

Ariana remembered many more moonlit nights
, and talks and dances and secrets. And holding her, and crying on the now much older Rose’s shoulder. Because she knew they were nearing the end of an era...

She remembered
the last time she made it snow… And Orson and her watching a childishly happy Rose lift her skirts high and with her long, long beautiful legs run through it; and then sitting down in its crunchy softness and crying as if her heart would break.

And then Samuel died and they buried him where the other old horses lay, and Rosie
left again. This time she didn’t come back and Orson eventually moved out of the cave and into Joshi’s old cottage - which he thought smaller…

Ariana returned to the present when the Magari sat down next to her again. She looked at him expectantly but he took his time, and a long minute later said, ‘Ariana, have you thought about this? Really thought about this? About what this might mean?’

The young woman frowned and shook her head
, puzzled. ‘What do you mean, Joshi? Thought about what?’ she asked.

The dwarf - frowning himself -
asked, ‘The boy is eleven?’ Ariana nodded.

‘And he told Annie his mother had just turned twenty when he was born?’ Joshi received another nod.

‘That’s thirty-one years Ariana. Earth years. Fifteen cycles and a bit.  Which was when Rose left here.’ Joshi was quiet for a minute, gathering his thoughts, then continued: ‘If my calculations are right; if my old brain’s not too addled, Rose was pregnant when she left Rainbow’s End. Thomas’ mother had been conceived here…’ Ariana sat staring at him - too stunned to speak.

‘I
f I’m right,’ he said, ‘it would mean two things.’ He held up a long-nailed finger, ‘One: That women on Rainbow’s End can fall pregnant again; the gods alone know for how long already…’ He sighed softly. ‘So much heartache… so much hurt.

‘
Two,’ another finger, ‘there can only be one father to Rose’s child, and that would explain why Thomas’ life-force is so strong. His grandmother was a Roma Princess; his grandfather, the most powerful Traveller ever…’

Ariana
’s eyes went wide as realisation dawned. ‘Orson,’ she breathed, and Joshi nodded.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘
Orson. Orson is Thomas’ grandfather.’     

12

‘Try to come back as soon as you can Izzy.’
A flimsy layer of mist drifted on the still water of Ariana’s Pool, otherwise it was as crystal-clear as ever.

The
gangly old man made some calculations in his head, then said, tentatively, ‘If I leave early, I can spend today and tomorrow, and maybe the next morning at the office. I could be back here by late afternoon, the day after tomorrow.’ He added, ‘If there is sunshine.’ Then: ‘It’s important?’

‘It’s very important,’ Ariana
said. She paused, giving weight to her next words. ‘I am going to call a gathering, Izzy.’

The Traveller’s
eyebrows beetled with surprise. It would be just the second time in his life that he would attend such an event.

The
y spoke for another few minutes then: about Rainbow’s End’s finances, Izzy’s life in London, the little girl he’d brought back with him, the orphanages…

*****

Breakfast was cereals, and ham and eggs and toast, and fresh fruit and juice. Arnold’s T-shirt showed a picture of a man with a huge stomach and writing that read: “Good Muscles Need Good Food!”

Thomas and John were both early and sat talking
while the boy finished his juice and the man his coffee.

‘Did you enjoy the rest
of your day, yesterday?’ John asked.

Gary had invited Thomas
, and the two of them had gone fishing. Thomas had caught three, and a much more practiced Gary, eight catfish.

‘Horrible things,’ the other boy said when they
packed it in for the day. He was releasing the whiskery, grunting fish from the holding net. ‘But so much fun,’ he added, grinning, and before a stunned and unsuspecting Thomas could react, had wiped his slimy, smelly hands on the boy’s straw-coloured hair. It started a chase and they both ended up taking a swim in the Fishing Pool, and then lazing in the late afternoon sun and discussing future adventures and explorations…

‘Thomas?’ The young man returned to the present and nodded. ‘Very much,’ he said. ‘I enjoyed it very much.’

John’s eyes were serious and they cared, and he looked at Thomas for a minute, trying to find the right words.
Then - not finding them, he plunged right in.

He said, ‘Thomas, we are friends aren’t we?’ The boy nodded, puzzled, and
John continued: ‘Thomas, the children here, at Rainbow’s End, they only stay six months, before returning to the Earth. Nobody stays longer than that. Six months and they leave - they have to.’

‘Why?’ asked Thomas. ‘Why just
six months?’

‘Timelines,’
Big John said. ‘We are six months ahead of the Earth, so if a child comes here, he or she steps six months into the future. They have to return before Earth time equals the time they got to Rainbow’s End… Also, if given a choice - after having been here for six months - how many children do you think would want to return to the Earth?’

Thomas shook his head. ‘None.’

‘Right,’ John nodded, ‘and in thirty or forty years from now, Rainbow’s End will have many more adults than children, and that will defeat its purpose, wouldn’t it?’

Thomas
nodded and looked at Big John expectantly, knowing there was more to come. The huge man leaned across the table, and with one huge hand gripped the boy’s shoulder, firmly - as a father would.

‘What I’m trying to say Thomas…’ He searched for words again. ‘What I’m trying to say is
- make friends. Make good friends. But don’t make friends for life. Don’t make bosom friends. Because - sooner or later, all children have to leave here.’