Rainbow's End - Wizard (23 page)

Four of the seven fires set around the stone had been lit, and their flames cast shadows and light on the
waiting crowd’s small faces. They were all - with the exception of Izzy, less than three feet tall, and apart from their muted conversation and the softly crackling flames, no other sound could be heard: no owls or crickets or frogs, nothing that scurries in the night.

Ariana entered the circle
from between the two biggest trees. Both of their trunks were in excess of five metres wide, their heavy branches an arch high above her head.

She wore a flowing white gown with gold
en seams; the seven universal symbols were depicted on its front and back in the same fine thread; soft white slippers on her feet, and a circlet of gold - set with a sapphire matching her eyes - on her head. A slim chain of gold encompassed her waist, clinching the gown above her hips. She had an arm hooked through one of Thomas’, and she was smiling.

Thomas was simply dressed -
blue jeans, a plain white T-shirt and sandals. He had done his best with his normally unruly hair, and he was pale; freckles showing in the flickering light.

Orson walked o
n his other side, marking his steps with his long staff; his other arm linked with Thomas’ and looking proud. He was wearing an indigo-blue robe embroidered with the same symbols as Ariana’s, but with gossamer-thin silver thread. His toenails were horny, his sandals Gucci.

Behind them came Joshi. He was softly singing and looking
serene, and carrying a beautifully crafted shiny wooden box, in both his hands, like an offering. A silver chain hung around his neck, and at its end, a large silver key.

The small
figures opened a passage and made not a sound, and then Thomas, Ariana and Orson stopped in front of the raised platform. The Traveller and the goddess smiled at the boy, and Thomas felt his legs tremble when they stepped onto the veined surface of the polished rock. He was led to the middle of the circle of rock, and made to sit on the raised pedestal, which strangely, was not hard or uncomfortable at all.

And then Thomas looked - really looked at the small crowd in front of him for the first time. Everybody except Izzy was small. There were dwarves, or rather, he corrected himself, small people. All of them adults; some quite old: mostly men, but also a few women, in total, a dozen or so. The variety of their clothes reminded him of a Fancy-dress party: mostly semi-formal evening wear, but also a Japanese Kimono, a Scottish Kilt, a tasselled leather outfit (Davy Crockett style), two or three beautiful evening gowns, and even two little men uncomfortable in Tuxedos.

T
o one side stood four or five others, smaller still, and more dwarfish in build; their bodies stockier, and their arms and legs shorter and thicker. Thomas thought he recognised the small person who had scurried away after painting his name on his bedroom door. Ariana and Big John called them “The Little People” - the workers of Rainbow’s End. His mouth fell open in astonishment when his eyes focused on two much, much smaller men, just seven or eight inches tall; dressed in bright yellow, pink and purples, and flying around on gossamer wings. Fairies.

Ariana and Orson stood to either side of Thomas, and when the young goddess lifted her arms in a gesture embrac
ing everyone in the small crowd, the two flying sprites alighted on Joshi’s wooden box, and no other sound except her voice could be heard. It was clear and happy and she said, ‘Welcome my friends.’ The small crowd answered and she smiled, ‘Tonight we celebrate the ninety-second Gathering at Rainbow’s End. Also the thirty-third ceremony of “The Circle of Light”.’ She paused for effect and her eyes swept the faces staring up at hers.

‘One of you
has been to them all.’ She looked at Joshi and the small hairy man, holding the box with the fairies on it, gave a grave nod.

‘Some of you
, many…’ Her eyes found a wrinkled little man with a bald head and a large grey moustache. She acknowledged him by name: Chester, and he blushed and hugged himself with pleasure at being singled out, then tried to worm the tip of his old-fashioned shoe into the ground.

‘All is well at
Rainbow’s End. I know…’ Ariana paused again. ‘…everything, remember?’ She laughed and the small crowd with her.

‘You all know what the ceremony means and how it works. You have all been through it.’ She focused on the group of small people
. ‘All of
you
have experienced it,’ she said. ‘Tonight,’ she turned to Thomas, ‘I want all of you to welcome Thomas Ross as our guest. And later - as one of us. He has been tested and he is true. He is to be our thirty-third Traveller. Come meet him.’ Her hands beckoned and the small crowd lined up as if well-rehearsed. They had, after all, been through this before. A small set of steps were pushed against the platform and the procession started.

The “Little People” came first and they came as a group, painfully shy and mumbling their welcomes. They had elfin ears and their features were blunt, with snub noses and large eyes, mops of black hair and freckles. All dressed in loose white cotton shirts and pants. Ariana said, ‘This is Andrew, Rakel, Hans and Amali, Thomas. They represent Rainbow’s End’s “Little People”.’ She leaned forward and touched all of them in turn; a shoulder here, a hand there - a soft word for all. ‘We would be lost without them,’ she said, and they rushed off, blushing furiously.

Next came the two fairies - flying in off the box and each landing on one of Thomas’ shoulders. ‘This is Cyril and George,’ said Ariana. ‘They are here on behalf of Rainbow’s End’s fairies.’ The one called George scooted closer to Thomas’ ear; Cyril sat on his hands - innocently swinging his small purple-bootied feet and giving the boy a soulful gaze. ‘They are terribly naughty sometimes, the fairies,’ said Ariana. ‘Especially these two.’

G
eorge got up, and pulling on his earlobe, tilted Thomas’ head, then whispered something to him. The young Traveller-to-be blushed and goggled at the innocent looking sprite in disbelief; and then - giggling in tiny voices and punching each other’s shoulders - the two fairies flew off.

Last came the group of small ex-Travellers, or “Dwarves”, as they deprecatingly referred to themselves. In rank of seniority.

‘This is Chester,’ said Ariana. The wrinkly old man was dressed in an ancient
velvet smoking jacket and he took Thomas’ right hand in both of his small ones. He stared into the boy’s eyes for a few long seconds, then murmured, ‘Welcome, young man.’

‘This is Henrí.’ The swarthy little man had a small moustache and curly black hair and spoke with a heavy
, and (unlike Arnold’s), real French accent. ‘Welcome, Thomás,’ he said.

‘This is Kido,’ said Ariana. ‘Kido-san, meet Thomas
Ross.’ The little Japanese man wore a beautiful cream-coloured silk Kimono and stood very straight, looking intently into Thomas’ green eyes for a minute - searching. ‘Welcome, Thomas-san,’ he said and bowed from his waist up.

‘This is Kristin.’ Ariana introduced the first woman. ‘She is from Iceland.’ The little figure had long ash-blonde hair and put her dainty hands on Thomas’ shoulders
, pulling him towards her and kissing his cheek. ‘Welcome, Thomas,’ she said, in a voice like a small bell.

Vladimir (Vladi) was Russian and wore a coat that looked like
a small bear. He had a wild beard and his welcome was a small bit of thunder.

Inez was Spanish and had a big
little bosom, broad hips and thick grey and black braided hair. ‘Bienvenido, Thomás.’

Matthias was Belgian with
a pointy moustache and a small van Dŷck beard - nondescript, but with lively, very intelligent eyes. He wore bow hunter’s clothes, and the large felt hat he swept into a deep bow, had a flashing peacock feather in its brim.

Erik and Olaf were from Sweden and Norway respectively but looked like identical twins. Theirs were the Tuxedo’s.

Raoul - like Inez - was from Spain and had a big nose. He wore gleaming boots and had a strange, sweet smell on his lounge suit (the stuff he smokes, Orson later informed Thomas).

Muriel was a Scottish
woman with happy eyes and wore a kilt and a cloak.

Adam stepped up next. He was from
Kentucky, he said, and wore the tasselled leather clothes. Shook Thomas’ hand with surprising strength, and said, ‘Welcome, son.’

Dhruv
and his wife, Anjali, were from India; with dark eyes, and her - a tiny golden stud in her nose. Wearing beautifully embroidered Kurta and Sari, respectively.

Liam
was Irish and had a Meerschaum pipe clamped between his teeth. He had little devils dancing in his eyes, and said, ‘I am very pleased to meet you, Thomas.’

The last was Gwendolyn
ne, and nobody - including herself - knew where she had come from. She just woke up in the shade of one of Rainbow’s End’s thousands of trees one day. She held both of Thomas’ hands tightly in hers, her blue eyes searching in and behind his green ones for a long minute. Then closed hers tightly and gave a small shudder. ‘You are going to be very strong,’ she said in an awed whisper. ‘Terribly strong, Thomas… Use it right. Use it with care.’ Then - like Kristin - she pulled at his shoulders and softly kissed his cheek. ‘You are welcome, here,’ she said.

After Gwendolyn
ne had stepped off the round platform there was quiet for a while, and then Ariana gave a small nod. In a ringing sing-song voice, Joshi said: ‘It is time.’

The Tuxedoed Olaf and Erik stepped forward and Joshi handed them the wooden box, which they held by its corners. The Magari used the large key around his neck to unlock it, and removed the lid, and Thomas saw the crystals for the first time. He was close enough to count five laying in a row, with two empty spaces between; all recessed into black velvet. They seemed identical, flashing dim and mysterious in the firelight. Joshi stepped around Olaf and handed the wooden cover to Liam, then turned back and moved slightly forward, leaving the box behind and to his right; facing the trio on the rock. Thomas was sitting with Orson and Ariana to his left and his right.

‘We honour
Rainbow’s End,’ the Magari said, in a strong voice, and a small chorus of voices from the crowd repeated the words after him, ‘We honour Rainbow’s End.’

‘We honour Ariana,’ he said
, and lowered his eyes before hers, bowing to the goddess. ‘You are our queen,’ he lauded, and a refrain followed from the crowd.

‘We honour our Traveller,’ he said, and Orson’s face went a plu
mmy colour as the words were repeated.

‘We honour Thomas Ross,’ Thomas heard as if from a distance. He was watching the proceedings with
awe, but felt not so “out of it”, when Ariana squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

And then Joshi turned back to the box, and reverently removed the first
crystal from its velvet nest. He held it in both hands - between thumbs and forefingers and lifted it above his head.

‘We honour Earth,’ he said, and again the chorus followed.
Then he took a few steps forward, and halting at its edge, lowered the plum-sized crystal, and fitted it into the first of the seven small niches carved into the surface of the round rock platform. The fire meant for it was one of those lit, and the light reflecting through the crystal cast a broad red beam over Thomas, Orson and Ariana.

Joshi went to Izzy next, and the thin
old Traveller held out his keychain. When Joshi took its dangling crystal between his fingers, it detached itself from the chain and he held it aloft - like the first.

‘We honour Fire,’ he said, and also like with the f
irst, stepped forward and fit the crystal into its niche, a metre on. The fire behind it had not been lit and it stood in place - dormant.

Joshi went back to the box for the third. He held it up.

‘We honour Air,’ he said. Its fire was lit, and when he put it to its niche, the crystal cast a yellow beam. The yellow and red combined and bathed the three on the rock in orange.

The fourth was also in the box and Joshi held it up.

‘We honour Life.’ Its fire had not been lit, but when placed in its niche, the crystal glittered a sometimes elusive green.

The fifth was in the box.

‘We honour Water,’ said the Magari. The flames behind it caused the crystal to cast a blue swathe across the rock and the combined glow around Thomas, Orson and Ariana became brown.

Without being asked, Orson dropped the tip of his staff to Joshi, and the next
crystal fell into his upturned palm. He held it up.

‘We honour the Dark,’ he said
, and small voices repeated after him, ‘We honour the Dark.’ The beam it cast was a very dark blue-indigo; it turned the brown beam almost purple.

The last crystal was lifted high.

‘We honour Light’, Joshi intoned, sliding it into the last slot. Its fire had not been lit and the Magari stepped back.

Four triangular beams of different colours now lay across the polishe
d surface of the circular rock - red, yellow, blue and indigo. They met at its centre; melding and bathing the three sitting and standing there in a dark, brownish-purple light. It was very quiet.