Rainbow's End - Wizard (25 page)

Thomas stared at Joshi -
speechless, and when the small figure gave him a kindly smile, croaked, ‘Mine?’

Joshi nodded. ‘
For the time being,’ he said. ‘All Travellers start with the Red,’ he said. ‘It is the first and requires the least expertise. When you are ready - depending on your progress
and
your prowess - in a few years probably, you will progress to orange. Then yellow, then green and later, maybe blue. Most Travellers stop at Green. It is enough for them; for their needs
and
capabilities. Only five have gone on to Blue. You have met three of them. The other two have gone back… Only one has seeked Indigo. None the Violet.’

Thomas
’ look was questioning and Ariana came into the conversation again - knowing his questions.

‘The Travellers Joshi refer to are Chester, Kristin and
Gwendolynne, Thomas. The other two were Maritza and Leonard. They have both “gone back”.’

She knew his next question as well. ‘“Going back” means they chose to live out the rest of their years back on
the Earth.’

‘It is allowed?’ Thomas asked.

‘Of course.’ Ariana frowned.

Thomas looked to Joshi again. ‘You said my next
crystal would be Orange, but doesn’t that belong to Izzy?’

‘The
crystals “belong” to no one Thomas. They simply become part of a Traveller for as long as needed. They add to… one’s life. Make one stronger. The question of the Orange Crystal will be dealt with when the time comes.’

The
Magari smiled. ‘And the answer to your last question is Orson,’ he said. ‘He is the only Traveller
ever
to take the Indigo Crystal, and the strongest Traveller that ever was.’ His smile was kindly. ‘He is also, although I might disagree with his methods sometimes,’ and here Joshi smiled at Ariana; ‘He is also the best person to instruct you in the crystal’s use,’ he finished.

*****

Thomas fell hard - almost winding himself. Orson landed on his feet - gracefully and haughtily dignified (as suited a Traveller of his stature).

‘You have to slow down in time, Thomas. If you don’t, and land
the wrong way, you will break your leg - or legs.’

Thomas looked at him. Orson’s
woollen cap was pulled low over his ears, and hair poked out from under its brim in fluffy clumps of grey. His large nose was red with cold.

‘Has anybody?’
Thomas asked. ‘I mean, have any of the Travellers ever broken a leg?’

‘Plenty.’ Orson grinned. ‘Your co-sponsor Izzy included. He broke his right leg twice in his first year. I still wonder if that’s not the real reason he quit.’ He gave a snort
and a cackle and a hiccup, and filed his last remark away for future use.

‘Anyway.’
Sniffed. He took a thick package from under his coat and began shaking it open. It was a large plastic sheet. ‘Always,’ Orson huffed, ‘bring one of these with you if you know you are going to land in snow.’ He glared at the icy plain on which they stood. ‘It prevents you from taking half of Antarctica’s snow with you when you leave.’

The sheet was thin, round and six
metres across. They walked to its centre and Orson looked at the crystal dangling from a long golden chain around Thomas’ wrist.

‘Let’s try the Sahara this time,’ he said.

*

‘There.’ They were slowing down and Orson pointed to a spot of
sand, which appeared lighter in colour than its surrounds. Thomas concentrated and that’s where they landed.

‘If you can control where you land,
why do you land in the water every time you return to Rainbow’s End?’ he asked Orson, brushing sand from his still-wet-with-snow pants legs.

‘
Because the Rainbow Pool is where the rainbow starts innit? Where it ends,
you
can decide, but its beginning is in the pool. It cannot be moved.’ Orson frowned. ‘Ariana can bend it if she wants. She does when we leave. But to do it when you return, she has to monitor you all the time. She has to know exactly when you would arrive.’

‘But…
if she doesn’t know, why do you scream and swear at her when you end up in the water?’

Orson’s face flushed. ‘I
am
the Traveller, aren’t I?’ he said.

*

The centre court at Wimbledon was deserted and Thomas landed softly - with a small hop. Orson’s drooping eyelid lifted; surprised at the boy’s quick mastery, but saying nothing. He clambered up the ladder and made himself at home in the umpire’s chair. Thomas sat on the bottom rung.

‘Orson?’

‘Mmh?’

‘Was Chester the first Traveller?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then how did he get to
Rainbow’s End?’

Orson cackled. ‘He was a duke,’ he said. ‘Somewhere around here.’ He waved his arm at Wimbledon and England in general. ‘But a wastrel really.
Until he met up with the wrong people.’ Orson looked down at Thomas - for once. ‘He cheated some Gypsies at cards, and tried seducing their shaman’s daughter. Rainbow’s End is where he woke up.’

‘He must be terribly old,’ said Thomas.

‘He is.’

*

It was a short hop to the sixteenth green at St. Andrews. Thomas was enjoying himself but his limbs ached from all of the suddenly-being-sucked-into-the-air, the one thing a Traveller can’t control. The course was deserted.

‘So, what did George ask you?’ Orson had a sly gleam in his eyes.

‘George?’ Thomas knew very well whom Orson meant, but pretended ignorance.

‘George, yes.
’ Orson bulged his eyes. ‘The fairy.’

‘Oh…’ Thomas blushed, then looked away. ‘He asked me for a kiss,’ he mumbled.

Orson cackled. ‘At Rainbow’s End the fairies really
are
fairies,’ he said.

2
1

They landed on top of Izzy’s building at three o’clock
.
Only a few minutes before the sun disappeared behind some high-rise buildings to the west. This time Orson was in charge; he wasn’t prepared to fall eighteen stories.

‘We’re spending the night
here,’ he said.

In the building across the street, a frizzy-purple-haired secretary watched the old man and the boy land. As if in a trance, she reached for her medication. Her boss came in a minute later and found her, still gaping at the now empty roof opposite. ‘Feeling under the weather again, are we Suzie?’ he asked.

The whole of the building’s roof not taken up by the penthouse was tiled in terracotta, and there were a lot of plants in pots and drums and other containers. The penthouse had large sliding doors - one of which had been left open, and when they stepped inside, Thomas’ mouth fell open.

‘Impressive, huh?’
asked Orson, and the boy nodded in awed silence. There were huge rooms, open-planned and on different levels - some sunken and others elevated; all furnished in leather and glass and chrome, and beautiful paintings and vases and carpets and rugs.

The bedroom in which Orson left him (Izzy was not home yet, but Orson seemed very
much at home in anyway), was decorated in blue and grey pastels and had a king-sized bed. A large painting of two little girls chasing butterflies in a flowered field hung on the wall.

His bathroom rem
inded of Annie’s - but without the view: all glass and shining taps and a bath big enough to swim in. A cricket chirped somewhere - insistent - and when Thomas went back inside the bedroom, a small red light flashed on the transparent telephone on one bedside table.

‘Pick it up
, if it’s yours!’ Orson’s gravelly voice croaked from elsewhere in the penthouse. Izzy’s was at the other end, welcoming Thomas and asking him to take a bath or a shower, whichever he preferred, and to get dressed in the clothes inside his cupboard.

The bath had
buttons that activated jets of water squirting from different directions and in differing strengths, and more buttons for bubbles and foam. Thomas tried them all.

The clothes were tan trousers, a formal white shirt with a button-down collar
(which Thomas left undone), and a royal blue dinner jacket. The vest of his thermal underwear showed at his neck (it was winter after all), and of two pairs of identical shoes, the larger size fit. In the jackets breast pocket was an expensive looking watch, which he slipped on. He looked at himself in the mirror, and thought he looked quite spiffy - if he had to say so himself. If only Grammy could see him now…

Ors
on waited in the sunken lounge - sipping at something red. He wore a navy blue double-breasted suit with red pinstripes. It had obviously been tailored to his personal needs, for the trousers fit his short legs exactly. His shoes were wine-red brogues. In all - very distinguished. He pressed a small black button on one wall and the door on an elevator slid open. It only went down one floor and opened into Izzy’s office.

*

They were on the eleventh floor. A long passage with a grey and red patterned carpet stretched before them, and doors and windows of numerous offices on their left and right.

‘The first ten floors of the building are residential,’ said Izzy. ‘Flats, Thomas. All occupied by the
Rainbow’s End Corporation’s employees. Mostly single parents and young people whom we have helped. A lot of them have been to Rainbow’s End when they were younger, but of course, they don’t know it. The next seven floors are taken up by the various branches of the business: most of which I started, I’m proud to say.’ They began walking, and all the windows Thomas looked through, showed people working.

‘This floor is taken up by our mining division.’ Izzy saw Thomas’ questioning look. ‘We
do
own some real mines, Thomas,’ he smiled. ‘Seven, to be exact. A gold mine in Australia, one in South Africa and another two in Peru. A diamond mine in Namibia; rubies and sapphires in Thailand and also New South Wales, Australia.

‘Not one of them
is profitable - they employ more people than necessary and pay inordinately high wages. The two in Peru run at a loss. They are there simply as a means: to help us help people.’ Izzy smiled again. ‘They also give us a legal channel through which to sell Rainbow’s End’s gold and gems.’

He opened the door at the end of the pa
ssage and they went up the fire-escape to the next floor.

*

‘On this floor we have our clothing division. Design, patterns and administration. We have two clothing factories. One in Ireland and one in Indonesia. They manufacture children’s clothing and formal wear mostly, but can be geared for almost any other apparel,’ Izzy said. ‘The clothes you are wearing, as well as all of that on Rainbow’s End, including the Wise One’s and the Little People’s, come from Rainbow Clothing.

‘As with the mines, there is almost no profit. We employ too many people, and
donate too much of our product to children’s homes and the poor.’

Unlike the floor below, they went into
many of the offices, and everybody seemed either busy with a calculator or a computer, or at a draughting table. They all seemed happy; Izzy called them by their first names and they called him Mr. Greenbaum. Almost everyone had met Orson before, and the little man’s face flushed red every time Izzy introduced Thomas as “Mr. Frazier’s grandson”. They took the steps again.

*

‘This entire floor is Jewellery,’ Izzy said. ‘Millions of pounds of gems and gold are kept here. Hence the security.’ He finished punching in a security code, and the heavy steel door opened with a loud “clack”. The carpet was thick and pink, with a powder-blue motif.

‘Most of
Rainbow’s End’s gold and gems end up here. The design and manufacturing - even the marketing strategy of the finished product, it all happens in these offices. Private viewings as well. We have eleven shops in Britain and another twenty-three in the rest of Europe.’ He pointed at Thomas’ wrist. ‘Your watch comes from one of them. Our prices start at a couple of hundred pounds - or euros - depending on where you are, and we have sold a few pieces that ran to more than a million.’

Thomas ga
sped, and Izzy, with a small smile and a shrug of his bony shoulders, said, ‘Alas - no profit. Or almost none.’