Rainbow's End - Wizard (36 page)

Thomas nodded and Joshi looked to the fairy on the boy’s shoulder. ‘Good evening, fairy-George,’ he
greeted the sprite, then said - ‘Could I ask…? Would you leave us for a while?’

‘Why?’ The little figure’s tone was cocky.

‘Because we - Thomas and I, need to talk,’ the Magari said, simply.

‘Private-like?’ asked the tiny man, and Joshi nodded
.

‘Private-like,’ he confirmed
, sagely.

George
- miffed, gave a small sniff and got to his feet; tottered around on the high heels of his little purple boots for a second, and then, in an act of defiance to Joshi, and before Thomas could pull away, pressed a small kiss on the boy’s cheek and flew away.

*

He sat next to Thomas and said: ‘Tell me Thomas. Tell me what happened.’ And Joshi listened; and when Thomas had finished, he said softly, ‘I am so sorry, Thomas. So very sorry.’ He stared at the moving water for a long time, then asked, ‘Can you forgive him?’ Joshi looked at Thomas, who, in the moonlight, saw the wisdom in his ancient eyes.

‘I already have, Joshi,’ he said.

The Magari heard reservation in the young voice, and felt despair clutch and squeeze at his heart. ‘But…?’ he asked softly.

Thomas gave him a sad smile. ‘My grandmother…’

‘Rose,’ Joshi said and Thomas nodded.

‘Grammy Rose
, yes: she used to say it was easy to forgive, and we should; but it was not possible to forget, and we shouldn’t - lest it happens again.’

Joshi slowly shook his head from side to side, and his white hair shone in the light of the moon. ‘She never much
was
one for grey, was Rose,’ he said. Just black and white - wrong or right… Nothing in between.’ Quiet again, and then - ‘And now, Thomas? What will happen now?’ he asked.

Thomas took a deep breath
, then let it out slowly. ‘I don’t know yet, Joshi,’ he said, ‘but I have to leave here.’ A catch in his throat, and his voice a whisper. ‘I have to leave Rainbow’s End,’ he said.

‘No, Thomas.’ The ancient dwarf laid a soft hand on Thomas’ arm
and his eyes were dark shadows in his bewhiskered face. ‘It is not necessary,’ he said.

Thomas’ eyes, when he looked at Joshi, were swimming with tears, and he impatiently wiped them away with the back of one hand. ‘It is Joshi. You know it is.’ They sat quietly for a while, and then Thomas said, ‘I will leave the
crystal with Izzy.’

Joshi shook his head. ‘You will not be able to,’ he said, and Thomas gave him a puzzled look.

‘Why not?’

‘The
crystal is part of you now, Thomas. You cannot leave it, as and when you want to.’ Adding, ‘When the time comes, it will leave
you
.’

‘Then how will I give it back?’ Thomas was genuinely perplexed.

‘There are only two ways,’ Joshi said. ‘The first is when it is replaced by the next crystal; a stronger crystal. The other, well… one day - in a month from now, or even a year, you would be walking in the sun on this Earth you are returning to, and the crystal would just be gone from you… And when I look again, it will be laying in its velvet nest with its friends. It will have sensed that you don’t need it anymore; it would have forgotten you, so to speak.’ The Magari sat staring into the night, seeing things that Thomas knew
he
never would.

When he turned to look into
the boys green eyes, his own were sadly-soft. ‘But you, Thomas,’ he said, ‘
you
would not have that luxury.
You
would not forget. You are a Traveller, and unlike other children who forget this place, you would not. Never. You would always remember what you had… what could have been…’

He slowly
got to his feet and stood shimmering in the silvery moonlight; and looked at the still-seated Thomas with kind eyes. ‘What was it fairy-George said earlier?’ he asked, and then answered his own question: ‘Pride is a terrible thing?’ Adding, ‘Is it not one of your seven deadly sins?’

Thomas got to his feet as well
, and stood looking at the Magari. ‘What would you have me do, Joshi?’ he asked, miserably. ‘You know I cannot stay - not after what happened tonight.’

Joshi’s eyes were filled with compassion. He took one of Thomas’ hands in both of his own and held it in a soft, but firm grip.
‘I will tell you two things, Thomas,’ he said. ‘One: it would be much, much better for you,
if
you stayed.’ He searched behind Thomas’ eyes for long seconds, and then - not finding what he had hoped for, placed a hand on the boy’s breastbone. ‘The second my queen has already told you,’ he said. ‘You have to follow your heart.’

And without another word, he turned and walked into the stream. The rocks rose up to meet his sandaled feet and it started to rain…

*

The cave was silent and sleeping when Thomas went to his room. He sat on his bed for a long time, and let his eyes and mind wander; taking in as little as
he can; storing as few memories as possible. A large glass jar filled with sparkling rubies, emeralds, sapphires and diamonds stood on his desk; the other gems tinting the colourless diamonds with shades of their own. Next to the first, a second jar stood brim-full with shiny golden nuggets. The former had been collected while spelunking with Gary a few weeks ago; the latter whilst diving in the Golden Pool. 

He took only a
n olive-green canvas backpack with a single change of clothes. A pair of denim pants, a T-shirt, polo-necked jersey and running shoes. Some underclothes and socks. Toothbrush, toothpaste, a comb… And his photo album.

*

The birds started up first; the warbling of francolin and the far-off panicky-sounding shriek of a peacock. Other assorted “cheeps” and the grey shadow of an owl winging home in the fading violet of predawn. The air turned a faint pinkly-orange, and when the sun peered over the high-up rim of the cliff, the Rainbow - in a dazzling amalgam of colours - shot silently into the air and curved over the waterfall.

On the bank of the Rainbow
Pool stood a boy with straw-coloured hair and very green eyes; and the red beam of the Rainbow bent towards the crystal in his hand. And Thomas Ross was gone.

*****

The cave was quiet and most everybody still asleep.

Maggie had woken up when
the feel of the first rays of the sun, less than an hour ago, had caused the large hole in the roof of the central cavern to slide noisily open. Annie had helped her, still half-asleep, to open first her own, and then Frieda’s door; and then closing it behind the little girl, without waiting to see into which of the two sleeping women’s beds she climbed.

*

Now was Annie’s favourite time of day: when everything seemed new and fresh, still wet and washed clean by the rain of just over an hour ago; a time when she felt, albeit guiltily-selfish - that Rainbow’s End was hers alone. She was following the same old morning routine she had for years uncounted - making her bed and just tidying in general: dusting here and there, and straightening or moving some of the dolls (she could have done it all with as little as a thought, but enjoyed doing it this way. With her hands). Some small birds were cavorting and singing in a tree outside the opened window, and Annie smiled at the first screeching call of a fish eagle.

In a few
minutes, she would go see Arnold, and together they would plan the day’s menu. Not that it helped much, she thought wryly. He would lean forward across the table they were sitting at, staring seriously at what she was writing, and with great studiousness nod his agreement at her suggestions. Then, at meal time produce something totally different to what they had agreed on - mostly to Annie’s chagrin and the children’s delight.

And when chastised, the
unrepentant chef would just - with a shrug of his shoulders and a twirl of his small moustache - mumble something about the “creative spirit overcoming him”, and, “if he didn’t give in to it, it would stop coming, wouldn’t it?”

“
And where would Rainbow’s End be then?” he would ask. “Left with a mediocre chef, making mediocre food - that’s where,” he would answer himself, in his atrocious French accent. He could (and would, if allowed), feed Rainbow’s End on ice-cream, desserts and milkshakes, Annie thought.

A small knock had
her straightening from tucking in the corner of a sheet, frowning. She thought the door open, and revealed an unhappy looking Orson in its frame, frowning as if the whole world rested on his shoulders.

‘Have you seen Thomas, Annie?
’ he asked.

*

‘I’ve knocked but he doesn’t open his door,’ Orson said.

Annie was sitting on the edge of her bed, Orson perched on the small stool of her dressing table
. The two easy chairs just metres away seemed unsuitable for the moment.

‘Why are you looking for him so early?’ she asked, and af
ter a mumbled reply from Orson - ‘he’s what?’

‘He’s run off.’ The reply was still mumbled, almost inaudible.

‘What do you mean, “run off”, Orson? And why?’ Annie frowned. ‘And speak up, will you,’ she added. ‘I know you can. That croaky nonsense doesn’t wash with me - you know it doesn’t.’

‘He ran off because I shouted at him.’ Orson spoke up, louder than necessary.

‘Why?’ Annie asked, with narrowed eyes, her tone ominous, ‘Why did you shout at him, Orson?’

‘Because of Maggie’s grandmother
.’ He lowered his grey eyes before her blue ones, unhappily.

‘Because he brought her back here?’
He nodded glumly and looked the other way. ‘But that was
his
choice,’ said Annie. ‘A Traveller is allowed his own discretion -
you
know that.’

Orson nodded again, still unhappy. ‘That’s not all,’ he said,
fidgeting, and not meeting Annie’s eyes; then, at Annie’s narrowed-eyed look, ‘I ridiculed him; humiliated him…’

‘Oh no, Orson.
’ Annie stared at the Traveller, aghast. ‘Please say you didn’t - not Thomas.’ And after a long silence, ‘What have you
done
, Orson Frazier?’

He lowered his eyes
. ‘I wasn’t thinking,’ he said, trying to defend himself, if only half-heartedly. ‘I was not expecting him back until tomorrow at least, don’t you see?

‘
He said that he might drop in and see Izzy, and maybe visit Pine Cottage… That’s Rosie’s old house…’ Orson added lamely. He exhaled in a long ragged sigh, grey eyes begging Annie to understand.

‘You had too much to drink,’ Annie interrupted, and at his silent, downcast look, ‘L
et’s go try his room again.’

*

There was no reply, and Annie, thinking that he might still be asleep, tried again, knocking louder. Finally, she called out Thomas’ name and opened his door. The room inside was cold as an ice box and dark, the curtains drawn. There was no one inside, the unslept-in bed without as much as a wrinkle on its cover.

Orson impatiently pushed past Annie
, and she followed him in, then saw his shoulders slump.

‘He’s
not here, Orson,’ she said, unnecessarily.

‘I can see that,’ Orson brusquely answered
, and at a warning look from her, said, ‘I’m sorry, Anna…’ (He was the only person on Rainbow’s End who occasionally called her by her Christian name), ‘It’s just… I need to speak to him, see? I need to apologise - to tell him that I’m sorry. Before it’s too late.’ His voice tailed off, old suddenly, and tired.

‘He’s gone, Orson,’ Annie said
, and this time the true inflection behind her words struck at the old Traveller’s heart.

‘No,’ he said, shaking his head
and taking a step backwards, towards the still open door. ‘No,’ he said again, more forcefully, and then accused - ‘How can you
say
that, Annie?’ And less certain. ‘How can you
know
that?’

Annie pointed at the gloomy-bare bedside table, and her voice was ineffably sad
, when she said, ‘His album, Orson. He took his photo album.’ She went to the dark blue curtains printed with the heavenly bodies; sickle-shaped moons, stars, planets with rings around them, and comets, and meteorites… She pulled the hanging folds slowly apart and confirmed what she was afraid of.

The light
entering the window was a dull, heavy grey, and it snowed outside…

From above the bed Thomas’ favourite wizard, his role-model,
looked down at them. Annie heard his soft groan and watched Orson’s grey-looking face age before her eyes. Her gaze followed his to the poster of Merlin. Purple wart and droopy eyelid, fluffy-white hair and clutching his staff like an avenging sword - his expression resolute, his mien invincible; the face of Orson the Traveller stared down at them.