The Children's Crusade (8 page)

Junkin stared at them, as the silence filled the clubhouse.

“Why won't you speak?” Junkin Buckley demanded.

“None of us will speak while you remain, Junkin Buckley,” Wat said.

“What have I done?” Junkin Buckley asked. “I ain't done nothing, I tell you.”

“It is not what you have done, Buckley,” Wat explained. “It's what you are. You are not one of us. We cannot trust you.”

“Not one of you?” Junkin Buckley looked dismayed. “Of course I am. I'm good old Junkin Buckley.”

“You need to leave,” Kerwyn said. “You are banned from the council, Junkin.”

Daniel watched Junkin's face go from surprise to hurt to anger. He lurched to his feet and tore out of the clubhouse. “You'll be sorry!” he called over his shoulder.

The council stood silent for a moment.

“I don't like this,” Katherine said. “He might do something to ruin everything.”

“Have faith,” Wat said. “While it is alive, Free Country will watch over us. As we care for her, she will care for us.”

Wat sat back down. “Soon all that we have dreamed these many years shall come to pass. Soon all the world's children shall be here, and free.”

T
IM GAZED AROUND
at the extraordinary place he found himself. One minute, he'd been jumping hopscotch in grimy, gray London. The next he stood in a field of bright green grass under a brilliant blue sky with what looked like lollipops growing out of the ground.

“Huh,” Tim grunted. “So that's what all those nonsense rhymes are about. They're magical incantations. Interesting.”

For one moment he wondered if he was in Faerie. It had changed each time he had popped in for a visit. But, no, there was a different energy here. Tim wasn't sure of its source, but he could sense it.
This must be one of those multiple worlds Titania showed me before she decided she wanted to kill me
, he mused
. I wonder how many more there are?

Tim took a deep breath. The place smelled of baked sweets and safety. Tim felt his shoulders
relax for the first time since he'd been approached by the Trenchcoat Brigade and told of his magical destiny.

“You're right, Marya,” Tim said. “This place is amazing.”

When she didn't answer, he turned around. And around. And around again. No Marya.

“Marya?” he called. Tim figured it would take her a few minutes to get there.
We probably can't both go through the gate—or door or whatever it was I slipped through—at the same time.

Tim didn't mind waiting. He lay down in the grass and soaked up the extraordinary sense of well-being it gave him. He felt as if he could simply lie there and all would be set right. All his problems—his two so-called fathers, Titania's rage, how to handle his magic—none of it seemed important right now. What seemed important was that the sun was shining overhead and the birds were chirping a pretty melody that he could almost sing along to.

This relaxed state of affairs only lasted for a few minutes.

Tim sat up abruptly. “Where is Marya?” he muttered. It occurred to him that the whole thing might have been a trick. The idea dismayed him. Marya hadn't seemed to be the sneaky sort. But you never know…

Then another grim idea leaped into his crowded brain: Something could have happened to her back in London. It wasn't as if Ravenknoll Estate was the safest place for a barefoot girl who was a stranger to the city. Should he go back and see if she was all right?

But how could he do that? He'd never traveled by hopscotch before. And it wasn't as if he could draw a grid in the grass, even if he had any chalk.

The first time Tim had traveled to Faerie, he'd had a guide and was led through a gate. After that, he'd used the Opening Stone his father, Tamlin, had given him. That seemed to help him travel from world to world. But he didn't have the amulet on him. So how would he get home from Free Country?

Tim stood and stretched.
Better start searching for a way out, Tim,
he told himself.
You may have made one great big blunder
.

He climbed up a small hill to get a better view. He could see kids off to the east, splashing in a lagoon around what looked like a pirate's ship. To the west he saw thick forest.

He spotted a group of kids a few hills over. He'd go and ask them how to get home.

He made his way toward the little hill through trees full of sweet-smelling fruit. All around him
were beautiful and peaceful sights. The place was quiet and clean. Nothing like back home. Here he could hear himself think. Not that that was necessarily good. He could hear himself think much too loudly. And what he was thinking about was quickly reversing all the calming effects Free Country had wrought on him.

He walked between the peach and apple trees.
Funny
, Tim observed,
some of the fruit looks like it is rotting
. He came out of the orchard and could now better see the group of kids. They were on top of a little hill.

They look like they're dressed for a play or a costume party
, Tim observed. He glanced down at his dusty jeans and black T-shirt.
I wonder if I'm underdressed
.

A tall dark-haired boy seemed to be the oldest—about fourteen—and he clutched a clipboard. He wore the kind of poofy shirt and black leggings Tim had seen actors wear in Shakespearean plays at school. A girl dressed like Peter Pan in green tights, green tunic, and feathered cap stood next to a girl in a long, old-fashioned blue dress with ruffles. A blond boy about Tim's age stood nearby, wearing a tattered overcoat and striped, patched trousers.
Well, at least someone else isn't all fancied up
, Tim thought. Perhaps the strangest kid of all was the one wearing
a long linen tunic. He was quite short and one of his arms ended in a nasty-looking stump.

“Anyway,” the boy in the poofy white shirt was saying, “when he, er,
manifests
, I shall go up to him and say ‘Welcome to Free Country, Timothy Hunter.'”

Huh? They're talking about me?
Tim's pace quickened.

The Peter Pan girl covered her face and shook her head. “Kerwyn, really. You have got to be joking.”

“What's wrong with that?” Kerwyn demanded.

“First of all, you don't call a proper wizard by name,” the girl replied. “Second of all, why should you be the one to greet him?”

The girl in the old-fashioned dress nodded. “One finds oneself concurring with Katherine-Peter on this.”

Tim wondered if her tightly wound blond curls gave her a headache. That could explain her snooty expression and voice.

“Not Katherine-Peter,” the Peter Pan girl snapped. “Just Katherine. Sheesh!”

The snooty girl rolled her eyes. “Katherine, then. It should be Wat who has the honor of initial address. He is the most well-mannered.” She bowed to the short, one-handed boy.

So his name is Wat
, Tim thought.
What kind of name is Wat? He must have been teased a lot in school.

Wat shook his head. “I must respectfully decline this honor, good lady. Public speaking suits me not.”

Since they're having so much trouble deciding who gets the great honor of greeting me
, Tim thought,
I'll just introduce myself. Save them time arguing, which means I might get home sooner.

“Uh, hello,” Tim called. He jogged the rest of the way up the hill toward them.

None of them responded.

“You see, Griselda,” Kerwyn said, “it should be me. And as I was saying, I shall go up to Timothy Hunter and say—”

“Sorry to interrupt you,” Tim tried again. “But—”

Kerwyn glared at Tim. “Will, er, someone please explain to this individual with the spectacles that he cannot hang about here? Daniel?”

The boy with long blond hair and the tattered overcoat held up a fist. “Bugger off,” the boy snarled at Tim. “We're waiting for someone important.”

Tim took a few steps backward. This seemed to satisfy the group, and they turned their backs
on him, making their circle a little smaller and tighter.

What is up with these kids?
Tim wondered.

“Now where was I?” Kerwyn said.

“You was about to greet Tim Hunter, Kerwyn,” Daniel said. “And then the minute you do so, I ask about Marya's whereabouts.”

“She may be with him,” Wat said. He lay his hand on Daniel's arm. “Don't worry so.”

“Actually—” Tim began.

Daniel whirled around, fight in his eyes. “Didn't I tell you to back off, mate?”

Tim held up his hands in a placating gesture. He took a few more steps backward, but he continued to listen. He needed to figure out what was going on.

“Yes. Right. So I shall say, ‘Welcome to Free Country…'”

“‘Mighty wizard,'” suggested Katherine.

“‘Noble sir,'” said Daniel.

“‘Magisterial mage,'” the little guy, Wat, added.

“So which is it?” Kerwyn asked. He sounded exasperated.

“How about ‘Hi, thanks for coming,'” Tim muttered. “‘And sorry we're a bunch of rude sots.'”

“A tricky question,” replied Griselda. “The fellow is a master of the magical arts. One must ascertain whether or not he derives income from this practice.”

“I doubt that he does,” said Wat.

“Why would that matter?” Kerwyn asked.

“Etiquette would demand a different greeting were he in trade.”

“Excuse me!” Tim said.
Sheesh. Am I invisible or something?

“Since he is not a merchant,” the stuck-up girl with the tight curls continued, “one would suggest you begin, ‘Welcome, Lord Thaumaturge.'”

“Lord what?” the girl in green asked.

My question exactly
, Tim thought.

“And then, of course,” Griselda continued, “you would present him with the keys to Free Country.”

“Keys?” Kerwyn clutched his clipboard to his skinny chest. “We don't have any keys.”

Tim had had enough, despite Daniel's threatening attitude.

“I said, excuse me!” Tim poked Griselda on her shoulder. She shrugged him off, then waved her hand in the air as if she were shooing away a fly. She didn't even bother to look at him.

“A medal, then, or a ribbon,” she said, “some
symbolic token of our affection and respect.”

“Well, I'm not giving him one of my games,” Kerwyn said. “Maybe we can find him something in the library.”

“Good idea. How about a first edition?” Griselda suggested. “My tutor was always quite pleased whenever he received such a gift.”

Hm. A book sounds good
, Tim mused,
depending on what kind of story it is
. “Why don't you just ask me what kind of present I'd like?” he asked. He didn't get an answer. By this time he had quit expecting one.

Kerwyn looked worried. “We don't have any first editions, do we?”

“Well, you can't just give him some old book,” Katherine argued.

“I know!” offered Daniel. “Why don't we give him Kerwyn's talking stick. E'll 'ave a lot of talking to do come the invocation.”

Tim's eyebrows rose.
Invocation? What invocation?
But he knew better than to ask.

“Daniel, you really don't have a clue, do you?” Katherine scoffed.

They're
all
clueless
, Tim decided.

Daniel looked ready to smack Katherine. “What did you say?” he demanded.

Wat pushed his way between them. “Come, come, my friends,” he said in a soothing tone.
“'Tis not meet that the one we intend to honor should find us squabbling.”

“Wat is right,” said Kerwyn. “What matters most is our plan.”

“Yes.” Wat nodded. “Soon enough all the children of the Bad World will be in Free Country.”

Bad world?
Did Wat mean London?

At the mention of the Bad World, each of the kids shivered.

“They kill children there,” Daniel said.

“They think that because we're smaller and weaker than they are that they can do whatever they want to us,” Katherine said.

“In the Bad World,” Griselda added, “all children live by adult rules. They choose if we live or if we die…if we are to be beaten, starved, or put to work at the age of eight.”

“Or younger,” Daniel said in a low voice.

“With Timothy Hunter, we will have the power to end the tyranny,” Wat declared. “This is our mission. This is our crusade.”

“Our crusade!” the others chimed in.

“If we have Timothy we have magic,” Kerwyn said. “And if we have magic, we have the master gateway to allow in all the others.”

All of the children nodded solemnly.

“We will meet later, to finish choosing our words and ceremonies,” said Wat.

And with that, the group dispersed without a glance at Tim.

Tim stared after them. He felt completely invisible or at any rate deeply insignificant. “Bet this sort of thing never happens to John Constantine of the Trenchcoat Brigade,” he muttered.
And Molly would never stand for their rudeness either
.

So now what?
he wondered.
How am I supposed to get home? And where is Marya?
Obviously she'd been telling at least a partial truth: This group of kids wanted him for something. But the fact that she hadn't returned with him could mean that she had plotted this whole thing as a way of escaping from Free Country. Which would imply there was something to escape from.

After listening to that group of kids, it was clear to Tim that Free Country was where Avril's brother, Oliver, had gone, along with all the other missing children.
But did they come by choice? Or were they coerced or tricked or kidnapped?
Tim had certainly come of his own free will, but if Marya wasn't around to show him how to get home, how much free will did he really have?

His would-be greeters had scattered in different directions. After being treated worse than a bug by that crew, Tim decided he didn't want to follow any of them. He was on his own.

“If I were a gate to another world,” he said, “where would I be hiding?”

As he walked he tried to piece together what he knew so far. It wasn't much. The kids of Free Country wanted him because they thought his magic would help them with their plan to bring kids from home into Free Country.

“They're going to be disappointed,” Tim said. He had no idea how his power could help them do anything.

He hated this feeling—like he was letting people down, dashing expectations.

“It's not fair!” he cried, stamping his foot. The loudness of his voice startled him, and he quickly glanced around to see if anyone heard him. There was no one in sight.

“I never promised them anything,” he muttered. “They're just assuming. So if it goes badly, they've no one to blame but themselves.”

He kept walking, unsure of what to look for. “Don't see any hopscotch grids. Or chalk, for that matter,” he said. He hadn't a clue what a gate from Free Country would look like. “So, Tim, what did you do in Free Country?” he asked himself out loud. “Funny you should ask, Tim. I spent a lot of time talking to myself.”