Winter Door (10 page)

“I…I don’t know,” Rage admitted. “I suppose it must be, because how could the winter here go there, since the wizard got rid of the bramble gate?”

“Gates are not the only ways between worlds. There will be many weak places in the matter between Valley and your world. These weak places could act as gateways in the right circumstances.”

“You make the winter sound as if it is alive.”

“I fancy it so,” Rue admitted. “But if you are correct in thinking that it has found a way through to your world, then it is not only our two worlds that are in danger.”

“I don’t understand what you mean. The wizard made Valley out of a bit of
my
world. He didn’t say he had made any other worlds.”

“Surely you do not think the wizard the only one capable of such world building? Or that this is the only way parallel worlds come into being? There are many worlds and a multitude of bridges between them. But we must learn if the winter in your world is connected to the winter here. I will go to the castle to see if the wizard left any notes about the possibility that the winter here could flow into other worlds. I will learn what I can before your return—”

“My return?” Rage interrupted her. “But I don’t know if I can come back.” She thought suddenly of the three seats. “Unless I came here because of something
you
did to make it happen. Is that how you knew I would be here?”

“I used soul magic to ask what I could do to save Valley, and I saw you arriving at the frozen heart lake. So I came here to wait for you.”

“Ask what her visions cost her!” Puck commanded in an accusing voice, pointing at Rue’s white hair.

“Peace, Puck,” said the witch woman with a somber look. Puck hung his head.

“What does he mean?” Rage demanded.

The witch Mother ignored the question. “The visions showed me that the answer to ending this winter can be found in the link between you and the wizard.”

“Am I to follow the wizard through this winter door, then?” Rage asked. “I don’t see how I could, even if I wanted to, since I am only here while I dream.”

“Before you think to refuse what has not yet been asked of you, consider the possibility that you yourself have just raised. If the winter in your world
is
linked to the winter killing Valley, then in time your own world will become the wasteland that Valley has become,” Rue said inexorably. “For now, I suggest only that the next time you come to Valley, you dream yourself directly to the wizard’s castle.”

“I don’t think I can control this dream-traveling,” Rage protested.

“Of course you can. You would not be here otherwise. You need only think of where you wish to go before you sleep. You willed yourself here by thinking of Valley.”

“I
didn’t
think of Valley,” Rage disagreed. Then she said softly, “I thought about you.”

Rue’s brows lifted. “An interesting paradox. I am here in this place only because of a vision which showed that you came here, and you are here only because you used me as the focus of your dream magic.” She shrugged. “You had better will yourself to Gilbert next time if your dream-travel ability works by focusing on people. He will certainly be at the castle, and I will arrange to be notified as soon as you arrive.” She gave Rage a long look. “I wonder how you have this ability, for it is generally only wizards who possess it.”

Rage opened her mouth to tell the witch Mother about the firecat, but as she opened her mouth, all strength drained from her and she was pulled away.

Someone was joggling Rage’s shoulder.

It was Logan. She blinked groggily at him. “What the heck is the matter with you?” he hissed as Rage sat up. She noticed absently how pale he looked, then she looked around and found that she was in the school library.

“What is it? What’s wrong? I must have fallen asleep.”

“I’ve been trying to wake you for about ten minutes! Are you sick?”

“No…no,” she managed to say. “I…I was…I had a dream.”

His eyes narrowed, but he said more calmly, “You missed the afternoon assembly and I got worried. Luckily, there was no roll call.” He sat down beside her. “Are you sure you’re okay? You really do look pretty weird.”

Rage picked up the book and smoothed the creased pages automatically, saying, “I know. I mean, I
feel
weird, so it makes sense I look weird.” She looked at him and remembered how he had stormed away. “Logan, how come you can’t read?”

He scowled and grew red again. Then he gave a weary shrug. “I dunno. It was because of being shuffled around, I guess. Everyone thought someone else taught me, and then there was this rotten teacher that made fun of me. Anyway, I started covering it up. I mean, I can read a
bit
, but slowly like some little kindergartner. So I don’t bother.”

“But what about signs, and what about schoolwork?”

“Signs are okay and I’ve got a great memory. It helps with school stuff as well. And with homework, I either didn’t do it or I got other kids to do it for me. I think some of the teachers might have guessed, but they’re just happy if I don’t disrupt the class, and they pass me to get me out of their hair.”

Rage thought about Mam reading
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
to her, and then she was crying. “My uncle says they’re moving my mother to Leary Hospital on the weekend. They want to find out why she isn’t getting better….”

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it? I mean, maybe they’ll figure it out,” Logan said.

Rage shook her head and more tears fell. “She’s too sad to get better. If only my uncle would go and see her, I think that might help her.” She stopped because she could no longer speak, for the tears.

“Why doesn’t he, then?” Logan asked.

She shook her head, struggling to control the tears. Then she said in a stuffy voice, “The doctors won’t let him. They say the shock of seeing him after so long might be too much for Mam….” She blinked back afresh fall of tears and glared out the window for a long moment. Still turned away, she said, “Don’t be nice to me, because it will only make me cry again.”

“I could bash you, if you’d rather,” Logan offered. Rage turned to give him a startled look and found him smiling sheepishly at her. She laughed, and some of the tight hurt inside her dissolved. “I’m sorry for howling like that. I wasn’t even thinking about her and then suddenly I was.” He nodded and wisely said nothing. After a bit, Rage rubbed at her cheeks with both hands to ease the stiffness of the dried tears.

At that moment, one of the library monitors came round the stacks and gave them a long look. Rage knew her face must look as if she had been crying because the monitor approached to ask if anything was the matter. His eyes flicked suspiciously at Logan, who immediately stood up, bristling. “What are you looking at
me
for?”

“I wanted to know if everything was all right,” the monitor said evenly, though Logan towered over him.

“Everything’s fine,” Rage said firmly. “Really.”

The monitor hesitated, but then he shrugged. “If you say so.” The minute he was out of sight, the aggression faded from Logan’s features. Rage thought that Logan was as trapped by his bully form as much as Billy was trapped by his dog form.

Logan stopped at the door to the next class, but Rage persuaded him to go in. Everyone, including Mrs. Gosford, gaped when they walked in and sat together. Rage had to look down to stop from laughing aloud.

Mrs. Gosford began to speak, and Rage forced herself to pay attention. The teacher announced that everyone in class was to read the same piece aloud, one at a time, so that they could get the feel of the language. There were groans, a few from kids who had joined their class because of the shortage of teachers and who were supposed to be silent-reading.

They started. Some of the kids read badly, stumbling over the words, hesitating, and making mistakes, so if one hadn’t already heard it seven times, it would have been incomprehensible. Bit by bit, Rage saw the point of the exercise and so could most of the class. The repetition forced everyone to think about the meaning of the lines, even the dullest students. When the first student in the back row began to read, Logan shifted restively in his seat. Rage knew that he was about to make a fuss that would get him kicked out of the class.

She elbowed Logan, and when he leaned closer, she whispered, “You can do this just like everyone else.”

He glared at her. “Are you crazy? You know why I can’t,” he hissed.

“Yes you can!” she insisted. “You said you have a really good memory, and even
I
can remember the lines because we’ve heard them so many times. Now just
pretend
to read them.”

“Rage Winnoway, perhaps you would like to share your news with all of us?” Mrs. Gosford said. She hated students to be inattentive to a student who was reading.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Gosford,” Rage said penitently. The teacher’s eyes shifted to Logan, and fearing that she might suggest Rage’s behavior was degenerating because of the company she kept, Rage said quickly, “Logan forgot his book and I was just offering to let him use mine.”

Mrs. Gosford’s mouth all but fell open, but she collected herself and said mildly that perhaps Rage ought to read before passing the book on. Rage read badly because she was worried about what Logan would do. When she finished, she sat down and handed the book over without daring to look at him.

There was a long pause, and mentally Rage crossed her fingers.

Then Logan laid his fingers on the book and began to speak the lines without standing up. He was reading the part of a character called Bottom, who was playing the part of a donkey that had wandered into the forest and had got caught up in a magical competition between the king and queen of the fairies. It was meant to be funny, but it hadn’t been until Logan said the words. When kids in the class started laughing, he stopped and glared furiously about, but Rage hissed, “They’re laughing because you’re
good
!”

Logan’s tension faded and he looked about with dawning wonder, seeing that she was right. There was enough laughter that her comments and his hesitation went unnoticed, except by the teacher, who only nodded for him to go on. Logan read to the end of the speech, saying the lines perfectly except in one place, where Rage was able to prompt him softly. He finished to a storm of applause. Logan looked around, almost purple in the face with pride and scowling embarrassment. Rage had to laugh at his expression, and then at last he laughed, too, shaking his head.

“That was brilliant,” Mrs. Gosford said enthusiastically, waving her hands to quiet everyone down. “Logan, I had no idea you were hiding thespian talents.”

The class ended with students who normally steered clear of Logan slapping him fearlessly on the back and telling him how great he was. Mrs. Gosford kept Rage and Logan back, and when the others had gone, she wagged her finger at them.

“Don’t think I can’t guess what this is all about.”

Rage didn’t need to look at Logan to feel him tense up, but before he could react, Mrs. Gosford said, “You have been
rehearsing
the play together, haven’t you? I can’t tell you how impressed I am with both of you, and I shall say so in the end-of-term reports later in the month. I insist on seeing both of you next week at the play auditions.”

Rage muttered something noncommittal and hustled Logan out of the classroom. In the hall, students were milling around opening lockers, getting ready to go home. Several of them stopped Logan to tell him how they had liked his performance.

“I can’t go to that audition,” Logan said when they got to a passage that was relatively empty.

“Why not!” Rage protested. “Why shouldn’t you try out?”

“What are you talking about?” Logan demanded. There was an accusing note in his voice.

“You can learn the audition piece by heart,” she insisted warmly. “You’ve just shown what a great memory you have, and actors on stage don’t
read
lines. They learn them and then they say them from memory, just as you did in class.”

“I can’t remember a
whole play
!” Logan argued again.

“I bet you could if you tried, but you don’t have to. Try for the part of Bottom. It’s not that long. I can read the lines to you over and over, and you can learn them that way. We can start out by learning another of his speeches for our audition piece. There are even tapes of plays in the library, and I bet they have
A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
You can listen over and over. And there’s a film of it, too.”

Logan was staring at her, partly in hope and partly in apprehension. Rage decided not to press him to an actual agreement.
Let him think it through and see how easy it would be.
In a funny way, because of not being able to read, Logan had actually trained himself to learn just as real actors did.

Rage changed the subject, saying they ought to get to the library. Once there, she went to the shelves and got out
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe,
then she went into one of the little study rooms along the library wall. Logan followed her, closing the door, as she asked, with a puzzled frown. Rage sat down, opened the book, and began to read aloud. From the corner of her eye, she saw him pale then flush, then he looked around self-consciously. Finally, he sat stiffly, his arms crossed over his chest. Rage became engrossed in the story herself then and did not look up again until her voice was beginning to crack. Disappointment flitted across Logan’s face, but she pretended not to notice as she matter-of-factly closed the book, saying her uncle would arrive at any moment. Then she suggested checking out the audiotapes of both
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
and
A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
Logan’s eyes lit up before he shrugged and said casually, “Yeah, okay.”

A little while later they were outside in the icy air. Rage shivered, wondering again if the deadly winter in Valley was stealing into their world.

“Want my coat?” Logan offered.

Rage nodded, sensing that he was thanking her. But even the heavy jacket did not ease the cold. Fortunately, Uncle Samuel arrived and offered Logan a lift home. This time it was accepted at once. Billy sniffed Logan as he got in and wagged his tail in recognition.