Violet Wings Page 15

  "What for?"

  To look for Sam and Jenna's father. "Something I promised to do. But it won't take long at all. I'll hurry."

  "Guard your wand, Zaree. Spies could be anywhere."

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  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  HUMANS HAVE COME TO RELY UPON AN INCREASING NUMBER OF MACHINES FOR PURPOSES OF TRANS PORTATION. THESE MACHINES ARE CAPABLE OF MOVING

  AT HIGH SPEEDS, SOMETIMES EXCEEDING THE VELOCITY OF FEY FOLK AT FULL POWER. ACCIDENTS INVOLVING THESE MACHINES HAVE BECOME MORE AND MORE FREQUENT.

  --Orville Gold, genie historian of Feyland

  The thought of spies made the air around me seem to buzz with phantoms. I tapped my head. "Verita sil nos mertos elemen." I didn't want to continue using up radia, but what choice did I have?

  I remembered what Leona had said about locating Jason Court. "I had to go to an old broken-down viewing station beside the Malachite Towers."

  I could get to the Malachite Towers quickly, by using two transports.

  I went through the Zinnia Portal. From there I transported straight to the Cornfield Portal. There I paused before going into Feyland.

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  It was time to draw the best protection I could imagine. I closed my eyes and thought carefully until I was satisfied that I could create a spell that would protect my wand wherever I went or whatever I did.

  I didn't believe the councilors who had told us that our wands were safe from all magic except our own--or a spell of disclosure.

  "No spells but mine can affect this wand," I said. "Ad eternum. Forever and always."

  Magic swirled through the little stylus in my hand as the spell took hold.

  Once more, I infused to Level 100 and enunciated clearly. "Any harmful spell cast upon me will rebound upon the one casting it and have no effect upon me. Ad eternum. Forever and always."

  I wanted to check my watch to see how much radia I had spent, but it was too dark to see. It didn't matter anyway. I would have protected myself whatever the cost.

  Steadying my wings, I stepped through the Cornfield Portal into the Golden Station. From there, I transported to the dingy Malachite Towers in Oberon City.

  I snooped around until I found an old, run-down viewing station. Inside, a genie with greenish skin and black hair stood morosely watching the booths. The glass doors were webbed with cracks, and what little I could see of the scopes showed tarnished, dented instruments.

  A yawning fairy with mottled brown wings floated in

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  after me. She crossed the chipped tile floor to the attendant. "Evening, Seth. I hope the scopes are working better than they were during my last visit. Night is best for watching my godchild." She sniffed. "She looks better asleep than at any other time."

  The genie grunted. "A fine way to talk about your godchild, Shirelle."

  She shrugged. "What does it matter? I couldn't help her even if she needed me. I'm a Red, remember?" She drifted toward a viewing booth, muttering as she went.

  A stout genie in ragged robes stuck his head out of one of the other booths. "Seth," he said with irritation. "My scope is so blurry I can't see my boy."

  Seth sighed. "I keep asking the Council for an infusion, but they can't be bothered." He clenched a fist. "That high and mighty Morganite fairy was here last month. Paraded her wand like it was Velleron's scepter and gave us an infusion of fifty radia. The scopes didn't improve one jot."

  At the mention of that high and mighty Morganite, the stout genie hastily left.

  "Will the Council listen to me? No." Seth kept grumbling, though I was the only one left to hear and he didn't know I was there. "This station's falling down around my ears. And me paying my radia tax faithfully." He sounded more and more aggrieved. "They don't forget that, now do they?"

  The ragged genie had left the door to the vacant booth ajar. I darted inside. The booth was clean, but the dented

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  scope creaked when I adjusted the eyepiece.

  Peering through the scope, I whispered Michael Seabolt's name. The view was a hazy blur. I gripped my wand. "Focus," I ordered the scope, but it didn't respond. I fiddled with every knob, trying to clear the image. Nothing helped.

  How was I going to find Sam's father? If I went to a better station, all the booths would be filled.

  I glanced around the shabby walls, an idea dawning. Seth had said this station needed radia. What if Igave it an infusion, enough to fix the broken scopes?

  I crept into a corner and waited until my latest invisibility expired. Then I approached Seth. "Excuse me," I said.

  His eyes looked like diamond disks, an odd contrast to the sickly color of his skin. "Yes?"

  "Uh, I notice your station needs to be refreshed."

  He grunted. "You noticed, eh? Very observant of you."

  "If I wanted to give your station a radia infusion, how would I do it?" I tried to sound nonchalant.

  Seth wiggled his green ears. "You? Give us radia?"

  "How much would you need?"

  He chewed his lip. "To get the lenses in working order, a full degree of orange."

  "A hundred radia? How much to mend everything?"

  The genie snorted. "Another hundred."

  "What's the spell? And what level?"

  He chuckled. "Spell was set forth long ago by the Ancients. Simple infusion is all it takes to refresh." He turned

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  to the wall behind him and gave it a pat. "Infusion port."

  I looked closely. One of the malachite bricks was carved into the image of a crown. It held a notch for the tip of a wand.

  So this was an infusion port. I drew my wand.

  When Seth saw my stylus, he swung himself in front of me, blocking the port. "A newfangled wand. Unchanged. You're a Red. Can't allow a Red to give up any radia. Besides, you're too young to be here at all."

  "I'm not Red. I haven't changed my wand, but I'm--" I stopped. I had almost said it: I'm Violet.

  "Can't let you do this." The genie set his feet a little farther apart.

  The brown-winged fairy called out. "Seth, help me with this worthless scope!"

  Seth shook a finger at me before going to help the fairy. The instant his back was turned, I pressed the tip of my wand into the notch on the wall. It was easy enough. A small square window next to the port lit up, showing the number of radia I was giving. The numbers spun faster and faster as I poured two hundred radia out of my wand.

  The change in the station was instantaneous. Cracks in the doors vanished, and scopes shone flawlessly. The floor tiles became as smooth and clean as if they'd been laid the day before. Chips and pocks disappeared from the walls.

  I can't describe the elation I felt. At last, my magic had done something good, something that would last longer than a day, something many could enjoy.

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  Astonished shouts erupted. "Trolls and pixies, who turned up the radia?"

  Seth whirled around and gaped at me. Smiling, I rushed past him into a vacant booth. The door had a heavy latch, which I fastened behind me before squinting into the eyepiece of the newly repaired scope.

  "Show me Michael Seabolt," I said eagerly.

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  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  FAIRIES AND GENIES WHOSE LIVES ARE DRAWING TO A close may decide to transfer the remainder of their radia reserves to another. if this is not done, the amount of radia left unused at the time of death disappears forever.

  --Orville Gold, genie historian of Feyland

  The man I saw through the scope had fiery red hair plastered to his head in lank strands. His eyes were dark hazel, his skin sunburned and freckled. He was walking through a moonlit landscape, looking into the distance. Rocks and sand and a few scrubby plants were his only companions.

  A gash on his forehead was covered with crusted blood.

  When I reached out to read Michael Seabolt's nature, I didn't think about the strict laws against using magic on behalf of a grown person. I thought o
nly of Sam and Jenna, of how they missed their father and wanted him to come home.

  And I made a startling discovery. Michael Seabolt had forgotten who he was. He'd forgotten his wife and his children and the place where he lived.

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  My first thought was that he might have stumbled upon a crowd of genies who had put him under a strong enchantment to keep him from remembering what he'd seen. But the longer I viewed Sam's father, the less I believed it was magic that had deprived him of memory.

  I stared at the wound on his head and then noticed that one of his arms hung stiffly, the elbow twisted. He looked overly thin. How long had he been missing? I didn't know.

  How had Michael Seabolt come to be alone in such desolate country? And how could I tell Sam his father was injured, unable to remember him?

  At least this man was alive.

  He probably needed to eat. And if I had known how to find an Earth portal close to where he was, I could have found some human food and taken it to him.

  But I didn't know how to find other portals. In fact, I was discovering just how litde I knew about everything. I thought of Meteor, studying in the library. He had always understood how much there was to learn. I wished I could ask for his help now.

  I heard raps on the door to the booth but didn't look away from Earth. I had to do something for Michael Seabolt, but what?

  There were spells to make a human forget. Maybe I could cast a spell to help a human remember.

  Why had he lost his memory in the first place? If it was

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  because of the wound on his head, I would not be able to help him. No spells could heal a physical injury. But what if his memory loss were due to something else?

  Looking at his sunburned face, I began to feel as if I walked beside him. I could almost hear his feet on the barren ground, almost smell the quiet night around him. I sensed the confusion in his mind and the pain in his heart.

  He had seen something. Something terrible. What if he had lost his memory, not because of the gash on his head but because of what he had seen?

  When my parents and Jett disappeared, the pain had been so great I'd shoved it far down in my heart and never let any of it out until the day I turned fourteen. For years, I had refused to talk about my parents or my brother, avoided their rooms, turned them into vague memories I seldom saw and never tried to find.

  Maybe Michael Seabolt had pushed his good memories into a place far inside himself along with the terrible memory of what he'd witnessed.

  I had to try to help him. The scope I was using had a port for sending gifts to human children. I could use it to send a spell to Sam's father.

  Not knowing what level would be needed, I infused my wand all the way to the end, and then slid the narrow tip of my stylus into the sending port.

  "Remember yourself," I said. "Remember your family."

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  The rapping on the booth became loud knocking.

  I leaned into the viewer and saw Sam's father fall to the ground.

  I snatched my wand out of the port. What had I done? Had I sent too much magic?

  Knocking changed to pounding. It seemed the booth would shatter, but I wouldn't turn away. I watched the red-haired man get slowly to his knees. He clasped his hands and bowed his head. His lips moved silently. Tears stood in his eyes, but he was smiling.

  I faced the door. A small crowd of fairies and genies hovered behind Seth, who was beating on the glass.

  I hurried to unlatch the booth. Seth threw open the door.

  "Who are you?" he asked. "And who sent you?"

  Without thinking I held up my stylus, and Seth backed away.

  "No one sent me," I answered.

  I didn't have to push through the crowd; everyone made way. As I glided toward the exit, they all looked at me as if I were Queen Velleron herself.

  "But who are you?" Seth called after me.

  "No one," I called back, and dashed out of the viewing station.

  Before Seth or anyone else could gather their wits to follow me, I laid another invisibility spell on myself. Then I took

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  to the air, flying low toward the Golden Station.

  I wanted to see Sam's face when I told him about his father.

  Emerging through the Cornfield Portal, I breathed in the cool, dark air of Earth, the sweet scent of corn plants with their dusky crowns of silk, faintly golden in the moonlight.

  But I had not come back to Earth to look at corn. I glanced at my watch. Close to midnight! How fast the time had gone.

  "Transera nos," I said, visualizing Sam's house.

  He was sitting on the steps of his porch, head buried in his arms. An old blanket draped his shoulders. Seeing him that way reminded me of how I'd felt when my parents had first disappeared.

  "Sam," I whispered as I approached.

  He lifted his head. "Zaria?"

  "You can't see me, but I'm here."

  He stood. A small breeze touched his hair.

  I drew close to him. "I found your father. He had lost his memory, but I gave it back. He's on his way home."

  I didn't know that for sure, but where else would Michael Seabolt be going, now that he had his memory again?

  "On his way home? "The blanket fell from Sam's shoulders as he stood straighter. "Are you sure?" He put out a hand, and I took it.

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  The porch light flickered. The door of Sam's house opened, and he let go of my hand.

  His mother stood framed in the doorway. "Sam? What are you doing?"

  It took him a moment to answer. "Nothing," he said.

  "Jenna's awake and won't stop crying. She's asking for you. Will you calm her down?"

  "Be right there." Sam stooped to pick up the blanket. When he straightened, he looked at the spot where I stood, his eyes focused on a point just slightly to my left. "Thank you," he said.

  His mother held the door wide. I reached out and brushed Sam's face. "Good-bye," I whispered, so lightly it was little more than a tremor in the air.

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  CHAPTER FORTY

  TROLLS ARE THE MOST FEARED CREATURES OF TLRFEYNE, DESPITE THE FACT THAT THEY ARE SAID TO BE GREGARIOUS AND FUN-LOVING WHEN THEY ARE TOGETHER.

  TALLER THAN THE TALLEST OF GENIES, TROLLS HAVE STRENGTH TO MATCH THEIR STATURE. THEY EAT THE putch that grows plentifully in the swamp of swillich, a vast territory withintroll country, it has also been reported that they have no OBJECTION TO EATING OTHER LIVING THINGS. It HAS

  EVEN BEEN RUMORED THAT TROLLS WILL CONSUME THE FLESH OF HUMANS, BUT THIS IS UNVERIFIED.

  VISITORS TO TROLL COUNTRY ARE NOT WELCOME, AND THEREFORE IT IS DIFFICULT TO LEARN MUCH ABOUT THEM FIRSTHAND.

  THE MOST FRIGHTENING CHARACTERISTIC OF TROLLS IS THAT THEY ARE UTTERLY UNPREDICTABLE. THEY ARE ALSO EXTRAVAGANTLY RICH IN MAGIC AND VERY SECRETIVE ABOUT THEIR MAGICAL METHODS.

  --Orville Gold, genie historian of Feyland

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  I sped through the Zinnia Portal into Galena at the stroke of midnight, just as my invisibility expired. I looked around for Leona.

  "Zaria?" someone said.

  It was not the voice I expected.

  I peered through the night at a looming shadow floating toward me. "Meteor?"

  "It's me." Starlight gave his eyes a strange gleam and shone on the stripes in his hair.

  The last time I had seen Meteor, he had been so angry I'd doubted we could stay friends. What was he doing here?

  "They've caught Leona," he said. "And they're looking for you."

  I felt unable to speak. Caught Leona? How?

  I remembered the rush of genie feet when Leona and I were talking. "You," I said. "You were the spy!" I drew my wand, unfurling my wings and lifting into the air.

  "Wait!" Meteor cried, rising with me.

  I tapped my head. "Verita--"

  Lightning quick, his hand shot out and grabbed my wand.

  My heart burned, and my throat seemed stuffed with ashes
. Meteor, my friend since childhood, had taken my wand!

  I didn't even try to fight him. I sank downward, barely catching myself before landing on the ground.

  Meteor followed. "Zaria," he said huskily.

  I wouldn't look at him.

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  "It's true that I eavesdropped on you and Leona."

  I ventured a glance at his face. His dark skin blended with the night, and I couldn't see his expression.

  He talked faster. "When you told Leona I was under a layered enchantment, I didn't believe you. But because we'd been friends for so long . . ." His chest rose in a heavy sigh. "I went to my mentor, and he told me how to overcome layered enchantments. That's how I know it wasn't you who put a spell on me."

  Then Meteor Zircon did something I would never have expected. He went down on his knees. "Take back your wand," he said. "I took it to make you stay and listen."

  My hand closed around the simple stylus, the slender key to my power. As the glow of my magic filled me again, I wanted to cry. I didn't, though. I swallowed the ashy lump in my throat.

  "Get up, Meteor," I said.

  He got to his feet. "Zaria, the drink Beryl served had layers dissolved in it. I'm not enchanted anymore. I'm sorry. I didn't know a spell could make me--" He stopped.

  "Make you hate me?" I asked softly.

  He sighed again. "On my way to see my mentor, I thought you were nothing but a liar and a sneak. And when I was asking him about layers, I felt as if something had hold of my mind; it was like trying to talk while asleep."

  I remembered the sticky haze that had covered me the day I fled from Lily's apartment, and I sympathized.

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  Meteor's voice dropped. "But when I found the layers and reversed them, I understood. I hope you never have to find layered magic in yourself, Zaria. There's great pain when it's revealed." He sounded sickened. "I'm so sorry."

  I shuddered. "But if it could happen to you, it could happen to any of us." I grabbed his arm. "When layered magic is revealed, do you know who cast it?"

  "Yes," he said. "Lily Morganite was behind the spells laced in the tea Beryl served."

  Now I knew for sure. "Did Lily ask you to spy, too?"