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them."
"I know." Francis's voice was mournful. He held out his arms
theatrically and stared at them. "Sometimes I wonder if I am wrong. Sometimes
I think that I am a dream, the dream of a little boy named Francis Murray who
went looking for his dead mother one cool May evening." His voice grew
singsong as if he were reciting a poem. "I have lingered too long in this
enchanted world. I have become a dream, a shadow of the child I was, a ghost
of the man I would have been." He held his hands in front of him. They were
shaking. "Look, I have no more color than a ghost!"
He doesn't talk like a kid, Susannah thought. He talks like a grown-up.
She squinted. It seemed to her that there were two people standing by the ice
tree: a pale boy dressed in satin and lace and a tall man with blue eyes and
red hair.
"Susannah!" Danny said. "Use the stone."
Quickly Susannah grabbed the lucky stone. She pressed it against
Francis's outstretched arm.
Nothing happened. It did not change. "What is that?" Francis said.
"It's magic," Danny answered. "A witch gave it to us. If you had been a
dream person, it would have changed color."
Francis's blue eyes blazed. "You have magic?"
Susannah was embarrassed. "Not exactly."
"Of course you have magic! Will you take me with you when you leave?"
He caught her hand. "Christ! To leave this place, to see grass and trees, to
hear birds and smell a new-mown field and feel the night wind on my face -- "
He stopped. His face twisted as if he were going to cry. "I am sorry," he
whispered. "I have dreamed of this for so long -- "
Danny said, "I bet dream people don't dream."
Susannah asked, "Have you tried to leave? Do they stop you?"
"I tried to leave once. It's hard to find the way. I got as far as the
painted tunnel, but the colors hurt my eyes. And there are the harpies -- " He
bit his lip. "Perhaps I have been too long in the dreamworld, and cannot
leave. In the real world I would be a ghost."
"What are harpies?" Susannah asked. But Francis did not hear her.
"Stop talking about ghosts!" Danny said impatiently. She closed strong
fingers around Francis's forearm. Her hand was very dark against his pale
skin. "Can you feel that?"
"Yes."
"Then you're not a ghost. If you were a ghost my fingers would go
through you. Ghosts aren't solid."
"But what if I am a ghost outside?"
"Even if you are," Danny said, "wouldn't you rather be a ghost outside
than a prisoner here? You don't belong here."
Francis rubbed his face with the side of his hand. "Yes. You are right.
But I've been here so long. I don't remember the world beyond the Hill.
Everything will have changed. My father must be dead by now. Perhaps you know
of him? Thomas Murray of county Kinross. He's an under-sheriff."
Susannah looked at Danielle, who shrugged. "We're from San Francisco,"
Susannah said. "My father drives a bus."
"A bus?" Francis frowned. "I don't know what that is."
"Wow!" said Danny. "You've been here a long time."
How long? Susannah wondered. A hundred years? More?
Danny said, "You really want to leave?"
Francis squared his shoulders. "Yes. I do."
"Then we'll help you. We can lead you through the painted tunnel." She
looked at Susannah. "Right?" Susannah nodded. "But you have to help us find
Niall, Susannah's brother. This is Susannah."
"Hello," Susannah said. Francis put his right hand over his heart and
bowed. She curtseyed.
"I'm Danny. Now, you said you'd seen the Silver Horse come back from
outside awhile ago. Was there a small boy riding him?"
"I did not see one," Francis said. "But that does not mean there was no
boy. What does he look like, this boy?"
"This tall." Susannah held her hand palm down to show how tall Niall
was. "His eyes are blue, like yours but not so bright. His hair's yellow, and
it curls. And his ears stick out from his head." She pushed her own ears
forward to show how Niall's ears jutted through his hair. "He was wearing his
pajamas with the horses on them."
"Pa-ja-mas," repeated Francis. "What's that?"
"Clothes to wear to sleep."
"A nightshirt?"
"Sort of. With pictures of horses' heads on it. Blue."
Francis waved a hand at the white walls. His voice grew singsong.
"After a time in the dreamworld all things fade."
Susannah shivered. She imagined herself and Danny hunting through the
cracks and crannies of the icy cavern, looking for a little boy grown pale as
the walls. But Niall had not been _that_ long in the dreamworld. Neither she
nor Danielle had faded -- had they? She stared with terror at Danielle's
glossy black curls.
"What's the matter with you?" Danny said.
No, they hadn't faded, not one bit. Angry at herself for permitting
Francis to scare her, Susannah said, "Nothing. I was thinking about Niall. I'm
sure we can find him!"
"All _right_!" said Danielle.
Francis flushed. It brought real color to his pale cheeks and made him
look less like a dream person. "You have spirit," he said. "Where have you
looked for Niall?"
"We were going to start at that big icicle," said Danny.
A dark shadow glided over them. A horrible, harsh voice screamed.
Francis ducked. Shrilly he cried, "The harpies! Run! Hide!" He scrambled for
the shelter of a crevice.
Susannah looked up.
Three huge birds with leathery wings and human faces soared overhead.
Blood dripped from their mouths through dagger-like fangs. Their edged claws
reached for her. They stank, of old shoes and dead things and rooms that had
been opened once and never again.
Susannah crawled to the wall. The harpies' wings flapped, sending the
heavy smell toward her. They croaked at her derisively. Go away! Susannah
wanted to call to them. This isn't _your_ story.
But maybe it wasn't her story either. Shivering, she remembered the
bones in the painted tunnel. Had the harpies killed him? There were stories in
which the hero was killed and the monster won.
What if this were one of them?
The harpies gnashed their jaws together. Their wings beat. They hovered
nearer. Susannah hid her head under her arms.
"Go away!" said an angry voice. "Get out! Go!"
Susannah lifted her head from her arms.
Danielle knelt at her feet. She was holding the ice axe in both hands.
Its bird head pointed toward them. The blade was burning. "Get out!" she said,
and stood. Susannah could see her legs shaking.
The middle harpy screamed. Her foul breath eddied around them. Susannah
almost choked. It tasted of burning tires. There were tears on Danny's cheeks,
but she stayed on her feet, holding the burning ice axe out. The harpies
screamed, and circled, but they came no closer.
At last, with slow beats of their ponderous wings, they soared away.
Susannah waited. And waited. Her elbow stung. She had skinned it. The
harpies did not come back. Finally she stood. Her knees were shaking. "Danny.
That was wonderful." Her voice came out a croak.
Danny still held the ice axe in both hands. The blade had stopped
burning. "It worked," Danny said. "I didn't think it would." She lifted the
axe. "Did you see it? It was on fire!" She sagged against the wall. "Oh, wow.
I was scared."
"Yeah." Susannah gazed across the cavern. Would the harpies come back
now? Her stomach hurt to think about them. "You were really brave."
"I didn't know what else to do." Danielle slid the axe into its loop.
"If I hadn't had this -- I wonder what they would have done to us."
"Eaten us!" said Francis, levering himself out of the crack in which he
had hidden.
"What?"
"Yes." Francis nodded. "They eat humans. They are terrible." He bowed
to Danny. "You were brave, lady. You saved us."
Danny shook her head. "The axe saved us."
"What if they find my brother?" Susannah said. "He's only a little boy.
Will they eat him?"
"They might if they could," Francis said. "But the Silver Horse brought [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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them."
"I know." Francis's voice was mournful. He held out his arms
theatrically and stared at them. "Sometimes I wonder if I am wrong. Sometimes
I think that I am a dream, the dream of a little boy named Francis Murray who
went looking for his dead mother one cool May evening." His voice grew
singsong as if he were reciting a poem. "I have lingered too long in this
enchanted world. I have become a dream, a shadow of the child I was, a ghost
of the man I would have been." He held his hands in front of him. They were
shaking. "Look, I have no more color than a ghost!"
He doesn't talk like a kid, Susannah thought. He talks like a grown-up.
She squinted. It seemed to her that there were two people standing by the ice
tree: a pale boy dressed in satin and lace and a tall man with blue eyes and
red hair.
"Susannah!" Danny said. "Use the stone."
Quickly Susannah grabbed the lucky stone. She pressed it against
Francis's outstretched arm.
Nothing happened. It did not change. "What is that?" Francis said.
"It's magic," Danny answered. "A witch gave it to us. If you had been a
dream person, it would have changed color."
Francis's blue eyes blazed. "You have magic?"
Susannah was embarrassed. "Not exactly."
"Of course you have magic! Will you take me with you when you leave?"
He caught her hand. "Christ! To leave this place, to see grass and trees, to
hear birds and smell a new-mown field and feel the night wind on my face -- "
He stopped. His face twisted as if he were going to cry. "I am sorry," he
whispered. "I have dreamed of this for so long -- "
Danny said, "I bet dream people don't dream."
Susannah asked, "Have you tried to leave? Do they stop you?"
"I tried to leave once. It's hard to find the way. I got as far as the
painted tunnel, but the colors hurt my eyes. And there are the harpies -- " He
bit his lip. "Perhaps I have been too long in the dreamworld, and cannot
leave. In the real world I would be a ghost."
"What are harpies?" Susannah asked. But Francis did not hear her.
"Stop talking about ghosts!" Danny said impatiently. She closed strong
fingers around Francis's forearm. Her hand was very dark against his pale
skin. "Can you feel that?"
"Yes."
"Then you're not a ghost. If you were a ghost my fingers would go
through you. Ghosts aren't solid."
"But what if I am a ghost outside?"
"Even if you are," Danny said, "wouldn't you rather be a ghost outside
than a prisoner here? You don't belong here."
Francis rubbed his face with the side of his hand. "Yes. You are right.
But I've been here so long. I don't remember the world beyond the Hill.
Everything will have changed. My father must be dead by now. Perhaps you know
of him? Thomas Murray of county Kinross. He's an under-sheriff."
Susannah looked at Danielle, who shrugged. "We're from San Francisco,"
Susannah said. "My father drives a bus."
"A bus?" Francis frowned. "I don't know what that is."
"Wow!" said Danny. "You've been here a long time."
How long? Susannah wondered. A hundred years? More?
Danny said, "You really want to leave?"
Francis squared his shoulders. "Yes. I do."
"Then we'll help you. We can lead you through the painted tunnel." She
looked at Susannah. "Right?" Susannah nodded. "But you have to help us find
Niall, Susannah's brother. This is Susannah."
"Hello," Susannah said. Francis put his right hand over his heart and
bowed. She curtseyed.
"I'm Danny. Now, you said you'd seen the Silver Horse come back from
outside awhile ago. Was there a small boy riding him?"
"I did not see one," Francis said. "But that does not mean there was no
boy. What does he look like, this boy?"
"This tall." Susannah held her hand palm down to show how tall Niall
was. "His eyes are blue, like yours but not so bright. His hair's yellow, and
it curls. And his ears stick out from his head." She pushed her own ears
forward to show how Niall's ears jutted through his hair. "He was wearing his
pajamas with the horses on them."
"Pa-ja-mas," repeated Francis. "What's that?"
"Clothes to wear to sleep."
"A nightshirt?"
"Sort of. With pictures of horses' heads on it. Blue."
Francis waved a hand at the white walls. His voice grew singsong.
"After a time in the dreamworld all things fade."
Susannah shivered. She imagined herself and Danny hunting through the
cracks and crannies of the icy cavern, looking for a little boy grown pale as
the walls. But Niall had not been _that_ long in the dreamworld. Neither she
nor Danielle had faded -- had they? She stared with terror at Danielle's
glossy black curls.
"What's the matter with you?" Danny said.
No, they hadn't faded, not one bit. Angry at herself for permitting
Francis to scare her, Susannah said, "Nothing. I was thinking about Niall. I'm
sure we can find him!"
"All _right_!" said Danielle.
Francis flushed. It brought real color to his pale cheeks and made him
look less like a dream person. "You have spirit," he said. "Where have you
looked for Niall?"
"We were going to start at that big icicle," said Danny.
A dark shadow glided over them. A horrible, harsh voice screamed.
Francis ducked. Shrilly he cried, "The harpies! Run! Hide!" He scrambled for
the shelter of a crevice.
Susannah looked up.
Three huge birds with leathery wings and human faces soared overhead.
Blood dripped from their mouths through dagger-like fangs. Their edged claws
reached for her. They stank, of old shoes and dead things and rooms that had
been opened once and never again.
Susannah crawled to the wall. The harpies' wings flapped, sending the
heavy smell toward her. They croaked at her derisively. Go away! Susannah
wanted to call to them. This isn't _your_ story.
But maybe it wasn't her story either. Shivering, she remembered the
bones in the painted tunnel. Had the harpies killed him? There were stories in
which the hero was killed and the monster won.
What if this were one of them?
The harpies gnashed their jaws together. Their wings beat. They hovered
nearer. Susannah hid her head under her arms.
"Go away!" said an angry voice. "Get out! Go!"
Susannah lifted her head from her arms.
Danielle knelt at her feet. She was holding the ice axe in both hands.
Its bird head pointed toward them. The blade was burning. "Get out!" she said,
and stood. Susannah could see her legs shaking.
The middle harpy screamed. Her foul breath eddied around them. Susannah
almost choked. It tasted of burning tires. There were tears on Danny's cheeks,
but she stayed on her feet, holding the burning ice axe out. The harpies
screamed, and circled, but they came no closer.
At last, with slow beats of their ponderous wings, they soared away.
Susannah waited. And waited. Her elbow stung. She had skinned it. The
harpies did not come back. Finally she stood. Her knees were shaking. "Danny.
That was wonderful." Her voice came out a croak.
Danny still held the ice axe in both hands. The blade had stopped
burning. "It worked," Danny said. "I didn't think it would." She lifted the
axe. "Did you see it? It was on fire!" She sagged against the wall. "Oh, wow.
I was scared."
"Yeah." Susannah gazed across the cavern. Would the harpies come back
now? Her stomach hurt to think about them. "You were really brave."
"I didn't know what else to do." Danielle slid the axe into its loop.
"If I hadn't had this -- I wonder what they would have done to us."
"Eaten us!" said Francis, levering himself out of the crack in which he
had hidden.
"What?"
"Yes." Francis nodded. "They eat humans. They are terrible." He bowed
to Danny. "You were brave, lady. You saved us."
Danny shook her head. "The axe saved us."
"What if they find my brother?" Susannah said. "He's only a little boy.
Will they eat him?"
"They might if they could," Francis said. "But the Silver Horse brought [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]