Milo and the Dragon Cross Page 4

  “I...sort of didn’t have a choice,” Analisa said. “I came with my mentoress, and when I got here I decided that it was my big chance.”

  “Then,” the woman began in a hesitant, shocked voice, “you didn’t come to the Kingdom of Odalese on your own?”

  Milo heard the unease behind the question. Analisa was quick to answer.

  “Oh yes. I...found my own way.”

  There must have been more to the answer than that, but she didn’t offer it.

  The man turned to Milo. “What about you? How did you come to the Kingdom of Odalese? Was it an ambition like your friend’s?”

  “I really don’t know,” Milo answered.

  “You don’t know? Where did you hear about it? When did you decide to come?”

  “I didn’t. I was just sort of thinking, imagining what a magical scavenger hunt might be like, and then I was here.”

  The man and his wife traded glances. Analisa stared at Milo, a question held in check. Milo felt put on the spot without knowing why, or what they expected him to say. He glanced at Bori, hoping the cat might come to his rescue, but Bori was curled up into a neat ball in front of the kitchen fire, paws tucked in at the four corners and his tail wrapping up the package.

  “Are you trained in sorcery?” the man asked Milo, as if posing a sensitive question.

  “No. We don’t have anything like that where I come from,” said Milo. “Nobody believes in it.”

  They all looked at one another in amazement.

  “How can you expect to win, then?” the woman asked.

  “I guess I don’t,” Milo answered, thinking of this for the very first time. “I just expect to have an adventure.”

  Either his answer was that good, or it was so shocking, that it ended the conversation. The man and woman quickly changed the subject to other things and were careful to stay on safe subjects.

  Finally Milo and Analisa decided that the time was right to thank their hosts and take their leave. When they were outside in the street again, Analisa sprang the question she’d held back.

  “Was that the truth you told them in there, or were you just being coy?” she demanded.

  Milo had Bori on his shoulder, and the cat was purring with the luxury of not having to walk under his own steam. “What do you mean?” Milo asked.

  “About coming here without even knowing about the Hunt,” she insisted.

  “Sure it was the truth,” he said, annoyed at her accusation. “Nobody at home has ever even dreamed of a thing like this, about a place like the Kingdom of Odalese or the Magical Scavenger Hunt. I still don’t have a clue what it is.”

  That seemed to silence her. So now it was his turn. “What did you mean when you told them that you got here on your own? Did you come with Aulaires or didn’t you?”

  “You have to get here on your own to be considered a contestant. You know that much. I wanted to come here, and I secretly planned to come, without Aulaires. But she decided to join the Hunt, and I had no choice but to come along with her. So maybe technically she brought me, but since I’d planned to come anyway, I really came on my own.”

  “And so that makes it sort of problematic,” he observed. “Since technically you’re her apprentice.”

  “So I’m her apprentice,” Analisa said defensively. “I shouldn’t say this, but I think she knew I was planning on coming, and she tricked me into bringing her instead of the other way around.”

  “Then she shouldn’t be here at all! She’s the one who shouldn’t be a contestant.”

  “Shhh! Don’t say that. You have to understand the sort of magic Aulaires uses. She’s a very powerful witch, and vengeful. She would turn you into a toad in an instant if she heard you say that. Forget what I told you and don’t dare ever say a word to anyone about it.”

  “All right, I promise,” Milo said.

  “And another thing I should tell you about Aulaires and her magic. She gets other people to do things for her. It’s her special skill.”

  “What sorts of things?”

  “Anything she wants that you can provide. That depends on you and whether she wants something or not. She got her hooks into you already this afternoon when you stared at her like a fool.”

  Milo felt stupid again. He wished that he hadn’t made all these blunders. He knew that Analisa thought he was an idiot, and he really wished that she would think he was cool.

  When they reached the park, Analisa blurted, “Why did you help me out this afternoon?”

  “Because they weren’t going to let you enter, although I really don’t understand why. That was unfair.” Milo was proud about what he had done, and he hoped Analisa would think so, too. It hurt his feelings that she didn’t.

  “Milo, I can’t lose this contest,” she told him. It was not at all what he thought she would say. “So don’t expect me to help you out. Besides, you said you really think you couldn’t win anyway.” She turned away to go.

  Where she would go, he had no idea, and maybe she didn’t either. She could hardly expect Aulaires to share her tent with her. But that was Analisa’s business, Milo decided. He turned away so he wouldn’t see where she went.

  Camping out without equipment isn’t much fun even in warm weather. Milo missed his bed. Even if the night wasn’t very chilly, he wished a thousand times for his pillow and a blanket. The ground underneath the picnic table was cold and studded with rocks, or at least it felt that way. Bori slept in Milo’s arms, which was uncomfortable in one way, but the cat was warm, and that helped in another way.

  In the early morning, when Bori left to take care of his feline affairs, Milo got up, too. There just wasn’t any point in trying to sleep.

  He wandered up the streets of the town, incredulous that he had spent only twenty-four hours there. It seemed like weeks and weeks. His old life seemed more like a story that someone had told him rather than something he had lived day by day for fifteen years. Except for specific details, like a bed or a blanket and pillow or the smell of coffee that his mother would be making in the kitchen as he awoke, his “other life” was rapidly slipping into a never-never land of nostalgic memory.

  The streets of the town faced him with the same doorlessness that had greeted him the morning before, along with the same uncertain prospect of breakfast. Wondering how he might get something to eat occupied most of his thoughts as he wandered higher up the streets. Suddenly he became aware of a sound. From faint, indistinct fragments of tones, the call strengthened into quavering music. He followed it into a ruined garden, a neglected labyrinth within broken walls.

  As he came out onto the top of the hill, the notes became a long, lonely, drawn-out melody of a single flute. Sunrise had begun with color washing into the sky and melting downward, turning gray-toned leaves to green and illuminating lichen-patterned stone walls. The scent of lilac drifted into the air, as if released by the fresh light of the sun. It reminded him of his grandmother’s garden.

  He found himself inside an ancient and deserted citadel. Passing through a once-proud arch, he was led on by the call of the flute. Then he stopped, caught by a yearning so keen that it brought tears to his eyes.

  The sound of the flute stopped, too. Milo looked around. The sky was now soft blue and rose. Sunlight gilded the ragged tops of the citadel’s crumbling turrets and roofless cornices. He saw no one. The entire world could have been emptied of people, leaving him as the last. The yearning pooled in his heart in a formless sadness.

  “You are the penniless boy who would win the Hunt,” a deep male voice said, seemingly from nowhere.

  Milo spun around. A lone figure, his tawny cloak pulled carelessly over hunter green clothes, sat cross-legged on the rampart wall. A wooden flute dangled in his fingers.

  “Who? I—” Milo stammered.

  The man laughed gently, a low and warming chuckle. It soothed Milo’s homesickness.

  “A boy who professes no magical training yet joins the ranks of the finest mages, drawn here by magic
itself. Aren’t you magical, Milo?”

  “How do you know my name?” Milo asked.

  “I read the paper,” the man answered. “Everyone knows who you are. ‘The Boy Mage,’ ‘the stealth contestant.’ And, of course, the ‘Thirteenth.’ They don’t know what to think of you, Milo.”

  Milo didn’t know what to think of this, either, so he said nothing.

  The man unfolded himself and sprang down, all in one flowing motion not unlike a cat. He landed on the grass so lightly that it appeared his feet didn’t bend a single blade.

  “What do you know about the Magical Scavenger Hunt, Milo?” he asked, looking into Milo’s eyes. His features were tanned and weathered, his cheekbones lean and his nose aquiline. His eyes were deep and dark, sheltered under thick eyebrows but filled with warmth. His long hair, swirling in a dark mass around his head, was charged with a vitality of its own. Milo felt he should be suspicious of this man, but he wasn’t.

  “I called you here so that we could talk,” he said. “You see, I participated in the Hunt myself once and have some knowledge of what you’ll be facing. Since you know nothing—profess to know nothing, anyway—about the Hunt, I thought you might like an opportunity to talk to someone who knows something.”

  Milo considered this offer, but he was still doubtful.

  “For a boy with no magical training...”

  “That was in the paper, too, I guess,” Milo commented.

  “Actually, I got that from your host of last night. He’s worried about you, you see. He likes you and he knows it’s a hard trial, with many ordeals and sharp competitors. But you can win.”

  “How?”

  “That’s up to you, Milo. You might say that it’s part of the test. But I believe that you have some advantages if you learn to use them. What others believe to be their best credentials can sometimes prove to be handicaps.”

  “Who are you?” Milo asked.

  “A wise question. My name is Tinburkin. At your service.”

  “ ‘At your service.’ That’s what Bori said when he introduced himself,” Milo observed. “Is that a polite way to give your name here in the Kingdom of Odalese?”

  “Some might use it that way, but it’s a statement of purpose. Boriboreau is a valuable ally. You were wise to take him on. He’s a cat of substance.”

  “You know Bori?”

  “We’ve met. But let’s get back to you and your place in the Hunt as the thirteenth. Why did you pick that number?”

  “I didn’t. It just came out that way.”

  “The paper said you chose it.”

  “Don’t believe everything you read in the papers,” Milo advised. “Analisa was going to be the last one, and they said she couldn’t because she’s a witch. I don’t get why that’s important, but I’m not a witch, so I let her register before I did, which made her twelve and me thirteen. So what?”

  “That’s why I wanted to talk with you,” Tinburkin said, his features stern.

  All of a sudden, everything Milo didn’t know and didn’t understand settled on him like a huge pile of stones. He felt defeated. How could he hope to do anything in all of this? How could he even presume that he could do something as unlikely as this? Why was he here?

  “I don’t know why I’m here,” he said, exhausted.

  “Do you remember how you got here?” Tinburkin asked him with a surgical intent in his voice.

  “I was just thinking about a fantasy scavenger hunt. What it would be like and everything.”

  “Keep doing that. You’ll find yourself in various situations. Keep imagining what you could do with them. Today is the start of the Hunt. The mayor will announce the first challenge. Each contestant will devise his or her own strategy to solve it. You come up with your own strategy, and when you find the first clue, it will suggest what the next one might be. Just like getting here in the first place. You shouldn’t follow or copy another contestant. Whatever you come up with is as likely as what another contestant might interpret. Sure, each one of them will believe that his or her decipherment is best, or even the only one. You can believe the same, if you like. Just believe in yourself. Remember how magic works in the Kingdom of Odalese. Use your imagination.”

  “But I don’t have any idea how magic works!” Milo said emphatically.

  “How did you get here?” Tinburkin reminded.

  “I imagined.”

  Tinburkin grinned. “Exactly. Was it magic?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Then you know. Stay with that. You’ll do fine if you don’t start relying on somebody else’s ideas. Use your own.”

  Tinburkin laid his hand lightly on Milo’s shoulder. “Have you had breakfast?”

  “No.”

  They went down the hill together into town, to one of the cafés on the square. Boriboreau was waiting there as if by prearrangement. Tinburkin ordered for all of them. They ate, and then Tinburkin was off. “Business to attend to,” he explained. “Don’t worry about the bill. It’s been worked out. After the article in the paper yesterday, I expect that every shopkeeper in town will back you, and you don’t even have to wear their logos. Good luck!” He vanished around the corner in a few long strides.

  “Who is he?” Milo asked Bori.

  “Didn’t he tell you? He’s Tinburkin,” Bori said, and went back to washing his paws. Milo knew better than to inquire further.

  Bori urged Milo back down to the park. Since dawn, it had been transformed. Brightly colored banners fluttered everywhere, and a grandstand, now crowded with people, was in place. Milo wondered how everything could have been put into place so quickly. But then he remembered the doors that weren’t there until they were needed, so he guessed that the grandstand was a similar thing.

  In the middle of the park, in front of the grandstands was a platform flanked by banners with all sorts of designs, crests, and symbols. Milo didn’t recognize any of them or know what they signified. But judging by the official-looking people on the podium, he assumed that they stood for their organizations and whatever else was involved in the Hunt.

  “See the person at the middle?” Bori pointed out a tall woman with long, raven-black hair. It was streaked with silver at the crown. She brushed this forelock from her face from time to time, as if it insisted on having the best place for whatever she was doing. Her dress was black velvet trimmed in silver. “That’s the mayor.”

  Milo looked around at the rest of the assembly. He could see Ali-Sembek, resplendent in silks and brocade and a crimson and gold turban. His winged steed had been brushed until his coat glistened like darkened bronze. Count Yeroen, as grandly dressed as Ali, was talking cordially with Aulaires, who was more arrayed than clothed, causing Milo to shift his eyes away from, then to, then away again until he picked out Analisa some distance away. He felt a pang of something. He didn’t know quite what it was, so he decided that it was sadness or just disappointment.

  Analisa was alone, and Milo thought she looked a bit dejected. She was dressed just as she had been the last time he saw her, and he wondered if she’d had breakfast. He would have liked to go over and ask, but then he thought she wouldn’t want him to talk to her. That definitely made him feel sad.

  Closer to where he and Bori waited, Milo saw Tivik pacing like a wild animal, his eyes shifting about nervously. He appeared to be watching a statuesque black woman who was dressed in a swirl of colors, her mane a vigorous coil of dreadlocks.

  “That’s Obeah Reah,” Bori told him, noticing the direction of his gaze. “She’s skilled in the art of prognostication, and it’s said that she can bring the dead back to life.”

  Bori continued his commentary, moving Milo’s attention to the next contestant, whom Bori said was called Wei Jain. He was a rather rotund, smiling man with a wispy beard and eyebrows like wings. His head was bald and he carried a staff. He was in conversation with another contestant, Braenach, who just then was in the form of a bear. He was a shape-shifter. Milo was not sure that being able to take
different forms would be an advantage, or just confusing.

  Another woman, with pale, pale hair and a wiry figure, was listening to a man who was as gracile as she and had an elegance that was not from the clothing he wore but from his movements. He had a stringed instrument slung over one shoulder, and she was carrying what appeared to be a freshly cut branch of some sort of evergreen.

  “The woman is Sarakka,” Bori explained. “She uses that branch to fly. The man with her is Lute. He weaves spells with music.”

  Bori directed Milo’s attention to the other side of the park where a woman dressed entirely in white stood. “That’s Vianna. Her powers come from water.”

  Milo thought about the comic books he read at home, like X-Men, with each of the heroes, heroines, or super-villains having attributes that gave them special powers. Would the Magical Scavenger Hunt be like a comic book adventure?

  “I count only twelve contestants, including us,” Milo pointed out to Bori. “Where’s the last one?”

  Bori looked around. “I don’t know. I can’t count, but I’ll take your word for it.”

  “You can’t count?” Milo asked in surprise.

  “No, I’m a cat. It’s like pockets. Cats don’t have pockets and they can’t count. But I can see everyone who is here to compete, and I don’t see the one who is missing.”

  Just then, trumpets blared as the mayor stepped forward on the podium.

  “Contestants!” she called out, bringing silence over the park. “Citizens of the Kingdom of Odalese!”

  Milo assumed that this covered everyone who was there because the mayor continued.

  “This marks the beginning of the 77th Magical Scavenger Hunt. I wish to thank all the brave and distinguished contestants for coming to the Kingdom of Odalese to join the ranks of notables who have participated over the seven hundred and sixty years of the Hunt’s history.

  “Of course the Hunt has changed during that long time, but its purpose has remained true.”