Shadowland

    Del looked up. 'You want to talk about my Uncle Cole? Okay. He's in New England. I know he's in New England. He's studying.'

    'Studying magic?'

    'Sure. Why not? That's what he does. And that's where he is. Why didn't you know? Because you never asked. Because you never seemed that interested before.' His face trembled.

    'Hey, Del . . . ' Now Tom was in a morass. 'I didn't . . . I didn't know what . . . ' I didn't know what you would tell me. And from that first day, heard Bud Copeland's warning: Take care, Red. 'Well, sure, I was interested,' he lamely said.

    'Yeah, you and Skeleton.' Del dropped his head onto his knees again. 'Everything's changing,' he said in a muffled voice.

    'Well. . . ?'

    'Just changing. I think everything should always be the same. Then you'd always know . . . '

    Where you were. What was going to happen.

Del lowered his legs and sat absolutely upright on the bed. 'I get this feeling,' he said. He was as rigid as an Indian on a bed of nails. 'Did you ever read Frankenstein or The Narrative of A. Gordon Pym? No? I get this feeling I'm headed toward something like the end of those books — ice all around, everything all white, freezing or boiling, it doesn't matter, no . . . towers of ice. No way out — nothing. Just towers of ice. And something real bad coming. . . . '

    'Sure,' Tom said. 'And then a prince will come along and say the magic words and three ravens will give you the magic tokens and a fish will carry you on his back.' He tried to smile.

    'No. Like what Mr. Thorpe says if someone can't answer a question. Hic vigilans somniat. He dreams awake. That's how I am. Like I'm dreaming, not living. I don't believe anything that's happening to me. How would you like to try living with Tim and Valerie Hillman?'

    'I didn't think . . . '

    'You're right. That's not what we were talking about.'

    'Okay. So let's go back to the towers of ice and the prince and the three ravens and the magic fish.'

    'By all means, let us leave the Hillmans behind. I have an idea.'

    'It's about time.'

    'You were talking about rescue. Prince — ravens — that stuff.'

    'I guess. Sure. I guess.'

    'Why don't you come to visit Cole Collins with me over Christmas? I'm supposed to go see him. Come with me. Then you could meet him.'

    Tom felt an extraordinary mix of emotions, fear and pleasure and dread and anticipation, protectiveness and weakness: He looked at Del, and wanted to embrace him. He saw Del all alone in an Arctic landscape. Then he thought of his father and said, 'I can't. I just can't. I'm sorry.'

    It took him a second to realize that Del was crying.

    'Sometime I will. I will, Del. Jesus, stop that. Let's do some card tricks or something — that shuffle you were showing me.'

    'I don't have to be awake to shuffle cards,' Del said. 'Whatever you want, Master.'

TWO

The Magic Show

1

On the Monday before the nine-week exams, Laker Broome announced frigidly in chapel that an eighteenth- century glass owl had been stolen from the refectory room at Ventnor School, and that the Ventnor headmaster had told him that the theft must have occurred during the afternoon of our football game. 'Mr. Dunmoore is a tactful man, and he did riot directly accuse our school of harboring the thief, but there are certain inescapable facts. The Ventnor collection is regularly dusted. Last Saturday the pieces on open shelves were dusted by the school housekeeper at eleven-fifteen, shortly before our arrival at the school. They were doing their best to give us a good impression of Ventnor, gentlemen. After our departure it was noticed that the piece was missing, and the matter was immediately reported to Mr. Dunmoore. It represents a serious loss, not only because the piece in question is valued at something like twelve hundred dollars, but because its theft renders the collection in­complete. Therefore, the value of the entire Ventnor collection is affected. And that is a matter of several hundred thousand dollars.'

    Mr. Broome whipped his glasses from his head and took a step back from the lectern. 'It is also a matter of the honor of this school, which is beyond any value. I do not wish to believe that any of our boys would do anything so disgraceful, but I am forced to believe it. It is abhorrent to me, but I must accept that looking at me this moment is the boy who stole that owl. Ventnor is a boarding school. Over the weekend, extensive searches were undertaken in the quarters of both students and staff — not a single person at the school failed to cooper­ate. So you see where that puts us, gentlemen.'

    The glasses went back on the taut face. 'We have only a few boys at this school capable of such a disgusting act, , and we know who they are. We believe we know the identity of the thief. I want him to come forward. I want the boy to identify himself to me personally sometime during the school day. Things will go much easier for him if he voluntarily accepts the responsibilities for his ac­tions. If the boy has the courage to confess his deed, we will be able to limit his punishment to expulsion. Other­wise, more serious measures will be called for.'

    Mr. Broome inclined his head to look directly at us in the first two rows. He stared almost pugnaciously at Dave Brick, then at Bob Sherman, then at Del Nightingale. 'I promise you,' he said, 'that the culprit will be found out. Dismissed.'

    As we filed out, Dave Brick bulked up beside me. He grabbed my elbow. 'He thinks I did it!'

    'Quiet,' I said.

    'What do we do?'

    I knew what he meant. We both turned to look for Skeleton Ridpath, and saw him slouching out of the seniors' row, hands in pockets, smiling faintly. We were both too afraid of him to report what we had seen. We went up the stairs in silence.

    'But they must know,' Dave moaned. 'He's the only one who . . . '

    We had reached the door of Thorpe's classroom, and Dave Brick exhaled loudly, a sound of pure despair. His skin had suddenly gone white and oily — terror made him look like a thief.

    Inside, Mr. Thorpe began to shout almost at once. Of the tirade I can remember only a few words, one of the Latin tags which peppered his classroom rejoinders. Mala causa est quae requirit misercordiam. It is a bad cause which asks for mercy. Ostensibly he was speaking of the exams in two days, but all of us knew that he meant the theft as well. Several times he used the word 'vermin.' It was a harrowing session, and it left all of us shaken.

    As we left Thorpe's classroom to go to our lockers, I looked down across the glassed-in court and saw Skeleton sneaking out through the big doors at the back of the stage. Damn you, I thought, damn you, damn you, damn you. Do us all a favor and flunk out.

2

One the Monday the exam grades were posted outside the library, I shoved my way up to the board with the freshman list. I read down it to find my name, and saw that I had more or less the same grades as my rivals. We could hear the seniors shouting and groaning before their own board.

    Mrs. Tute struggled through us to get to the library door, muttering, 'Heavens! Heavens!' Her palsied head looked pained and angry — all of the staff had looked irritated since the theft at Ventnor.

    Back at the Upper School after lunch, I saw that only Hollis Wax was standing before the seniors' grade list, and I crossed the hall and stood beside him. 'You never gave me those gin-and-tonics,' he said. 'Freshman labor is unreliable this year.' 'Yes, sir,' I answered, and searched out Ridpath, S., hoping for a row of F's. When I found his name I was amazed to see that he had three A's and two B's. Hollis Wax had nothing better than a C.