once but several times. And now this business with her calf—“ S’reee blew a few huge bubbles out her blowhole, making an unsettled noise. “Well, we’ll make it work out.”
“That shall yet be seen,” Ed said from behind them.
The Moon was high when Nita and Kit came out of the water close to the jetty and went looking for their clothes. Kit spent a while gazing longingly up at the silver-golden disc, while Nita dressed. “We’re really gonna get killed now, aren’t we?” he said, so quietly that Nita could hardly hear him.
“Uh-huh.” Nita sat down on the sand and stared out at the waves while Kit went hunting for his bathing suit and windbreaker.
“Whaddaya think they’ll do?” Kit said.
Nita shook her head. “No idea.”
Kit came up beside her, adjusting his windbreaker. “You think they’re gonna send me home?”
“They might,” she said.
They toiled up the last dune before home and looked down toward the little rough road that ran past the house. All the upstairs lights were on. The downstairs ones were dark; evidently Dairine had been sent to bed.
“Neets—“ Kit said. “What’re you gonna do?”
“I’m sworn, Kit. I’m in the Song. I have to be there.”
“You mean you’re going to—“
“Don’t,” she said, in genuine pain. She didn’t want him to say it, to think it, any more than she wanted to think it herself. And to tell the absolute truth, she wasn’t sure of what she was going to do about the Song yet.
“They don’t need me for the Song,” Kit said.
“It doesn’t look that way.”
“Yeah.” He was quiet a moment. “Look — if somehow I can get you off the hook, get your folks to think this is all my fault somehow, so that you can still go out…”
“No,” Nita said, scandalized. “Anyway, they’d never buy it. I promised my mom I’d be back on time last time — and blew it. Then I snuck out today. They know it’s me as much as you. I’m just gonna have to face the music.”
“With what?” Kit said.
“I don’t know.” The thought of treating her parents as enemies made her feel as if the bottom had fallen out of the Universe.
The one good thing, she thought, is that by tomorrow, tonight will be over.
I hope.
“C’mon,” she said. Together they went home.
The house was deadly still when they stepped in, and the screen door closing behind them seemed loud enough to be heard for miles around. The kitchen was dark; light flowed into it from the living room, the subdued illumination of a couple of table lamps. There was no sound of TV, even though Nita knew her dad’s passion for late movies; no music, despite her mom’s fondness for classics and symphonic rock at any hour of day or night.
Nita’s mouth felt dry as beach sand. She stopped where she was, tried to swallow, looked at Kit. He looked back, punched her lightly in the arm, then pushed past her and walked into the living room.
For the rest of her life, Nita thought, she would remember the way that room looked and felt when she walked in. The living room needed a new paint job, its rug was threadbare in places, and the walls were hung with bargain-basement seascapes, wide-eyed children of almost terminal cuteness, and, in one corner, something her dad called the Piece of Resistance — a garish matador done in day-glow paint on black velvet.
Her mother and father were sitting side by side on the Coca-Cola-colored couch, their backs straight. They looked up as Nita and Kit came through the door, and Nita saw her mother’s face tight with fear and her father’s closed like a door. They had been reading magazines; they put them aside, and the usually friendly room suddenly looked dingy as a prison, and the matador hurt Nita’s eyes.
“Sit down,” her father said. His voice, quiet, calm, sounded too much like Ed’s. She managed to hold onto her composure as she headed for Dairine’s favorite chair and sat down quickly.
“Pretty slick,” said her father. “My daughter appears to have a great future in breaking and entering. Or breaking and departing.”
Nita opened her mouth and shut it again. She could have dealt with a good scolding… but this chilly sarcasm terrified her. And there was no way out of it.
“Well?” her father said. “You’d better start coming up with some answers, young lady. You too,” he said to Kit, his eyes flashing; and at the sight of the anger, Nita felt a wash of relief. That look was normal. “Because what you two say is going to determine whether we send you straight home tomorrow morning, Kit — and whether we let you and Nita see any more of each other.”
Kit looked her father straight in the eye and said nothing.
Sperm whales! Nita thought, and it was nearly a curse. But then she took the thought back as she realized that Kit was waiting for her to say something first, to give him a lead. Great! Now all I have to do is do something!
What do I do?
“Kit,” her father said, “I warn you, I’m in no mood for Latin gallantry and the whole protect-the-lady business. You were entrusted to my care and I want answers. Your parents are going to hear about this in any case — what you say, or don’t say, is going to determine what I tell them. So be advised.”
“I understand,” Kit said. Then he glanced at Nita. “Neets?”
Nita shook her head ever so slightly, amazed as always by that frightened bravery that would wait for her to make a move, then back her utterly. It had nothing to do with the whalesark. Kit, Nita thought, practically trembling with the force of what she felt, you’re incredible! But I don’t have your guts — and I have to do something!
Her mother and father were looking at her, waiting.
Oh, Lord, Nita thought then, and bowed her head and put one hand over her face, for she suddenly knew what to do.
She looked up. “Mom,” she said — and then had to start over, for the word came out in a kind of strangled squeak. “Mom, you remember when we were talking the other day? And you said you wanted to know why we were staying out so much, because you thought something besides ‘nothing’ was going on?”
Her mother nodded, frozen-faced.
“Uh, well, there was,” Nita said, not sure where to go from there. Two months of wizardry, spells wrought and strange places visited and wonders seen — how to explain it all to nonwizards? Especially when they might not be able to see wizardry done right under their eyes — and in the past hadn’t? Never mind that, Nita told herself desperately. If you think too much, you’ll get cold feet. Just talk.
Her mother was wearing a ready-to-hear-the-worst expression. “No, not that,” Nita said, feeling downright cross that her mother was still thinking along those idiotic lines. “But this is going to take a while.”
Nita swallowed hard. “You remember in the spring,” she said, “that day Kit and I went into the city — and that night, the Sun went out?”
Her parents stared at her, still angry, and now slightly perplexed too.
“We had something to do with that,” Nita said.
Truthsong
And Nita began to tell them. By the time she saw from their faces just how crazy the story must be sounding, it was already much too late for her to stop.
She told them the story from the beginning — the day she had her hand snagged by an innocent-looking library book full of instructions for wizardry — to the end of her first great trial, and Kit’s, that terrible night when the forces of darkness got loose in Manhattan and would have turned first the city and then the world into a place bound in eternal night and cold, except for what she and Kit did. She told them about Advisory and Senior wizards, though she didn’t mention Tom and Carl; about places past the world where there was nothing but night, and about the place past life where there was nothing but day.
