The Hidden Boy (12 page)

B
ea Flint sat in her bed and stared at the wardrobe on the far wall. In the dim light of dawn the knotty wood made itself into pictures—a silhouette of a little man writing with a huge quill, and above it a face with a twisted mouth, which changed into a strange knobbly landscape when she looked at it for long enough. She had been staring at these patterns for hours and already she hated them. Several times her eyes had closed without her permission, and she had had to pinch herself to stay awake.

She reached into Theo's backpack and took out the Squeak Jar. She placed it on her lap and looked at it for a while. She knew now how her mother had felt when she first listened for Theo's voice at Cambio Falls. She wanted to put off for as long as possible the terrible
moment when she might put her ear to the jar and hear nothing. The face in the wardrobe door leered at her, daring her to listen. She put the horn to her ear with a sinking feeling. “Theo?” she whispered. There was only silence. The jar felt cold and empty in her hand, and she knew with a terrible certainty that Theo's voice had left it for good. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and replaced the jar carefully in the backpack.

Eventually her head nodded and she slipped straight into a dream. She was trapped in a blank room again, with Ike Ledbetter squatting before her. His stare was mildly accusing, as though she might have slapped him in the face on some occasion she could not quite remember. She tried to speak, but her mouth was bone-dry and her tongue would not move.

Eventually Ike spoke. “Give us the Hidden Boy,” he said.

Bea jerked awake. Her skin felt clammy. The light was the same as before, and in the other bed Phoebe slept peacefully, her breathing slow and shallow. Bea dressed quietly and crept down the stairs. She let herself out onto the verandah. The ladder crouched at the verandah's edge like a sleeping insect. She could almost see the life in the ladder as it waited to open itself. She
concentrated hard. “Ladder,” she said quietly. She was sure it was on the verge of unfolding. It was just waiting for her to really believe she could do it. “Ladder,” she said again.

There was an echo to her voice this time, and to her astonishment the ladder tipped itself smartly over the edge of the verandah and met the ground with a
clack-clack-thump
. Bea could not believe her eyes. She would have been impressed if she had even made it twitch. She had a sudden feeling she was being watched, and looked around quickly at the house.

Willow Miller was leaning out of her bedroom window. “Go on, then,” she said flatly.

Bea felt herself deflate as she realized where the echo had come from. “That was you,” she said.

“Of course,” said Willow. “Hurry up if you're going. It's cold hanging out of this window.”

Bea climbed swiftly down the ladder and stepped onto the dew-soaked grass.

“Ladder,” said Willow from the window, and the ladder creaked reluctantly back into place.

“Thanks, Willow,” said Bea.

Willow shrugged. “Good luck,” she said, and she closed the window.

Bea turned and ran lightly along the path in the
direction of the falls. She dreaded passing beneath the blank gaze of the library's windows, but she did not want to risk getting lost looking for an alternative route. She kept her eyes down and ran on, light-headed from lack of sleep. She plunged into the woods when she judged she was near Arkadi's hut. Brambles scratched her legs, but she barely noticed. She could not detect Ike's presence anywhere nearby.
He probably doesn't have to follow me anymore
, she thought, and she wondered with a shiver if he could see any of her thoughts when she dreamed of him.

When she reached the hut she found the door standing open, and the hut looked empty. Her heart sank. “This is no time to be hiding,” she said aloud.

“I'm not hiding,” said Arkadi. “I'm washing.” He was stripped to the waist and half hidden by a broad tree trunk. In front of him was a battered basin filled with water.

“I need your help,” said Bea. She glanced at Arkadi's skinny body and was about to look away when she noticed that he had a tattoo on his left shoulder blade. Arkadi met her eye and pulled on his grubby T-shirt, but not before she had seen what the tattoo depicted. It was old and the lines had softened with the years, but she could clearly see it was a meerkat, standing tall in a
tuft of faded grass and looking out into the distance.

“You want something fixed?” said Arkadi.

“I want to find my brother,” said Bea. “I need to learn Mumbo Jumbo.”

“Just like that?” said Arkadi.

“I don't have any time left,” said Bea. “I'm the only one who can find him.”

“I don't know anything about Mumbo Jumbo,” said Arkadi.

“You didn't know what a meerkat was either,” said Bea, “but there's one tattooed on your shoulder. What did you ask the tattoo artist to draw—a doggie?”

Arkadi smiled. “You have a quick eye,” he said. “And a sharp tongue. You get both from your grandmother.”

Bea's heart quickened. “You know Granny Delphine?”

“Used to,” said Arkadi, “a long time ago.”

“Then you
are
the real Arkadi,” said Bea. “Why are you hiding?”

“I have my reasons,” said Arkadi.

“But nobody here has seen you for years. Wouldn't they be happy to know you're alive?”

“Some would, no doubt.”

“Were you hiding all that time?”

Arkadi suddenly looked tired. “I was unavoidably detained,” he said.

“But you're here now,” persisted Bea. “Why don't you just—”

Arkadi interrupted her. “A river must flow from the mountain to the sea, but it never does so in a straight line. Why?”

Bea thought for a moment. “Because there are obstacles to go around.”

“Perhaps,” said Arkadi. “Did you bring sandwiches?”

“No,” said Bea. “I got up before anyone. I couldn't sleep. Are you going to help me or not?”

“Not,” said Arkadi.

“Then I'll have to report you to the Quorum,” said Bea. “They need your help with the Ledbetters anyway. What good is hiding in the woods?”

“You made a promise.”

“My little brother is missing. If I have to break a promise to find him then I will.”

Arkadi gazed at her steadily for a while. After three days in hiding his hair was no longer slicked neatly back. It stuck out in all directions, reminding her of one of Theo's drawings with a scribble-fringed face. His eyes were calm, like the center of a storm. “Very
well,” he said. “Where do we start?”

Bea sat down on the log where Arkadi had whittled the meerkat the previous day. She had come out without the backpack, without Nails. She had not eaten, but neither did she have any appetite, and she felt giddy from lack of sleep. “Theo disappeared on the crossing,” she said. “I was able to hear his voice from the Squeak Jar, but then I dropped it and the lid came off, and now I can't hear him anymore.”

Arkadi winced. “That's not good,” he said. “Did you get a chance to ask him where he was?”

“He said he was somewhere where the trees were thin and wavy. He's with some people he calls the Tree People. He was about to tell me where it was, but…”

“But you dropped the Squeak Jar?”

Bea shook her head. “I was able to hear him when I was dreaming too, but my dream was interrupted.”

“Then you can ask him next time you're asleep.”

“I can't sleep anymore,” said Bea. Tears were starting at the corners of her eyes, and she blinked them back impatiently.

Arkadi clicked his tongue. “Ledbetter trouble, eh?” he said, as though he were talking of nothing more
serious than a mosquito bite.

“How did you know?”

“Sounds like one of Maize's tricks,” said Arkadi. “She was always knocking on people's skulls, that child, though it used to be just a game.”

“She's hardly a child,” said Bea. “She's almost a hundred.”

Arkadi shook his head in puzzlement. For a moment he looked like the confused ice-cream mechanic again. “That long,” he muttered.

“It's Ike Ledbetter who's squatting in my dreams,” said Bea. “I think he's her grandson. Or maybe her great-grandson.”

“Why don't you ask him to leave?”

Bea looked at Arkadi to see if he was joking. “I wish I could,” she said.

“A wish is no good unless you can give it legs,” said Arkadi.

“That's what Theo said,” said Bea in surprise. “What does it mean?”

“It means that you can just wish something would happen, or you can try to figure out how to make it happen. Both are wishes, but the one with legs is more likely to get where it's going.”

“It's not as simple as just asking him to leave,” said Bea. “There are people all over Bell Hoot with…with Ledbetter trouble. One girl died yesterday. I
can't
make him leave. It's like he's glued to the floor.”

“Glued, eh?” said Arkadi thoughtfully. “Tell me, whose dream is it?”

“It's mine,” said Bea. “At least, I think so.”

“Then everything in it is created by you,” said Arkadi.

“Not Ike Ledbetter,” said Bea.

“The Ike in your dream is,” said Arkadi, “and so is the glue.”

“That was just a phrase,” said Bea. “The glue isn't real.”

“It's as real as your dream. What do you suppose the glue is made of?”

Bea thought about this. She made herself picture her dream, and the immobile, blank-faced figure of Ike Ledbetter squatting before her. Arkadi was right: It was her dream, so what was it that made Ike impossible to remove? She remembered the feeling of her tongue sticking to her mouth, and her heart racing with fear. “Fear?” she said.

“That's a good answer,” said Arkadi.

“Is it the right answer?”

“Maybe.”

Bea felt a surge of irritation. It didn't sound like Arkadi was taking her situation seriously. “I thought you were supposed to be the master of Mumbo Jumbo,” she said.

“So they say,” said Arkadi mildly.

“Then why can't you tell me if it's the right answer?”

“Mumbo Jumbo isn't about answers,” said Arkadi. “It's about asking the right questions. Like this one: How can you overcome your fear of Ike Ledbetter?”

Bea thought about the creeping Ledbetter clan. The very sight of them filled her with dread, ever since she had first seen them surrounding the Millers' house. She pictured them climbing silently toward the windows, and saw Ike tumble from the shoulders of the stocky man below him, and the momentary start of shock on his face as he fell into the thornbush. It was the only glimpse of weakness she had seen any Ledbetter show.

“I'll have to find out what he's afraid of?” she said.

“That's the right question,” said Arkadi approvingly. He was silent for a while as he chewed on the end of a twig to make himself an impromptu toothbrush. “How is your mother holding up?” he asked presently.

“She took up tattooing again,” said Bea. “That's what she used to do before Theo was born. She worked nonstop for two days until she'd tattooed everyone in sight. I think she was trying to distract herself.”

“No doubt,” said Arkadi. “Is that the only reason she did it?”

“What other reason would there be?”

“That's also the right question,” said Arkadi. “What are the tattoos like?”

“I only saw one up close,” said Bea. “It was beautiful. There was a lot of forest, and things hidden in it.”

Arkadi raised his bushy eyebrows, but said nothing.

“Things hidden in the forest!” said Bea. It seemed so obvious now. “Granny Delphine said that Ma has a natural aptitude for Mumbo Jumbo, but that she was afraid to learn about it.”

“Natural aptitudes have a way of coming out,” said Arkadi. “I think a closer look at your mother's tattoos might be very instructive, don't you?”

Bea nodded. “Can I ask you something?” she said.

“Of course.”

“Why did you pretend to be…” She searched for the right words.

“Not very bright?” suggested Arkadi.

“Yes.”

“I needed you to trust me,” said Arkadi. “It's easier to trust someone if you don't think they're capable of deception.”

“I suppose.”

“Do you trust me now?”

Bea looked at Arkadi. His face seemed as open as ever. “I think so,” she said.

“Then let me give you one little piece of advice.” He leaned closer to her and dropped his voice. “Those Tree People that your brother talks about—it might be best not to mention them to anyone else.”

“Why?” said Bea. “Who are they?”

Arkadi straightened up. “No idea,” he said cheerfully. “Have you?”

“No,” said Bea.

“Then until we have a good reason to believe otherwise, we should leave them in peace, don't you think?”

“They might have kidnapped Theo,” said Bea.

“Or they might have saved him,” said Arkadi.

B
ea Flint walked slowly back toward the Millers' house as the sun warmed the air and the bees went into busy mode. She came to the main square, where stallholders were setting up their weekly market around the broad steps of the library. There was bustle everywhere, and already the stalls were piled with colorful fruit, tools and plant pots, pickles and preserves, shoes, candles, colored glass, cloth by the yard, belts, buckles and bridles, songbirds in wicker cages, knives, ropes, maps, balms and bandages, pâtés and sausages, bread, books, and a hundred other things. She passed them by with barely a glance.

A pale fish stared sightlessly from a bed of ice on the last stall. Its colorless fat lips were frozen around its last gasp, giving it a witless expression that reminded
her uncomfortably of Ike Ledbetter. She groaned. Even when she was awake she could not get Ike out of her mind. She knew what she had to do, but the prospect filled her with dread. She was so tired that it would be difficult not to fall asleep, but how was she to overcome her fear of the dream squatter? He had never even spoken to her, except to intone the demand of his clan:
Give us the Hidden Boy
.

It did not come as a surprise to her to find that the Millers' house was once again surrounded by people. At first she thought that news of Ma's tattooing skills had spread even further, but on second glance she noticed that the people bunched up around Ma in the clearing were already tattooed. They did not all seem entirely pleased about it either.

“I'm telling you it wasn't there yesterday,” said a man with grizzly hair. He had his shirt rolled up to his armpits and was pointing to a figure half-hidden in the picture on his stomach. “When you done this it was all plants and birds. That was what I asked for. It ain't natural for new details to sneak out of a tattoo in the night.”

“Same thing happened to mine,” said a woman with elaborately decorated shoulders. “I've got bees everywhere now, where yesterday there was just flowers.”

“You must be mistaken,” Ma said to them.

“You can rest assured,” said Pa, “that nobody will be charged for any extra details that may have emerged.” He had descended the ladder to see what the commotion was about, and was now looming over the crowd. Looming was one of Pa's specialties.

“That's not the point,” said the woman with the bees, a little doubtfully. “How do we know what might come out in the future?”

“Nothing will come out that isn't there already,” said Pa. “My wife is the fastest tattooist in history. You just didn't notice all the details when they were being done.”

Bea could see that Ma herself was a little shaken by the notion that her tattoos might be continuing to grow without her. The rings under her eyes were even darker than before, and she looked ten years older than she had when they set out for the holiday of a lifetime.

Bea stepped forward and cleared her throat. “Why don't we take a look at these tattoos,” she said loudly. “Maybe we can figure out what's happening.”

The townspeople looked around to see who was speaking. Ma and Pa looked at her too, surprise on
their faces. There was no sign of Granny Delphine, but Bea could almost hear her grandmother's voice in her mind, and she knew just what she would say.

“Don't stand there gawping,” she heard herself say. “Bring that bench over here and sit down in a line. We'll get to everyone, if you all have a bit of patience.”

Grizzly Hair and another man went obediently to fetch the garden bench, and the tattooed and discontented sat themselves down in a line. They had stopped muttering now.

Bea put her arm around her mother's waist and gave her a quick squeeze. “Come on,” she said. “Let's see what we can see.”

Ma nodded. She looked at Bea as though she were seeing her for the first time.

“Where's Granny Delphine?” asked Bea.

“She's gone to the Quorum. She called another extraordinary meeting.” Ma smiled weakly. “She's only just gotten here and already she's running the place.”

Grizzly Hair was first on the bench. He was a pig farmer from just outside Bell Hoot, and since he made it a point always to test his own products for quality he had made a broad canvas of his belly over the years. Ma's artwork curled across it, a tangle of vines and
mossy branches, dotted with brightly colored birds. He pointed at the offending figure. “This wasn't here before. I watched the whole thing being done, and I'd have seen it.”

Bea peered closer. The figure of a girl was barely visible in the shadows. Her face was turned away, and she carried what appeared to be a large key. “Looks a bit like you, Bea,” said Pa, leaning over Ma's shoulder.

“I don't remember putting you in,” whispered Ma.

“You worked nonstop for two days,” said Bea. “You couldn't remember every detail.”

“Why's she holding a key?” said Pa.

Bea glanced at Ma. She remembered what Granny Delphine had said about Ma's aptitude for Mumbo Jumbo, and how Arkadi said that aptitudes had a way of coming out. She said nothing. Grizzly Hair looked at Ma expectantly, and Pa's question hung in the air. Suddenly Ma seemed to snap out of her daze. She took a deep breath, and some of the spark came back into her eyes. “Yes, of course I put her there,” she said to the pig farmer. “I often put my children into my tattoos.”

“But—”

Ma straightened up and gave Grizzly Hair a brilliant
smile. “You must have nodded off while I was putting her in.”

“I'm sure I only asked for birds,” muttered Grizzly Hair.

Pa loomed closer. “Are you saying you'd have preferred another parakeet to a picture of my daughter?”

“I…er…of course not,” said the pig farmer hastily. He rolled his shirt down and got up from the bench. “Like you say, it was a long day. I must have been dozing. I was just curious.”

“Thank you. Come again,” Pa called after him as he hurried away.

“Next,” said Bea. She was conscious of Ma looking at her as the tattooed townsfolk slid up along the bench.

“You've grown up all of a sudden,” said Ma quietly.

Bea looked at her and smiled.

“Your grandmother says…” Ma hesitated. She seemed to change her mind. “You're carrying a key in that man's tattoo,” she said.

“I know,” said Bea. “Let's see what the next one shows.”

The woman whose shoulders were tattooed with flowers was next in line. Among the flowers the bees
were visible, making a complex pattern that Bea recognized from listening to the flight of the bees around her. She was pretty sure she could even tell which hive they came from. It wasn't long before the tattooed woman was convinced that the bees were a welcome addition to the flowers that curled around her shoulders. “The inks brighten up as the tattoo heals,” said Ma brusquely. “That's when you can see things you hadn't noticed before.”

“And what good are flowers without bees?” added Bea.

There were several more people waiting to have their tattoos inspected. They had arrived disgruntled, but having listened to Bea and her parents dealing with the first few complaints they were starting to see their evolving tattoos as a valuable novelty. They forgot their dissatisfaction, and lined up to have their tattoos admired and interpreted. Bea examined each picture carefully, noting especially the details that their owners said were new. She tried to make sure she remembered everything. The line eventually dwindled to nothing, and Bea climbed the ladder, followed by Ma and Pa, and sank onto one of the familiar cane chairs.

For a while she lay slumped in the chair, listening
to the reassuring pattern of the bees as they went about their business. She knew that bees had some part to play in solving this whole puzzle, but she could not yet imagine what it was. The details in Ma's tattoos buzzed around in her mind in no particular order: a stand of tall thin trees that might be the place where Theo was hidden, the girl with the key who looked like Bea herself, a bare island in still waters. Another tattoo featured mysterious figures wrapped in scarves and mittens that reminded Bea of the curiously overdressed Ledbetters. Why would they choose to make their home in such a barren place? She was sure that if she could just line up all the tattoos in the right order the answer would be as clear as the water that cascaded over Cambio Falls.

Ma's voice broke through her thoughts. “Your grandmother says that you're the only one who can find our Theo,” she said.

Bea sat up with an effort. “She told me that too,” she said.

“Do you think you can?”

“I hope so,” said Bea, “but I have to sleep first.”

“Sleep?” said Ma, shaking her head in puzzlement. “You can't sleep now, Bea. There's no time to waste.”

Bea got to her feet. Her mother sat on the edge of her chair, worry stretching the skin on her face. Bea kissed her softly on the forehead. “Trust me, Ma. I have to sleep. It's the only way I can find him now.”

“I don't understand,” said Ma.

“I know,” said Bea.