Cloud Riders by Don Hurst Read Free Book Online

sat back on his haunches and purred.
    "The answer to Isno Gravity's presence resides in the sky above,” Maken instructed. He pointed skyward at the cloud his dad had called a unicorn. “Is it not an exact duplicate of the cloud of which you and your father exchanged opinions?” He continued to peer upward. “Is it not precisely the same as your remembrance? Is it not your remembrance itself? Perhaps you feel a smidgeon of curiosity about how I know this?"
    "Because you're Maken Fairchild who lives in the haunted mansion at the end of Gable Avenue?” Paul instantly wished he didn't express smart-alecky thoughts out loud when nervous. “Could I ask how you moved the hill onto your balcony? And the sky?” There existed an even more important question. “And where's Vicki? Is she here somewhere?"
    "Meow, meow,” Maken joked. “Please sit on the grass, Paul. All shall become known to you as the need arises."
    Isno fixed his yellow eyes on Maken, not liking his mimicking of his meow, meow.
    "Who determines when the need arises?” Paul said. “You?"
    "Why, strangely enough, it is you who makes that determination."
    "I need to know where Vicki is now,” Paul insisted.
    Maken's voice filled with a lightness which mocked the heaviness of the situation, saying, “If Isno does not know the answer, how in all that is magical would I?"
    "You're kidding. Anyway, that isn't fair. Aren't you kind of running the show here?"
    Again the lightness of tone. “No. I am under the cat's rule."
    Paul immediately felt he might be crossing thought-swords with a mental bully and should use a defensive maneuver. “Sorry. Sir, I need to find Vicki. So if Isno is in charge, should I ask him again?"
    "Meow, meow,” said Isno.
    "You could try, but I have it on good authority a fur ball has his tongue.” Maken smiled. “Come on, Paul. I joke with you not because this business lacks seriousness, but because you need to loosen up a bit. My spiders do not bite unless I ask them to do so, yet you imagined them doing so. I do not hide young ladies within these premises, yet you imagine I would do so. I do not take directions from Isno Gravity, yet you almost, for a fleeting moment, believed this. Do I take directions from you, Isno Gravity?"
    "Meow, meow, meow,” Isno said in rapid succession.
    "Please sit, Paul, and tell me what three meows mean. I do not recall you including them in your instructions to your cat friend."
    Paul sat and squelched the desire to answer with four ‘meows'. “Means maybe, probably.” The grass felt warmer than he remembered it. “Do I imagine it, or is this grass heated?"
    Maken's answer puzzled and irritated. “Meow, meow, meow, meow."
    "Maybe I imagine the grass is heated?” Paul clenched his jaw, feeling like he faced a teacher who loved the ambiguous. He remembered when Vicki taught him the word ambiguous , and it returned his mind to the purpose of being there.
    He recalled the exact conversation he had with his sister. “Sis, why do you suppose, Dad says ‘Action cures fear’ and ‘Study precedes action'? Doesn't one cancel out the other?” He replayed her answer. “Paulie, being ambiguous is like looking at a clock. The moment you think you know what time it is, the secondhand has moved and it's different.” He also remembered how they laughed.
    When Paul spoke next, his voice contained a message of the-fun-is-over. “I don't care about nothing other than finding Vicki, Sir. I don't care if Isno can understand me, or even if you understand me. I want to find Vicki."
    "Nothing is real, Paul. It is only an illusion you enjoy.” Maken hesitated. “I want you to forget your sister is missing, for the moment. I need your total concentration on another matter."
    Maken's voice had the quality of dead seriousness. The sound reminded Paul of a character in a television movie who created magic. “Sir, are you a wizard?"
    "Do you believe in wizards?"
    "Of course not."
    "Then your perception is I am not