The Wizard's Map by Jane Yolen Read Free Book Online Page B

her. “The Four Marriages next,” he said. “Come on, Jennifer. Come on. Read to me how to set out the next tableau.”
    This game took both packs of cards, and Jennifer began reading even before Peter had finished shuffling the packs together.
    â€œâ€˜Take the first thirteen cards that come to hand.’” She stopped. “Thirteen, Peter. I’m not sure that’s a good number to be playing with.”
    â€œDon’t be daft,” he said to her, his voice as grey and steely as the cat’s whiskers. “Just read.”
    Wondering what “daft” was, Jennifer read.
    Peter played.
    And on the map, the four brides’ faces were slowly drawn in with almost photographic realism.
    Jennifer was startled when she realized that she actually recognized all four of the brides. One was Gran with her shiny white hair, one was Mom with that pair of deep dimples, one was Molly under glossy chestnut curls, and one was Jennifer herself, her red hair teasing from beneath a bridal veil. The white gowns suddenly shimmered like painted silk and, diagonally across the map, the white cat shimmered as well. Jennifer squinted her eyes and it seemed to her as if there were lines drawn across the map from the white of the cat to the white of the gowns.
    â€œPeter!” she cried, grabbing as many of the cards as she could from the table. “That’s enough! We’re going about this the wrong way!”
    He looked up at her, his eyes not Peter’s eyes at all. “Gi’e me the cards, Jennifer.”
    His voice wasn’t Peter’s, either, and she realized in that moment whose voice it was. She’d only heard it speak four sentences. But the slow, drawling, commanding tone was unmistakable.
    â€œMichael Scot!” she said, almost in a whisper.
    â€œToo bad ye didn’t let Peter play the next game,” said Michael Scot. “My demon would ha’e loved him. Lads are so succulent afore they grow beards, and my imp has e’er had a monstrous sweet tooth.” He laughed, a strange and awful sound, especially coming out of Peter’s mouth.
    â€œSo you were the one who finished Peter’s game before,” she said.
    â€œNot finished. I canna finish it. Not on my ain. Not wi’oot the map in my possession. Silly of me. But I canna resist a trick.”
    â€œWhat do you want from us?” Jennifer asked.
    â€œAnswer me yer own riddle, and I’ll give ye the round,” Michael Scot’s voice in Peter’s mouth replied.
    Jennifer went very still.
Riddles.
One of the Minor magics. If Gran was right, then whatever Jennifer said next was terribly important. Yet how could she possibly know what the right answer was? This wasn’t some silly riddle, like “Why did the chicken cross the road?” This was real. And the consequences were real.
    Jennifer tried to breathe slowly and think.
What does Michael Scot want?
He had taken Molly. He needed the map. He couldn’t play the card game without Peter’s hands. Were any of those the answer she was looking for?
    And then suddenly she remembered what Da had said—about what wizards
always
wanted.
    â€œPower!” she answered. “And time enough to wield it.”
    â€œOch, wee lass,” said the voice, “I will gi’e ye this round. Ye ha’e worked hard enough to earn it. And I did say I would.” He laughed again. “This round. But nae—I think—the next!”
    Then all at once, like a balloon that had lost all its air, Peter’s mouth went slack, his eyes went blank, and he tumbled from his kneeling position to the attic floor.

Twelve
Into the Woods
    Oh, Peter!” Jennifer cried, putting her arms around him and helping him sit up.
    â€œSorry, Jen, I didn’t mean to blub like that. It’s just ... it’s just I feel so helpless.” He looked at her with a strange, stunned expression.
    â€œSo you said.