“Yeah. Nobody understands about that.”
They gazed at each other, feeling the warmth of mutual appreciation.
Then Kelsie got an idea. “Pandora Park—do you think it has limited access? I mean, that it lets in only people of a certain type? We haven’t seen anyone else here.”
“Could be,” he agreed. “Lots of kids must touch Pandora’s Box, but if they’d found the magic path, they’d have come for the candy.”
That reminded her of something else. “I like candy, but I think I’ve had more than enough of it. I’ll get sick. But if I have to remain here for a time, until the floodwaters recede, I’ll need to eat something.”
“I know what you mean. Too much candy’s no good. But I’m the only kid on my block who thinks that. Maybe I can find something healthier to eat. Like French Fried Potatoes.”
That was what he considered healthy? She refrained from commenting. “Yes. Vegetables.”
“I’ll look.” He got up and glanced around. “There!” He went to a mound they hadn’t noticed before and picked something up. “Oh.”
It was a raw potato. Once again he hadn’t found exactly what he was looking for.
She didn’t want to discourage him. “That’s fine. We’ll use several of them. We just need to cook them. We can make our own fried potatoes.”
“I guess,” he said uncertainly.
“Find a cook pot.”
He looked around again, exploring along the path. He found something and brought it back, looking embarrassed.
“A chamber pot!” she exclaimed, laughing.
“A potty,” he agreed. “We can’t use this. I mean, not for cooking.”
Kelsie inspected it. “Yes we can. It’s clean. A pot’s a pot. But we’ll need firewood, and water, and spices.”
“You know how to do this? I sure don’t.”
“I’m a girl,” she reminded him. “I’m supposed to know.”
“Maybe I can find a river for water.” He looked around. “There’s a spring.”
“That is close enough.” She took the pot and went to dip out some water. Had the spring been there before? Mark’s talent might be more than merely finding things; he might be magically making them. But the idea of that made her nervous, so she didn’t mention it.
Then she smelled something. Some kind of perfume.
She sniffed the pot of water. That was the source. She touched one finger to it and tasted it. “Toilet water!” she exclaimed. “You found toilet water.”
“I thought it was clean,” Mark protested. “Maybe the potty was dirty.”
“Toilet water is not from toilets. It is dilute perfume.”
“Oh,” he said, abashed. “My talent strikes again.”
“I’ll look for the water,” she said. “Now you look for the firewood.”
Mark found a pile of dry boards and wood edgings immediately. She hadn’t seen them appear, so probably they had been there all the time. It was too bad to have to burn them, but it obviously wasn’t in him to find straight firewood. Still, his talent was uncanny.
Meanwhile she located another spring. This one had straight water. She poured out the scented liquid and rinsed the pot, then dipped fresh water.
“And fire,” she said as she arranged the edgings into a pyramid, added small boards, and then some dry moss. She knew how to make a fire, except for the first spark. “That may be more of a challenge.”
But he found an old cigarette lighter. Had someone lost it, or had he made it?
She tried the lighter. It formed a sturdy flame. In moments she had the fire blazing around the base of the pot. “We will also need a kitchen knife to cut the potato.”
“I’ll find one,” he agreed.
But what he found wasn’t exactly a kitchen knife. It was a sword.
Well, sort of. It had the size and shape of a great curved sword, but seemed to be made of dark wood.
“I think I goofed worse this time,” he said. “This isn’t a sword after all. It’s a fake.”
Kelsie looked at it. “That’s a Japanese Bokken! I know it from histories.”
“A what?”
“A wooden sword used for practice, having the same weight and balance as a real katana, but without a sharp blade. So warriors could practice without hurting their partners, until they got good enough to use real steel swords.”
“I’ll look again,” Mark said, still embarrassed.
“No, this will do,” she said quickly. She took the mock sword and tried rather awkwardly to cut a potato with it.
The wood blade sliced through as if the potato were made of mist. It required no effort, seeming to respond to her will. Soon she had all the potatoes sliced and in the pot.
“I just thought of something,” Mark said. “That flood—it won’t go away.”
“Of course it will. The water will start receding as soon as the rain stops. Even if it’s a really bad flood, two or three days will be enough.”
“But you don’t have that time. There is no time outside, remember? No matter how much time passes here.”
Kelsie froze, appalled. “I’m a fool!”
“No, no! I didn’t think of it either. Until just now.”
“I can’t go out,” she said numbly. “I don’t know what to do.” She felt the tears coming.
“It’s all right, Kelsie,” he said quickly. “We’ll figure out something.”
A way to make time pass normally outside? She doubted it. Then she had an idea. “Mark, you can find things. Can you find a way out of this problem?”
He spread his hands. “I don’t know how to look.”
Of course he didn’t. There might be no way. She was determined not to cry.
Chapter 3:
Sword
Mark saw Kelsie trying to be brave about it, and knew he had to do something to distract her from what might be a hopeless problem. “We’ve got all the time we need to think about it,” he said. “Maybe something will occur. Meanwhile we’ve got the meal started. You sure know what you’re doing.”
She smiled somewhat weakly. “Thank you. But we need more than potatoes.”
“I’ll find it,” he said eagerly. And he did. Soon they had carrots, cabbage, squash, onions, and tomatoes cooking along with the potatoes. All the things he hated to eat at home. They had not been exactly what he sought, but that was the way of his talent.
“Salt,” Kelsie said. “We need some salt.”
Mark looked, and found a solid brown salt block, the kind that animals licked. But Kelsie used the wood sword to cut off a small amount, and used it to flavor the broth. She didn’t complain about any of the wrong things he found, she just found a way to use it. She was a really practical girl.
In due course they had a meal of vegetable soup, served in thick glass mugs he had found when looking for dishes. And chopsticks. He had sought regular silverware, but Kelsie was delighted, and showed him how to use them. It was mainly a matter of holding the mugs up close to their faces and using the chopsticks to move things a few inches to their months. He was clumsy and she was not, but she complimented him on his progress. She was very easy to get along with. Maybe she was just trying hard.
They finished what turned out to be a perfectly decent meal. Kelsie had truly made the best of it. But he knew she was miserable inside, as she quietly cleaned the pot and mugs at the spring. Pandora Park was a fine place to visit, but she didn’t want to be locked into it forever.
He looked at the pretend sword he had found. Some kitchen knife! But he wondered about something. Kelsie had used it to slice vegetables, and seemed to have no trouble. Was it that she was expert with knives—or swords? Even wooden ones? Or was there something about this mock weapon? The Bokken, she had called it.
Some of the other devices he had found had turned out to be magic. The scooter, the skates. Could this piece of wood be magic too?
He picked it up and swung it. It was quite light in his hand. Was it because he was strong, after Kels
ie’s hug? No, that had slowly worn off, and he was pretty much back to normal strength now. So was it merely a very light imitation sword? That wouldn’t be much good in a fight; it would bounce off an enemy, having no real edge. Yet Kelsie had used it without difficulty, and she wasn’t super-strong.
In fact that dull wooden edge had sliced those vegetables with no trouble at all. How could that be?
He set up a stick and dropped the Bokken on it. A light sword wouldn’t cut far through the stick, and a wood one would bounce off harmlessly.
The sword sliced cleanly through the stick and half buried itself in the ground below. That looked like a full-weight cut!
He tried it on a larger branch, and the result was the same. The sword felt light, but it cut like a cleaver.
He lifted it and struck a pose, as if saluting an enemy on a battlefield. The sword moved with no hesitation. He made a sudden slash, and it whipped around exactly as he intended. He approached a stump, pretending it was a leg-chomping crocodile. “Take that, varlet!” he said, running it through the head. The sword skewered the stump, killing it instantly.
Kelsie applauded. “You’re a swordsman,” she said.
He was intrigued. “It has to be the sword. I couldn’t swing it, let alone fight with it, on my own. It’s magic.”
She nodded. “I thought so when I used it. It was light in my hand and cut clean. But I wasn’t sure.” Then she reconsidered. “But it was a Bokken. Now it looks like a real katana.”
They both looked at it, surprised. The thing had a fancy handle and a wickedly gleaming length of shining steel, sharp on both edges. This was no mock sword; it was real.
“It really is magic,” Mark said, awed. “A real sword that shows itself only when actually used. That’s why it cut the potato so readily.”
“I never realized,” she said. “It did seem to be very sharp wood. But you’re very good with it, anyway.”
“No I’m not,” he protested. “It knows the moves. I just have to make the effort, and it carries through. I could be invincible with this.”
“Like a samurai warrior.”
“Are you laughing at me?”
“I wouldn’t dare. Not while you have that sword.”
He let that pass. “This must have belonged to a warrior. He must have been a terror. But I don’t think I should keep it.”
“Why not? There might be BEMS.”
“Who I don’t want to fight. They might not mean any harm. Anyway, I don’t think it’s right to use magic to make myself what I’m not. I haven’t earned any warrior status.”
“I don’t understand, and I’d like to. Wouldn’t the sword make you safer?”
Mark considered. “I’m not sure it would. Suppose I used it, and got to depend on it, and then suddenly when I most needed it, it stopped being magic? Then where would I be?”
“Maybe you should earn it, then.”
“How would I do that? I don’t know a thing about swordcraft.”
“But the sword does. Maybe it could teach you.”
“Now I don’t understand.”
“It knows the moves, you say. You could study them, and learn how to do it yourself. Then you’d be worthy of it.”
Mark thought about it. It made an odd kind of sense. “Maybe I can learn the basics, if I practice hard. You can swing the sword, and I’ll see how to stop it.”
“I don’t want to do that! I could kill you.”
“I don’t think so. Not if the sword knows the difference between practice and real battle.”
“You’d better get some armor, regardless. We wouldn’t want an accident.”
Mark searched, and found some football padding. That hadn’t been what he was looking for, but it was better than nothing. He also found a light wooden pole: a staff.
They took their places on the path. “Now make a feint,” he said. “You know, a pretend attack.”
“If I hurt you, I’ll faint.”
He smiled. “I’ll do worse than that, if you cut me. I don’t want to bleed to death. So please be careful.”
She struck at him, just missing his side. Mark’s wooden staff wasn’t anywhere close; he could have been skewered. “I see I have some work to do,” he said ruefully.
“You’d better practice with the sword, and study its moves. Then you can practice against it.”
“Good idea.” He took the sword back from her and fenced with shadows. There were certain positions the sword nudged him into, and certain motions it made; it was indeed instructing him.
He decided to concentrate on a few basic moves, so that he could do them well enough without magic if he had to. He also tried to use both hands, as that would double his strength on the sword. It might look clumsy, but it could serve him well in an emergency.
Watching him, Kelsie nodded. “It occurs to me that there’s more to magic than just finding things or making people float. That sword has a mind of its own.”
“It sure does!” he agreed breathlessly.
Before long he was ready to take a break. He leaned the sword against a tree, where it changed back to the Bokken. “Your clothes must be dry by now.”
She checked. “They are. I don’t want to seem critical, but I’ll be glad to get out of this clown suit.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t find something better.”
“The suit did the job.” She put her hand on the shirt, and paused.
He sat down facing away from her, and closed his eyes. “But you know, Kelsie, the way you cope with things, like the not-quite-right items I find—you’re some girl.”
“Thank you for understanding. I really appreciate it. About not looking, I mean. I don’t know about the rest.”
“I don’t mix much with girls. But I get along just fine with you.”
“It is much the same with me, with boys. And with you.” Then after a rustling pause. “You know I’m wearing your undershirt.”
“Yes, I saw when I brought the clown suit. You needed something.”
“I—I don’t feel comfortable taking it off now, to put on my own. Not with you there.”
“I’ll go,” he said quickly.
“No! You’d have to open your eyes to get up and go anywhere.”
“Then leave it on,” he said. “No one will know.”
There was a pause. “Thank you.” Then, after a further rustle, “I am garbed.”
He opened his eyes, got up, and turned. Kelsie was back in her original clothing, as far as anything that showed. “You look fine.”
“Thank you. You made it possible.”
“You make a lot of things possible too. If a monster attacked us, you could hug me and make me strong enough to fend it off. Or you could make me float out of its reach.”
“I would gladly do that.”
“Or you could slap me, and my clothes would fall off, and it would die laughing.”
“I apologize for embarrassing you. I did not know what would happen.”
“I was joking,” he said, slightly uncomfortably. She tended to take things literally.
“I’m still sorry I slapped you. I shouldn’t have. You were just trying to help. I reacted without thinking.”
“No, I shouldn’t have pulled on your sleeve. I was the one who wasn’t thinking.”
“You’re nice.”
“So are you.”
“I would like to understand this park better,” Kelsie said, changing the subject. “It seems like an ideal playground. But who made it, and why?”
“That’s what I would like to know.”
“Let’s follow some of these paths,” she suggested. “Maybe one of them leads somewhere.”
“They all should lead somewhere,” he said.
“Not if they merely loop around and intersect each other. They might be designed to confuse anyone who seeks more than merely seeing the sights.”
She had a point. “I’m good with paths,” he said. “But I could get confused. Let’s mark where we go, so we’ll know
if we intersect it.”
“Then you had better find some markers.”
“Bread crumbs,” he said.
“No, that wouldn’t do at all! Birds would eat them.”
“I was joking. We have a fairy tale about children lost in the woods, who marked their trail with bread crumbs, and of course the birds did eat them.”
“Oh, irony. I apologize for misunderstanding.”
“Well, you don’t have the same fairy tales I do, I guess. I shouldn’t have used it.”
“We speak the same language here, whatever it is, but we don’t always perfectly understand each other.”
“I’ll find something. Maybe marking tape.”
“Yes.”
Mark looked. Soon he found tape. Several big rolls of masking tape.
“We can use it,” Kelsie said. “But sticking it to the entire length of every path would be tedious. Maybe just every intersection, and periodically between intersections.”
“That sounds good to me,” he agreed.
But they knew they would need a lot of tape. “Make me strong, so I can carry it all,” Mark suggested.
“No. You need to be on guard, with your sword. I’ll make the rolls light enough for me to carry.”
“Can you do that?” But he remembered how she had made a stone float.
“We’ll see.” She picked up a roll and kissed it. It floated. She unwound some tape and connected the roll to another roll, kissing that too. Soon she had a floating mass of rolls resembling a collection of balloons on strings.
Mark took his sword and started walking along a path. Kelsie followed, marking it occasionally with X’s of masking tape.
The path intersected another. Mark chose one path, and Kelsie marked that one with an X.
Soon he encountered another intersection. Kelsie marked that also.
This was getting dull. “I’d like to find something exciting,” Mark said.
“All you have to do is look for it,” she reminded him.
Oh. Just about everything they had found in the park they had found because he was looking, even though he never found exactly what he was looking for. “Like maybe a BEM,” he said, smiling.
There was a roar. A tusky scaly monster came charging down the path ahead of them. It looked something like an ugly pig in armor, almost as tall as Mark and far more massive. Kelsie screamed, letting go of the rolls of tape.