The Summer Tree Read Free Page B

made the crossing before, Matt and I, but always with diffculty, for much is lost, even in Fionavar.”
    “How? How do you cross?” It was Kevin.
    “It is easiest to call it magic, though there is more involved than spells.”
    “Your magic?” Kevin continued.
    “I am a mage, yes,” Loren said. “The crossing was mine. And so, too, if you come, will be the return.”
    “This is ridiculous!” Martyniuk exploded again. This time he would not look at Jennifer. “Magic. Crossings. Show me something! Talk is cheap, and I don’t believe a word of this.”
    Loren stared coldly at Dave. Kim, seeing it, caught her breath. But then the severe face creased in a sudden smile. The eyes, improbably, danced. “You’re right,” he said. “It is much the simplest way. Look, then.”
    There was silence in the room for almost ten seconds. Kevin saw, out of the corner of his eye, that the Dwarf, too, had gone very still. What’ll it be, he thought.
    They saw a castle.
    Where Dave Martyniuk had stood moments before, there appeared battlements and towers, a garden, a central courtyard, an open square before the walls, and on the very highest rampart a banner somehow blowing in a non-existent breeze: and on the banner Kevin saw a crescent moon above a spreading tree.
    “Paras Derval,” Loren said softly, gazing at his own artifice with an expression almost wistful, “in Brennin, High Kingdom of Fionavar. Mark the flags in the great square before the palace. They are there for the coming celebration, because the eighth day past the full of the moon this month will end the fifth decade of Ailell’s reign.”
    “And us?” Kimberly’s voice was parchment-thin. “Where do we fit in?”
    A wry smile softened the lines of Loren’s face. “Not heroically, I’m afraid, though there is pleasure in this for you, I hope. A great deal is being done to celebrate the anniversary. There has been a long spring drought in Brennin, and it has been deemed politic to give the people something to cheer about. And I daresay there is reason for it. At any rate, Metran, First Mage to Ailell, has decided that the gift to him and to the people from the Council of the Mages will be to bring five people from another world—one for each decade of the reign—to join us for the festival fortnight.”
    Kevin Laine laughed aloud. “Red Indians to the Court of King James?”
    With a gesture almost casual, Loren dissolved the apparition in the middle of the room. “I’m afraid there’s some truth to that. Metran’s ideas … he is First of my Council, but I daresay I need not always agree with him.”
    “You’re here,” Paul said.
    “I wanted to try another crossing in any case,” Loren replied quickly. “It has been a long time since last I was in your world as Lorenzo Marcus.”
    “Have I got this straight?” Kim asked. “You want us to cross with you somehow to your world, and then you’ll bring us back?”
    “Basically, yes. You will be with us for two weeks, perhaps, but when we return I will have you back in this room within a few hours of when we departed.”
    “Well,” said Kevin, with a sly grin, “that should get you, Martyniuk, for sure. Just think, Dave, two extra weeks to study for Evidence!”
    Dave flushed bright red, as the room broke up in a release of tension.
    “I’m in, Loren Silvercloak,” said Kevin Laine, as they quieted. And so became the first. He managed a grin. “I’ve always wanted to wear war-paint to court. When’s take-off?”
    Loren looked at him steadily. “Tomorrow. Early evening, if we are to time it properly. I will not ask you to decide now. Think for the rest of tonight, and tomorrow. If you will come with me, be here by late afternoon.”
    “What about you? What if we don’t come?” Kim’s forehead was creased with the vertical line that always showed when she was under stress.
    Loren seemed disconcerted by the question. “If that happens, I fail. It has happened before. Don’t worry