Quest for the Eagle-Eye Amulet: Book Two in the Weaverworld Trilogy

By Julia K. Rohan

Jack Fishers battles with Grimsnipe are far from over. He has been pulled back to Weaverworld to solve another mystery: the theft of his grandmothers Eagle-eye amulet. Is her arch-enemy, Grimsnipe, behind the crime? Jack resolves to get her a new amulet, but to do so he must face his fears and return to Weaverworld.

With his loyal guardians, Peter Bellamy and Lily Windhover, by his sideas well as some uninvited guestsJack sets out on the journey of a lifetime. Along the way, he must prove that he is a worthy opponent to the powerful Grimsnipe. Jacks ability to stay true to his goal and overcome overwhelming obstacles will serve him well on his quest. But the biggest challenge of his life awaits him. Can he rise to new heights of bravery to save his own life?

Rohan (Weaverworld: Grimsnipes Revenge, 2012) returns with the second installment in her fantasy series, in which young Jack must travel back to Weaverworld to replace his grandmothers silver necklace. Theres plenty to keep young readers engrossed as shape-shifters, a flying ship and action-packed battles keep the young hero fighting the odds as Grimsnipe closes in.
KIRKUS REVIEWS

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: May 15, 2014
• ISBN: 9781491728963

Julia K. Rohan

A self-confessed “late bloomer”, Julia K. Rohan earned an Honors English Literature degree in her mid-forties. Five years later, on a whim, she began writing what would eventually become the Weaverworld Fantasy Trilogy. The first book in the series, Weaverworld: Grimsnipe’s Revenge, was published in 2012, and the second, Quest for the Eagle-eye Amulet, in 2014. The Timekeeper’s Solution is the final book in the trilogy — though not, perhaps, the end of Weaverworld. When not writing, Julia may be found performing as a singer-songwriter, cooking dinner for her husband, talking movies with her son, or walking her dog, Mr. Bojangles.

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Copyright © 2014 Julia K. Rohan.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4917-2898-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-2897-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-2896-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014905005

iUniverse rev. date: 10/04/2016

CONTENTS

Chapter 1 The Stolen Amulet

Chapter 2 A Sudden Departure

Chapter 3 The Return of the Realie

Chapter 4 Aladdeus’s Terrible Secret

Chapter 5 Unexpected Company

Chapter 6 A Deep Cut and a Gaping Hole

Chapter 7 Hailstone and the Harptree Rebels

Chapter 8 Guttersnipe Attack!

Chapter 9 She Who Summons the Dead

Chapter 10 Encounter with a Summoness

Chapter 11 Thaddeus Receives His Gift

Chapter 12 The Morbidian Desert

Chapter 13 Will Disappears

Chapter 14 Admiral Rem and The Watery Grave

Chapter 15 Welcome to Anesthesia!

Chapter 16 A Narrow Escape

Chapter 17 Shipwrecked

Chapter 18 Empress Sable and the Chevaliers

Chapter 19 A Strange Little Girl

Chapter 20 The Bluntog Massacre

Chapter 21 A Frightening Reunion

Chapter 22 The Ethereans and the Rumblings of War

Chapter 23 Death Drops In

Chapter 24 The Antidote to a Vortex Worm

Chapter 25 Farewell to Etherea

Chapter 26 War is Declared

Chapter 27 Battle at Bloodmoor Gallows

Chapter 28 Prisoners of Stanglespit Labyrinth

Chapter 29 Backwards Through the Riddle Walls

Chapter 30 Alligators and Allies

Chapter 31 Quest’s End

WeaverworldMap.jpg

For Ryan, who always wanted just one more story…

‘"There are places in the heart that do not yet exist;

suffering has to enter in for them to come to be."

Leon Bloy

CHAPTER 1

The Stolen Amulet

"What do you mean ‘he killed his dog’?" asked Simon.

Simon Goldberg was Jack Fisher’s best friend. At that moment, he was downloading photographs of people he had secretly captured with his digital camera while roaming the main street of Boxton Pond.

"Not his dog, replied his little sister Rachel, who, as it happened, was also the best friend of Jack’s sister Jillian. His grandmother’s dog."

Did Jillian tell you that? asked Simon irritably.

I can’t tell you, replied Rachel. She made me promise not to.

Still intent on his computer screen, Simon pushed his glasses further up on his nose with the end of his thumb, a habit he had cultivated because he felt it lent him an air of sophistication. She’s lying, he said simply.

No, she’s not, replied Rachel indignantly. The dog’s gone. Ask his mother if you don’t believe me. It disappeared at their family reunion and Jillian says she saw Jack do something to him.

Jack would not hurt his grandmother’s dog, said Simon firmly. Now get out of my room so I can finish this, please.

Rachel shrugged and sauntered out of the room, leaving Simon to contemplate what she had just told him. He didn’t have to ask if it were true or not. He knew the dog had gone missing. Jack had told him himself. So why would Jillian say Jack killed it? Then again, he thought, Jillian Fisher was one weird little kid. She loved to make up stories, so who knew? She might have made it up to impress Rachel, and his sister was so gullible she’d believe just about anything.

Frustrated, Simon closed his eyes and shook his head. He didn’t want to think about it anymore but it was like a Rubik’s cube: he just couldn’t seem to put it down. He guessed the only way to put an end to it was to ask Jack himself, which he did at the first opportunity.

So you know your little sister is going around telling everybody you killed your grandmother’s dog, right? he said casually that evening as he and Jack sat together sucking on popsicles in the Fishers’ backyard.

It was a hot night and they had just played a round of catch during which Jack did most of the catching while Simon did most of the retrieving. Bug Goldberg was as uncoordinated with a baseball mitt as he was with most other pieces of sports equipment.

Jack looked at Simon. She’s what? he said.

Simon told him what Rachel had said that afternoon and for a moment Jack sat mute, his popsicle melting in his hand. A tear rolled down his cheek.

She’s right, in a way, replied Jack, quickly wiping away the tear with his sweaty forearm. I didn’t kill him exactly, but it’s my fault he’s not here anymore.

Simon promptly slurped up the rest of his popsicle and pocketed the stick. Then, withdrawing a small bottle of hand cleanser from another pocket, he removed all traces of sticky residue from his hands. Satisfied, he turned to Jack and said, Okay, I’m ready now. Tell me everything.

Before the events at the Fisher family reunion, Jack and Simon had been steadily growing apart. Jack had become increasingly embarrassed by Simon’s small size and quirky nerdiness. But since his return from Weaverworld, he found himself seeking out his old friend’s company more often, and took solace in it. For weeks he had wanted to tell Simon about his adventures. He held back, however, believing it might be better to keep the secret between himself and Granny Rose for the time being. But now that the opportunity presented itself he couldn’t help but share his secret.

He told Simon how he had ventured into his Granny’s forbidden attic and found an old trunk with costumes in it from her days in the theatre. He had also found a leather bomber jacket and boots that belonged to his grandfather, Dashing Jack Jenkins, who had died long before Jack was born. When he put on his grandfather’s clothes, something strange occurred: a twister had emerged from the trunk and enveloped him. When he awoke, he found himself in another world, which he came to learn was called Weaverworld. While there, he became fast friends with a boy named Will Widget, who had a sister named Dorothy and two brothers, Ursan and Thomas. He was taken to live with the Master Archer, Aladdeus Gaelblade, who taught him many things, including how to shoot a bow and arrow and how to weave things out of thin air.

At this point in the story, Simon snapped to attention. What do you mean ‘weave’ things? he asked.

Jack shrugged. It was hard to explain. You sort of focus on a picture of a thing in your head and then you concentrate until it appears in front of you.

Simon’s eyes widened. Are you serious? he asked. Show me!

Jack closed his eyes. Since coming back to the Realworld he had tried to weave things but each time he had failed. At first he thought it was because he was afraid of being caught in the act and having to explain himself, but later he suspected it was more than that. He had noticed that his body felt heavier than it had in Weaverworld. In fact, everything he touched felt denser and somehow darker. It reminded him of the time he had helped his dad bury Granny’s old ginger cat, Winston. In life, the cat had seemed light and springy, ready to leap from his arms at any moment. But in death, he felt heavy and his fur was dull and flat. Jack had the sensation that this lifelessness permeated everything around him, so when he tried to weave something, the objects he made were too light to mesh with Realworld objects. It was like pouring water on a concrete block. Nothing got absorbed. He soon began to doubt himself and wondered if he had simply borrowed his ability to weave from the Weavers around him.

I can’t, he said at last. I think it only works when you’re there.

Simon’s face fell. But couldn’t you just try? he said.

Already have, replied Jack. Lots of times.

But maybe if you showed me how to do it… suggested Simon hopefully.

Forget it, snapped Jack. He broke his popsicle stick in two and let it drop to the ground.

Taken aback, Simon went silent. Jack then continued with his story, explaining how the man his grandmother once knew as Lester Grandiflore had been enraged when, as a young woman, she had rejected him and married Jack Jenkins instead. In an effort to wreak revenge on her, Lester set in motion a plan to harm her and those she loved. He murdered Weaverworld’s beloved Minister of Realworld Affairs, Erasmus Northeglade, then changed his identity to Grimsnipe and went into hiding.

Now, decades later, Grimsnipe had resurfaced. He lured Jack to Weaverworld with the intention of kidnapping him and raising him as his own grandson. Though his plan had failed, it was clear that until Granny’s old enemy was stopped for good, the threat to Jack’s family remained.

I know, said Jack after a pause. Sounds crazy, doesn’t it? Maybe your parents know a good psychiatrist?

Probably, said Simon. But I don’t think you need one.

So you don’t think I’m nuts?

Simon shook his head. Nope, he said with finality. There aren’t many that would believe your story, but I do. So what are you going to do now?

I don’t know, said Jack. But I’ve been thinking about going back.

Back? said Simon. Why? I thought you said this Grimsnipe guy was trying to kidnap you. Why would you want to go back?

I have to stop him, said Jack simply.

Simon considered this answer. But how? he said. It doesn’t sound like your grandmother’s going to let you get into that attic again.

I can’t use the trunk again anyway, replied Jack. They told me it’s not safe to use it as a portal anymore. And anyway, Granny can’t know. I promised her I wouldn’t go there again. You’re the only one who knows, and you have to swear on your future Academy Award that you’ll never tell anybody. Jack knew there was nothing Simon valued more than that dream.

Sworn, said Simon solemnly. But what makes you think you have to stop him? Shouldn’t you leave that to the Weavers? It seems like he’s their problem now.

Jack struggled to put his thoughts into words. The answer was complicated. He had deliberately withheld certain details of his story because it was one thing to describe the Widget family but quite another to describe how he had woven his own beautiful horse named Venus. He had also avoided any mention of Rainbow Mudrake, the girl with the rose-colored glasses who could ride and shoot a bow and arrow better than he could ever hope to. The daughter of the Master Bowmaker, Jasper Mudrake, she had stolen his heart. He knew that a big reason he wanted to return to Weaverworld was to be reunited with Venus and Rainbow.

But there was another reason too, and this one troubled him more than any other. Ever since he came home he had noticed his grandmother growing weaker. Though he tried to ignore it, clowning and making jokes in an effort to make her laugh, he knew part of her had died the day he returned without her beloved dog Roosevelt. The dog had leapt into the twister with him in Granny’s attic in an effort to protect him and had been transported to Weaverworld along with him. After the dog was injured by one of Grimsnipe’s creations—a pterodactyl-like bird called a Guttersnipe—he disappeared.

I have to try to bring Rosey home, said Jack. Granny doesn’t say anything because I know she doesn’t want to make me feel bad, but ever since I came back without that dog she hasn’t been the same.

But maybe that’s just because she’s old, suggested Simon.

No, said Jack. I know my grandma. It’s not that she’s old. It’s that she’s giving up. And I don’t want to be the reason she gives up altogether.

Simon nodded slowly and pushed his glasses up. He thought about the problem for a few moments and then suddenly perked up. Maybe you have to use that book, he suggested. The book they used to send you back.

Of course Jack had already thought of that. The problem was he had no clue how to make the thing back into a portal. It had taken a group of four adult Weavers and some special circle stones to make it work the first time and he had none of those things to help him now. He was in the middle of explaining this dilemma when he was interrupted by the sound of Mrs. Doctor Goldberg calling Simon in for the night.

Rising from his place, Simon said, Let me think about it. I’m sure there must be some famous movie with a clue that will help us. Simon was an aficionado of kids’ movies from as far back as the early twentieth century and had most of them in his expansive DVD collection.

Jack watched his friend walk away and smiled. Hey Bug, he called softly.

Simon stopped and turned around. Yeah? he replied.

Thanks for listening, said Jack. But let’s keep it between us, okay?

Absolutely, replied Simon. Anyway, who besides me would believe a story like this?

After his friend was gone, Jack shook his head and muttered, Right. Who would believe it?

Getting to his feet, he slipped through the back door of his own house and walked through the darkened kitchen to the hallway. He was about to mount the stairs when he paused to peer into the living room. His parents were slumped on the couch together, both of them sound asleep in front of the TV. His dad had a crumpled newspaper on his lap, his reading glasses askew on his face, while his mom leaned against him with her fuzzy-slippered feet on the coffee table and the remote control in her limp hand.

Satisfied that they would be asleep for at least a while longer, Jack climbed the stairs and headed for his room. On the way, he stopped briefly at Jillian’s door. He knew she was probably still awake and that if he peeked in he would no doubt find her scrunched up in bed with a book in her face. He also knew it must be troubling her that she hadn’t kept their secret. She had been there in the attic with him that fateful afternoon, and had witnessed both his disappearance and his sudden return from Weaverworld. She was devastated when Roosevelt did not return with him.

He wanted to go in and tell her it was okay, that he understood and wasn’t angry, but suddenly he just felt too tired to face what would likely be an emotional confrontation. It would start with her flat-out denial that she’d said anything to Rachel and end in her tearful confession. Turning away, he decided to let it go. There were far more serious things to worry about now.

Closing his own bedroom door behind him, he strode to the bed and kneeled down beside it. Then he reached far in between the mattress and the box-spring and pulled out his copy of The Realie, the book that had served as his portal back to the Realworld a few weeks earlier. Sitting on the floor, he held the book in his hands and withdrew the small tube dangling from a leather thong that was pressed between its pages like a bookmark. It was the archery badge presented to him by his mentor, Aladdeus Gaelblade, in recognition of the extraordinary progress he had made after his first day on the Warpenwoof Academy archery field. Opening the tube, he withdrew the tiny roll of parchment paper and read again the Four Virtues of a Master Archer:

A Master Archer, with every shot he or she makes,

endeavors to demonstrate these Four Virtues…

Honesty, Integrity, Humility, and Perseverance.

Jack had worn the badge close to his heart while still in Weaverworld, but when he arrived home he took it off and hid it with the book, knowing both objects would prompt questions from his parents that he wasn’t prepared to answer—at least not yet. Flipping through the pages, he read and re-read short snatches of his own story. It was all there, every detail of his time in Weaverworld, told not by him but from the point of view of the four Weavers who had woven it: Dr. Penelope Neith, Professor Earnest Widget, the deputy Peter Bellamy and his mother Olivia Bellamy, owner of Bellamy’s Books. However, no matter how many times he looked at it, the book yielded no clue about how he might use it to return to Weaverworld.

Frustrated, Jack leaned against his bed and sighed deeply. He thought back to those frantic moments just before his escape from Weaverworld when Mrs. Bellamy had carefully placed circle stones around the book and then, while Jack stood on it, Dr. Neith and the others joined hands around him. It was only a few seconds later when his body began to disintegrate and disappear. What were the stones for? he wondered. Dr. Neith said she and the others were going to try to do two things: send him back to the Realworld and backward in time. Maybe they needed the stones to take care of the time part, he mused. In that case he wouldn’t need them since he didn’t need to go back in time now. In fact it would be best if he avoided that time altogether since he had been about to be either arrested by Sheriff Larkspur or kidnapped by Grimsnipe. Chuckling at himself, he muttered, Yeah, that’s great Jack. So you don’t need the stones. You just need four Weavers with supernatural powers. Returning the archery badge to its place, he closed the book and slid it back under the mattress.

The next afternoon, he cycled over to Granny Rose’s as usual. He had promised to cut her lawn and she had promised to bake some oatmeal chocolate-chip cookies. But as he turned the corner onto Tumbledown Lane, he was shocked to see an ambulance in her driveway. Mrs. DeWitte, Granny’s faithful housekeeper, was standing on the front porch wringing her hands. Jack rode up and let the bike drop to the ground.

What’s going on? he called, running toward the steps.

It’s your Granny, said Mrs. DeWitte, dabbing at her eyes and blowing her nose. I think it’s her heart. The paramedics are in there with her now. They asked me to wait out here. I don’t know why. I guess I was in the way. The poor woman was so distraught and addled that the words kept rushing out of her in a jabbering flood.

Jack looked in through the screen door and saw two men moving around in the living room. He saw an oxygen tank and tubing and some other pieces of medical equipment. When one of the men suddenly moved aside to reach for something, Jack saw Granny Rose lying on the couch with an oxygen mask over her face. He was about to panic when Granny turned her head and saw him standing there. Raising one hand, she waved at him. Jack realized then that he hadn’t drawn a breath since he’d turned the corner. Feeling a little faint, he walked over to the porch swing and sat down.

Tell me again what happened, he said.

Mrs. DeWitte had been Granny’s devoted companion for years and though the relationship had always been one of respectful distance, they knew more about one another than most married couples. She came and sat down in the swing opposite Jack and sighed.

She was just putting the cookies in the oven when she keeled over, said Mrs. DeWitte. I told her to let me do them, but you know your Granny. When she sets her mind to doing something, there’s no stopping her. She wanted them done her way. I told her it was too hot in the kitchen but she wouldn’t listen. With this, Mrs. DeWitte began crying anew.

Jack nodded. His grandmother’s stubborn streak was legendary in the family. Did you call my mom yet?

No, replied Mrs. DeWitte. Not yet.

The front door banged open and a paramedic came out supporting one end of a gurney. Jack jumped up to hold the door and saw that Granny was now strapped to the bed with a sheet covering her up to the chin. As the second paramedic emerged carrying the other end of the gurney, Mrs. DeWitte rushed forward.

Is she going to be alright? she asked, her face pinched and pale.

We’ll know better when we get her to the hospital, said the paramedic.

They were angling the gurney down the stairs when Jack heard his grandmother calling him. Her voice was barely audible due to the oxygen mask over her face but he heard it nonetheless and in an instant was by her side.

Yes, Granny, he said. He put his hand on her shoulder and kept step as the medics moved her along toward the open ambulance doors. I’m here.

He took it, said Granny weakly. Jack had never seen his grandmother look so old and frail. He leaned down closer and asked Took what?

My amulet, she replied. Then, in a halting voice, she continued, I took it off this morning while I took my bath and I left it on the windowsill like I always do. And he took it! She looked over Jack’s shoulder with terror in her eyes.

Jack frowned. Who? he said, turning his head to see if there was anyone behind him. There was, but it was only Mrs. DeWitte, still wringing her hands and looking more upset than ever. He knew the significance of the amulet, and that it had been given to Granny by Dr. Neith to protect her from Grimsnipe. It was designed to detect the Enemy’s presence and to prevent him from harming her. As long as Jack had known his grandmother, the amulet had been around her neck. It seemed impossible that it was gone now.

Him, said Granny, raising her head off the gurney and pointing her chin toward something behind Jack.

Just to be sure, Jack did a quick three-sixty. He saw no one except Mrs. DeWitte, the ambulance drivers and the elderly lady in the house across the street who was looking through her front-room curtains at the drama unfolding before her. Then something else caught Jack’s eye.

It was an enormous raven perched on the roof of Granny’s front porch, and it was watching the proceedings with keen interest. By now, the medics were lifting the gurney into the ambulance. Carefully, the first man slid the wheeled bed onto the threshold and then got in to ease it the rest of the way. Are you coming with us? he asked Jack.

Jack looked up again at the raven, its neck feathers glinting in the sun as it jerked its head this way and that, its beady eyes gleaming. From its beak dangled a shining silver object. The amulet!

Hoisting himself into the ambulance, Jack got as close as he could to his grandmother’s ear and whispered, Don’t worry, Granny. I know where your amulet is. I’m going to get it and bring it back to you as soon as I can. Ok?

Granny Rose turned to look at him as a single tear streamed down her cheek to the pillow. She nodded weakly and tried to smile.

Don’t worry, said Jack again. He leaned down and gave her a peck on the cheek. Stepping back out of the ambulance, he turned to Mrs. DeWitte and said, Can you please go with her? I’ll go home and tell my mom what’s happening.

Mrs. DeWitte seemed to be relieved to be given something useful to do. Yes, yes of course, she replied. Then addressing the paramedic who was closing the ambulance doors, she said in a nearly hysterical, high-pitched voice, Just let me get my purse and lock the door.

As she ran up the porch steps, Jack looked again at the raven. The bird hopped to the edge of the gutter and extended its beak as though daring Jack to come and take the amulet from its grasp. Then, with a squawk of contempt, it stepped off the roof, raised its wings at the last possible moment and lifted itself into the air. It rose higher and higher into the sky over Granny’s house, over the azalea bushes and the hummingbird feeders and finally over the hundred year-old oak. It was flying north.

Jack rushed to pick up his bike and started peddling hard. The town of Boxton Pond had been built over a century earlier on the banks of a large man-made lake. Along its shoreline stood a string of Victorian cottages in various stages of dilapidation. Their original owners—old-money families from Capital City—were now long gone. Their descendants generally lacked the resources to maintain the old houses, so they sat like sagging dowager aunts at a knitting bee. The raven flew over them, maintaining its height and speed, still heading north. Jack was able to keep up more or less, though it required him to run a few stop-signs and cut between a few parked cars. Turning right on Lakeshore Street he looked up and saw the raven suddenly change course. As he feared, it headed directly for the lake.

Taking a quick left, Jack cut down Wharf Street and, still following the bird, arrived at the town dock where a few of Boxton Pond’s senior citizens were tending their fishing poles. He saw the raven suddenly careen down out of the sky and land on top of a piling at the end of the wharf. Abandoning his bike, he kept his gaze focused on the bird, and purposefully walked the length of the wharf, being careful not to make any sudden moves. He was less than six feet from the piling when the raven began shifting uneasily on its perch. Raising its wings, it issued a warning squawk, the sound muted because its beak was still closed on the amulet.

Jack stopped and stood still, his gaze never moving away from Granny Rose’s amulet. Closing his eyes, he pictured himself suddenly lunging forward and seizing the chain out of the creature’s grasp. Concentrating on this image, he took a few deep breaths to calm himself. Before he had even fully opened his eyes, he propelled himself forward with such speed that he actually felt the chain brush his fingertips. But he wasn’t fast enough. Before he could make another grab for it, the raven flapped its wings and flew off over the open water. It was fifty yards out when it stopped, circled around and hovered so that it could meet its pursuer’s eyes once more. Then, as Jack stood helplessly watching, it opened its beak and let the amulet drop. The glinting triangle of silver hit the surface with a "ker-splunk" and disappeared.

Jack’s first impulse was to dive in and try to catch it before it sank. But the truth was, he hadn’t been swimming since his terrifying encounter with the Octasnake in Weaverworld. The eight-headed snake with the octopus body was believed to have been the creation of a boy named Eldritch Quarrel. Jack had nearly drowned when the creature attacked him while he bathed in the stream behind Aladdeus’s cabin. Later he learned that Eldritch’s father, Dalziel Quarrel, was in Grimsnipe’s employ. Eventually the man accused Jack of murdering the mayor of Prankwood Forest. It was a preposterous lie, but it was clear Quarrel would stop at nothing to deliver Jack into Grimsnipe’s hands. This plan too was foiled when Jack’s supporters—most notably the Minister for Realworld Affairs, Dr. Penelope Neith—came to his defense.

Jack stood poised with his toes on the edge of the wharf and shuddered. A moment later, the raven sounded one more raucous squawk and flew away, leaving him to wonder, in desperation, what to do next. Knowing he had failed miserably in his promise to retrieve the amulet, he solemnly made his way back down the wharf, lost in thought. He tried to imagine what Peter Bellamy would do in this situation. Peter had been one of Jack’s best friends in Weaverworld and had vowed to protect him for all time. No sooner did Jack imagine Peter standing next to him than he heard the answer to his barely-formed question. Almost as though the young deputy himself were leaning over whispering in his ear, Jack heard, You must return to Weaverworld at once to replace the lost amulet. If you don’t, she may be lost forever.

CHAPTER 2

A Sudden Departure

When he got home Jack told his mother what had happened to Granny Rose. She immediately called Jack’s dad and asked him to meet her at the hospital. As she hurriedly prepared herself to leave, she instructed Jack to stay home and keep an eye on Jillian, saying she would call from the hospital when she knew more.

Is Granny gonna die? asked Jillian.

It was twenty minutes later and Jack was making her a peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwich while she sat at the kitchen table watching him for clues as to the gravity of the situation. Jack went to the fridge and poured her a glass of milk. Setting it down in front of her, he sat down opposite and watched while she picked at her food. Hairy Spotter, the family’s Jack Russell Terrier, was already positioned under her chair, waiting for the crusts.

No, she’s not going to die, Jack replied. She’s not old enough to die yet.

But why did she have to go to the hospital? asked Jillian.

She’s sick, that’s all, replied Jack. We’ve been sick lots of times and we didn’t die. Remember that time you had chicken pox? You didn’t die, did you?

Does Granny have chicken pox? asked Jillian.

Jack shook his head. No. I don’t really know what’s wrong with her. But I’m pretty sure she’s going to get better.

But what if she doesn’t? asked Jillian. Will she die then?

Jack sighed. This was a typical conversation with Jillian. Only the most dramatic version of events would satisfy her imagination. Why don’t you picture Granny feeling happy and healthy? he said. Picture her the way she looked at the Easter Egg hunt.

Jillian was silent for several seconds, munching on her sandwich slowly as she stared at the table. Ok, she said. I see her now.

Now hang onto that picture of her and maybe it will help her, said Jack.

You think it could work? asked Jillian, looking at her brother in wide-eyed surprise.

You never know, shrugged Jack. It might.

This seemed to placate the little girl’s worry for the moment. Jack got up to get himself an apple when the phone rang. Thinking it must be his mother calling, he rushed to pick it up.

I’ve got it! said the voice on the other end of the line.

It was Simon. For a moment, Jack actually thought his friend might be referring to the lost amulet. But then he realized that was impossible. Simon didn’t even know yet his grandmother’s necklace was missing.

Got what? asked Jack.

The answer to the riddle. About how to get back to Weaverworld.

Jack looked over at Jillian, who was feeding her bread crusts to Hairy. He didn’t want her to hear this conversation, so he carried the phone into the living-room. Why don’t you come over after supper tonight? he said in a low voice. After you-know-who goes to bed.

You mean me, called Jillian from the kitchen.

Putting his hand over the receiver, Jack called back, Eat your sandwich! Then, turning his attention back to Simon, he heard him ask, What time?

Around eight-thirty, Jack replied. I’m babysitting. My parents are at the hospital with my grandmother.

Why? What happened? asked Simon.

Jack looked over at Jillian, who was standing in the doorway watching him, her glass of milk in one hand. I’ll tell you tonight, he said.

An hour later, Jack’s mother called from the hospital. They would be staying with Granny all evening, she said, and then gave him a short list of possibilities for supper.

Is she okay? Jack asked, hoping for the best.

So far, there’s been no change, replied his mother. They’re running a bunch of tests right now.

Jack nodded. Tell her she has to promise to get better, he said.

His mother’s silence told him she wasn’t at all sure that such a promise was within Granny’s power to keep. We’ll see, she said. Right now, it doesn’t look good.

When it was time for Jillian to go to bed, she asked Jack to read her a story. She was perfectly capable of reading on her own, but she still insisted on being read to at night. It soothed her to lie back and listen to someone else read because it allowed her to freely imagine what the characters looked like and to see the houses or forests or seashores in her mind’s eye.

Jack looked at his watch. It was quarter past eight. Okay, he said, going to the bookshelf in her room. The top shelf was piled high with stuffed animals while the lower shelves were so crammed with books that new titles had to be organized into stacks on the floor. Though her mother had gently suggested it was time her baby books were donated to the children of the less fortunate, Jillian was adamant about keeping every book she had ever acquired, including the soft fabric ones that had amused her in her crib. To her credit she didn’t just keep them for the sake of it. She genuinely loved them and took them out to revisit them like old friends, reading board books to her stuffed animals during her frequent all-animal tea-parties.

How about this one? Jack said, holding up a copy of Where the Wild Things Are. As he waited for an answer, Hairy nosed his way into the room and leapt up on Jillian’s bed, curling up next to her on the bedspread.

Lying on her back in her bunny-rabbit pajamas, Jillian pulled on the toes of her left foot with one hand and caressed Hairy’s left ear with the other. Mmm, nope, she said, scrunching up her face. Not tonight.

Jack put the book back and searched for another title. Pulling one from the shelf he held it up. This one then, he said. It was Madeleine.

Ooo, I love that one! exclaimed Jillian, reaching for the book. When Jack sat down on the bed next to her, she took the book out of his hands and started flipping through the pages.

Alright, said Jack. Give it to me so I can read it. He was getting concerned about the time.

I love it, but not tonight, sighed Jillian, handing it back to him.

Well, which one then? said Jack, his voice rising in frustration.

Don’t yell, please, said Jillian, pouting.

Jack looked at his sister and blinked in confusion. He knew it was Jillian who had just said that but for a second he thought he heard Granny’s voice.

Sorry, he said. I didn’t mean to get mad, but Simon’s coming over soon and anyway you’re supposed to be lights out at 8:30 and it’s almost that now. He showed her the time on his watch. So which book do you want, and make it quick.

"I want your book," answered Jillian.

Jack looked at her and frowned. What do you mean, ‘my’ book? he asked.

The one hidden in your bed, she replied.

Shocked, Jack stood up and took a few quick steps toward the door and then came back to the bed again. How do you know about that? he asked.

I saw it when you woke up in the attic, answered Jillian. And then I saw you hide it under your mattress.

Jack closed his eyes, shook his head and sighed. This kid is just like mom, he said to himself. Never misses a thing. "Jill, he said. I can’t read that book to you. You’re not even supposed to know it exists."

But I do know it exists, argued Jillian.

With a look of sudden terror, Jack glared at her and said, But you haven’t told anyone, have you? Please tell me you didn’t tell Rachel!

No, I didn’t tell anyone, said Jillian, her lower lip beginning to tremble. At least not about the book.

Thank goodness, thought Jack. He still had time to change the book’s hiding place and this time he’d make sure Jillian was nowhere near the house when he did it. It didn’t really matter if she told people, he reasoned. It only mattered that they never found it. That way, they’d think she was just making it up out of her vivid imagination, as usual.

Never mind, said Jack. It’s okay that you know about it. But honestly, I can’t read it to you. It’s not for kids your age. You can read it someday when you get a bit older. Okay?

The doorbell rang. Jack looked at his watch. His friend was early by five minutes. Just a sec, he told Jillian. Let me go let Bug in and I’ll be right back.

Okay, said Jillian, happy now that her brother was no longer irritated with her.

Jack went downstairs, let Simon in, and told him to wait in the living-room until he was done putting Jillian to bed. By the time he got back upstairs, his little sister was already fast asleep with Madeleine clutched in her arms and Hairy asleep at the foot of the bed. He tip-toed to the door, pulled it shut and hurried back downstairs.

So, what did you figure out? said Jack.

First tell me what happened to your grandmother, replied Simon.

For the next few minutes, Jack recounted the story of how he arrived at Granny’s only to find her gravely ill. Then he explained about the amulet, and the evil-looking raven that had stolen it off granny’s windowsill. Simon said he’d seen a documentary about ravens that said they’re famous for stealing shiny objects, so it didn’t necessarily mean the bird was evil. Jack listened but wasn’t convinced.

So, do you want to hear my idea about how to get back to Weaverworld? asked Simon.

Yeah, said Jack eagerly. Tell me!

It’s a show-and-tell, replied Simon, drawing a DVD out of his knapsack. Turn on the TV.

When the player was ready, Simon handed the DVD to Jack who looked at it and smirked. You’re kidding, right? he said. "The Wizard of Oz?"

Very similar plot line, said Simon.

So you think I just hit my head and dreamed the whole thing? said Jack, exasperated.

Simon shook his head. No, not necessarily. And anyway, whether you did or not doesn’t matter. What matters is how Dorothy came back from Oz. That’s the scene we have to watch.

I’ve seen it at least ten times, said Jack. "She taps the heels of those sparkly red shoes together and ‘poof’! she wakes up in her own bed with everyone she knows gathered around her. So what? What does that have to do with me?"

Patience, dear friend, said Simon, taking the video out of Jack’s hand and placing it in the DVD tray. Watch and learn. They sat down on the couch side by side and Simon selected the scene. After watching it together once in silence, Simon pressed the Pause button and turned to Jack with a questioning look. Well? he said.

Well what? replied Jack.

Did you notice anything?

Jack shook his head and shrugged. Exactly what I said before.

Watch again, said Simon. He rewound the video and pressed Play. This time he stopped it more quickly. There, he said. "That’s it. That’s the clue. The good witch says, ‘She’s always had the power to go back to Kansas,’ and then when the Straw Man asks why the witch didn’t tell her that before she says, ‘Because she never would have believed me. She had to find it out for herself.’"

Jack felt there were serious holes in this theory. So you think I could have come home from Weaverworld by myself, he said, but Dr. Neith didn’t think I’d believe it, so she made up a whole ceremony with the book and the circle stones to convince me. Is that it?

Simon shrugged and looked a little less sure of himself. It’s possible, he said, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

Reaching