The yawn was contagious; several of the other ghosts shared it, then began to wink out, one by one, until only the sorcerer, the magician, and Conn were left.
“They haven’t really gone, have they?” Gar asked.
“Most of them, yes,” Conn said. “Your novelty has worn off.”
“But some of them are still around?”
“I will always be near.” The sorcerer made his tone a threat.
“Well, then, so will I.” Conn locked gazes with the tyrant’s shade and grinned.
“Fear ghosts,” the magician intoned, glaring at Alea, Mira, and Blaize. “Fear our power!”
“But you have no power over the living,” Blaize objected, “as long as we refuse to be frightened.”
“Are you truly so courageous as that?” The ghost floated closer, growing, towering over Blaize, swollen and threatening. “Yes, he is,” Conn said, “especially since he knows I’m here to boggle you if you become too much of a nuisance.”
“Be still, peasant!”
“Oh, really! You command me, do you?” Conn threw back his head and began to sing, loudly and off-key.
The sorcerer winced. “Enough!”
“Not by half.” Conn sang again.
“I can’t take it anymore,” the sorcerer groaned. “You’ve been warned, mortals!” He winked out.
Conn broke off and turned grinning to the companions. “Yes, be warned, but don’t think you have anything to fear from the likes of him. Oh, he can make you feel fear even if he can’t really scare you, but that’s all he can do.”
“As long as we remember that all we have to fear is fear itself,” Gar said, “he can’t hurt us.”
“Well said, well said.” Conn nodded approvingly. “It was a wiser man than I who first said it.”
“And you’re wiser than any magician I’ve met,” Conn returned, “though I have heard of a few who realize that the good they do comes back to them—especially when they become ghosts. Well, be careful, mortals. We phantoms may not be able to hurt you, but living magicians and their guards can.”
“What of forest outlaws?” Alea asked.
Conn bared his teeth in a grin. “They’ll hear from me if they do!” He winked out.
The campsite was silent for a minute. Then Gar cleared his throat and said, “I think we can conclude that going into a trance helps summon ghosts.”
“Yes, I would say that was clear,” Alea said sarcastically. “However, I’d prefer to leave the rest of the lesson until tomorrow.” Gar rose and stretched. “If you don’t mind, my friends, I’d just as soon lie down for the night. We’ll work on spectral communications tomorrow, shall we?”
“Spectral communications?” Blaize frowned. “What’s that?”
“Gossiping ghosts,” Gar said. “Good night.”
The next morning, when chores were done, Gar and Alea sat down with Mira and Blaize to start experimenting,
“First,” Gar said to Blaize, “see if you can contact Conn and Ranulf…”
“By daylight?” Blaize asked in surprise.
“Of course. You heard Conn—last night the ghosts are still here even if we can’t see them. It’s just that the sun’s too bright.”
“That’s true.” Blaize turned thoughtful. “Of course, they might not be right here with us.”
“They might not indeed. That’s why I’d like you to call and see if they are.”
Blaize nodded, then closed his eyes. A few minutes later, he opened them, looking shaken. “They’re here.”
“I told you we’d stay near,” said a thin, faint voice. They all started, recognizing it as Conn’s.
“I’ve an idea I’d like to try,” Gar said. “Would you mind helping us, Conn?”
“Depends on what it is. Say, mortal.”
“I’d like to see if you can put words into the mind of a person who can’t read thoughts.”
“Interesting notion,” the ghost said. “Where will I find one?”
“Well,” Gar said, “I was thinking of Mira here.”
Mina shrank away in alarm.
“Yes, I thought you might,” Conn said. “She can read minds, you know.”
“No I can’t!” Mira cried.
“It’s a faint talent, lass, so faint you’re not aware of it—but haven’t you ever noticed that you have a hunch what someone else is going to do before they do it?”
“Well, yes, but … everybody does, don’t they?”
“Not all,” Conn said, “but she has a point, mortal. Most folk in this land have some little ability to read minds—very little, mostly, but it’s there. It’s one of the things you learn being a ghost.”
“Well, then,” Gar said, obviously digesting as he spoke, “would you mind waiting for Conn’s words to come into your mind, Mira?”
“I …I…”
“There’s no harm in it, lass.” Alea laid a reassuring hand over Mira’s. “From what he says, ghosts do it all the time anyway.”
“That’s true,” said Ranulf’s voice, “but only when we’re feeling mischievous.”
Alea looked askance in the direction of his voice. “How often are you not?”
“Only when we’re bored.”
“When are you not bored?”
“When we’re being mischievous.”
Conn cut in. “Was there anything in particular you wanted Mira to hear, mortal?”
Instead of answering, Gar frowned at Blaize, who looked startled, then gazed off into the distance.
Mira frowned too. “Because they both begin with the sound ‘r,’ of course. But wasn’t he supposed to try to make the words come into my mind?”
“He was,” Gar said, “but you only heard him speaking more loudly than he had been, didn’t you?”
“That’s right.”
“He didn’t speak aloud, lass,” Alea said. “I was careful to listen with my ears, not my mind, and you were the only one who heard his words.”
Mira looked startled. Then she began to look frightened. “I thought the question at Blaize,” Gar said, “and he thought it at Conn, who thought it at you.”
Mira still looked frightened, but she asked bravely, “Was I right?”
“It’s as good an answer as any,” Gar said. “The man who thought up the riddle didn’t tell us the answer, and for six hundred years people have been trying to figure out why a raven is like a writing desk.” He looked toward the section of air that had generated Conn’s voice. “Could we try again, only this time, have Conn tell the question to Ranulf, who will tell it to Mira?”
“You’re just saying that because I was feeling left out,” Ranulf’s voice answered.
“No, I really do have a purpose,” Gar assured him. “Will you help?”
“Of course! This is really interesting. Ask away, mortal.”
“This time, think the answer to Alea,” Gar said, “and let’s see if she can relay it to Mira. Is that all right, Alea?”
“As Ranulf said, this is becoming interesting.” Alea sat up a little straighter, smiling. “Ask away.”
Gar’s brow knit. Blaize gazed off into space. After a few seconds, Alea looked surprised, then Mira did, too. “How can one hand alone make the sound of clapping?”
“It can’t, of course,” Gar said, “but pondering that point will clear your mind of all other random thoughts. Thank you, Conn and Ranulf-it seems ghosts can pass messages from one to another, and the last can deliver the words to a mortal.”
“I should have thought that was rather plain,” Conn’s voice sniffed.