Read Online A Wind in the Door by Madeleine L'Engle - Free Book Online
Authors: Madeleine L'Engle
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Good night, then.”
“Good night, Megling.” He waved a wing at her, then folded himself up into a great puff. No eyes showed, no flame, no smoke.
Meg shivered.
Blajeny asked, “Are you cold?”
She shivered again. “That thunderstorm before dinner—I suppose it was caused by a cold front meeting a warm front, but it did seem awfully cosmic. I never expected to meet a cherubim …”
“Blajeny,” Calvin said, “you haven’t given me an assignment.”
“No, my son. There is work for you, difficult work, and dangerous, but I cannot tell you yet what it is. Your assignment is to wait, without question. Please come to the Murrys’ house after school tomorrow—you are free to do that?”
“Oh, sure,” Calvin said. “I can skip my after-school stuff for once.”
“Good. Until then. Now, let us go.”
Charles Wallace led the way, with Meg and Calvin close behind. The wind was blowing out of the northwest, colder, it seemed, with each gust. When they reached the stone wall to the apple orchard, the moon was shining clearly, with that extraordinary brightness which makes light and dark acute and separate. Some apples still clung to their branches; a few as dark as Blajeny, others shining with a silvery light, almost as though they were illuminated from within.
On top of the pale stones of the wall lay a dark shadow, which was moving slowly, sinuously. It rose up, carefully uncoiling, seeming to spread a hood as it loomed over them. Its forked tongue flickered, catching the light, and a hissing issued from its mouth.
Louise.
But this was not the threatening Louise who had hissed and clacked at the impossible Mr. Jenkins; this was the Louise Meg and Charles Wallace had seen that
afternoon, the Louise who had been waiting to greet the unknown shadow—the shadow who, Meg suddenly understood, must have been Blajeny.
Nevertheless, she pressed closer to Calvin; she had never felt very secure around Louise, and the snake’s strange behavior that afternoon and evening made her seem even more alien than when she was only the twins’ pet.
Now Louise was weaving slowly back and forth in a gentle rhythm, almost as though she were making a serpentine version of a deep curtsy; and the sibilant sound was a gentle, treble fluting.
Blajeny bowed to the snake.
Louise most definitely returned the bow.
Blajeny explained gravely, “She is a colleague of mine.”
“But—but—hey, now,” Calvin sputtered, “wait a minute—”
“She is a Teacher. That is why she is so fond of the two boys—Sandy and Dennys. One day they will be Teachers, too.”
Meg said, “They’re going to be successful businessmen and support the rest of us in the way to which we are not accustomed.”
Blajeny waved this aside. “They will be Teachers. It is a High Calling, and you must not be distressed that it is not yours. You, too, have a Work.”
Louise, with a last burst of her tiny, strange melody, dropped back to the wall and disappeared among the stones.
“Perhaps we’re dreaming after all,” Calvin said, wonderingly.
“What is real?” the Teacher asked again. “I will say good night to you now.”
Charles Wallace was reluctant to leave. “We won’t wake up in the morning and find it all never happened? We won’t wake up and find we dreamed everything?”
“If only one of us does,” Meg said, “and nobody else remembers any of it, then it’s a dream. But if we all wake up remembering, then it really happened.”
“Wait until tomorrow to find what tomorrow holds,” Blajeny advised. “Good night, my children.”
They did not ask him where he was going to spend the night—though Meg wondered—because it was the kind of presumptuous question one could not possibly ask Blajeny. They left him standing and watching after them, the folds of his robes chiseled like granite, his dark face catching and refracting the moonlight like fused glass.
They crossed the orchard and garden and entered the house, as usual,
“Good night, Megling.” He waved a wing at her, then folded himself up into a great puff. No eyes showed, no flame, no smoke.
Meg shivered.
Blajeny asked, “Are you cold?”
She shivered again. “That thunderstorm before dinner—I suppose it was caused by a cold front meeting a warm front, but it did seem awfully cosmic. I never expected to meet a cherubim …”
“Blajeny,” Calvin said, “you haven’t given me an assignment.”
“No, my son. There is work for you, difficult work, and dangerous, but I cannot tell you yet what it is. Your assignment is to wait, without question. Please come to the Murrys’ house after school tomorrow—you are free to do that?”
“Oh, sure,” Calvin said. “I can skip my after-school stuff for once.”
“Good. Until then. Now, let us go.”
Charles Wallace led the way, with Meg and Calvin close behind. The wind was blowing out of the northwest, colder, it seemed, with each gust. When they reached the stone wall to the apple orchard, the moon was shining clearly, with that extraordinary brightness which makes light and dark acute and separate. Some apples still clung to their branches; a few as dark as Blajeny, others shining with a silvery light, almost as though they were illuminated from within.
On top of the pale stones of the wall lay a dark shadow, which was moving slowly, sinuously. It rose up, carefully uncoiling, seeming to spread a hood as it loomed over them. Its forked tongue flickered, catching the light, and a hissing issued from its mouth.
Louise.
But this was not the threatening Louise who had hissed and clacked at the impossible Mr. Jenkins; this was the Louise Meg and Charles Wallace had seen that
afternoon, the Louise who had been waiting to greet the unknown shadow—the shadow who, Meg suddenly understood, must have been Blajeny.
Nevertheless, she pressed closer to Calvin; she had never felt very secure around Louise, and the snake’s strange behavior that afternoon and evening made her seem even more alien than when she was only the twins’ pet.
Now Louise was weaving slowly back and forth in a gentle rhythm, almost as though she were making a serpentine version of a deep curtsy; and the sibilant sound was a gentle, treble fluting.
Blajeny bowed to the snake.
Louise most definitely returned the bow.
Blajeny explained gravely, “She is a colleague of mine.”
“But—but—hey, now,” Calvin sputtered, “wait a minute—”
“She is a Teacher. That is why she is so fond of the two boys—Sandy and Dennys. One day they will be Teachers, too.”
Meg said, “They’re going to be successful businessmen and support the rest of us in the way to which we are not accustomed.”
Blajeny waved this aside. “They will be Teachers. It is a High Calling, and you must not be distressed that it is not yours. You, too, have a Work.”
Louise, with a last burst of her tiny, strange melody, dropped back to the wall and disappeared among the stones.
“Perhaps we’re dreaming after all,” Calvin said, wonderingly.
“What is real?” the Teacher asked again. “I will say good night to you now.”
Charles Wallace was reluctant to leave. “We won’t wake up in the morning and find it all never happened? We won’t wake up and find we dreamed everything?”
“If only one of us does,” Meg said, “and nobody else remembers any of it, then it’s a dream. But if we all wake up remembering, then it really happened.”
“Wait until tomorrow to find what tomorrow holds,” Blajeny advised. “Good night, my children.”
They did not ask him where he was going to spend the night—though Meg wondered—because it was the kind of presumptuous question one could not possibly ask Blajeny. They left him standing and watching after them, the folds of his robes chiseled like granite, his dark face catching and refracting the moonlight like fused glass.
They crossed the orchard and garden and entered the house, as usual,
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