Read Online Windblowne by Stephen Messer - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stephen Messer
Ads: Link
stumbling back. “I mean, no!”
“Who are you?” said Oliver again. “Are you my twin? What are those things chasing my kite?”
“No, no, I’m not your twin,” the other boy said desperately. His smile had been replaced by wide-eyed fright as Oliver came closer. He coughed again. “The crimson kite will be fine—don’t worry. The hunters are just going to capture it, that’s all. It won’t be hurt!” He held out his kite like a shield.
Oliver glanced at the kite—a beautiful green-and-black power kite he could not help admiring—thensnapped back to the other boy. “Hunters? Those fighting kites? Who were you talking to?”
Now the other boy looked terrified. “Why don’t you come back to the treehouse with me? Great-uncle Gilbert can explain everything!”
Oliver stopped short. “Great-uncle Gilbert? He’s back?” That had been a very brief kidnapping.
“Y-yes. He’s fine,” said the other boy. “Please, just come with me.”
The other boy was lying. Oliver could see it instantly. The way his eyes shifted and his voice pitched unnaturally high. Oliver wondered if he himself looked this obvious when he told lies. He remembered involuntarily a couple of the worst lies he had told, and cringed.
Then he noticed the other boy’s handvane. The instrument had the usual vanes showing the wind’s direction and speed, but it also had a flat, shiny surface on which glowed some large numerals. Oliver had never seen anything like it.
“What kind of handvane is that?” he asked, pointing.
“Oh, this?” said the other boy. He looked at his wrist. “It’s just a regular handvane.”
“I’ve never seen a handvane like that,” said Oliver accusingly.
“Oh, right!” said the other boy. “Well, it’s partly a watch, also.”
“A watch?”
“It tells time,” the other boy said evasively. “You’ll know everything soon, from Great-uncle Gilbert.” He hurried past Oliver, who followed right behind, wondering how a handvane could tell time. In Windblowne, water clocks at the bottom of the mountain kept the time and rang out hourly to be heard all over the mountain. Judging from the sun, Oliver thought those clocks should have rung by now, but he had not heard a single bell. And the crest was still deserted.
“Well? Have you caught it?”
Oliver jumped. It was the crackled, muffled voice, and it seemed to be coming from the other boy’s handvane. “What was that?” Oliver asked.
The other boy touched something on his handvane, and the crackling noise stopped. “I told you, Great-uncle Gilbert will explain everything,” he said over his shoulder.
“You’re lying!” said Oliver.
But the other boy did not reply. Instead, in a smooth and perfect motion, he tossed his power kite into the air and leapt. He soared expertly down the crest, a flawless jump, and landed near the oakline. Oliver fell to his knees as he watched the boy tumble upon landing, then pick himself up and scurry, limping, down the formerly secret path. This was a heartbreaking sight, because this twin, even when sick, was obviously a jumper of great skill and, judging from his kite, an expert kitesmith, too.
Oliver stood and raced down the crest, down the formerly secret path, which now appeared to be immaculately groomed all the way to Great-uncle Gilbert’s treehouse—
Oliver stopped, shocked, as the treehouse came into view.
Not only had the secret path somehow been cleared out during the night, but Great-uncle Gilbert’s treehouse had been completely rebuilt. Whereas before his home had been carefully camouflaged so that you could not find it unless you were standing right in front of it, this new treehouse revealed itself proudly, glinting and flashing in the sunlight. Where the treehouse had once sagged, it was now flat, and where it had veered off atodd angles, it was now straight. It loomed larger and taller. The new treehouse looked as though it were made mostly of metal, something Oliver had never
“Who are you?” said Oliver again. “Are you my twin? What are those things chasing my kite?”
“No, no, I’m not your twin,” the other boy said desperately. His smile had been replaced by wide-eyed fright as Oliver came closer. He coughed again. “The crimson kite will be fine—don’t worry. The hunters are just going to capture it, that’s all. It won’t be hurt!” He held out his kite like a shield.
Oliver glanced at the kite—a beautiful green-and-black power kite he could not help admiring—thensnapped back to the other boy. “Hunters? Those fighting kites? Who were you talking to?”
Now the other boy looked terrified. “Why don’t you come back to the treehouse with me? Great-uncle Gilbert can explain everything!”
Oliver stopped short. “Great-uncle Gilbert? He’s back?” That had been a very brief kidnapping.
“Y-yes. He’s fine,” said the other boy. “Please, just come with me.”
The other boy was lying. Oliver could see it instantly. The way his eyes shifted and his voice pitched unnaturally high. Oliver wondered if he himself looked this obvious when he told lies. He remembered involuntarily a couple of the worst lies he had told, and cringed.
Then he noticed the other boy’s handvane. The instrument had the usual vanes showing the wind’s direction and speed, but it also had a flat, shiny surface on which glowed some large numerals. Oliver had never seen anything like it.
“What kind of handvane is that?” he asked, pointing.
“Oh, this?” said the other boy. He looked at his wrist. “It’s just a regular handvane.”
“I’ve never seen a handvane like that,” said Oliver accusingly.
“Oh, right!” said the other boy. “Well, it’s partly a watch, also.”
“A watch?”
“It tells time,” the other boy said evasively. “You’ll know everything soon, from Great-uncle Gilbert.” He hurried past Oliver, who followed right behind, wondering how a handvane could tell time. In Windblowne, water clocks at the bottom of the mountain kept the time and rang out hourly to be heard all over the mountain. Judging from the sun, Oliver thought those clocks should have rung by now, but he had not heard a single bell. And the crest was still deserted.
“Well? Have you caught it?”
Oliver jumped. It was the crackled, muffled voice, and it seemed to be coming from the other boy’s handvane. “What was that?” Oliver asked.
The other boy touched something on his handvane, and the crackling noise stopped. “I told you, Great-uncle Gilbert will explain everything,” he said over his shoulder.
“You’re lying!” said Oliver.
But the other boy did not reply. Instead, in a smooth and perfect motion, he tossed his power kite into the air and leapt. He soared expertly down the crest, a flawless jump, and landed near the oakline. Oliver fell to his knees as he watched the boy tumble upon landing, then pick himself up and scurry, limping, down the formerly secret path. This was a heartbreaking sight, because this twin, even when sick, was obviously a jumper of great skill and, judging from his kite, an expert kitesmith, too.
Oliver stood and raced down the crest, down the formerly secret path, which now appeared to be immaculately groomed all the way to Great-uncle Gilbert’s treehouse—
Oliver stopped, shocked, as the treehouse came into view.
Not only had the secret path somehow been cleared out during the night, but Great-uncle Gilbert’s treehouse had been completely rebuilt. Whereas before his home had been carefully camouflaged so that you could not find it unless you were standing right in front of it, this new treehouse revealed itself proudly, glinting and flashing in the sunlight. Where the treehouse had once sagged, it was now flat, and where it had veered off atodd angles, it was now straight. It loomed larger and taller. The new treehouse looked as though it were made mostly of metal, something Oliver had never
Similar Books
