was made by dozens of evil magicians. Itâs stronger than I am.â
âYou didnât think you could make a candle either,â Betsy pointed out.
Jarvey bit back the words that nearly rushed out. He almost told her that what gave him the ability to create the candle was not magic, but anger and humiliation. He wondered if all the Midion wizards felt the same. Junius Midion, from what he had heard, was furious because the world didnât think he was a very good actor or playwright, and so out of his anger, he created his own warped world, where he was everything he dreamed of being, at least to the ghostly, sad throng of imaginary people who made up his audience. Old Tantalus Midion wanted to be obeyed and feared. He hated people, and from his hatred he made Lunnon, a warped reflection of the London of his own century.
Did hatred and anger hold the key to the bookâs magic, then? If he simply became desperate enough, mad enough, would he be able to use the Grimoire?
He remembered Zoroasterâs refusal to touch the book. âIt would corrupt and ruin me,â Zoroaster had said. The Grimoire was just a book, but it was a book that had a kind of spirit of its own. Like a living thing, it fought back and tried to change the person using it. Even someone who was basically good, Zoroaster had warned, could fall prey to the Grimoireâs temptations.
Still, if you used it to free people, not to enslave them, if you used it to help your parents and yourself... Jarvey sighed. âLetâs try to find out just who the Nawab is,â he said at last. âIf itâs Siyamon, we stay. If it isnât, we try the book again.â
âRight,â Betsy said. She stretched. âTell me some more about that game you played on Earth. Bias ball?â
Despite everything, Jarvey chuckled. âBaseball,â he said. âItâs kind of like cricket. But not really.â He had read a little about cricket on his first and only day in London, and what he had read made absolutely no sense. âOkay, there are nine on a team in baseball. Itâs played on a field shaped like a diamond ...â He talked on and on, sketching out a baseball diamond in the dust atop one of the crates, standing to show Betsy how a pitcher wound up and threw the ball and how a batter got into the proper stance to swing at it.
He finally stopped when she began to yawn hugely. He settled down to sleep feeling a confusion of emotions. He had been almost happy while talking to Betsy. Baseball was one thing he was good at, that he knew top to bottom. Just for the time of their conversation, Jarvey had almost forgotten about all his troubles while talking about the game he loved. Now, however, knowing just how far away from the game he was, how unlikely it was that he would ever play again, he fought a rising tide of despair.
At least his dreams that night all involved pitching and batting. They woke up at first light, and Betsy said, âToday we find out for sure, right? Today we hit a run home!â
Jarvey knew she was just trying to cheer him up, but he could only muster a weak smile. Then Betsy pushed the fence board aside and they crawled out into the alley.
But when they reached the mouth of the alley, he forgot all about the plan.
Thatâs when he saw the cobras rear up.
The snakes had surrounded them.
10
Where Everything Lives
â J arvey!â Betsyâs voice shook from fear and tension. Jarvey couldnât reply. The snakes had them penned in against the fence. Two gray-green cobras, their hoods spread and their yellow evil eyes sharp, had closed in behind them, and the other six arranged themselves in a deadly ring. All of them were huge, eight or ten feet from nose to tail, and all reared their hooded heads up three feet or more above the ground. Jarvey could hear them hissing, could see their black forked tongues flicking in and out of their fanged mouths, could even smell the
âYou didnât think you could make a candle either,â Betsy pointed out.
Jarvey bit back the words that nearly rushed out. He almost told her that what gave him the ability to create the candle was not magic, but anger and humiliation. He wondered if all the Midion wizards felt the same. Junius Midion, from what he had heard, was furious because the world didnât think he was a very good actor or playwright, and so out of his anger, he created his own warped world, where he was everything he dreamed of being, at least to the ghostly, sad throng of imaginary people who made up his audience. Old Tantalus Midion wanted to be obeyed and feared. He hated people, and from his hatred he made Lunnon, a warped reflection of the London of his own century.
Did hatred and anger hold the key to the bookâs magic, then? If he simply became desperate enough, mad enough, would he be able to use the Grimoire?
He remembered Zoroasterâs refusal to touch the book. âIt would corrupt and ruin me,â Zoroaster had said. The Grimoire was just a book, but it was a book that had a kind of spirit of its own. Like a living thing, it fought back and tried to change the person using it. Even someone who was basically good, Zoroaster had warned, could fall prey to the Grimoireâs temptations.
Still, if you used it to free people, not to enslave them, if you used it to help your parents and yourself... Jarvey sighed. âLetâs try to find out just who the Nawab is,â he said at last. âIf itâs Siyamon, we stay. If it isnât, we try the book again.â
âRight,â Betsy said. She stretched. âTell me some more about that game you played on Earth. Bias ball?â
Despite everything, Jarvey chuckled. âBaseball,â he said. âItâs kind of like cricket. But not really.â He had read a little about cricket on his first and only day in London, and what he had read made absolutely no sense. âOkay, there are nine on a team in baseball. Itâs played on a field shaped like a diamond ...â He talked on and on, sketching out a baseball diamond in the dust atop one of the crates, standing to show Betsy how a pitcher wound up and threw the ball and how a batter got into the proper stance to swing at it.
He finally stopped when she began to yawn hugely. He settled down to sleep feeling a confusion of emotions. He had been almost happy while talking to Betsy. Baseball was one thing he was good at, that he knew top to bottom. Just for the time of their conversation, Jarvey had almost forgotten about all his troubles while talking about the game he loved. Now, however, knowing just how far away from the game he was, how unlikely it was that he would ever play again, he fought a rising tide of despair.
At least his dreams that night all involved pitching and batting. They woke up at first light, and Betsy said, âToday we find out for sure, right? Today we hit a run home!â
Jarvey knew she was just trying to cheer him up, but he could only muster a weak smile. Then Betsy pushed the fence board aside and they crawled out into the alley.
But when they reached the mouth of the alley, he forgot all about the plan.
Thatâs when he saw the cobras rear up.
The snakes had surrounded them.
10
Where Everything Lives
â J arvey!â Betsyâs voice shook from fear and tension. Jarvey couldnât reply. The snakes had them penned in against the fence. Two gray-green cobras, their hoods spread and their yellow evil eyes sharp, had closed in behind them, and the other six arranged themselves in a deadly ring. All of them were huge, eight or ten feet from nose to tail, and all reared their hooded heads up three feet or more above the ground. Jarvey could hear them hissing, could see their black forked tongues flicking in and out of their fanged mouths, could even smell the
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