“You see?” Raven was saying. “It is indeed a real sword. And sharp-do you not touch it, lest you cut your pretty fingers.” He had pulled about a foot of the blade from its sheath, and Rachel was admiring the dull gleam of the metal.
That wasn’t cheap chrome, like some of the ceremonial swords Pel had seen, nor stainless steel, nor plain iron. Even from the kitchen door he could see the fine finish, the sort of finish one saw on very expensive carving knives.
Nancy came up behind him and looked over his shoulder.
“Pel,” she whispered in his ear, “what’s he doing here?”
Pel turned and pushed Nancy back into the kitchen.
“He’s from some sort of fantasy world,” he said. “Where magic works. He’s a warrior of some kind, I guess.”
“You mean he’s crazy? An escaped lunatic?” In an instant, Nancy’s expression went from mildly concerned to seriously worried.
“No,” Pel told her. “Or at least I don’t think so. I think he’s for real. There’s some kind of space warp that comes out in our basement.”
The worried look now verged on panic. “Maybe you’re crazy, too!” Nancy said. “Pel, what are you talking about?”
Pel groped unsuccessfully for words, and finally just said, “Come on.” He took Nancy’s hand and pulled her back into the family room, where Rachel was admiring the silver embroidery on Raven’s tunic. Raven was watching the girl’s little fingers indulgently as they explored the textures.
Raven looked up as the pair entered, and smiled. “A lovely child,” he said. “And well-spoken.”
“Thanks,” Pel said.
“In her sixth year, you said? Or was it seventh?”
“She just turned six.”
“Ah!”
For a moment the Browns just stood there, and Raven sat, and Rachel ran her fingertips down the silver piping. Then Raven carefully lifted Rachel off his knee, placed her on the couch, and stood up.
“My presence here troubles you, I see,” he said, “and I’ve no wish to trouble anyone.”
Pel chewed his lower lip, glancing back and forth between Raven and Nancy, while Raven awaited a reply. He was obviously hoping for a polite denial, but Nancy was obstinately silent as she stared at the stranger.
Raven sighed and picked up his sword. “I’ll be going, then,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” Pel said, “but I can’t think of any way to explain you that doesn’t sound crazy.”
“Ah,” Raven said, comprehension dawning, “I see. I’d feared it was something else, that perhaps I’d given offense somehow. I know so little of your world, after all!” He looked hopefully at Nancy.
She remained silent; it was Pel who assured him, “No, you’ve been charming. But your clothes, and your name… well, it’s strange.”
Raven nodded.
“Madame,” he said, “I beg your pardon for intruding, and for my garb, which I take it you find outlandish. In truth, I am outlandish-I’ve come here from another realm entirely.”
Pel listened to this with interest; it was remarkable how much more believable that sounded coming from Raven than it did coming from him.
It still wasn’t very believable, though, and in fact Nancy obviously still didn’t believe it.
Rachel was also skeptical, judging by her expression. Nifty embroidery and shiny swords were all very well, but modern kindergarteners knew better than to believe stories about other worlds. Rachel had independently figured out just weeks before that Santa Claus wasn’t real; she was still working on the Easter Bunny and the tooth fairy, but she wasn’t about to accept Raven at face value.
Raven could see the disbelief as well as Pel could. He sighed. “You doubt me,” he said, deliberately understating the case, “and I can scarce blame you, for who in her right mind would believe such an assertion without proof? But perhaps I can convince you. And if not, I’ll go, and at least you’ll be rid of me.” He rose and reached for his sword and belt. “Pel Brown,” he said as he fastened the buckle, “if you would be so kind as to lead us to the cellars?”
That was clearly the thing to do, though the idea had not occurred to Pel. “Come on,” he said. “Everybody down in the basement, and you can see why I believed Raven about where he came from.”
They trooped down the stairs, Raven in the lead, then Pel, then Rachel, and last Nancy. Raven did not hesitate; he walked directly across the basement and into the concrete wall.
Unlike Grummetty, who had whacked his head the first time he tried to return to his own reality, Raven vanished immediately.
Rachel’s eyes widened, and her mouth opened.
Nancy turned to her husband and demanded, “Pel, what’s going on here?”
“You saw,” Pel said. “He vanished into the wall. See, night before last, when I was down here, this little tiny guy, like an elf or something, appeared out of nowhere, and talked to me for a minute, and then disappeared into the wall just the way Raven did.” He didn’t mention the bump. “Then this afternoon, when you were out, I heard knocking, and there Raven was, in our basement. And he gave me this whole story about another world, and I know it sounds stupid, but I bought it-it sounded real, and he looked real, and I couldn’t figure out any other way it could happen.”
“Well, he’s gone now,” Nancy said, and just then Rachel, who had wandered halfway across the basement staring at the spot where Raven had vanished, let out a shriek.
Raven was stepping back out of the blank concrete wall.
Rachel came running back across the basement floor to her parents and flung herself against her father, who bent down and picked her up, hugging her to him.
“It’s okay, Rae,” he told her, as Nancy laid a comforting hand on the back of the little girl’s head. “It’s just Raven. It’s okay.”
The dismay he saw on Raven’s face over Rachel’s shoulder could not be feigned, Pel was sure.
“My humble apologies, Mistress Rachel,” Raven said, going down on one knee and lowering his head. “I’d not meant to startle you. Please, forgive me?”
Rachel lifted her head from her father’s chest and peeked behind her. When she saw Raven’s posture she pressed against Pel’s shoulders, and he lowered her to the ground.
She turned to face Raven, but didn’t say anything.
The man in black raised his head and looked at her. “Grant me your pardon, Mistress Rachel, please. Say you forgive me,” he begged.
“It’s okay,” Rachel said. “I think. Isn’t it, Daddy?”
“I think so,” Pel agreed.
“Thank you,” Raven said, rising to his feet and brushing the dust from the knee of his hose. He stood, waiting.
Nancy still didn’t say anything.
“Shall we go back upstairs?” Pel suggested.
Nancy didn’t say anything, but she turned and marched back up.
A moment later all four of them were back in the family room, and Nancy finally spoke.
“Pel,” she said, “come in the kitchen for a moment.”
Pel came.
When they were out of sight of Raven and Rachel, Nancy whispered loudly, “Do you really believe him?”
Pel shrugged. “I’m not sure,” he said. “I don’t have any better explanation.”
“It could be some kind of trick,” Nancy suggested. “Some kind of illusion.”
“Sure, I guess it could be,” Pel agreed. “But why?”
“I don’t know,” Nancy said, fretting, “but I don’t like it.”
Pel sighed again. “Nancy,” he said, “the guy is not selling me anything. I’m just talking to him. He turned up in the basement, with this whole story about some kind of cosmic war, and I’m just listening to it. That’s all. And frankly, I want to hear some more. If you want to go upstairs or something, go ahead.”
“All right,” she said. “You can talk.” She turned and led the way back into the family room, then stopped suddenly.
“Can I get you a drink?” she asked Raven.
He glanced at Pel, then back at Nancy. “Thank you, aye,” he said, “I judge I could put a drink to use.”