Fortune's Magic Farm by Suzanne Selfors (i read book .TXT) 📗

the road. “There’s no telling how many more of Supreme’s goons are out here. I’ll go get the caravan.” He ran off.

“Isabelle,” Walnut said, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. “We tenders do not normally use magic for violent purposes. But there are times when it is necessary.” He straightened his hat. “But an untrained tender should never use Vice Vines because they can backfire. I learned that the hard way and it was six whole months before I returned to my normal shape.”

Isabelle imagined flinging Vice Vines at Mama Lu. The tenants would cheer as the blue bathrobe and fleshy face disappeared, until all that stuck out was a pair of enormous fuzzy slippers.

Under Sage’s guidance, the oxen pushed the gyrocopter off the trail and into the rushing river. The travelers climbed onto the caravan’s bench where Sage took the reins, with Isabelle and Walnut on either side. The marmot curled up on Isabelle’s lap. “I think she threw that rock to protect you,” Isabelle told Sage.

“I think you’re right.” Sage patted the marmot’s head.

“Marmoticus Terriblus never miss their target,” Walnut said.

Isabelle stretched her kelp shirt over the marmot’s body, enclosing her little friend in a warm cocoon. “I’m going to name her Rocky.”

Isabelle’s eyelids began to droop. She didn’t have the energy to ask all the new questions that had lined up in her mind. Her neck felt rubbery and her head fell forward a few times. She closed her eyes, vaguely aware that the oxen had pulled off the trail. She dozed for a while, until Walnut took her hand. “Wake up, Isabelle.”

A sheer rock wall towered before them, so tall that Isabelle could not see where it ended. “Isabelle,” Walnut said, “I’d like you to go and touch the side of that mountain.”

Sage frowned. “Not yet. She has to make the promise.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary. She can do that later.”

“She must make the promise.”

“Oh, very well.” Walnut pulled a piece of lichen from Isabelle’s hair. “Isabelle, all Fortunes must make a solemn promise to never reveal the whereabouts of Fortune’s Farm. Are you willing to do this?”

She rubbed her sleepy eyes. “You mean I can’t tell anyone? Not even Gwen?”

“No one. You must also promise never to take anything from Fortune’s Farm without the Head Tender’s permission. The Head Tender is currently your grandfather.”

“I won’t take anything,” she said. “I’m not a thief.”

“Swear it,” Sage demanded. “Swear it on your life.”

She was fully awake now. “I swear it. I swear it on my life!” She spoke so loudly that it sent her into a coughing fit.

“Poor little thing. We’ll get you better in no time.” Walnut smiled reassuringly. “Now, go and place your hand on that mountain.”

Isabelle climbed down from the driver’s bench.

The rock wall looked as smooth and black as an umbrella. She glanced back at her great-uncle, who nodded encouragingly. She reached out and placed her palm against the cold surface. A delicate vibration arose, growing stronger and stronger. The wall began to move. Isabelle darted behind an ox’s head, watching over its twitching ears as black leaves popped out from the wall. The leaves continued to emerge until they had formed a large patch. Then they fanned out, revealing a tunnel.

“Well done,” Walnut said, clapping his hands. Even Sage was smiling. “Only a tender’s warm hands can do that. Those plants are called Camouflage Creepers.”

Sage leapt from the caravan. “Follow me,” he told Isabelle. With Rolo on his shoulder, he led the oxen through the tunnel. Once everyone had passed through, the leaves shuddered and the tunnel entrance closed. The travelers stood in total darkness.

“I’ve got one here somewhere. Just a moment,” Walnut mumbled, searching his pockets. “Right. Found it.” He pulled out a glowing blade of grass. The light bounced off the tunnel walls.

Isabelle followed Sage as they made their way. Eve the cat meowed from inside the caravan, so Walnut opened a little window behind the driver’s seat and she leapt onto his lap.

The tunnel ended at a ridge. Isabelle ran in front of Sage. Emptiness lay before her as time hung between the moon’s departure and the sun’s arrival. Nothing, she thought. Just a big fat disappointment after all.

Nothing. No one. Nowhere.

But with the first trickle of dawn, Isabelle’s heart soared. All the thousands of times she had imagined Nowhere, it had never looked like this.

Walnut stood on the driver’s bench and held out his hands. “Welcome, Isabelle Fortune. Welcome to Fortune’s Farm.”

A rosy glow crowned the distant mountain, then spread across the sky like spilled dye. Isabelle clutched Rocky to her chest as tendrils of gold and red washed down the mountain as fast as a coursing river, illuminating the valley below. An “ooh” and an “ahh” slid from her lips, for no words could express her amazement.

The birds awoke. A delicate twitter was joined by another, quickly building to a symphony of song. Rolo added his own notes as he flew off.

Though she didn’t want to, Isabelle had to turn away and shut her eyes. The light had become too much to bear. The marmot wiggled from her grasp and jumped to the ground.

“You need these.” Walnut pressed something against her nose. “Sunglasses, my dear.” He slid the ends over her ears. “You can open your eyes now. But don’t look directly at the sun. Never do that.”

The sun.

Isabelle opened her eyes. The glasses felt strange but the brightness didn’t hurt anymore. She looked out over the ridge.

The valley came to life in soft yellow light. A meadow sparkled with morning dew. A stream meandered through, criss-crossed by brightly painted bridges. To the right lay an orchard with trees planted in perfect rows. Their tops jiggled as songbirds continued their morning exultation. To the left lay a checkerboard garden, with little dirt paths between the plantings. Past the meadow sat an enormous glass building, a red barn, and a thatched roof cottage where smoke trailed from a chimney. A stone tower