Chapter 40 - The Wanderer

The Companions turned to see a tall, gangly man in ragged clothes. He might have resembled a ne'er-do-well, or even a scallywag, had they known what such a person looked like.

"My name is…," he began. "Oh, it's on the tip of my… What's that thing? The one on which so many things live on the tip."

"Tongue?" Shona ventured.

"Tongue!" the man repeated. "My name is Tongue. Wait, that's not it. It will return to me in good time. I am a friend of the Old One."

"Ambrose," Lydia said.

"No, that's not it, either," the fellow frowned. "That's the Old One's name."

"Can we call you Scallywag?" Freddie suggested.

The man sat next to him, joining the circle of friends and crossing his legs elaborately as though he was practising origami. "I would rather you did not, young sir. Mayhap you could call me Scallywag instead. At least until someone remembers that my name is Quinn."

"Is your name Quinn, perhaps?" Dean suggested.

"Oh, you've heard of me!" Quinn said with pride and delight.

"Aron, the ferryman, told us we'd meet you!" Freddie chirped.

"Ah, Aron," Quinn said. "He's a ferryman, you know. Rides a boat. Very good at it."

"It's in his nature," Freddie added.

"Quinn, I am Lydia," Lydia introduced herself. "I'm the leader of this group of companions. The Old One is my uncle — sort of."

"The Old One is everyone's uncle, in some convoluted wise," Quinn remarked. "But I see who you are, Miss Lydia. Some trinkets may be hidden from most eyes, but I have known the great and noble, and I can see you."

Lydia raised a hand to her forehead, but stroked her hair as she could not feel the invisible circlet.

"Can you guide us, Quinn?" Lydia asked. "We are on a quest, but I think you know that."

"I can tell you about this land," the wanderer said. "That is, I am able to inform you about the places we see or pass through, and I possess the ability to name names and locate locations. But I cannot find what you seek. That is your task."

"Well, we seem to be doing all right so far," Corben told him.

"Will you have some lunch with us, Quinn?" Shona asked.

"No, but thank you for offering," the vagabond smiled. "I have eaten. Surely, I must have. Haven't I? Well, of course I have, or I would not be here. The reasoning seems sound. I ate, therefore I am. I ate, therefore I've had some ham."

By this time, he was muttering to himself. The conversation grew indistinct. The various companions looked at each other.

"We should continue along the beach," Lydia pronounced, getting to her feet. "Does that seem a reasonable course, Mr Quinn?"

He peered at her. "It is a laborious trek, but there are woods further on. There, we should make camp for the night. Gather firewood from the… firewood plants. Tall things, covered in sticks."

"Trees?" Freddie offered.

"What? Oh, yes. Trees are what I was thinking about," Quinn confirmed. "Trees. Treeeeeees. Bird palaces. Leaves for feathers. Trees."

Quinn unfolded his limbs from the floor and rose, towering over Lydia.

"You and I should take the lead, Mr Quinn," Jimmy suggested. "It'll save Lydia getting a sore neck from looking up at you."

Jimmy flashed Lydia a grin as they all shouldered their bags and set off. Quinn carried a bag resembling an old-fashioned school satchel. Lydia hoped it was magical, like theirs. It could not have held many possessions otherwise.

As the vagabond and Jimmy trudged across the sand in front of her, Lydia looked Quinn over. His clothing was worn but not tattered, as she had first thought. He carried a rolled-up cloak or cape over his shoulder, unnecessary in the warm sunshine. At his side, hanging from a broad leather belt, were a water flask made of hide and a knife in a sheath. There was no evidence of any other weapons. She felt no magical ability in him, but there was something. Either he had some inherent magic or he had been exposed to — the victim of? — some powerful magic in his past.

Of course he had witnessed magic: he was a self-confessed friend of "The Old One", Uncle Ambrose. How had he known Ambrose? She recalled Ambrose talking about the other teams who had been on quests to the Anteworld. Several members had died, he had told them, and one was still there. "One was still there". Had Quinn been on a quest and then abandoned or trapped here? How long had he been in these lands? These brushes with the Alterworld were every few centuries, someone had said. The notion was too depressing. She dared not even listen in on Jimmy's conversation with Quinn. She would ask Jimmy for the highlights later.

For now, she would trudge on. Maybe she would talk to Odysseus or Freddie. What a choice. Oddy would want to focus on the task; Freddie would fill her ears with frivolous nonsense. But would they? Oddy — Odysseus — was kinder, more considerate these days. Freddie was still Freddie, but there were times he appeared more contemplative, philosophical, even analytical. The change in Odysseus delighted her, but she worried for Freddie. He seemed to be looking for a role in the team. He was not the muscle, like Dean or Jimmy. Freddie was not the brains, like Dev or Odysseus. He had not the speed of Sophie or Christie — when she got back. He was a carer, like Shona, but lacked her focus and pragmatism. And he certainly was not as shrewd as Corben.

She realised Freddie had a unique strength, after all. He simply saw things differently. If they ever needed an alternative approach, Freddie would come up with something. It might be something silly at first sight, but it could be the off-the-wall suggestion that would crack a problem. Freddie was essential. She should tell him.

Lydia also needed to talk to Sophie. She felt she had spent too little time with her. She wanted to talk to Corben to find out what he thought of Quinn the Wanderer. And she had not taken time with Dev. Everything was so essential that she was exhausted listing all the things she had to consider. She would trudge on for now. Odysseus' presence would be comfort enough.

Oddy was not by her side, she found. He was further back talking to Dean. Shona was walking next to her.

"You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders, Lydz," she confided. "Which is a stupid thing for me to say. Sorry"

"Because I actually have the weight of the world on my shoulders."

Shona took Lydia's hand in hers and swung it jauntily as they walked.

"But for now," Shona said with a smile which melted Lydia's heart, "we're on a seaside holiday."

"I'll try that," Lydia agreed.

Their seaside stroll turned out to be the "laborious trek" that Quinn had predicted. But as the sun was setting behind the distant mountains, they came to the wood the vagabond had promised them. They set up camp there, and several of them went to find more firewood among the pines. Others raised the tents and cleared an area of pine cones and vegetation to build a fire. Freddie suggested to Quinn that he should share the boys' tent. Quinn explained his habit was to sleep alone under the stars, especially where there was a comfortable layer of pine needles. Quinn and Freddie left to fetch fresh water from a stream Quinn told them was nearby.

While Quinn was away, Lydia spoke to Jimmy about the wanderer. He thought the man seemed genuine. Once you listened through his verbal stumbling and rambling, it was clear he knew this land in exceptional detail. There were a few villages and lone dwellings on this side of the mountains, but the nearest city was beyond the distant peaks. To Lydia, this sounded like an omen. Quinn said he could not find their path for them, but she suspected he had at least some idea where it might lead.

They took their evening meal around the fire in a clearing between the trees. Lydia noticed the wanderer ate nothing until Shona offered him food. Even then, he consumed little. Lydia tried to engage him in conversation, but he could not focus his mind and his speech. Every time she ventured to understand him or sought details about his background, he became more vague. She felt perhaps there were things in his past he did not want to remember. Either that or he was being evasive. If something connected him to Ambrose, then evasiveness was eminently possible, especially as he was more open with Jimmy than with her.

They sat by the fire, talking and feeding the blaze as was becoming their custom. Dean told them about his trip to the Quidditch World Cup in Finland the year before most of them had started at Hogwarts. At ten-years-old, he had not been interested. His father had been on the Gryffindor team at school and was mad about sports. His mother had been a Ravenclaw and wanted Dean to work hard and use his brains.

Dean had surprised his father by predicting the outcome of every game they attended. He had then conned his father into believing he had second sight. When, on their return home, his mother had explained that he could make the predictions because he understood form and statistics. His father had been angry with him. That was nothing new. What was new was that his mother had found a new respect for him. For the first time, he had pleased one of his parents.

Now that he was doing well academically and was a member of the house quidditch team, he was the son they had always wanted him to be. His friends found this sad, even disturbing.

"We loved you before you were on the team," Shona said, speaking for many of them.

"I was a Ravenclaw, though," Dean pointed out. "So it was still about academic success."

"No, Dean," Freddie contradicted. "Look at me. I'm not a Ravenclaw, and I'm as academic as a spoon! We love you for you, Dean. I'm sure your parents always loved you. Maybe they just wanted what was best for your future, but had different ideas about what that was."

Dean looked up and smiled. "And we love you for assuming the best of people, Fredster."

"It is a rare and complex gift you have, Master Freddie," Quinn said. "I shall away to my slumber to dwell upon its intricacies."

The wanderer unfolded himself and wandered through the trees.

"I think that's our cue," Lydia said. "Have a good sleep everyone."

"Do we need to post guards?" Corben asked.

"That's a very sensible idea, Corben," Lydia answered. "Thanks for bringing it up. At the moment I still have enough of the Old Magic to sense anyone or anything that comes near us, especially with Xander patrolling the area. As time goes on, we might need to keep watches through the night — or whenever we camp."

As they all went to their beds, Lydia was not the only one wondering how much longer her extraordinary powers would last.

"Lydz?"

Lydia was already sitting up as Freddie entered the tent.

"Mandala?" she asked.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "Sorry. I would have knocked but, you know, it's a tent."

"There's a pole in the middle of the door you could knock on," Sophie groaned, rubbing her eyes. "You glorious spoon, you."

Freddie grinned, then held out the mandala to Lydia. As she took it, the light inside dimmed. Freddie put his hand on the mandala as he sat down beside her. Sophie and Shona sat with them.

"Why is it always some kind of ball?" Freddie pondered.

"It looks like a bubble," Shona observed. "Look, the moving colours on the surface, like a soap bubble."

"The next token should be air," Lydia mused. "So a bubble makes sense."

"Wherever will we find a bubble, next to the foamy sea?" said Sophie with a wry smile.

"More importantly: how are we going to handle a bubble without popping it?" Shona noted.

"Finding it shouldn't be any problem," Lydia said. "The feeling the mandala gives me will lead us to it. Then I'll just know it when I see it. As for picking it up… we'll just have to try."

"Shall I get the others up?" Freddie asked.

Lydia shook her head. "Let them sleep. We can't go hunting for bubbles in the dark."

"Umm," Freddie hummed. "They might already be up. I'm not very quiet when the mandala goes all glowy."

The girls laughed.

"You surprise me, Freddie," Lydia smirked. "You're usually so discreet. If they haven't gone back to sleep, tell them to — my orders."

"Quinn's left, by the way," Xander added, standing in the tent doorway.