Quiet Magic by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee and Steve Miller Page A

beginnings of a white cotton shirt.
    By the sounds, the rest of the class
had gotten themselves and their lunches in order to move. The table
vibrated and shifted as they stood and moved off, one by one, it
seemed to Jeffrey, and not in a line at all.
    The man in the corduroy trousers
moved, too, bending at the waist to bring a dark unhandsome face
into the boy's view.
    "Might I sit down?" he
growled.
    Jeffrey licked his lips, managed a
curt nod and, a moment later, a croaky, "Please do."
    "Thank you." The bench groaned as he
seated himself, back to the table, elbows resting on the top, hands
hanging loosely at chest height. His shirt was open at the top
button, his tie-knot loose and askew. The brown eyes were friendly
enough, thought Jeffrey. And at least this person looked at him
rather than around him as Miss Lyle and his classmates had done all
morning.
    "Jeffy Eljensen, is it?" the man
offered, by way of opening the conversation, as Great-aunt Phyllis
would say.
    The boy stiffened. "Jeffrey," he said,
hearing himself snap. " I told her Jeffrey."
    "Ah," The man beside him nodded. "But
she really doesn't listen, you know. She does mean
well."
    There was no sensible answer to that.
Jeffrey sat quiet, feeling Elmira's candle cool beneath a sweaty
palm.
    "My name," the man continued before
the silence could grow uncomfortable, "is Rob Davis. Though there
are," he sighed hugely here and Jeffrey felt his mouth twitch in a
smile he refused to let the man have, "people who call me Robert.
My own mother. She means well, too."
    "All my family calls me Jeffrey," the
boy said, still snapping. And he added after a moment, in an effort
to be fair, "Except Uncle Tulaine'll call me Spider sometimes,
'cause he says I'm always spinning yarns."
    "Is that okay, your uncle calling you
Spider?" asked the man.
    "I don't mind. It's not like he's
naming me that. It's oh, I don't know, like Aunt Jessie calling
everybody from Father on down to the yard sparrows ‘sugar.' It's
just a love-name, not a real name."
    The man nodded again. "Miss Lyle said
you were playing with fire, Jeffrey."
    "I wasn't playing with fire," and the
snap was back in his voice. "I was striking a match so that I could
light my candle and eat my lunch."
    "Ah." The silence stretched longer
this time, the man sitting with his brown eyes fixed on some point
beyond the tips of his outstretched shoes. Aunt Elmira sometimes
looked this way when she considered what you'd said, or what might
be added to the painting that she was working on. Though he'd said
nothing that really needed considering, Jeffrey respected the mood
and waited.
    The man came back to himself with a
small start, focused on the boy at his side. "Is today your
birthday?"
    The winged brows pulled down and the
mouth tightened. "No."
    "Oh. It was silly of me, I guess. I
just thought that today might have been your birthday and that's
why you wanted to have a candle with your lunch."
    The boy shook his head sharply. "We
always have a candle with our meals. Even if we're not at
home."
    The man blinked. "Oh." Then he
grinned. "I should probably apologize for my conversation. I'm
usually quite the wit, I assure you."
    This time Jeffrey did smile; the
phrase was so like dapper Uncle Tulaine, uttered in that growling
voice, coming out of that ugly face. The man smiled
back.
    "So tell me," he offered, "since I'm
dense: Why is it, Jeffrey, that your family always has candles with
meals?" He waved a large hand in a gesture that must have comforted
him, for he repeated it. "Is it religious? You know, a belief of
some kind? Or is it just nice to have a candle when you eat--a
little bit of home when you're not at home?"
    Jeffrey sighed. This was getting very
tiring. He was hungry, and there was still the afternoon with its
additional dozen bells--all sounding exactly alike and all
signifying something utterly different--to be got through. Still,
the man did seem harmless, and questions were for
answers...
    "It's one of the ways