The Battle for the Castle by Elizabeth Winthrop Page A

Buddha. William carried him carefully up to the rock.
    â€œNow, stand there without moving,” William explained once Deegan had crawled off his palm. “We’ll have you back to your regular size in a second.”
    Just as William held out the token, Jason stopped him.
    â€œCan I do it?” he asked. They looked at each other.
    â€œPlease,” Jason begged. “I promise I won’t mess around this time.”
    â€œAll right,” William said at last.
    Jason knelt down, pointed the token, and said the magic word. In no time at all, Deegan was towering over them.
    â€œGee,” Jason said. “You’re tall.”
    â€œTall, yes, but hardly powerful enough against your magic. May I see it?” he asked, holding out his long arm.
    Jason glanced at William who nodded his agreement. For some reason which he couldn’t explain even to himself, William trusted this strange purple man.
    â€œAnd where did you procure this dangerous little medallion?” Deegan asked as he turned it over in his own palm.
    â€œFrom Alastor, an evil wizard who used to rule over this land.”
    â€œAnd how does it work?”
    William explained the symbolism of the two sides of the token.
    â€œJanus who guards the gates of time,” Deegan said after he handed the token back to William. “Now may I know your names?”
    Jason was still eyeing Deegan warily. He looked like a cat ready to pounce.
    â€œRemember, Boy Who Looks through Windows,” said Deegan, his head to one side, “a fool does not fight. That’s the job of the king and the knight and the noble warrior as you yourself appear to be.”
    â€œThese things are called glasses,” Jason said as he pushed them back up on his nose. “And my name is Jason Stubbs Hardy.” Then he drew himself up to his full height. In normal circumstances this was considerable, but, next to this long-legged, purple-garbed man, he didn’t look very big anymore. And I must look like a shrimp, William thought.
    â€œI am William Edward Lawrence,” William said.
    â€œWilliam and Jason. Noble names, I believe. Of distinctive lineage. You have come to see my lord, perhaps to challenge him to some silly jousting tournament with those peculiar steeds of yours. They are no doubt resting for the fight now.”
    He was referring to the bicycles which lay in cockeyed positions in the grass where the boys had droppedthem. Jason giggled. “They’re not the ones who need resting,” he said. “We do.”
    â€œWe’ve come to visit Sir Simon. He’s a friend of mine,” William said. “Is he all right?”
    â€œIn fine fettle,” said Deegan. “Right pleased with himself, I’d say. Always is when he’s off to a fight.”
    â€œA fight?” asked William. “Not another one.”
    â€œOh, so you do know his penchant for his sword. Dear Sir Simon. Always upholding the name of Hargrave. Such a tiresome task it seems to me, as it will never be finished.” Deegan dropped backward in what looked like a back walkover, but he ended up with his face curling around and looking up at them from between his calves. “Like this, a circle,” he said with an apologetic smile. “Never finished. Round and round.”
    â€œYou sure are flexible,” Jason said. “I mean for such a tall person.”
    William wished the fool would uncurl himself. Talking to a head which was resting in a place where it wasn’t supposed to be made him feel sick to his stomach.
    Deegan put his hands down, and with one swift movement, flipped his body over itself and stood up.
    â€œWho will he be fighting this time?” William asked.
    â€œMerely practice. A jousting tournament in a neighboring kingdom,” said Deegan. “The winter was cold and dreary and Sir Simon has been cooped up in thecastle for too long. He fairly itches for travel and