The Talisman

error. First of all, there had been the departure from Ellis-Breaks and The Depot, which had not gone easily; secondly, there was Richard, who threatened to go seriously crazy; and thirdly, and above all else, there were the Blasted Lands. Which were far crazier than Richard would ever be, and which absolutely demanded concentrated attention.
    After the meal the three of them had returned to the shed, and the trouble had started. Jack knew that he was fearful of whatever might be ahead – and, he now knew, that fear was perfectly justified – and perhaps his trepidation had made him behave less well than he should have. The first difficulty had come when he tried to pay old Anders with the coin Captain Farren had given him. Anders responded as if his beloved Jason had just stabbed him in the back. Sacrilege! Outrage! By offering the coin, Jack had done more than merely insult the old liveryman, he had metaphorically smeared mud on his religion. Supernaturally restored divine beings apparently were not supposed to offer coins to their followers. Anders had been upset enough to smash his hand into the ‘devil-box’, as he called the metal container for the rank of batteries, and Jack knew that Anders had been mightily tempted to strike another target besides the train. Jack had managed only a semi-truce: Anders did not want his apologies any more than he wanted his money. The old man had finally calmed down once he realized the extent of the boy’s dismay, but he did not really return to his normal behavior until Jack speculated out loud that the Captain Farren coin might have other functions, other roles for him. ‘Ye’re not Jason entire,’ the old man gloomed, ‘yet the Queen’s coin may aid ye toward yer destiny.’ He shook his head heavily. His farewell wave had been distinctly halfhearted.
    But a good portion of that had been due to Richard. What had begun as a sort of childish panic had quickly blossomed into full-blown terror. Richard had refused to get in the cab. Up until that moment he had mooned around the shed, not looking at the train, seemingly in an uncaring daze. Then he had realized that Jack was serious about getting him on that thing, and he had freaked – and, strangely, it had been the idea of ending up in California which had disturbed him most. ‘NO! NO! CAN’T!’ Richard had yelled when Jack urged him toward the train. ‘I WANT TO GO BACK TO MY ROOM!’
    ‘They might be following us, Richard,’ Jack said wearily. ‘We have to get going.’ He reached out and took Richard’s arm. ‘This is all a dream, remember?’
    ‘Oh my Lord, oh my Lord,’ Anders had said, moving aimlessly around in the big shed, and Jack understood that for once the liveryman was not addressing him.
    ‘I HAVE TO GO BACK TO MY ROOM!’ Richard squalled. His eyes were clamped shut so tightly that a single painful crease ran from temple to temple.
    Echoes of Wolf again. Jack had tried to pull Richard toward the train, but Richard had stuck fast, like a mule. ‘I CAN’T GO THERE!’ he yelled.
    ‘Well, you can’t stay here, either,’ Jack said. He made another futile effort at yanking Richard toward the train, and this time actually budged him a foot or two. ‘Richard,’ he said, ‘this is ridiculous. Do you want to be here alone? Do you want to be left alone in the Territories?’ Richard shook his head. ‘Then come with me. It’s time. In two days we’ll be in California.’
    ‘Bad business,’ Anders muttered to himself, watching the boys. Richard simply continued to shake his head, offering a single comprehensive negative. ‘I can’t go there,’ he repeated. ‘I can’t get on that train and I can’t go there.’
    ‘California?’
    Richard bit his mouth into a lipless seam and closed his eyes again. ‘Oh hell,’ Jack said. ‘Can you help me, Anders?’ The huge old man gave him a dismayed, almost disgusted look, then marched across the room and scooped up Richard into his arms – as if Richard were the size of a puppy. The boy let out a distinctly puppyish squeal. Anders dropped him onto the padded bench in the cab. ‘Jack!’ Richard called, afraid that he somehow was going to wind up in the Blasted Lands all by himself. ‘I’m here,’ Jack said, and was in fact already climbing into the other side of the cab. ‘Thank you, Anders,’ he said to the old liveryman, who nodded gloomily and retreated back into a corner of the shed. ‘Take care.’ Richard had begun to weep,