Part 13 (1/2)
”Speaking of whom . . .” said the second. The frog was still trying to fit in the crevice between the rock and the ground. Really, he was not slim enough and just didn't seem to want to admit it.
”What is he doing?” asked the third.
”I imagine he's afraid of us,” said the first. ”We do eat frogs.”
The frog's three legs kicked and scrabbled with renewed energy at the dirt beneath the stone. Jack reached out and scooped him up and put him in his pocket.
”You can't eat him,” he said, glaring at the ravens.
”Don't even think about it!” added Jill fiercely. And then, a little less fiercely, she said, ”And how did you know he can talk?”
”We know things,” said the first raven.
”Yes,” said the second, ”It's sort of what we do.”
Jill, crinkling up her nose, asked, ”Like what kinds of things?”
”We know that you are Jack and Jill,” said the third raven.
”And that you are hungry and thirsty and lost,” said the second.
”And that you seek the Seeing Gla.s.s,” finished the first.
The frog poked a single eye out of Jack's pocket. ”Do they know where it is?” he hissed.
”Do you know where it is?” Jack relayed to the ravens.
”Yeah, we heard him,” said the second raven.
”We know where it is-” began the first.
”Where?”
”But we're not telling,” concluded the third.
”What?!” Jack shouted. ”Why not?”
”Because the Seeing Gla.s.s,” said the second raven, ”is not really what you seek.”
No one spoke for a moment. The wind howled over the slick rocks and gray hills.
And then Jill said, ”Yes it is. If we don't find it, we die.”
The wind howled for another moment, and then the second raven said, ”Right. I suppose that's true.”
”But, dear children, you are con-fused,” said the third raven.
”Absolutely,” said the second.
”Totally,” said the first.
Jill said, ”If you'd just met three talking ravens, wouldn't you be?”
”Not really,” said the third talking raven.
But the first raven said, ”Not confused. You are con-fused.”
Jack furrowed his brow. ”What's the difference?”
”We're glad you asked,” replied the second raven.
And the third added, ”Though we knew you would.”
”When you're confused,” said the second raven, ”you're mixed up, right?”
”Right,” said Jack.
”Well, con-fuse means fused together, mixed with something-or someone-else.” The second raven paused significantly.
After a moment, Jill said, ”I still have no idea what you're talking about.”
The first raven took over: ”You, dear children, are con-fused. What you want, what you think, what you believe, all get mixed up with what other people want for you, or think you should want, or believe about you. Do you see?”
Both Jack and Jill nodded their heads and said, ”No.”
The third raven took over. ”Jill, you are con-fused with your mother. You think she is perfect, and that everything she does is good, and that you should be just like her and do just what she wants you to do. Right?”
Jill's mouth grew tight and small. She shrugged.
”Did you see the silk?”
Shrug.
”Did you really think you'd look beautiful in it? Before your mother said you would?”
Shrug.
The third raven turned to Jack. ”Jack, why did you trade your cow for a bean?”
Jack looked up at the raven heavily. He, too, shrugged.
”Did you think it was a good deal before Marie said it was?”