Orson Card - Enchantment

They flew from Rochester to Kennedy without a hitch. Not even the turbulence that had marred the transatlantic flight before. Katerina already knew the rules about seatbelts and when to stow luggage. "You're getting to be an old hand at this," he said.

"I hope I get to use the skill many times in the future," she replied.

Ivan thought about this for a moment. "You mean you want to come back?"

"Don't you think our children should know your parents as well as they know mine?"

"If they can," said Ivan. "I didn't know you'd want to."

"Not like this," said Katerina. "Not watching out for the Widow all the time. But yes, they should fly through the air."

Kennedy was its normal nightmarish self, probably the worst airport Ivan ever flew through. It wasn't as bad leaving as it was arriving, which is rather like saying tuberculosis doesn't kill you as fast as pneumonia. There was the normal chaos and tumult at the gate, and the six-mile walk down tubes and ramps before they got to the airplanes, which apparently parked in Sag Harbor. Through it all, Ivan and Katerina watched everyone and everything that happened; but Ivan knew that it was primarily his responsibility, since he was the more experienced flyer and would be more likely to know if something was wrong.

The maddening thing was that they had no idea what they were looking for. Baba Yaga herself? She could look like anybody, or make herself unnoticeable. Some sabotage to the plane? As if either of them could tell! A passenger or crew member under Baba Yaga's spell? Maybe they could detect that. Or maybe not. They certainly hadn't guessed about Ruthie, and Ivan knew her well. He did notice that she was acting strange—in retrospect, the picnic was an absurd idea even if nothing had been booby-trapped. But Ivan had made allowances for her because he felt guilty. With strangers, guilt wouldn't be clouding the issue.

Ivan had thought first class was nice on the plane from Rochester—roomy seats, a better variety of snacks. As they settled into their places on the international flight, everything was so cushy Ivan began to wonder if the flight attendant planned to sing them to sleep. There were bags for their shoes, a toothbrush and toothpaste, and all kinds of completely useless amenities, including strange aromatherapy soaps and lotions. Katerina looked at them with suspicion, but after opening each one she pronounced them safe. "Except that they all smell as bad as a skunk," she said. Apparently perfume would be a tough sell in Taina.

"Look," said Ivan. "You push a button, and a thing comes out for you to rest your feet on."

Katerina loved it. But then she grew serious. "Look at us," she said. "How alert are we being now?"

"She's still in Tantalus or Syracuse," said Ivan. "We've lost her."

"No," said Katerina. "It's not that easy. Not with her." She unfastened her seatbelt and started to sidle past him to the aisle.

"Where are you going?" asked Ivan.

"To walk through the plane," she said. "To see if I notice anything."

"I'll come with you."

"No," she said. "One of us stays here to guard our place. So she can't leave a curse for us here."

"Then I'll walk the plane," said Ivan. "I'm more likely to notice if something is wrong."

She agreed. Ivan got up and walked back into coach. People were still boarding, but the crowd was thinner—most people were in their seats. At the back, Ivan scanned the lavatories. He even thought of lifting the toilet lids, and then laughed at himself for such an absurd idea—and then had to go in and lift every last one of them, because once he had thought of it, he had to do it, in case it was Aware that had caused him to pick up on some subliminal clue. Naturally, the toilets were normal—stained with blue fluid, in rooms so tiny that you had to be a ballet dancer to turn around. There was nothing wrong with them that hadn't started at the design phase.

"Is something wrong?" asked the flight attendant behind him.

"No," said Ivan. He came out of the bathroom.

"It's a good time to take your seat, sir," she said.

He was a little embarrassed, but now it felt all the more urgent to him that he check every toilet. Yet he had already checked every one of them, hadn't he?

On impulse, he asked the flight attendant, "How many lavatories are there back here?"

"Just here in the back?" she asked. "Six."

"That's funny," said Ivan. "I only counted five."

"You only need one at a time, anyway," she said with a smile.

"Really? Six?"

Humoring him, she pointed to them all in turn. "One, two, three, four, five. See?"

"OK," he said. It was clear she had no idea what she had just said.

He needed to get her out of the way. "Do I have time to use one?" he asked.

"If you're quick." She smiled her official smile—the one that said "You're an idiot but I'm paid to be nice to you"—and went back up the aisle, helping people settle in.

Ivan thought about what had just happened. Or tried to. His brain was a muddle, suddenly. She had said there were six bathrooms, hadn't she? He tried to count them. He placed a hand on each door and said the number. And he got to six, all right. But had he counted one of them twice? Had he touched every door?

And then he realized. It didn't matter where the missing bathroom was, or even if there was a bathroom missing. The flight attendant had said six and then counted five. He himself was confused about what was before his eyes. Maybe it was just nerves or carelessness. But maybe it wasn't. And Ivan wasn't taking any chances.

He walked briskly to the front of the plane. The flight attendant was about to close the door. "Wait," he said to her. "We're getting off."

"What? Why?" she demanded.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "We've decided not to go."

"You're going to delay the whole flight," she said. "We can't take off until we've found your luggage underneath and removed it."

"It doesn't matter. We're getting off."

He took a step toward first class to get Katerina, but out of the corner of his eye he saw the flight attendant resume closing the door. He whirled around. "If you close that door I'll sue the airline and you for kidnapping!"

"What are you talking about?" she said.

"I asked you not to close the door."

"I have to close the door. We can't take off unless we close the door."

Another flight attendant came up to him. "Sir, please take your seat now."

"I'm not flying on this plane! I'm getting off! I told her not to close the door, I have to get my wife. She doesn't speak English. We're not taking this flight."

"Of course, sir. Even though that will be an inconvenience to everyone else, since we have to wait while your luggage is unloaded, and—"

"The other flight attendant already explained that," said Ivan.

"Honestly," the first one said, "he never said a word about it to me."

To Ivan, the confusion, the forgetfulness—they were proof that he was absolutely right. There was magic on this plane, and he was not going to be in it when it took off. He couldn't walk away from the door of the plane or they would forget that he was leaving and close it—and he knew that once it closed, they would cite FAA regulations or some such nonsense and refuse to open it again. Yet he also was quite sure that if he sent one of them to get Katerina, she'd forget what she was doing before she got to Katerina's seat, or screw it up in some other way.

So he called out. Not Katerina's name, because there was a chance Baba Yaga, who was almost certainly hiding in a bathroom stall, could hear him. So he called, "Ruthie!" And again. And a third time, until finally Katerina turned around. He beckoned to her. She unfastened her seatbelt and came toward him. "Bring your things," he said, when she was close enough to hear a whisper. "Hurry."