“In a minute,” Fifer said. She ran back to where Simber still stood in front of the old, dangerous mastodon. “Shall we take the chance?” Simber asked Fifer. He pointed with his nose to one of the books on a small pile in Fifer’s arms.

Fifer nodded slowly and opened it. “Is there really even a question?” She read for several moments, then looked up. “Thisbe and I have done this live spell before,” she said.

“We don’t need that one quite yet,” said Simber. “How about the otherrr?”

Fifer continued to read, turning a page or two to make sure she wasn’t missing anything important. Then she nodded slowly. “Yes,” she said, then looked up. “I can manage that. Where to? The jungle? Or downstairs?”

“If we put him downstairrrs, they’ll know someone’s been up herrre again. I think we’d rrratherrr they didn’t find that out quite yet. Trrransporrrt him somewherrre you can easily get to laterrr when it’s time to activate him.”

Fifer put her books on the floor. “Got it.” She moved closer to Ol’ Tater, then nervously put her hand flat on his cool, stone side. There were stories about him stomping around on the pirate ship during the battle Artimé fought when Fifer was two years old. He was very dangerous and didn’t know friend from foe, so if they ever brought him to life, they’d have to be very smart and cautious about it. For now, getting him out of here and putting him somewhere they could access fairly easily seemed to be a good idea.

Fifer closed her eyes and drew in a breath. Letting it out, she envisioned a specific part of the jungle not far from Artimé’s lawn but hidden from view, and near one of the wide paths that the rock had mown. It was important that Fifer place Ol’ Tater far enough from where the little dog and Panther lived so they weren’t squashed by his sudden arrival in case Fifer’s aim was off. In her mind, Fifer stayed focused on the spot where she wanted the sleeping statue to land. Then she whispered the word few mages in Artimé had ever used in its magical form. “Transport.”

The giant statue disappeared. Simber and Fifer waited in breathless silence, listening for any unusual shouts or screams or crashing sounds that would indicate a horrible mistake, but they heard nothing. After a moment, Simber nodded at Fifer with respect. “Well done. It took Alex a few trrries the firrrst time,” he said. He hesitated but seemed like he was about to say more. But then he turned and didn’t speak.

“Thanks, Sim,” said Fifer. She gathered up the books and started out the door, catching up to the others to get her invisibility paintbrush for the ride home.

Despite the danger at hand, a contented expression played around Simber’s jowls as he watched her go. It was nice to be working directly with Fifer again. She’d handled the situation after Alex’s death with poise that most thirteen-year-old humans didn’t possess, and they’d gotten along so naturally, in a way that hadn’t happened quite so early on with any of the former mages.