Mentor visibly winced. “That’s of the past,” he said abruptly. “It’s forgotten.”
“I’m afraid it isn’t,” Jonas told him. “We have a rather urgent situation. I’ll describe it to you later. But right now I need you to help me convince Gabe that the powers exist. He finds it hard to believe.”
“It is hard to believe,” Mentor agreed, nodding. “In a peaceful village like this, it is hard to conceive of true evil.”
“We don’t have a lot of time, Mentor. Could you describe, to Gabe, the trade you made?”
Mentor sighed. “This is necessary?” he asked Jonas.
“Necessary and very important.”
Mentor nodded. “I see. Very well, then. It was years ago, Gabe. You were a little boy. I remember how mischievous you were in school. Sometimes inattentive.”
“I know,” Gabe acknowledged in embarrassment.
“You were too young to go to Trade Mart. But surely you knew of it?”
Gabe shrugged. “I guess. It seemed kind of mysterious.”
“Some of us adults went every time. There was a kind of entertainment to it, watching other villagers make fools of themselves. But you didn’t usually attend, did you, Jonas?”
Jonas shook his head. “It didn’t ever interest me until it got out of hand, and by then I was Leader and had to take action.”
“Well, I was a fool. Many of us were. I was an old man—widowed, lonely. I lived with my daughter, but I knew she would marry someday and I’d be alone. I felt sorry for myself. I had this birthmark. The schoolchildren used to called me Rosie because of it; remember, Gabe?”
Gabe looked at the deep red stain on Mentor’s cheek. He nodded. “We didn’t mean any harm.”
“Of course you didn’t.” Mentor smiled. “But I was self-pitying and foolish. And there was a woman, a widow, I was attracted to. You understand about that, don’t you? Boys your age would understand.”
Gabe’s instinct was to pretend ignorance. The question embarrassed him. But with both Mentor and Jonas watching him intently, it seemed a time for honesty. “Yes,” he said. “I understand.”
“So,” Mentor said with a deep sigh, “I went to Trade Mart and for the first time, I asked to make a trade.”
“What did you ask for?”
Mentor laughed, but it was a sardonic laugh. “I told Trademaster that I wanted to be younger, and handsome. I wanted Stocktender’s widow to fall in love with me.”
Gabe looked at the ground. He was embarrassed for Mentor, that he must make such a confession of his own idiocy. “He couldn’t do that kind of transformation, could he? You should have asked for, oh, I don’t know, maybe a set of new desks for the schoolhouse!”
“Evil can do anything, Gabe,” Mentor said, “for a price.”
Gabe stared at him. “What was the price?” he asked, after a moment.
“His terms were vague. Vague enough that they sounded unimportant. He’s very clever, Trademaster is. He sets his terms but we don’t really understand them when we agree to the trade. He told me I would have to trade away my honor.”
“So you said no.”
Mentor shook his head. “I grabbed at it. Eagerly. I told you I was a fool.”
“But, Mentor! You are an honorable man! Everyone knows that. And—I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re not young and handsome. So the trade didn’t work! No one has that kind of power, not even someone evil.”
“Oh, it worked. It worked for many of us here in the village. Me—I grew taller, and my bald spot disappeared. Thick hair where once there had been just this shiny dome! Birthmark? Faded, faded, then poof! Gone! You may not have noticed, Gabe; you were a child then, and it was summer so you weren’t in school. But briefly I was a younger, handsome man. I began courting the pretty widow.
“But you know what, Gabe?”
“What?” Gabe was stunned. So Trademaster, whoever he was, did have incredible powers. He could have made a trade with the woman—what was her name, Claire? He tried to pay attention to what Mentor was saying, but his thoughts now were on what this all meant—what it meant to him, Gabe, and to the woman, Claire, who may have made a terrible trade in order to find her . . . her . . .
“I am her son,” he whispered aloud.
Mentor hadn’t heard him. He continued talking. “I had traded away the most important part of myself. I turned selfish. Cruel. The pretty widow didn’t want a man like that! So I had made a meaningless trade, and I had turned into a person I hated—but a handsome one! And young!”
Gabe forced himself to pay attention to the schoolmaster. “What changed you back? You’re a man of honor now, Mentor.”
“Jonas stepped in. Trade Mart had corrupted the whole village. Many people had traded away their best selves. We turned on each other. There was greed, and jealousy, and . . . Well, it had to end. There was a set of horrible events—we lost one of our best young people—”
“Matty?”
“Yes, Matty died, battling the evil. But because of him the rest of us survived and were restored. I got my bald head and my birthmark back!” He laughed. “And I lost my silly romance. Still a bachelor today.”
“And we banished Trademaster,” Jonas reminded them.
“We did. Forever.” Mentor said it with a kind of relief and satisfaction. He turned to leave. Then he said slowly, with a questioning look, “Something’s wrong?”
Jonas nodded. “He’s returned,” he said.
Mentor looked stunned. “So this battle must be waged again?”
Jonas nodded. “This time we must be sure it’s final.”
“Whom do we send this time, to die?” Mentor’s voice was bitter and sad. Like everyone, he had loved Matty.
“I’m going,” Gabe told him.
Mentor was silent. Then, without speaking, he turned away from them.
Gabe and Jonas stood watching the aged schoolmaster walk away. His shoulders were slumped.
“He got himself back,” Gabe said, after a moment.
Jonas nodded. “He did.”
“That means a trade can be reversed,” Gabe said.
Jonas nodded.
“I’m scared.”
“I am too,” Jonas replied. “For you, for all of us.”