Page 33 of Yumi and the Nightmare Painter

“Right,” Yumi said, standing. “Let’s go summon the spirits.”

He nodded and took a step forward. Then he paused. “Wait. I can’t believe I’ve never asked this, buthowdo we summon them? You said something about art the other day?”

“Yes, it’s easy,” she said. “All you have to do is stack some rocks.”

It was timeto test Yumi’s theory.

She considered it as Painter entered the place of ritual, the fenced-off section of ground where stones had been placed for him. Townspeople gathered along the fence, musicians at the ready, and Yumi remained behind with them—until Painter was distant enough that she was pulled, against her will, a few steps inside.

He looked back at her, noticing the pull. She nodded to him encouragingly. Earlier she’d said that his task would be easy. That wassort ofan untruth. Learning to properly stack rocks was difficult, and had been a large part of her training.

But she had a suspicion that it would be easy forhim. That was the realization she’d come to while bathing, and it would explain so much. The spirits had come to her begging for help—yet Yumi had not been enough. She wasn’t skilled enough; wasn’t good enough. She was inadequate.

So they had sent someone who could do what she couldn’t. Painter might not be a hero…but he might be aprodigy. That would explain why they’d picked him. She was now confident that he’d prove to be a natural at stacking, blessed with talent beyond her own even though he’d never known it on his world. The answer was so obvious it made her smile.

She was able to maintain this happy delusion right up to the moment he “stacked” his first rock. It fell.

The veryfirstrock he placed fell. Somehow he managed to fail at balancing a large flat piece of stone on theground. It toppled to the side and rolled away.

The townspeople behind Yumi gasped. Painter didn’t notice—just gave a goofy smile and piled up some other rocks like he was…pushing blocks into a heap. He didn’t even manage this without squishing his finger, which made him yelp and shake it.

Yumi glanced to Liyun, who watched with a slack jaw, horrified.

Painter put a rock on top of his pile, which collapsed. Then he looked to Yumi and gestured. “Like this?” he asked. “How’s it look?”

Oh no,Yumi thought.Oh, spirits. No.

They were in serious,serioustrouble.

Painter woke inhis rooms back in his world, the indignity of the rock fiasco fresh in his mind.

He still didn’t understand what he’d done wrong.

No, wait.

He didn’t understand what would have beenright. Rocks? What had been the point of those rocks?

Yumi sat up from the blanket on the floor, her hair a twisted mess. “Ow,” she said softly. “I think I…somehow slept on my nose…” She focused on him, and despite the frizzy hair and rumpled pajamas, she became more commanding. “You have failed.”

“I stacked the rocks!” he said, sitting up. “I did it six different ways before you had me leave.”

As the people watching had grown increasingly distraught, Yumi had told him to plead fatigue to Liyun. The dignified woman, plainly troubled by whatever it was he’d done wrong, had led him back to the wagon, where he’d succumbed to sleep. He probably hadn’t even beenawake six hours. Something about this transfer seemed to require a lot of energy, and they tired far faster than normal.

“The stacking,” Yumi said, standing up and putting her hands on her hips, “must be done withskillandartistry.”

“Stacking,” he said, “does not require artistry.”

“To do it ritually does.”

“Ritually. Of course. I should have known!”

She stalked over and pointed at his face as if threatening to touch him. But he lay down on his futon and shrugged. “Go ahead. I’m feeling a bit of a chill anyway. Might warm me up.”

She set her jaw, then stalked away, arms folded. She appeared to be shivering. The apartment looked as they’d left it, but he had a suspicion that they’d lost another day. Which meant the foreman would be furious.

Hopefully the foreman had dealt with the stable nightmare. Painter hadn’t warned him about the family who might need money to relocate. The foreman would put it together, right?

Maybe he should check in anyway. Make certain the Dreamwatch had arrived and everything was under control. It wasn’t his problem, now that he’d reported it, but he kept remembering that little boy with blood on his cheek from the nightmare’s claws. He at least wanted an update.

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