The toilet seat transformed in an instant. It was a sword—I was guessing three or three and a half feet long including the jeweled hilt—but the sword was stuck blade-first into a big round rock. Or would that be a stone?
We all stared at it.
I said, “Cal, should you try...?” I shrugged helplessly.
He shrugged as well. “It’s worth a shot.” He walked closer.
The angle was awkward, even though Cal was tall. The tablewas probably three feet off the ground, and then height of the stone and sword meant the hilt was right in Cal’s face.
“Why don’t you stand on a chair?” Mom suggested.
I pulled over a chair from another table and held it steady while Cal climbed up. He held on to the back of the chair with one hand and grasped the hilt of the sword with the other.
“Here goes.” He pulled at the sword, but it did not move. He yanked harder, but that only dragged the stone across the tabletop. He let go of the hilt and looked around. “I guess I’m not the chosen one. Anyone else want to try?”
“We should all try,” said Edgar.
Cal let go and hopped down from the chair. “Greg, help me put this on the ground. It’ll be safer.”
Carefully we lifted the stone off the table and placed it on the floor. Everyone lined up to take turns pulling at the sword, but it remained stubbornly in the stone.
“Should we have everyone in the compound come have a go?” Bettina asked.
“Hang on a minute,” Cal said, rubbing his finger over the hair on his upper lip. I wondered how soft it was.
He pointed at the sword. “It’s obviously trying to tell us something. It could be that the person it wants to wield the sword isn’t here. But it might be saying it doesn’t want tobea sword.”
He walked back to the sword and studied the runes along the flat of the blade. “Please be a gun,” he said. He ran his fingers over a few runes.
The sword changed to some sort of rifle. Its barrel was stuck in the stone.
“Can I try?” Mom asked.
Cal made abe my guestgesture and stepped back.
Mom examined the runes for a moment, then hovered her finger next to them. “Please become an axe.” She swiped her fingers over some runes. Before she straightened up, the gun had transformed into what appeared to be the handle of an axe, but the business end was embedded in the stone.
I put my hands on my hips. “I think Cal is right. It isn’t a weapon or doesn’t want tobea weapon.”
Bettina crouched down and touched the stone. “It’s full of magic, but it feels... unwelcoming.” She dropped her hands and stood up. “Whatever it is, I’m not the person it wants to handle it.”
Mom, never the most patient sort, snapped, “Well, how the hell are we supposed to figure out who it wants if it can’t talk to us?”
We all stared at the object in consternation.
Cal sucked in a breath. “Hah!” he said, striding forward. He put his hand next to the axe handle and said, “Please become a laptop computer.” He touched the runes.
The stone and axe handle transformed, becoming a smaller stone sculpture of an open laptop. I couldn’t stop a bark of laughter.
“Okay, no electronics,” Cal said. “It was worth a shot.”
“Ouija board,” Bettina suggested.
Cal pointed at her. “Good idea!” He turned back to the stone laptop. Bending over, he said, “Please become a Ouija board.” He ran his fingers over some runes.
The stone transformed again, this time becoming a rectangular piece of granite etched with the letters of the alphabet, the numbers one through nine plus zero, along withYes,No, andGoodbye.
“There’s no planchette,” Mom pointed out.