Many years later and under very different circumstances, another individual had the feeling that she had been swallowed whole, and not by anything as lovely as a circus tent. Chintzy had not enjoyed her time as a tourist in the Peal municipal sewer system. In fact, she was in an appallingly bad temper.

Chintzy was unusually large for her species to start with, and though she wouldn’t admit it even to herself, she enjoyed a nice lemon cookie more often than was good for her. She couldn’t find a big enough exit. After hours of flying through foul-smelling pipes and screeching even fouler words at the local rats, who wouldn’t give her directions, she finally managed to squeeze herself out of the storm drain just down the street from the Tuttle house.

She looked like a week-old buzzard chick, and she smelled like a week-dead old buzzard. But Chintzy, as she was so fond of reminding the Man Who Bends Light, was a professional. She found a birdbath to dunk herself in to remedy the worst of the stench, and after she had collected herself, she headed straight for Ephraim Tuttle’s bedroom window.

Of course, she didn’t know it was being watched.

“It looks great,” said Jenny. She was holding the flashlight like a spotlight over their finished quipu, and Micah could just make out her broad smile in the darkness.

They had stapled the whole thing to a poster board so that it wouldn’t get tangled. It wasn’t as fancy as Florence Greeber’s pyramid, but Jenny was sure that they would get extra credit for making up their own version of a knot language.

Micah was just glad that she wouldn’t fail the assignment because of him. His fingers ached, and tucked in his pocket, he had a small bundle of knots that had refused to become letters of the alphabet. All of these were the same, and all of them were like the Grandpa Ephraim knots from that morning. They were heavy in his pocket, but he wouldn’t take them out. He didn’t want Jenny to ask about them. They were private.

“I feel bad, though,” she was saying. “I haven’t found anything about your grandfather’s circus. I don’t know where else to look, and I don’t know how long—”

“It was nice of you to try,” Micah interrupted. Whatever came after “how long,” he didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to think about the fact that the letter had been sent two days ago, and the Lightbender had yet to appear. “I guess magical circuses don’t make it into library books.”

“We could call another circus on the phone.” Jenny’s voice was thoughtful. “They might know something.”

Over the last few hours, the two of them had fallen into a pattern. Jenny pretended not to hear Micah when he said anything about Circus Mirandus that sounded impossible. And he pretended not to hear her when she talked about “the circus your grandfather based his stories on.”

Micah enjoyed this arrangement. Jenny Mendoza was turning out to be an excellent friend.

“Would you like to go over the presentation one more time?” she asked.

Before he could say anything, there was a flapping sound overhead.

“Blasted humans,” said a voice. “Can’t be bothered to leave a window open for the messenger. Of course not. I have to do everything myself.”

“What?” Jenny asked. “Micah, was that you?”

Micah knew who it was at once. “The flashlight!” he said. “Jenny, point it at the window.”

Jenny spun toward Grandpa Ephraim’s bedroom window. “Holy smokes!”

A filthy, mangy-looking bird was fluttering in front of the window. When the light touched her, she shrieked, “I’ve been spotted by the natives!”

“It is you!” Micah cried. He felt like cheering.

“Evasive maneuvers. Normal bird behavior is a go! Polly wants a cracker.” The parrot smacked the glass with her beak. “Pretty birdy. Want a cracker. Open the window, you old goat, there are strange people in your tree watching me make a goose of myself.”

“I’m not people,” said Micah. “I’m his grandson.”

He hurried to the edge of the tree house’s platform and jumped to where he thought the big lower limb was without even stopping to check. The soles of his sneakers slipped sideways against the rough bark, but he managed to catch himself on his hands and knees before he could fall. “Please wait! I need to talk to you.”

He started crawling across the branch toward the ugly bird.

“Don’t,” Jenny called. “I think something’s wrong with it.”

“Chimney!” said the parrot.

“Wait!” said Micah.

But it was no use. The parrot shot toward the roof of the house and out of sight.

Micah stood up on the limb, holding his arms out to either side of him for balance. “Come back!” he shouted. “The Lightbender! Is he coming soon?”

There was no reply.

Micah looked back to the tree house, and the glare of the flashlight in his face blinded him. He shielded his eyes with one hand. “You saw that didn’t you?” he demanded. “You saw the magic parrot?”

Jenny lowered the flashlight so that he could see again. “I saw a parrot,” she said slowly.

“That was her. The Lightbender’s messenger.”

Micah’s knees were Jell-O. The messenger had come. They hadn’t forgotten Grandpa Ephraim.

“Lots of parrots can talk,” said Jenny, “but it did seem unusual. Did it say it was going to the chimney?”

Micah’s shoes started to slip again, and he got back down on his hands and knees. “Yes,” he said. “She’s heading for my grandpa’s room. I need to get back inside and talk to her before she gets away again.”

“Didn’t your aunt lock the door?”

He grimaced.

“Come off that branch,” said Jenny. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

Micah started back toward the tree house. It was much slower, and more frightening, crossing the limb in the dark now that he was paying attention. Jenny grabbed him by the front of the shirt when he reached the platform and helped him pull himself up.

“I don’t think you have to go back into the house.”

Micah was already reaching for the rope ladder. “I’m not letting it escape before I find out everything I can about Grandpa Ephraim’s miracle.”

“No,” said Jenny. “I mean I don’t think it will be able to get back up the chimney. Most birds can’t fly up a tight space like that, and that was a big bird. It’s going to be trapped in the house unless someone lets it out.”

“How do you know that?”

“My dad’s a vet,” she said. “Or . . . well, he will be. He’s gone back to school for it.”

“Oh.” Micah pulled his hand back from the ladder. “It’s a magical bird, though.” He didn’t have much experience with this sort of thing, but it seemed to him that a magical parrot shouldn’t be stumped by something as simple as a chimney.

“It couldn’t get through the window,” Jenny pointed out. “So unless your grandfather gets up to let it out, it will still be there in the morning.”

“I don’t think he’s well enough to get out of bed,” said Micah. “Or the window would already be open.”

They both sat, their legs dangling over the edge, and stared toward the window. After several long minutes, a light came on. It was hard to tell because of the curtains, but Micah thought it was Grandpa Ephraim’s bedside lamp.

“It’s in there,” Jenny whispered.

“She’s talking to him,” said Micah. He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. “I wish I could hear what they’re saying.”

Jenny patted him on the shoulder. “We can watch in shifts. Just in case your grandfather does open the window for it. That way we won’t miss anything.”

“I’ll go first,” said Micah. “You should try to sleep.”

He held his hand out for the flashlight, and she passed it to him. She crawled over to the sleeping bag and pulled it all the way up to her chin. She was so quiet after a little while that he thought she had fallen asleep, but then she said, “Micah?”

He pointed the light at her.

She blinked sleepily. “I’m glad Mrs. Stark made us partners.”

Something warm uncurled in Micah’s chest. “Me too, Jenny.”