The Raven’s Amicus The Raven’s Amicus Gabriel couldn’t wait to get back to the diary. The next entry described how Gabriel’s grandfather brought a portrait of Adam’s missing brother, Corax, down from the attic to show him. Adam was very upset by his resemblance to his brother.
We have the same shape face, the same small mouth, but I don’t think my eyes are as cold or ruthless—at least, I hope not!
But the most interesting entries were about Adam’s conversations with his raven, Baldasarre.
April 29: Today I asked Baldasarre why, if ravens can talk, they don’t talk to most people. This is what he told me: “Ravens used to talk to humans, long ago, but they grew afraid. If a raven spoke, he might be put in a cage to be shown around as a kind of performing animal. Every raven cherishes his freedom.”
“Then why did you speak to my father and me?” I asked.
“You are different, Adam,” said Baldasarre. “I knew I could trust you. You see, you were already able to understand my thoughts. At age twelve, a few children—like you—acquire this special power. It is very rare. You are what is called a raven’s amicus.”
I was flabbergasted. And I still am.
May 6: Baldasarre told me he is almost ready to fly again. I’m very sad about this. When I told my father that I wished I could keep him, he said that a raven is not a pet. “Healing his leg doesn’t give you the right to own him,” he said. “You owe him his freedom.”
I don’t want him to go. For the next few days, I will give Baldasarre all his favorite foods, hoping he’ll decide to stay.
May 10: Baldasarre asked me to let him out. I was upset, but I remembered my father’s words and pulled up the window and let the breeze blow the curtains aside. It was a gorgeous evening, clear and cloudless. Baldasarre hopped to the ledge, flexing his healed leg.
“Goodbye, friend,” I choked out.
Baldasarre tipped his head at me, surprised, and spoke in my head.
This is not a farewell, Adam.
“It’s not?” I replied out loud, forgetting that I could answer him without speaking.
We’re going to fly together, Adam. First, imagine jumping toward me, but do not move your legs. Think about flying, and when you do, you will leave yourself behind and become part of me.
How can I leave myself behind? I thought.
I know it seems impossible, the raven replied. But that is what you must do. Look at your feet, and just imagine jumping.
I tried to concentrate as hard as I could, and then, staring at my bare feet on the floorboards, I imagined a jump.
Nothing happened.
Adam, said Baldasarre. Try to believe it will happen.
Looking back down, I focused my thoughts. This time I imagined how wondrous it would be if I could actually fly like a bird.
In the next instant, I felt my limbs shake violently. My bones appeared to be rearranging themselves. My arms trembled and seemed to roll to where my shoulder blades would be, my legs felt shorter, and I saw claws where my feet had been. I looked around, confused—I wasn’t standing on the floor anymore!
Where am I? I wondered. Then I realized I was on the windowsill where Baldasarre had been. But where was he?
We are one, came the reply.
Baldasarre? Where is my body?
Don’t worry; you have no need of it. It will return when we part. Now be quiet. We’re going to fly.
Before I could answer, I tumbled through the open window. I was about to scream, but in the next instant I felt my wings beating powerfully against the air and (this was the strangest thing) the air around me seemed to press back, thick and sluggish as water. Yet my wings could slice through it, grasp it, or glide over it like a surfer on a wave.
Oh, the joy I felt! So high above the buildings, high above everyone in the city. The streetlamps were brilliant little points far below. I was free in a way I had never imagined before. So this was what flying felt like! I laughed, and the most extraordinary sound came from my throat—the croak of a raven, rough as sandpaper, so loud that it echoed across the chimneys, roofs, and water towers of Brooklyn.
Did I do that? I wondered.
It was both of us, came Baldasarre’s reply. We are paravolating.