Читать книгу The Chosen Ones - Scarlett Thomas - Страница 10

3

The Old Town was quiet and cold. The frost was now calmly working its way around rooftops and the tops of chimneys.

The sundial in the small walled-garden of the Apothecary Museum was entirely draped in silver. The cobblestones were slippery under Effie’s feet as she walked down the hill towards the Writers’ Monument, which now looked as if it was wearing a white bed-cap. Into the black of the sky came the brief flicker of another small meteor. An owl hooted again, sending into the Cosmic Web news of the frost and the meteor and many other things besides.

Effie wondered what the Guild of Craftspeople would do to her. She remembered that they had once forbidden her grandfather from practising magic for five years. Five years! If that happened to Effie, she didn’t know what she’d do. She’d only recently epiphanised and found out she was a true hero. She didn’t want to lose her powers so soon afterwards. That would just be too unfair.

Not that she had ever done any real magic, of course. It came so easily to her friends Maximilian and Raven. But Effie’s skills seemed more annoyingly practical. She had once defeated a dragon, but had not used a single scrap of magic in so doing. Had being expelled meant she’d lost the chance to learn magic for ever? Her grandfather had begun to teach her something called ‘Magical Thinking’. Effie knew she needed to progress from that. But how? Perhaps she could ask her cousins in the Otherworld the next time she visited. Or her great-uncle Cosmo. She certainly would never be able to go back to Dr Green’s classes.

Most people have to go through a portal if they want to visit the Otherworld. Then they have to travel from wherever the portal delivers them to their intended destination. But Effie had a magical calling card – her most precious boon – that transported her directly outside the ornate gates of Truelove House, in the extremely remote and highly secretive Otherworld village of Dragon’s Green, where her cousins Clothilde and Rollo lived with the wizard Cosmo and looked after the Great Library that was housed there.

At least that was what the calling card was supposed to do. But for the first few days that Effie’d had it, she hadn’t been able to get it to work at all. Just taking it out did precisely nothing. Effie had tried again and again. She had gone to all the portals she knew – including the Funtime Arcade and Mrs Bottle’s Bun Shop – and tried taking out the card in each one, but that hadn’t worked: she’d just ended up making the acquaintance of a lot of extremely shady people who wanted to offer her unbelievable sums of money for it. She’d tried sitting in her bedroom in darkness and silence and reading out the address on the front in a very solemn voice. Nothing.

Despairing, she’d eventually asked the card what it wanted of her.

To her surprise, it had replied.

It’s almost impossible to relate completely in any written language what the card actually said about what you do with a portable portal – they are, in fact, so rare that there are barely more than five left in each of the known worlds – but gradually Effie got the knack.

First, you have to find a natural, magical place where you definitely cannot be seen (behind the hedge on the village green near the old Black Pig pub had proved to be a good spot). Then you have to clear your mind. This is not easy. Then, looking only at the card, you have to sort of knock on its door (which sounds a bit odd, but is the closest way of describing how it feels) and wait for a reply. Keeping your mind completely clear – which is hard to do for more than a couple of seconds, but Effie practised a lot – you then have to wait while the card sort of magically frisks you.

After all, not just anyone could go to Dragon’s Green. Indeed, one of Rollo’s jobs in Truelove House was finding new ways to keep people out. Once Effie was cleared for entry, and while still keeping her mind blank, she had learned to sort of melt downwards – a bit like going underwater – and thus move from one dimension into the next. She always came out in a sort of grey mist just outside the gates to Truelove House. The guards, who now knew her well, then unlocked the gate and let her through.

So Effie had developed rather a pleasant habit. Each morning on the way to school she took out her calling card and popped off behind the hedge to spend a couple of happy days in the Otherworld. Time passed a lot more quickly in the Otherworld, a quirk that meant Effie’s two days there amounted to only about forty-five minutes in the Realworld. When her time was up, Effie would hurry away to the portal by the old willow tree on the Keepers’ Plains (her calling card only brought her to the Otherworld – she had to go back to the Realworld through a normal portal like any other person) and emerge in her school field five minutes before registration. It had taken a bit of practice to get the timing of this right, which had led to several detentions and a rather stern letter home.

But those first few times Effie had been to the Otherworld had been the very best days of her life so far. Effie’s beautiful cousin Clothilde had made her two silk jumpsuits – one in silver and one in a very dark blue – because everyone in the Otherworld wore loose, flowing clothes. It was always midsummer in the Otherworld – or so it seemed to Effie. The days were bright and warm enough to swim outdoors, but the nights were cool enough for an open fire. The complex time differences between worlds meant that Effie never knew precisely when she was going to arrive at Truelove House, but she usually got there in time for supper, which her cousins often ate by the fire in the large drawing room. After that, each day would begin with breakfast in bed, brought by a cheerful woman called Bertie. Effie usually had a large, soft, homemade croissant, porridge with cream and honey, and a whole pot of strong tea. Then she was free to do whatever she wanted, as long as she stayed in the house and grounds.

Some children might have taken advantage of the time difference and used the stolen time in the Otherworld to catch up on their homework. But Effie preferred to lie on the lawn reading Otherworld books, eating Otherworld cakes and dreaming of Otherworld adventures. Lunch each day was a picnic by the stream at the bottom of the garden, with dragonflies of every possible colour skimming the clear water. Clothilde occasionally took some time off in the afternoon to swim in the pool with Effie, or to walk with her in the nearby woods. But usually Rollo would come out and find Clothilde and take her back to the Great Library, where something important and secret seemed to be going on.

Effie wasn’t allowed in the Great Library until she had the mark of the Keeper. Even though she’d passed the test that meant she could have the mark, she couldn’t actually get it until Pelham Longfellow came back from the island (which was the Otherworld word for the Realworld). When Pelham Longfellow returned, he was going to take Effie to Froghole to get her mark and to do some shopping. Effie was also due to have a special consultation to determine her ‘kharakter, art and shade’, whatever that meant. Well, she knew what kharakter was: that was her main ability as a true hero. But the rest was a mystery.

From snatches of conversation Effie had picked up, it seemed Pelham Longfellow was very busy trying to uncover a big conspiracy brewing in Paris, or maybe London. Effie had meant to ask if she could help him in some way, but she hadn’t seen him for ages. She longed to be of some help in the great fight against the Diberi. But even though she had killed the powerful Diberi mage who had attacked her grandfather, no one seemed to want her to do anything else.

Sometimes Effie went up to the very top of one of the towers in Truelove House to see the wizard Cosmo, who had said she could use his small personal library whenever she wanted. It was here that Effie found books to read on the lawn: adventures of true heroes from long ago, strategy guides for fighting demons and monsters, or tales of the Great Split. Cosmo had talked vaguely of things he might teach Effie when he had time. ‘Another language,’ he’d said recently. ‘Map reading. Meditation. Depending on your art and shade, of course. But not until after the Sterran Guandré has passed.’ Effie had heard the words Sterran Guandré a few times recently. She had been planning to ask Clothilde what they meant.

But the last time Effie had visited the Otherworld she had accidentally overheard a conversation between Clothilde and Rollo that she had instantly known was about her. Perhaps she shouldn’t have stayed to listen – eavesdroppers never hear good about themselves, after all – but she had.

‘Her place is not here,’ Rollo had said. ‘Why do you keep encouraging her? Especially now that we hear of this new conspiracy on the island, and with the Sterran Guandré so close. Griffin is no longer there to watch what’s happening around the northern portals. She should be doing something. And she can’t be of use on the island if she squanders all her energy here giggling on the lawn with you.’

‘She’s a child,’ said Clothilde, sighing sadly. ‘She should not have to bear all this responsibility. And we already know the conspiracy is around the southern portals. She can do nothing about that.’

‘For some reason the universe has chosen to give her this “responsibility”,’ Rollo had said. ‘We should be training her to be useful. Although I don’t know how exactly a true hero is supposed to be of use to us – why couldn’t we have had an interpreter, an explorer, or another engineer?’

‘But . . .’

‘And the girl needs more lifeforce, not less. Being here just drains her. I think perhaps we should tell her about . . .’

‘We can’t.’

Before anyone could say anything else, Effie had heard footsteps – probably Bertie’s – and ran. She hurried upstairs to her beautiful room with the now familiar smell of old sun-warmed wood and fresh linen, and changed from her silk jumpsuit into her school uniform. She would not come back again until she had proved herself somehow, she had decided. She would find out about this ‘conspiracy’ in the Realworld and return to Truelove House only when she had something useful to contribute.

As Effie had walked down the stairs of Truelove House that day, she’d thought of all the hours she’d spent with Clothilde on the lawn, laughing at Clothilde’s gentle stories of village life, listening to her talking about growing up in Truelove House with Pelham Longfellow often popping over from his parents’ cottage on the other side of the village. Whenever Clothilde talked about Pelham Longfellow she blushed, and then looked a little bit sad. But while Effie had been relaxing, the Diberi had been out there plotting something and she hadn’t even known. Effie felt ashamed somehow, and very alone. She left through the conservatory without saying goodbye.

The next morning, instead of visiting the Otherworld on her way to school, she called her friends together for a meeting in their secret hideout in the basement of their school. The hideout was called Griffin’s Library because it held all the rare hardback last editions of books that Effie’s grandfather Griffin Truelove had left for her, and that Effie and her friends had rescued. It had once been an old caretaker’s cupboard but was the size of a small room.

Effie explained to her friends that it was very important for them each to use their own special skill to find out everything they could about the conspiracy. Maximilian said he’d use his scholarly skills to find out what Sterran Guandré meant. Raven said she’d keep an eye on Skylurian Midzhar, who definitely had connections with the Diberi. Lexy said she’d try to make contact with Miss Dora Wright, the children’s former teacher who had disappeared earlier in the term and who Effie believed knew something important. Effie and Wolf upped their tennis training sessions to make sure they were strong fighters for whatever happened next.

But Effie didn’t just want to be a strong fighter. She wanted to increase her magical energy so she could spend more time in the Otherworld. And she’d worked out that one way of doing that was to train hard in the Realworld while wearing the Ring of the True Hero, which somehow seemed to convert her expended energy into lifeforce – or M-currency. When Effie had enough lifeforce, and enough information, and perhaps even some magic skills, she would go back to Rollo and Clothilde and show them how strong and useful she was. But not until then.

Now, just over a week later, waiting for the bus home in the frosty moonlight, having been expelled from her first magic class, Effie wondered whether she should go back to the Otherworld sooner than she’d planned. She suddenly longed to ask Clothilde for advice about Dr Green and the Guild of Craftspeople. Effie couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d made a terrible mistake that would have to be put right. Her grandfather had certainly seemed to abide by the Guild’s rules. If Effie could just sit down and properly talk to someone who understood . . .

It was almost ten o’clock when Effie opened the door to the small terraced house she shared with her father, step-mother and baby sister. The place was in darkness. Had they all gone to bed? Effie was sure that this was the night that Cait taught a late seminar at the university. Had her father gone to pick her up? But no, his car had been parked on the street. Perhaps he was just ‘saving electricity’ again. Effie hung her school cape on a peg and went into the kitchen to make a cup of chamomile tea before bed. Lexy had told her always to have chamomile tea at bedtime. It was a natural tonic, apparently, and helped you to sleep.

‘Not so fast,’ came a voice from the upstairs landing.

‘Sorry?’ said Effie.

‘Don’t pretend you didn’t hear me,’ said Orwell Bookend. He walked down the stairs holding a candle-lamp. ‘I want some answers, young lady. First of all, where is the book?’

‘What book?’

Orwell snorted. ‘What book? The Chosen Ones, of course. What have you done with it?’

‘The first Laurel Wilde book? I don’t know. I last read it when I was about six. And then you confiscated it. Why do you want it anyway? It’s for seven-to-nine-year-olds.’

‘You don’t have it?’

‘No. I just told you. You confiscated it.’

‘Why did I do that?’

‘Because you didn’t want me reading about magic. It was ages ago. When Mum was still here.’

‘And where did I put it?’

Effie shrugged. ‘How am I supposed to know?’

‘I don’t like your attitude at all, madam. It’s exactly like your teacher said. I’ve just had Dr Green on the phone, Euphemia, and I’m not very happy with you.’

‘But . . .’

‘I’ve had enough of this. Go to your room at once. We can talk about your punishment in the morning.’

‘But I just want to make a cup of . . .’

‘GO,’ hissed Orwell Bookend. He liked shouting, but didn’t do it so much when baby Luna was asleep. He had recently become rather an expert in finding ways to shout quietly.

Effie knew it was better not to argue, so she let herself into the ground-floor room she shared with her baby sister. Effie decided that once her father and step-mother were asleep, she would get her calling card, climb out of the window, go to the village green and take a much-needed trip to Truelove House. Just the thought of it – the warm garden, Clothilde’s kind face – made her feel better.

She lit a candle and walked over to her bookshelves to get the box where she’d carefully hidden her calling card, along with her other precious boons and everything else that was very special to her, including another calling card that Effie could use to get hold of Pelham Longfellow in an emergency, a jar of damson jam from her grandfather’s kitchen, a candlestick, some candles, a mysterious notebook written in Rosian and Effie’s Sword of Light necklace . . .

It wasn’t there. It was gone.

The box wasn’t anywhere on the shelves. It wasn’t under the bed, or under baby Luna’s cot or . . . Effie soon became frantic looking for the box that contained her most treasured possessions. She never would have taken off her gold necklace if it hadn’t been for Dr Green’s class and what Lexy had said about him confiscating boons. And what about Wolf’s Sword of Orphennyus? Effie was on the verge of tears when she got up from the dusty floor for the third time, after checking yet again under her bed. She hadn’t realised that the door had silently opened until she turned and saw her father standing there with a half-smile on his face.

‘Looking for something?’ he said.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘My . . .’ But she didn’t finish her sentence because she realised that her father had her special box in his hands.

‘Your little box of delights?’ said Orwell.

‘Thank you,’ said Effie. ‘Where did you find it?’

Her father laughed. ‘You think you’re getting this back? Ha! I was going to say that you could have it back when you found the missing copy of The Chosen Ones, but now I’m not so sure. The stuff in here is worth something, isn’t it? Where was it your grandfather used to go? Oh yes. The Funtime Arcade. What? You think I didn’t know all his haunts? Yes, I think I could go there and find someone to buy all this from me. I’d get a lot more than fifty pounds for it all, I’m sure.’

‘Those things are mine,’ said Effie.

She remembered the moment – only a few weeks ago – when Pelham Longfellow had told her that the only way anyone would get the gold necklace from her would be if they killed her first. So why on earth had she taken it off like some sort of idiot and just put it in a box?

‘Dr Green suggested that I search your room for any suspicious objects. I hear you’ve been getting involved with this Guild, which you know I don’t approve of. Dr Green said anything suspicious should be handed over to him, but I’m not sure I trust him, so you’re safe for now. I think I’m going to just hang on to this until you decide to behave yourself. And finding me that copy of The Chosen Ones will be the first step in getting back in my good books.’

‘If I get it for you, will you give me my box back?’

Orwell narrowed his eyes. ‘So you do know where it is?’

‘No! I told you, I haven’t seen it for years.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘But it’s the truth!’

‘Find it, and then we’ll talk.’

Orwell slammed the door, silently.

Echo stepped towards the thing-without-name. Raven was right, there was something deep and strange about it. Echo usually felt certain about something, completely sure if it would bring danger or pleasure. But this, he didn’t know. He took another step without looking properly at the ground. A skylark flew out of her nest and hovered above the moor. Her call began quite crossly, but then developed into the usual stream of news from the Cosmic Web. And one item on the list was of particular interest.

‘Did you hear that?’ Echo said to Raven.

‘Yes,’ said Raven, looking troubled.

‘The long-haired hero-child with the ring – that is your friend?’

‘Yes,’ said Raven sadly.

‘She is in deep danger, this friend.’

‘Yes. Oh dear, Echo. What shall we do?’

‘We can find this sparkling bog again tomorrow. For now we will go and help this friend. Let us vamos.’

Raven and Echo cantered home while a brace of meteors leapt unthinkingly through the black sky. As soon as she could, Raven would sat down at her desk and write a letter to the Luminiferous Ether. She just hoped it wasn’t too late.