Читать книгу Dragon's Green - Scarlett Thomas - Страница 13

7

‘What are you talking about?’ said Wolf and Effie together. ‘Wolf,’ said Maximilian. ‘Show Effie the Sword of Orphennyus.’

Wolf picked up the letter opener again and unsheathed it. Effie watched as the small blade grew to almost twenty times its original size. Wolf then swished it around the room. It was huge, shiny and clearly very, very magical.

‘I’m dreaming,’ said Effie, shaking her head.

‘I’m still pretty sure this is drugs,’ said Wolf, putting the sword back in its holder and replacing it on the table, where it promptly shrunk again.

Effie reached across and took the letter opener. Nothing happened. She took off its silver sheath. Inside was a bluntish blade, ideal for opening letters, but impossible to hurt yourself with.

‘You have to be a warrior,’ Maximilian explained. ‘The Sword of Orphennyus only shows itself to a true warrior. To anyone else it’s just a letter opener. Completely harmless. But in the hands of a true warrior it’s deadly. Orphennyus was a great warrior of the Otherworld who . . .’

Maximilian’s voice faded as Wolf started thinking about what this meant. He rather liked the idea of being a true warrior, although he didn’t believe it could be possible. All this had to be a trick – he just wasn’t sure how. For a second, though, he did let himself imagine. Wolf Reed, standing on a hilltop in some kind of tunic – no, something less stupid – maybe just a really cool t-shirt and some combat trousers and some new trainers, perhaps, with his magical sword, protecting people and fighting on the side of an army that was good and noble and battled for peace rather than war. Where were all these thoughts coming from?

‘How do you know all this?’ said Effie to Maximilian. ‘And what about my ring?’

‘I confess I don’t know that much about the ring. But magical rings are always complicated. Clearly, you were able to play tennis today like you did because the ring increased your strength, and maybe some other qualities too, but it looks as if it also drained you of energy. If you had carried on wearing it, I’m not sure you would ever have . . .’ Maximilian gulped, ‘ever have woken up at all.’

‘How do you know all this?’ asked Wolf, repeating Effie’s question.

‘I read things,’ said Maximilian. ‘While you others are busy playing sports and making friends and shopping and going on outings, I read things. It’s what I do. I collect knowledge. Some of it was bound to come in handy one day.’

‘But where do you read about things like this?’ asked Effie. ‘It’s not what you’d find in most normal books.’ Even Laurel Wilde’s novels didn’t cover such things. The children in her books simply waved their arms about and magical things happened. Sometimes they brewed things in cauldrons. They never had problems with magical rings.

Effie realised again how little she had really known about her grandfather and his life. Of course she had noticed him putting things in his secret drawer, but she’d had no idea that these were really magical items. And now . . . Effie’s heart caught in her chest. She knew she was going to miss her grandfather so much, not just because she had loved him so dearly, but because he had left her with so many unanswered questions.

‘You pick it up,’ said Maximilian, vaguely. ‘I have a small collection of fairly rare documents and pamphlets that I got from the dim web. I collect things to do with . . .’

‘The dim web?’ interrupted Effie.

‘It’s a closed web ring made up of connected bulletin boards. Like the old dark web, but mainly for scholars of magic, folklore and the disappearing arts. You have to dial in. With a modem. But it’s quite good when you do, and . . .’

Effie looked at her watch. This was all very well, but what about her grandfather’s books? She had almost lost these items, and look how special they had turned out to be. It now seemed even more important to save his library, but how?

Wolf had pulled a stepladder over to the place where he’d removed the panel in the ceiling. The three children climbed up – Wolf first, then Effie, then Maximilian – and wriggled through the hatch. The servants’ corridor was thin and dark, but they were just about able to stand up in it. There was a little wooden shelf with some candles, matches and a taper. Each of the children lit a candle, and then they started making their way forward in the soft flickering light. Every so often there were little wooden hatches with tiny windows and old wooden ladders. This must have been how servants moved through the old house in the past, long before it became a school, going about their duties silently, invisibly. The children went past the vast dining hall with its polished floors and dark wooden tables; the laundry; the headmaster’s study. And then, finally, they went down some steps to a wooden door that presumably led outside.

The door was locked.

Effie put her head in her hands. ‘Oh no,’ she said. It was now ten to five. She could just about get to her grandfather’s place by five, but only if this door would open. And it did not look as if that were going to happen. Next to its large brass handle was a big keyhole – and no key. The children looked around everywhere, but the key was nowhere to be found. The door must have been locked from the other side.

‘The sword,’ said Maximilian immediately. But he knew it would be no good. There was no space for Wolf to swing it at the door. Effie, now desperate, started trying to simply push her way out. It was ridiculous (especially as this was a door that opened inwards) but she remembered how strong she had felt before, playing tennis. If she could only get some of that strength back now. Maybe she could . . .

‘Shall I try the ring?’ she asked Maximilian.

He shrugged. ‘Give it a try. But . . . I don’t think the power will be enough.’

Effie slipped the ring back on. Again, that warm, lovely feeling. All the muscles in her body rippled with power and potential. She felt like she could pick up a bus, or run so fast she would start flying, or . . . But this time the good feeling didn’t last long. Soon she felt tired and had to slip the ring off again.

‘Maybe if I try?’ Wolf said. Effie reluctantly gave him the ring. It fitted on his middle finger. But, as soon as it was on, Wolf turned a bit green and had to sit down because his legs went so weak. ‘I feel sick,’ he said. ‘And – urgh – just horrible.’ He took the ring off and went back to normal.

‘These items,’ began Maximilian, ‘which are really called boons, by the way, they work with your true-born ability. They can’t be used by just anyone. They only work if they sort of match you. They are very specifically designed to— ’

‘Be completely useless in helping us get out?’ said Wolf.

Effie felt like crying. What were they going to do?

‘Effie,’ said Maximilian. ‘Do you mind if I try something else from your bag?’

‘Do what you like,’ she said. It was now five to five and hope was running out for her to get to her grandfather’s in time. ‘But hurry.’

Maximilian reached inside the pouch and found what he was looking for. The soft red leather glasses case, velvety and smooth from centuries of handling. Maximilian opened the case and there they were.

The Spectacles of Knowledge. Who would have thought that these things even existed outside of mythology and folklore? But of course Maximilian had learned that most mythology and folklore was real, and so he shouldn’t have been surprised. But he was. He was surprised and awed and . . . The sword hadn’t worked for him, of course, and the ring probably would do nothing either. But would these . . .? Would they . . .? Could they . . .?

He slipped the glasses out of the case. The lenses were very thin and old, and had been polished so much that they were almost clearer than air. The frames were antique silver. They were a bit tarnished, would need a bit of a scrub here and there with a silver cloth, but . . . Maximilian put them on. He looked around the cramped space and . . .

Yes. He was right. The whole scene was completely different. Maximilian could now see the original plans of the building overlaying the actual structure. The spectacles overlaid his normal vision with all the facts he could ever want about his surroundings, as well as a compass, a thermometer and layers and layers of historical knowledge about the place he was in.

He also had access to a dictionary, full translations of any language – including all the magical ones – and full subscription rights to the Digital Arcane Library, which cost hundreds of krubles to access via the dim web. He could also see vital statistics hovering around Effie and Wolf in the form of status bars. Her energy was still dangerously low, he could see . . .

‘Wow,’ he said aloud.

Wolf and Effie looked at one another. This nerdy creature was now totally blissing-out on having a new pair of glasses, which was actually quite sweet, but they really, really needed to get out of here, and . . .

‘Give me the letter opener,’ said Maximilian, with some authority. ‘NOT you, Wolf. Don’t you touch it. Thanks, Effie. Now. Let’s see. Original brass mortice lock, manufactured in 1898. Aha. I see. If I press here and turn this and find that lever there, then . . .’

With a big, solid CLICK the mortice lock opened and Maximilian was able to turn the brass handle and pull the heavy door towards them.

Outside were the wet cobblestones of the road that ran down the side of the Tusitala School for the Gifted, Troubled and Strange. Somewhere a clock was striking five. They were free. But was Effie too late?

Wolf darted off with a simple ‘Laters’. Effie took the spectacles back from Maximilian – they were hers, after all – and put them, and the letter opener, in her bag. She was tempted to try to use the ring again, to see if it would make her run fast, but she still felt too weak and tired to be able to use the extra strength properly. Instead, she hurried off into the early evening, drizzle falling all around her, wondering what she was going to find when she got to her grandfather’s place. Maximilian offered to come with her, to help. But she just wanted to be alone.

‘Effie . . .?’ he began, jogging after her.

‘What?’

‘Wait . . .’

‘I can’t. I’ve got to . . .’ Effie wished he would go away. But then she remembered that it had been Maximilian’s mother who had hurried after her this morning with the ring. Nurse Underwood who had been so kind to her grandfather in the hospital. And if it hadn’t been for Maximilian and his knowledge, she would never have escaped detention. And if he hadn’t taken off the ring, then she might well even have been dead.

‘It’s my grandfather,’ Effie said. ‘He’s . . . Well, he died, and left me his library. But my father says we don’t have anywhere to put the books and so the charity man is coming and . . . My grandfather left me these things as well, these magical things, these boons that you seem to know all about, and . . . I can’t explain now, but I have to save his library.’

‘Probably full of magic books,’ Maximilian mused, puffing. ‘Definitely worth saving. Especially as your grandfather . . .’

But whatever he was going to say was lost to a loud clap of thunder.

‘All right. Come with me. But hurry,’ said Effie.

And on they went through the rain, a long-haired girl in a bottle-green cape followed by a puffing, slightly fat boy, neither of whom had any idea that their destinies were now linked for ever.