‘It is done,’ said Tabatha, sitting herself beside us. ‘Mabson and Claribel are buried too, though if it had been my choice I would not have afforded them such care, but rather left them to be devoured by the wolves of the forest.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said in a small voice. ‘I shouldn’t have doubted Emerson. ‘Tis my fault he is dead. When I found the music box and the book in his bag, I…I thought he was the Puppeteer.’
Tabatha smiled grimly and shook her head. ‘Emerson knew what he was doing, and he wouldn’t have had it any other way. He would see this as a score settled- his life sacrificed to save yours in recompense for his crimes. But you misunderstood him. When he learned from Jack that the Puppeteer’s next target was the tournament he decided to take his own music box, a gift to him from the Watchmaker while he was still alive. Emerson knew where the silver bees could be found. He thought it possible that if the puppets heard the bees’ hum it may reverse the spell the Puppeteer had over them, as their hum is said to heal the dying. He intended to record it on the music box and play it back in case we arrived here too late and Mabson had succeeded in making puppets of the whole tournament. Alas, it didn’t work for Professor Goldwick and the others- I assume because they had already been transformed -but it saved you two. I didn’t realise at the time, but I think Emerson must have known there was only one way he could provoke the bees to leave their hive in order to record their hum. I believe he intended to give his own life to save the Guild and the tournament all along.’
‘But what about the book Tom found?’ asked Eliza. ‘What was the purpose of that?’
‘I wanted him to tell you, Tom, but he refused until he was sure his plan would work. All that time he was in the Gatehouse library, and while he was shut away below deck on the ship, he was looking for a way to free you of the branding that Devere placed on you. Perhaps you didn’t hear his chanting as he climbed the tree to the silver bees’ hive, but he was reciting an incantation. He drew the curse from you, Tom, and took it upon himself.’
My head spun and a flood of emotions overwhelmed me so that I wasn’t sure what I felt at that moment- guilt, relief at Emerson’s death, gratitude or sadness.
‘I felt it,’ I said faintly. ‘I felt the curse leave me. I heard Devere’s scream.’
George smiled. ‘Then Emerson has not died in vain, and I am comforted by that.’
‘But how did you find us, and how were you not overcome by the chanting when Eliza and I were?’ I asked Tabatha.
‘Emerson was frantic when we woke and found you had gone,’ she replied. ‘Bandit picked up your scent, of course, but it took us deep into the forest. In truth, we were more afraid that you would become utterly lost and succumb to its dangers than the thought of you being caught by Mabson. Nevertheless, when we found your trail drawing close to the tourney glade, Emerson made us stop our ears with strips of cloth from our cloaks in case we encountered Mabson. ‘Twas fortunate that we did, or we would all have been turned into Claribel’s puppets.’
We all fell silent at that, each reflecting on how close we had come to death. It was a relief when Eliza suddenly spoke again.
‘What has become of Anna Perenna?’ she asked. ‘It was the Watchmaker’s masterpiece, or so Claribel said, but I’m afraid of what a thing so powerful could do in the wrong hands.’
‘You’re right,’ said George. ‘We recovered it from Claribel’s body. I will speak with the leaders of the other Guilds about what we should do with it. Although that was not the only thing we found on Claribel.’
He reached down to a sack at his feet and pulled out a human skull and a clear crystal amulet hanging from a fine silver chain. I recognised it at once.
‘Devere,’ I whispered.
‘How ever did Claribel get hold of it?’ gasped Eliza.
‘Likely in the same way she got her puppets- through grave robbing,’ said Tabatha.
‘Anna Perenna could only serve her so far,’ said George, turning to me. ‘She could not control your actions through it- only draw you and Emerson to her at the same moment. In order to control you, Tom, she needed Devere.’
‘When she found out about your branding, no doubt she sent Mabson to recover the skull in order to summon Devere’s spirit, and that is how she was able to direct you to kill Jack,’ said Tabatha.
Bridget and Eliza nodded, but I caught a look of unease pass across George’s face for a second. I stared at my hands clasped in my lap and waited for the relief at learning I was not a cold-blooded killer- or at least not by choice -to sink in, but it didn’t.
‘Claribel was right, though,’ I said at last. ‘She said Devere was making a monster of me. Emerson may have lifted the branding, but what will become of Devere’s spirit now that Claribel has raised it? Am I really free of him?’
At that, George looked troubled but he spoke lightly. ‘Let us hope it will be content to wander the vast swathes of Paimpont. But come, you need not worry yourself about it. Tonight, we will put aside our cares and enjoy the final duel and the feast that follows.’
Chapter 34
Amid the chaos of the previous night, I hadn’t noticed the gnawing hunger in my stomach, nor that I was exhausted. Tabatha, Eliza and I ate a late breakfast and then rested for the remainder of the day in the tents while Peggy and Bandit snoozed together in a quiet patch of sunshine.
It was evening, and the sky was a glorious palette of violet and saffron when I awoke. Lanterns had been strung from the branches of the trees on one side of the tourney glade, and a wood fire was burning before the crowd that had gathered around the makeshift duelling field that had been erected while we slept.
‘Hurry, the duel is about to begin,’ said Mr Ellery, leading us towards the welcoming glow of the fire.
The guild leaders were gathered in the middle of the duelling field, some carrying wands of carved wood, others small knives with blades tapering to a sharp point.
‘The eastern guilds mostly use knives instead of wands for spell work,’ Mr Ellery whispered.
‘Is there a difference?’ I asked, unaware that the two objects could be used for the same purpose.
‘Only preference,’ said Mr Ellery. ‘Both act as an extension of the magician, a point through which to channel their power. ’Tis thrilling to watch, you’ll see.’
I craned my neck to see over the heads of the watching crowd and spotted George among the other duellers. He carried a wand of polished wood, much like the one I had seen Tabatha use while Eliza and I took refuge with her in the catacombs beneath London.
There were six duellers in total, organised by lot into two teams: the holly team, to which George belonged, and the oak team. In the centre of the duelling field the teams formed a line facing one another and bowed before walking back to the lines, marked by a white rope, behind which they must stand. A bell tolled somewhere nearby and the duel began.
The first magicians to duel stepped forward to take their places. A thick purple smoke went up, almost enveloping the holly team, while the oak team conjured an orange smoke. From out of the respective clouds two dragons emerged, each one wearing a breast plate bearing the symbol of their respective teams: a holly leaf and an oak leaf. Of course, they weren’t real dragons, just illusions created by the smoke, but they were terrifyingly real, and their roars sent a shiver through the branches of the trees nearby.
They reared up like wild beasts about to strike before hurtling towards one another. I watched with awe as they clashed in one great ball of light and smoke. For several moments it was impossible to tell where one dragon ended and the other began, but at last the oak team’s dragon grasped the holly team’s in its jaws and devoured it. At once the round ended, and the winning dragon disappeared in a shower of sparks. The spectating magicians belonging to the oak team cheered and clapped, and we clapped along with them, for it was impossible to deny that their triumph had been spectacular.
The next two magicians stepped up to the line. As the winner of the previous r
ound, it was the oak team magician’s choice with what they would do battle next. He waved his knife, chanting as he did so, and a trickle of sea-grey smoke rose from its tip, forming itself into the likeness of an astonishingly realistic galleon with guns lining its deck. It floated towards the holly team, but their magician was already conjuring her defence. Smoke billowed around her and formed itself into the likeness of a sea monster with many tentacled legs. It writhed its way towards the galleon, which fired its guns in response, but the monster simply wrapped its tentacles around the mast, snapping it off before capsizing the ship. The holly team had won, and both the ship and the monster disappeared in a cloud of smoke which floated up to the sky and vanished amid cheers and applause from the holly team.
The last two magicians stepped up to the line. It was George’s turn to represent his team. He waved his wand, and a tiny acorn suddenly sprouted into a sapling, growing rapidly into a young tree which burst suddenly into leaf. The oak team’s magician did likewise, the two trees racing one another to become the tallest. For a long while it was neck-and-neck, but gradually George’s tree began to slow as the oak team’s tree overtook it. At last, it stopped almost a foot higher than George’s tree, but he wasn’t finished yet. From out of the topmost branches, a bird emerged, soaring high above the oak team’s tree then swooping down and settling onto its topmost branch. George had beaten the oak team’s magician, and the holly team had won the duel.
A burst of applause broke out, and the cheers filled the glade. The magicians met in the middle of the duelling field once more and shook hands, the oak team congratulating the winners.
‘Look over there! The feast is ready! The tables are already set,’ said Eliza.
Sure enough, on the other side of the glade the Coquinarian and a small group of magicians from the other guilds were busy putting the final touches to what promised to be a remarkable feast. Long tables had been laid all around the edge of the glade, lit with hundreds of candles, and silver plates and goblets waited to be filled with every culinary delight you could wish for.
We made our way over to where the rest of the Guild of Gatekeepers had started to take their seats. I found a seat beside Eliza, but to my dismay the Venatorian took the one on the other side of me. I had managed to avoid speaking to him since Devere’s death, but there would be no getting out of a conversation tonight with him sitting right beside me.
‘I understand I owe you my life,’ he said cooly without looking at me as I took my seat.
‘Not exactly,’ I replied.
‘As you wish, but we would all be puppets by now if you had not stopped the Puppeteer. ’Twas a courageous thing to do. What you may lack in learning you make up for in courage and determination. You have my respect, Tom.’
‘Thank you,’ I replied, more than a little surprised.
‘You lost your pocket knife in the goblin trap,’ he continued after an awkward pause in which I wondered whether he still hated me for unhorsing him while he hunted me and Eliza across southern England on our quest to save the King last winter.
‘Yes, sir, I did,’ I said.
He drew from his pocket a knife with a beautiful mahogany handle, inlaid with pearl, and set it on the table before me.
‘A gift,’ he said. ‘Its blade will never need sharpening. The Metallician forged it and I enchanted it for luck in the hunt. Keep it well.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ I replied, amazed.
‘Don’t mention it,’ he muttered.
‘Oh, Tom, look!’ Eliza squealed excitedly.
I turned back to her to see her plate loaded with roast beef, dumplings and lashings of gravy. I looked down at my own plate, which instantly filled itself with a minced meat pie and scrambled eggs. Every plate on every table was piled high with the diner’s favourite foods, and there was plenty for all. We dug in and for a while forgot about conversation, so good was the food.
When everyone had finished eating, the plates vanished before our eyes to be replaced with bowls of trifle, stewed pears and cake. All around, magicians, witches and warlocks talked merrily as the stars appeared one by one in the sky.
It was just then that I noticed George had gone. He had been sitting a few seats down from me on the opposite side of the table, but now his seat was empty and Clement Atwood and the Agriculturian, who had been sitting either side of him, were deep in conversation and appeared not to notice his absence.
I stood up and slipped away while Eliza was talking with Bridget and her father. I had a feeling I knew where George would be.
Chapter 35
On the other side of the glade, the dark forms of the tents stood still and silent. The fire, beside which the spectators had watched the duel, had been put out, and the only light to be seen was the faint glow of a lantern shining through the canvas of George’s tent. I hurried towards it and stopped outside. I could see the silhouette of George sitting very still, staring at something. I cleared my throat, there being no door to knock, and waited for an answer.
‘Who’s there?’ said George.
‘It’s Tom,’ I replied.
‘Oh Tom, come in. I thought you would be enjoying yourself at the feast with the others.’
I pulled back the flap that hung over the entrance and stepped inside. A lantern hung from a hook in the ceiling, filling the tent with its light. ‘I’m not really in the mood for celebrating,’ I said.
‘No, nor am I,’ George sighed.
In one corner of the tent, a pile of cushions and blankets lay in place of a bed, and a large wooden trunk occupied the opposite side. Anna Perenna and Devere’s skull and amulet had been placed on top. Evidently, it was these objects that George had been staring at. He rose and pulled a chair up beside his own, gesturing for me to sit.
‘Eliza told me about you sacrificing your memories of your family to free her from the fairies,’ he said. ‘I am sorry you had to do that. ‘Twas an immensely selfless act.’
‘Eliza would have done the same for me,’ I said quietly, trying not to reveal how much it had pained me to do it, though I imagined George guessed because he said no more about it.
For a few more moments we sat in silence, listening to the distant sound of talk and laughter from across the tourney glade.
‘Are you thinking about Emerson?’ I asked hesitantly.
‘Yes… among other things,’ George replied. ‘I never knew he had discovered the secret of where to find the silver bees. I wonder how he came to know.’
‘Eliza and I met a strange character, a pedlar, who showed us back to the path after we lost our way. He said that those who go looking for the silver bees don’t find them.’
‘Aah, so you have met old Cranus, then?’ said George with a knowing smile.
‘Who?’
‘Cranus the pedlar. At least, that is what folk used to call him. No one really knows who he is or where he came from. He is as old as the forest itself and has always wandered its paths.’
‘As old as the forest? Then he’s not human. What is he?’ I asked.
‘Who knows?’ replied George. ‘He is what he is. ‘Tis a very human desire to want to put a name to everything. Anyhow, he spoke the truth. The silver bees only reveal themselves to the worthy or the needy. You and Eliza, of course, were in need, and Tabatha and Emerson’s purpose- saving you from the Puppeteer -was worthy indeed, but Emerson recorded their sacred hum. Though it was for a worthy purpose, they could not allow that to go unpunished.’
‘So that is why they attacked him,’ I murmured.
At that moment Eliza’s head appeared round the entrance to the tent.
‘I thought I might find you here,’ she said cheerfully, then her eyes settled on the trunk on which Anna Perenna and Devere’s skull lay, and her face fell. ‘What are you doing with Devere’s skull? I thought you’d have tossed it away into the forest by now.’
‘I would like nothing better than to do so, Eliza,’ said George, ‘but something about this whole affair is troubling me.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
‘I mean that I wonder how Claribel came across Devere and how she got her hands on his skull. They didn’t know each other when he was alive, and Oxford is some distance from London. ‘Tis a stretch to suggest that she happened upon his grave by chance.’
George paused and looked closely at Eliza and me before continuing. ‘You know that a branding is a very wicked type of curse, arguably the most wicked. A magician who brands a person in life is able to continue to inflict them even after their death, but in order to do so they cannot achieve peace themselves. After death, their spirit occupies a shadow world but may still pass into this world if it can possess a person or animal. I can’t be sure, but I am starting to wonder who was controlling who- Claribel or Devere.’
‘Do you mean that Devere could have turned Claribel into the Puppeteer?’ asked Eliza.
‘Not exactly,’ George replied. ‘Claribel’s ideas about magic and science, and the disdain with which her father’s work had been treated by his peers at Merton College, had already set her on a crooked path, it seems. I suspect she was dabbling in conjuring, and Devere’s spirit, spotting a potential victim, ensnared her, urging her to recover his skull through which he could communicate. Of course, she no doubt believed she was in control, but Devere’s power, even when dead, would have been no match for her.’
‘But why would he want to control the living when he’s dead? Why doesn’t he just let go?’ asked Eliza.
‘Quite simply, malice,’ George replied. ‘I believe nothing would delight his spirit more than to see the Guild destroyed.’
‘But the Guild was the only thing Devere cared for,’ I said. ‘He had my family killed to protect it.’
‘Yes, but a large part of Devere’s character was given over to pride. The Guild continuing with me as Keeper must surely have rankled his restless spirit. Such was his malice in life that he would rather see it destroyed than continue under the leadership of someone he hated. I see no reason why he would feel any differently in death’
The Puppeteer: Book II of The Guild of Gatekeepers Page 17
