Galloglass

by Scarlett Thomas

The archway was painted turquoise. Effie found herself able to walk more quickly than normal through the Great Library, and soon she had gone under the archway and into a new chamber she had never seen before. It was warm and dark inside, with swirling, unfamiliar blueish colours forming a sort of peculiar wallpaper that didn’t seem to want to keep still. There were three small piles of books on the floor next to a simple wooden chair. On the chair sat an extremely old person who was giving Effie the deepest stare she’d ever experienced.

  ‘Hello,’ said Effie.

  Effie had a horrible feeling that if she turned around the archway would be gone and she would be trapped in this strange swirling room for ever. So she didn’t look. She tried to breathe normally, but suddenly her fear was so great she wasn’t sure her body could take it. What had she done? But it was too late now.

  ‘We are the sssspirit of the library,’ said the person on the chair. He or she had a shock of white hair like a jagged snowy mountain and piecing glacial-blue eyes. His or her voice was a strange sort of whispery hiss. ‘And I ssssee you have brought ussss something. Good.’

  ‘No,’ said Effie. ‘I’m sorry, but I actually came to take something away.’

  ‘Take away? But didn’t they tell you? We don’t let people take things away. Oh, no no no no no. That wouldn’t do at all.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Read it to ussss.’

  ‘Read what to you?’

  ‘You’re a . . .’ The spirit of the library peered at Effie. ‘You’re a human, I ssssee. Well, never mind. Take the book out of your bag and read it to ussss.’

  Effie didn’t have a book. She had no idea what the spirit of the library meant. Unless . . . Oh. Of course. The poem. Galloglass. She’d bought it from the bookstall, put it in her bag and then she’d accidentally brought it in here. As Cosmo had said, she hadn’t learned anything. The library had let her in last time because she had a book it wanted – the history of the Diberi. But why on earth was the spirit of the library interested in a poem about galloglasses? Effie suddenly had a sense that there were many things she didn’t know – a whole messy, complex universe of unknowns outside her own small orbit – and that she should have trusted Cosmo. Perhaps he knew what some of those messy, complex things were. But it was too late.

  ‘Read,’ said the spirit of the library. ‘Read to ussss.’

  Then again, what harm could be done simply by reading a poem? Effie wondered if she was going to feel weak again, and if Cosmo was going to have to come to rescue her. Surely he would come, if she needed him? He always did. This time, though, Effie had a growing suspicion that maybe she’d gone somewhere beyond his help. If she was going to escape then she had better do what the spirit of the library told her, and do it right. Effie got the book out of her bag and began to read the English translation of Galloglass. She sensed that the spirit of the library would have preferred the original Rosian, but Effie was embarrassed about her accent. She began.

  In days of yore, when brave and true,

  The heroes of the day came forth,

  They had no need of me and you,

  To each one their own piece of swarth.

  To tend one plot, to grow, to sow,

  This life, while brief, had taught them how

  To reap, to make a pack and go,

  In darkness, with a sacred vow.

  And weaklings watched and soon they thought

  ‘This life is better than mine own’;

  And motivated soon they wrought

  Their destiny of earth and stone.

  The greatest sages of our worlds

  Live all alone in mountain caves;

  Their consciousness is never hurled

  Like flotsam on just any waves.

  We’re born each one of us alone

  And separate is how we stay;

  This is how we will find our home,

  And merge with all along the way.

  The oneness is both me and you,

  And everyone we’ve ever known;

  The one and all are never two:

  Together we will wear one crown.

  The way ahead is long and hard,

  So learn some poems for the road;

  Or better, take along a bard

  To tell us stories of the Flow.

  The spirit of the library had its eyes shut, and its head swayed along to the rhythm as Effie read. Effie had a horrible feeling that any mistake in her reading would have consequences. Somehow, she didn’t make any. She didn’t understand exactly what the poem meant, but she quite liked it.

  ‘You will leave this book with ussss,’ hissed the spirit of the library. ‘Yessss. This is a book we once had; we remember it, but what became of it? Sssstill, you have brought it back to ussss. We think you have brought other things back to ussss, in what you think of as the passsst. We are grateful to you. This time, and perhapssss one more time, yessss, we will let you leave. After that, we are not ssssure. But you musssst hurry. And you will not take any of our bookssss with you.’

  Attracted by a tremendous force, Galloglass flew out of Effie’s hands and landed on one of the piles on the floor in front of the spirit of the library. Effie noticed scraps of paper on top of the other two piles. Shelving, said one. Removal, said the other. She turned and the archway was there, but in a sort of haze. If it was there, then . . . Effie knew this was her only chance of getting out of here alive, so she made a run for it: through into the main part of the library with its smell of wood and books, and out of the door and . . .

  Effie’s heart was beating wildly. She felt both very hot and very cold at the same time. She was sweating, but somehow her sweat felt like a freezing waterfall down her neck and back. She tried to compose herself: to get herself ready to explain to Cosmo what had happened in the library. But at least she could reassure him that she had not taken out the Diberi book. He had, perhaps, been right: there must be another, more ethical, way to deal with the Diberi. Surely he’d be pleased with her. Surely . . .

  But there was no sign of Cosmo anywhere. Effie checked the drawing room and the conservatory, but he was not in either of them. Effie went out into the garden and looked in the summer house: no one. Then she went back in through the conservatory and went up the many, many stairs to his old study at the top of the turret by Effie’s own room.

  He wasn’t there.

  Effie started to feel sick and empty as the used-up adrenaline drained through her body. What had she actually just done? She’d argued with Cosmo and gone, against his wishes, into the Great Library, where she had intended to meddle with reality in one way – and had then ended up doing something that could, now she thought about it, be far worse. She suddenly felt ashamed. But at least she hadn’t done what he’d told her not to. She hadn’t taken out the book. Just a kind word from him would make her feel so much better . . . But Cosmo was nowhere to be found.

  He was displeased with her; Effie knew that without him being there to say so. She was, after all, a galloglass islander who didn’t do anything she was told and who had just put a book into the Great Library without going through any of the processes she’d heard about. In order to put a book into the library you had to do all those complicated things . . . What was it Clothilde had said? Effie had been so distracted thinking about going to Froghole that day that she’d barely listened. She just thought she’d be able to pick it up later. Stupid, stupid. But surely what she’d done hadn’t been that bad. The spirit of the library had wanted the book, after all.

  As she walked down the stairs back to the landing in the main part of Truelove House, Effie suddenly had a horrible realisation. In fact, two.

  The Diberi were planning to put a book in the library themselves. That’s what they were hoping to achieve with their enormous spell. All this speculation about the Diberi storming the Great Library to take books out, to remove some aspect of reality, was almost right, but it was not the whole picture. How much more effectively you could edit reality if you just wrote y
our own book of what you wanted to be the truth and somehow got it accepted.

  That was what Skylurian Midzhar had planned to use Terrence for! And now that Russian poet Lady Tchainsaw was doing the same. Effie recalled what she and Maximilian had overheard at the university. Remember our agreement? You will be author of the new universe, and I will be its queen. I will have total power, and you will serve me. It had sounded stupid at the time, but Effie now saw that it had been deadly serious. The idea of writing a whole new universe made no sense until you understood how the Great Library worked. She shuddered to think what would happen if a book like that did find its way inside.

  That was Effie’s first realisation. That the Diberi most wanted to put books in the library, not take them out.

  Her second realisation was that this was exactly what she’d just done herself. She’d changed reality – in ways she didn’t even yet know – by putting a book into the Great Library. She’d done it with no authorisation, no ritual: nothing. And what’s more she’d done it with a book that the Diberi were bound to approve of, and everyone here in Truelove House was not. What was wrong with her? Every time she came to the Otherworld she made things a little bit worse.

  Effie sighed deeply. All the mistakes she’d made. It was too late to do anything about them now. The only thing she could do was to go home, back to the Realworld, and try to stop the Diberi once and for all, not that she knew how to do that.

  As Effie walked down the stairs to the entrance hall of Truelove House the enormity of everything she’d done settled on her shoulders like a heavy dark cloak. Who was she? She didn’t even know any more. But she had to make things right. Although maybe it was too late even for that. Maybe what she’d done could never be put right. Effie sighed. Well, at least she could do something about Terrence Deer-Hart and his stupid book.

  She walked out through the conservatory doors, wondering if this was the last time she’d ever see them.

  The guards in the gatehouse usually only spoke to Effie on the way in to Truelove House. Sometimes she got a brief ‘Welcome, Miss.’ Occasionally, if it was a new guard, a request to see her calling card. They’d never spoken to her as she’d been leaving Truelove House. But today one of them came out of the gatehouse and nodded at her, just as she was about to open the large wrought-iron gate.

  ‘An invitation for you, Miss,’ he said.

  He handed Effie a cream-coloured envelope with a gold trim.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Effie, taking it from him.

  She went through the gates and set off in the direction of the portal that would take her back to the Realworld, where she could try to put right everything she’d done wrong.

  ‘Aren’t you going to open that, Miss?’ the guard called after her.

  ‘Yes,’ said Effie. ‘I’ll do it when I get home.’

  ‘Suit yourself, Miss,’ said the guard.

  Of course, Effie already knew that whatever she was being invited to, she wouldn’t be able to go. She wouldn’t be able to do anything or see anyone in the Otherworld until she’d made things right. But she would. She’d find a way. She tucked the invitation in her bag and set off towards the portal on Keepers’ Plains.

  18

  When Effie got home, Cait was upstairs having a candlelit bath and Orwell was still reading his copy of Galloglass in front of the fire in the sitting room. Baby Luna was in her playpen wearing her favourite pink tutu and eating an ice-cream cone without a bib on. She’d clearly been included in the day of selfishness. Was every day going to be like that now that Effie had put Galloglass in the Great Library? But it was only a short poem. And it had been in the library before. And the day had actually worked out quite well when you thought about it – well, the bits in the Realworld at least.

  ‘I expect you’re still wanting to borrow this,’ Orwell said to Effie when she walked into the sitting room. He waved the book at her provocatively.

  ‘Not really,’ said Effie. ‘Keep it.’

  ‘What’s got into you?’ asked Orwell.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Effie. ‘I think I might just get an early night.’

  ‘It’s only six o’clock. Cait’s making vegetable stew with dumplings for dinner.’

  Effie sighed. ‘Well, I’ll go to bed straight after dinner. I’ve got a long day tomorrow.’

  ‘Ah yes, your first day as a university student,’ said Orwell. ‘Don’t eat the cottage pie in the canteen, that’s all I’ll say. Oh, and keep out of the botany department. They’ve got some enormous plant in there that is apparently very carnivorous. It’s already eaten two post-docs and a cleaner.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Are you all right? Normally even you would be interested in carnivorous plants.’

  ‘I’m fine. Just tired.’

  ‘Well, you’re missing out with this book, I can tell you. Such a magnificent poem. Listen to the last stanza. The way ahead is long and hard/So learn some poems for the road/Or better, take along a bard/To tell us stories as we go. Moving stuff, eh? I should read more poetry. Really gets the blood moving around the body. Makes one feel pure, and intelligent. Where are you going?’

  ‘I’ve got homework to do before tomorrow.’

  ‘Suit yourself.’

  Effie went through the rest of the evening in a daze. She ate her vegetable stew without really tasting it. Cait had made apple pie and custard for pudding, but Effie didn’t really feel like any.

  Before she went to sleep Effie tried to get a message to the others about meeting up, but Lexy wasn’t answering on the walkie-talkie, and Effie didn’t have a pager. But once she found Maximilian he’d be able to page Lexy and Raven. Effie realised she hadn’t seen Wolf for days. She hoped he was OK. Once she found him, she was sure he would agree that nothing really mattered apart from doing something about the Diberi. The question was what. Effie wished she’d been able to remove the history of the Diberi from the Great Library. Or did she? She wasn’t at all sure how she felt about that any more. But one thing was clear. The spirit of the library wouldn’t have let her do it. It just wasn’t possible.

  So how had Effie’s mother managed it?

  Odile Underwood yawned again, for about the fifth time that evening.

  ‘Are you all right, Nurse Underwood?’ asked Raven.

  They were all sitting around the dinner table in the Underwood house: Wolf, Raven, Maximilian, Odile and Dill. The children were drinking Dill’s homemade fermented elderflower cordial and the adults were drinking deep red wine.

  ‘What? Oh yes, love. Nothing for you to worry about,’ said Odile. She yawned again. ‘Been working hard, that’s all.’

  ‘Have you been at the hospital all weekend?’ asked Raven.

  ‘Yesterday,’ said Odile. ‘Today I’ve been doing home visits, trying to undo all the binding spells that are out there recently. Honestly, I’ve never seen so many people bound. And the way they’re doing it . . . It’s barbaric. It’s one thing taking someone’s magic away, but today I saw a chap who had also gone blind. I visited two witches who simply could not get out of bed any more. And one of them had even lost her familiar – which as you’ll know is a fate worse than death for witches. And then there was the Principiant healer who thought he just had the flu until he found he couldn’t put enchantments on his tonics any more. It breaks your heart.’

  ‘Who’s doing this?’ asked Dill. ‘No, don’t tell me. The Guild.’

  ‘Yes, well, don’t say it too loudly. They say they’ve got eyes and ears everywhere at the moment.’

  ‘I thought you were a supporter,’ said Dill.

  ‘Not any more,’ said Odile. ‘I’m not a great fan of Masterman Finch. And all this binding . . . It’s just cruel.’

  Maximilian and Raven looked at one another. They’d heard about Masterman Finch at the meeting of the Gothmen. They’d filled in Wolf as best they could on what was happening, even though they’d forgotten this detail. They’d been just about to start examining the Repertory of Kharakter, Art & Sh
ade to find out about clerics when they’d been called for dinner.

  ‘Well,’ said Dill Hammer to Odile, ‘have some brown rice. It’s grounding. Strengthening. And have some of this lovely seaweed salad too.’

  He passed the bowls to Odile, who served the children before she served herself. As well as brown rice and seaweed salad Dill had made a darkroot casserole with satay sauce and a massive chocolate cake with rose petals scattered on it.

  ‘Thank you for doing all this cooking, Dill,’ said Odile. ‘I don’t know where I would have been without you this weekend.’

  ‘I made you some more rosehip syrup as well,’ said Dill. ‘Can’t be too careful with all these Midwinter colds about. And some cloudberry jam. You can have it on your toast in the morning.’

  Maximilian was watching his mother and Dill closely. He was glad they were getting on so well. He’d been cultivating Dill Hammer quite carefully recently. And it had been working. Maybe they’d get married . . . And then Maximilian would have a father again. A kind one, too, who made things. Maximilian would have to make sure to reinforce the idea very strongly in Dill’s head – although Dill was very skilled in blocking mages. He ate a lot of quinoa – a well-known anti-magic agent – to make sure.

  ‘Shall we take our chocolate cake into my room?’ suggested Maximilian once the main course was over. ‘Leave the grown-ups to talk about more adult things if they want.’

  Odile gave him a suspicious look.

  ‘Well, I suppose we can catch up on all the new gossip about the Gothmen,’ she said. Then she frowned. ‘No one’s approached you from a group called the Gothmen, have they?’ she asked Maximilian.

  ‘Of course not,’ he lied. ‘Nothing exciting ever happens to me any more. Why?’

  ‘They’re an underground resistance movement working against the Diberi,’ said Dill. ‘And this new incarnation of the Guild. Very admirable, of course, but highly unlikely to succeed. And they do extremely dangerous things. You must promise us that you’ll stay away from them. I think one of their leading figures might even teach at your school.’