by E M Graham
He shrugged and squirmed and squinted over my shoulder. ‘She was a terrible witch who tried to bring down the Kin, and she got cursed and put away in a dungeon for the rest of her life,’ he said in a reluctant rush, then shut his mouth firmly.
‘Oh, no, no, that’s not good enough. I don’t want the edited version,’ I said. ‘Give it all to me, everything.’
All I knew about the witch was that like me, she had touched the Crystal Charm Stone and thus upset the Kin. These were bare bones, I needed the full flesh of the story in order to know about myself.
‘I don’t know that much more,’ he confessed as he kicked the table leg.
‘Then why is she scary? When you realized who I was, you said...’
‘It’s not good to talk about her.’ He cut in, restlessly.
‘Why? She lived what, more than a hundred years ago. And she was stuck in a dungeon,’ I said. ‘I’m sure the Kin made sure her powers were dismantled or bound or something. It’s not like she can hear you.’
The goblin’s eyes were round with fright as he looked up at me. ‘But she can,’ he whispered. ‘She knows everything that’s going on. And if we talk about her, that’ll attract her attention. And I don’t know what could happen after that, but I don’t want to find out.’
He made to get down from his chair.
‘Wait!’ I gingerly held fast to his arm, avoiding the spot on his sleeve where he’d wiped his nose. ‘You’re saying she’s still alive?’
‘Auld Meg can’t die.’ I barely heard the hiss of his voice as he tried to squirm out of my grasp. ‘She touched the Stone. The Kin can’t kill her, because she’s immortal, or close enough.’
My body must have gone slack at the shock of these words, and I let him slip away. I slowly let myself out of the tiny courtyard. Immortality, or something like it. Was this what I had to look forward to?
And why hadn’t Hugh warned me?
I dragged my steps as I made my way back to Mrs. Mac’s house, trying to digest the news of my possible immortality.
8
I HAD NO CHANCE TO DISCUSS THE MATTER with Hugh the next day, for the Venerable Nachtan was with us for the whole session, glaring and glowering at me whenever I messed up an incantation and, quite frankly, making me worse with nervousness.
‘Try saying the spell in Greek,’ he said venomously at one point, when I absolutely could not get the stupid candlestick to hover. A meaningless use of magic, as far as I could see, but Hugh insisted it was a basis on which to build further spells. ‘Your Latin pronunciation is terrible.’
‘I don’t know Greek,’ I patiently said through gritted teeth, trying my damndest not to speak saucily at him.
‘She didn’t receive a Classical education,’ Hugh admitted to him, trying to smooth things over between us.
‘This is a bloody waste of my time,’ the old witch grumbled as he turned away. He harrumphed and spit into his brass bucket. ‘Do we even know if she has the power?’
Hugh glanced at me before he spoke. ‘Almost positive,’ he said in a tightly pleasant voice. ‘And you know the Kin can’t afford to take the chance.’
I stood with my arms crossed and my feet firmly planted, so mad at the old guy’s treatment of me that I could spit myself. Or cry. I bit my lip hard. What was wrong with this relic, why did he hate me so much?
‘Let’s just take it from the top again,’ Hugh suggested.
‘It’s not worth the bother,’ Nachtan dismissed him with a scowl and a flick of his hand. ‘This will never amount to anything.’
‘May I remind you, Venerable Nachtan,’ Hugh said in a very diplomatic voice. ‘There is no margin for error in this matter. We wouldn’t want any mistakes to occur. Again.’
The old witch glared at him, and then both sets of eyes were drawn towards the huge crystal ball glowing in the corner. And then they turned to me.
The lines on the ancient’s one face were even deeper, set in anger and bitterness, and possibly even regret.
‘Oh, do as you wish,’ he muttered as he turned his back. ‘The female brain has no aptitude for my teachings, we’ve proved that before.’
He paused by the door to his rooms and said to the walls rather than to Hugh, ‘I wish you the best of luck,’ his voice rumbling from the depths. ‘Just don’t get caught in her web like a lovesick fool.’ And then the Venerable Nachtan left us, almost but not quite slamming the door on his way out.
AFTER THAT RATHER AWKWARD MOMENT, Hugh and I were left staring at each other. I was pretty certain that we hadn’t given any indication to Nachtan that we were a ‘thing’ – how could that rheumy-eyed ancient have picked up on it?
Hugh’s face cracked an uncertain grin, and there was a matching one on mine.
I glanced at the closed door, there was no telling when the old witch would return. ‘Can you show me how to do some real magic?’ I asked plaintively. ‘I learned lots of basics at Scarp, but nothing...’
‘Nothing flashy.’ The smile hadn’t left his face.
‘Yeah, nothing fun,’ I agreed.
He thought for a moment, then began rummaging through one of the cabinets on the wall. When he came back, he held a single water glass in his hand, which he blew on then gave a quick polish with his shirt sleeve. ‘How about this? Crystal would be much better, but this will be good practice.’
With the glass vessel on the table, he told me I was going to learn to break it.
‘Like karate?’ I mimed the chopping actions with my hands.
‘No, not like that,’ he replied. ‘I want you to break it with your voice.’
‘Scream at it.’ This was weird, but I opened my mouth and began to take a deep breath.
‘Stop!’ Hugh was laughing. ‘This is a very physical spell – it’s going to require your entire body, your Intention, and all the power you can direct towards it.’
‘So I need to think it broken?’
‘You’ve heard the stories of opera singers who could crack a glass with their voices? You find the resonant pitch of the crystal, or glass in this case, and sing that note with all the volume you can muster, with all your power pushing your Intent.’
‘That’s not a spell.’
‘No, like I said it’s physical magic, you’re using your entire body to effect a change without touching the object.’
‘And this will be useful because...’
He laughed again. ‘Because it will show you what you’re capable of!’ Then he wet the tip of his finger and rubbed it around the rim of the glass, going faster and faster until it emitted a faint hum.
‘Hear that?’ he called. ‘That’s the note. Sing that note.’
Sing? This wasn’t going to work, I couldn’t carry a note to save my life. Never had, never could. ‘Seriously, Hugh?’
‘Don’t be shy. Match this note.’ He stopped the movement then, but matched the sound perfectly with his voice. ‘High E, come on, if I can do it, you can.’
I tried, but all that came out was a croak.
‘Relax your vocal cords, you have it in you.’ He hummed again, loudly, so I didn’t have to feel self-conscious.
He stopped to listen to me and winced. ‘You’re a little flat,’ he said. ‘A lot flat, but keep at it. Once again.’
I finally reached a note that he deemed passable, and then he told me to increase the volume. I kept it up for about five seconds then it all ended in a groan. ‘That hurt,’ I complained, rubbing my neck where my vocal cords were.
‘It’s just muscles you’ve never used before,’ he said. ‘Do it again.’
And I did, over and over again. At one point he encouraged me and said I had the glass’s pitch, and I could see the glass almost shimmering like the slightest wind on a pond’s surface, but I couldn’t sustain the effort this required. I shut my mouth and shook my head. ‘Not working,’ I rasped. ‘In fact, I don’t think it’s possible. You do it.’
Hugh took me up on my cha
llenge, although I think he just wanted to show off.
‘Alright.’ He cleared his throat a few times, stood straight and tall and opened his mouth. Pitch perfect, the sound vibrated through the room and increased in volume, swirling round and round until it settled within the confines of the water glass. I could see the shimmering, the vibrating of the glass as the molecules within it welcomed the tone and drew it in and danced there until the structure couldn’t hold anymore. The glass shattered, but in a very controlled sort of way, it sort of crumbled rather than throwing shards everywhere as I’d expected.
We both looked at the mound of glassy pieces on the table.
‘Like I said, it’s much more effective with crystal, because the crystalline structure absorbs the note and implodes,’ he said modestly. ‘You should practice this when you can. It’s a great confidence builder.’
I laughed and was about to comment when the sound of an ancient throat clearing cast a chill in the atmosphere.
The Venerable Nachtan was glaring at the crumbs of glass on the table. ‘Is that my water glass?’ he asked in thunderous tones.
‘Oh, so sorry Venerable Nachtan, we got carried away,’ Hugh began. I swear he was blushing. ‘I’ll replace it...’
’This is no behavior for a tutor and his charge,’ the old witch interrupted him. He was carrying a thick staff and he thumped it on the floor. The sound echoed in the silence all around us. ‘Hugh Sabarin, you have been given an immense responsibility. It does no one any good if you allow her to divert your course, using her female wiles to trick you.’
That was so unfair! I opened my mouth to tell the old man off for his nasty thoughts, venerable or not, when Hugh shook his head at me, telling me to can it.
‘You are right, Venerable Nachtan,’ Hugh said smoothly. ‘We must get back to the lesson at hand.’
Hugh picked up where he’d left off when the ancient left the room, running me through the stupid Greek spells that didn’t work for me, and all the time I was just burning up with resentment towards Nachtan and his treatment of us yet unable to say a word.
It was exhausting for us both, and afterwards, we parted ways by mutual consent and without even a kiss, Hugh heading down the Mound to the New Town, and me to the Old.
I was angry at the world by then. Myself, because I’d failed at everything that day, from the Greek spell to the glass shattering. At Nachtan because he obviously hated me for being a woman – the unfairness was burning me up. And I was mad at Hugh, too, when I remembered he hadn’t warned me about my imminent immortality. Surely that would be too big a possibility to forget to tell a person, wasn’t it? It was a purposeful omission, and I admit to feeling betrayed.
I had to find the goblin again for he was the only being in this town that I could actually trust to tell me the truth. He must know where Auld Meg was kept, and if she was indeed alive then I needed to speak with her. I had to know what my future held.
And she would no doubt have other answers for me, like how to get to the Ice Kingdom from here.
Trevor was making himself scarce, there were no signs of him along the boulevard, not even a sniff of his unwashed sourness. I wandered down the southern face of the hill and turned my steps west. I had no destination in mind, I just wanted to leave the cloying Alt air of the castle’s environs, the really old parts of the city where magic and memories were thick.
And I found myself in an area of regular people, not tourists gawking and herding, but real people going about their daily lives in the city inhabited by them. Despite the crowds of students, it was a much more relaxed atmosphere. I took a moment to get myself a take-out coffee, compliments of the Kin’s credit card, and sat back on a bench by a green space, just watching the world go by.
The sounds of the traffic, and people chatting and laughing, a dog woofing at a bird in the park, it was lulling me almost into a stupor. I could almost forget that I was possibly immortal, and definitely alone and friendless. I couldn’t count on Hugh.
Until I heard that laugh, a cackle rising above the murmur of the crowd, the screeching Glaswegian voice that followed.
I’d recognize her voice a mile away. It was Fergie, here, in Edinburgh! Without even realizing I stood up and searched the people all around me. I could still hear her, but no sighting, so I jumped up on the bench above everyone’s head, and then I spotted that mass of red curls blazing in the sunlight. Unmistakeably Fergie, although now her hair was washed and bouncy, not like the last time I’d seen her.
She was too far away to hear my call, so I leaped off the bench and began to run in her direction. My friend was in the midst of a group of other girls, all with shiny hair and make-up perfect faces, all shrieking and talking at the same time. Her new friends? But it had only been a matter of days since we’d parted.
Shy to intrude, I quickly texted her. Hey F – I’m in Edinburgh! Where R U?
But it bounced back almost immediately. Undeliverable. She’d changed her phone number, obviously.
So instead I sent a more reliable message through my mind, the way Hugh had shown me all those months ago. It was easy now to send out connecting feelers, my magic going out to hers, but I couldn’t find anything to hold on to, as if she was a Normal and not a witch at all. Puzzled, I stared at the back of her head. I couldn’t have missed contact, not from this short range. So I tried again, throwing myself hard but this time it was like hitting a brick wall, or as if she had a shield up, deflecting me.
Or as if she had been true to her word and renounced magic so entirely that there was no connection to be had between us.
Saddened, I could only follow her and the shrieking harpies at a distance. The group paused in front of an apartment building, cream colored stucco on the outside and double glass doors leading inside. Fergie made a big display of kisses and hugs good-bye, then entered the building. The others kept on their way.
After they’d all left, I crossed the road to look at the nameplates. There it was, top story by the looks of it. F. McBride and S. Farrow. I lifted my finger to press the bell then thought better of it, and lowered my hand again. After all, Fergie hadn’t replied to the two emails I’d sent her and perhaps that was on purpose.
I might not be a welcome visitor.
I WASN’T TO BE ALONE FOR TOO LONG THOUGH, I should have known that the goblin wouldn’t forget our bargain.
He materialized at my side after I’d made my way back up the steep hill and turned on to the Royal Mile. It was the corner by The Witchery, where Hugh had taken me for that delightful High Tea, back when he didn’t mind being seen with me in public. Things change so quickly.
First, I noticed the stench and only then did I become aware of the short figure walking next to me. The esplanade was still full of tourists waiting in lines even at this late hour.
‘Much as I don’t want to be around you, there is still the matter of the boots outstanding,’ he began in an officious voice. ‘You can’t welch on our deal.’
I looked down my nose at him. His almost bald head was shiny in the late afternoon sun. ‘I don’t think you’ve earned them yet.’
He sniffed haughtily. ‘Should have known better than to trust a witch.’
‘Dude, all you did was hint at things, you didn’t give me any information that I need,’ I scolded him. ‘I thought you wanted to be kept on retainer. Maybe you should start by being polite.’
‘I suggest we discuss the matter over cake.’ He stopped before a cafe that displayed baked goodies in the window. He pressed his nose against the glass, smearing it with drool at the sight of a tall chocolate confection.
He had a point, and it wasn’t a bad idea. At all. My lunches from the Castle cafeteria consisted of dry sandwiches, and dinner at Mrs. Mac’s would be hours yet. Her insistence on the ‘genteel’ hour of seven o’clock for dinner meant that there was a large hole where my stomach should be by the end of the day. I was quite frankly starving as my body cannibalized itself to provi
de fuel, my jeans were getting looser, and all this traipsing up and down hills wasn’t helping me conserve my energy.
‘Alright, stay outside. I’ll get it.’
I chose the walnut cream cake, and picked out the chocolate cake for the goblin. We took it as take-out in small cardboard boxes, and sat at the base of a statue outside the Cathedral as we ate.
‘I want to meet Auld Meg.’
He snorted and sprayed chocolate crumbs as he turned to look at me full on. ‘You’re crazy!’
‘You are so gross,’ I muttered as I tried to flick the crumbs off my hoody without smearing the wet ones. ‘And no, I’m not crazy, I’m determined. You said she’s still alive, right?’
He shrugged, and looked over the heads of the crowd milling around us. There was a hint of panic in his eyes. ‘In a manner of speaking,’ he said. ‘Not exactly living...’
‘No?’
’But she’s not dead, either,’ he mumbled. He desperately looked out over the tourists as if searching for an escape. I followed his eyes. It might have been a coincidence, but there was that bright red ball cap, the one worn by Willem, or someone who looked a lot like him. I stood up, my finger pointing to help guide me. ‘I know that guy!’
Before I could take off into the crowd to chase the evil wizard, Trevor had grabbed my sweater with both hands and was not letting me budge. I never realized how much strength a goblin has in those skinny arms, it was like being weighed down by an anchor.
‘Don’t!’ he shrieked.
‘Let go of me,’ I said, but it was too late. The figure had disappeared again. ‘Don’t what?’
‘Don’t...’ reiterated the goblin, a guilty look on his face. ‘Don’t leave before we talk about the boots you owe me.’
I narrowed my eyes at him. What was going on? I opened my mouth to demand an answer, but he forestalled me.
‘Okay,’ he said. The top of his head was sweating amidst the straggly hairs. ‘Okay, I’ll take you to Auld Meg.’
