Starborn

by Toby Forward

  Tadpole looked across the table. Jackbones looked away. Truth to tell, he did look sorry.

  “Did you want to be seen by the porter?” Springmile asked.

  “No. I was trying to hide.”

  She touched his cloak. “No roffle has ever worn a Cloude cloak before. You’ll have to get used to it. But it has its uses.”

  “You mean I was invisible?”

  She smiled.

  “But you can see me.”

  “You’re not hiding from me. And, besides, you’re in my library.”

  “What else can it do?” he asked.

  “All in good time, Tadpole. First, we have to make plans. Let’s just be clear about what you are saying. Eloise and Axestone are dead? Killed by kravvins?”

  “I think so. It looked that way. But, you know, magic…”

  “It’s best if we think the worst. And Flaxfold. She seemed mortally wounded?”

  Tadpole found himself growing unsteady at the memory of Flaxfold, attacked and defeated. He wiped his eyes with the edge of his cloak.

  “Careful with that, boy,” said Jackbones.

  Tadpole gathered his courage and his calm. “I don’t see how anyone could live after that. Why do you keep asking me? I’ve told you already.”

  “Because we won’t believe it,” said Jackbones.

  For a moment he was more solid than ever he had been, then he wavered and Tadpole could see right through him again.

  “We must believe it. But Sam and Tamrin, December and Waterburn? All safe?”

  “They were all alive when I was pushed out. That’s all I know. But it looked bad. They were losing. Until the dragon arrived.”

  “Starback. Starback. Starback.” The name rustled round the galleries and up and down, the whispering of a breeze-blown forest.

  Springmile stood up. “You came here to find Waterburn. I think that means he lived. You have to find him. You and Jackbones together.”

  “Just a minute,” said Tadpole. “I don’t have to do what you tell me.”

  “No.”

  “And I’m not leaving my library,” said Jackbones. “And I’m certainly not going anywhere with a roffle.”

  “You have something you want of us,” Springmile said to Jackbones. “And you have to earn it.” She linked her arm through his and drew him to the foot of the stairs.

  “Years ago,” she said, “more years than it’s good to remember, you did a wrong thing.”

  “For the right reason,” said Jackbones.

  “Yes. The right reason. And it was brave.”

  Jackbones tried to take his arm away from her. She held him tight.

  “So you fade away, but never die,” she said. “You are denied the Finished World. Denied the right to join us.” She looked up the winding stair. “I can take you there,” she said. “I can lead you. But you have to earn it.”

  “Not with a roffle. That’s flat,” he said. “I won’t do it.”

  “And this doesn’t even seem the right place,” said Tadpole. “How do I know this is even Canterstock College?”

  For this first time since he had met her Tadpole saw a puzzled look cross Springmile’s face.

  “What else could it be?”

  “A trick. I don’t know. But it’s grey and filthy and it feels wrong. The real college is warm and the colour of honey and full of life and joy.”

  The galleries made a long, sad, withdrawing roar. Tadpole looked up. The faces drew back. The galleries emptied. He was alone with Jackbones and Springmile.

  “What do you know of Canterstock?” she asked.

  Tadpole stood so that she could not see inside his roffle pack while he took out the guide book. He opened it at the page about the college. “Look.”

  She looked at it. She turned to the title page. “This is a curious book. Where did you get it?”

  “Is it right?” he asked. “Is that what the college is like?”

  Jackbones seized the book. “Where did you get this?”

  “It’s mine. Give it back.”

  They struggled. Jackbones had found new strength. His body grew solid. He was winning the tussle. Tadpole had to let go of the book or it would rip in two and Jackbones would have the greater part. He stopped pulling and ran at the man, tipping him over. Jackbones fell across the back of a chair, and he snapped. Tadpole regained the book and wriggled away. He looked in horror at the librarian.

  “I’ve killed him,” he said. “Oh, no. I’ve killed him.”

  Springmile helped him to his feet. She put her arm around his shoulders. “Nothing so kind as that,” she said. “Watch.”

  Jackbones opened his eyes, saw his broken back, sighed, pushed himself to the left, until he was more or less straight again. He breathed deeply. He gave Springmile a reproachful look and hauled himself to his feet, using the chair that had snapped him.

  “He was dead,” said Tadpole. “He was.”

  Jackbones scowled at him. “If only you could kill me,” he said.

  “You two must be friends,” said Springmile. “You are to go and find Waterburn together.”

  “What about the book?” said Tadpole. He clutched it away from Jackbones’ reach.

  “The book is right,” she said. “The college was just like that. But it has changed. As you see. As we all have. As you shall. Some change is for the better. This is for the worse.”

  “What happened?”

  “Frastfil happened,” said Jackbones. “And Ash happened and Smedge happened.”

  “And why aren’t you dead?” said Tadpole.

  Jackbones turned away. Springmile put her finger to her lips.

  “He can’t die?” said Tadpole. “How?” A look of hope came over his face. “Perhaps the others can’t either. Perhaps they mended, too.”

  “He can’t die here.” she said. “Who knows about what happens outside? But the others can. When we took it away from him it was a punishment, not a reward.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Tadpole.

  “No. No, you don’t, boy.”

  Tadpole gave up. “But what happened to the college?”

  “You can talk about it as you go,” she said. “Time is wasting.”

  “I’ll go alone,” said Jackbones. “I’ll leave the library, but not with a roffle.”

  “Tadpole,” said Springmile. “Will you let Jackbones see your book again?”

  “No.”

  “If he promises not to touch it, will you?”

  “Will he promise?”

  “Yes. Jackbones, do you promise?”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because you need to see this book.”

  The librarian turned back again.

  Springmile leaned over and looked at the book. “Where did you get it?” she asked.

  “It’s mine. My great-great-something made it.”

  “And this is his name?”

  “Yes, but he was called Perry, Up Top.”

  Jackbones moved as fast as a snake strikes. Tadpole swung away from him, protecting the book.

  “What name?”

  “You must promise not to touch it,” said Springmile.

  “I promise. Now let me look.”

  Tadpole didn’t move.

  “He keeps his promises,” she said.

  Tadpole allowed him to see the book. Jackbones read the page about the college with a mocking smile on his face that faded and was replaced with a look of grief. “That’s it,” he said. “That’s how it was. I’d forgotten. I’m so used to it as it is.” He sighed. “Perry?” he said. “You’re descended from Perry?”

  “From Megapoir,” said Tadpole. “Yes. He knew a lot about Up Top. That’s why he made this guide.”

  “Do all roffles see this?”

  “No. Only me. I found it.”

  “All right,” said Jackbones. “I’ll go with the roffle. We’ll look for Waterburn.”

  “Thank you,” said Springmile. “Look after him.”

  “What?”
r />   “Tadpole. Look after him.”

  Something happened to Jackbones. Every last trace of transparency left him. He was quite solid now.

  “I shall,” he promised. “Let me get some things.”

  Jackbones disappeared through a side door. As it opened, Tadpole glimpsed a sort of stock cupboard-cum-sitting room. When Jackbones emerged, he wore a cloak, like Tadpole’s, and he supported himself with a staff, the same height as himself. A murmur overhead made Tadpole look up.

  The faces had returned. And they looked different: eager, expectant. The sound became a buzz of excitement. Springmile smiled.

  “You look uncomfortable,” she said.

  Jackbones wriggled.

  “It’s been a long time,” he said.

  “You’ll soon get used to it.”

  “Come on, lad,” he said.

  Tadpole didn’t move.

  “One foot in front of the other is the usual way,” said Jackbones.

  The galleries made a ripple of laughter. Jackbones looked up. They smiled down at him.

  “Don’t think I won’t be back,” he said.

  Their faces grew solemn, silent.

  “You may not be back,” said Springmile. “Not this time. Tadpole, are you willing to go with Jackbones?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why not? You need help.”

  “He attacked me. And…” Tadpole thought what to say. “He’s odd. He’s not real. I’m sorry. I don’t want to be rude, but he is. And he doesn’t like me. He doesn’t like roffles. I don’t trust him.”

  Tadpole felt ashamed, saying this, but he felt it was right. He had to say it. He was shaking.

  “Jackbones?” said Springmile.

  The librarian sat down, wrapping himself in his cloak.

  “You’re right,” he said to Tadpole. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long time. I don’t speak to many people. These ones—” he gestured up at the galleries — “don’t appear often. You brought them out.”

  He held his staff with both hands and leaned forward. After a while he continued. “Roffles,” he said. “Roffles.” He shook his head. “No offence, but they’re not easy. All that riddling talk. Not that you do that. I met a bad roffle, once. It put me off them.”

  Tadpole started to object. Springmile touched his shoulder and motioned him to be quiet.

  “But I had a friend who was a roffle,” said Jackbones. “A long time ago. He used to visit someone I knew. Boy called Cabbage.”

  Tadpole couldn’t stop himself interrupting now. “Cabbage is Waterburn,” he said.

  The galleries sizzled with astonishment. Even Springmile stepped back, amazed. Jackbones stood up. He held out his hand. “Come on,” he said. “If you know that, then we’ll have to work together. You’re in this very deep. Come on. The roffle I knew, he was Cabbage’s friend, Perry. Yes, that’s right. I’m as old as that. Older, in fact. Let’s get going. And I’ll tell you all sorts of things about those two.”

  Tadpole started to say goodbye to Springmile, but she had already left and he saw her dress disappearing in the turn of the stair. He looked up. The faces withdrew and, in an instant, the air was filled with white petals of blossom, tumbling down and covering the table, the floor, Jackbones and Tadpole.

  “Let’s go,” said Jackbones, opening the door. “Brace yourself for the stink.”

  It hit them like a shower of rotting fish guts. Tadpole covered his nose with his cloak.

  “No, don’t do that.” Jackbones stood tall and breathed in deeply. “Fill your lungs. Don’t flinch from it. You’ll never beat something if you’re not willing to put your hands round it, not willing to take it on on its own terms. Breathe in, boy.”

  Tadpole took the cloak away from his face and breathed, half-filling his lungs before he choked and retched.

  “You’ll get used to it,” said Jackbones. “Come on.” And he strode away, a complete man. Tadpole had to trot to keep up with him.

  “Where are we going?”

  “We’ll look in at Cabbage’s kitchen, for a start. See if he’s there.”

  “Why would he be there?”

  “Why wouldn’t he?”

  Another voice joined in.

  “Why wouldn’t who be where?”

  “Eh?” said Tadpole.

  Jackbones had wrapped his cloak around his face. Tadpole could still see him and he wanted to laugh. The librarian made a sign for him to be silent.

  “Why wouldn’t who be where? And who are you? And what are you doing here?”

  It was a cheery, tall man with a thin face, and a beaming smile. He was the most welcoming and friendly person that Tadpole had seen since he arrived Up Top.

  “We’re looking for…” Tadpole began. He saw Jackbones shake his head, and his answer dried up.

  “We? Who’s we?”

  The cheery man looked around. He looked directly at Jackbones and didn’t see him. Jackbones raised his eyebrows.

  “I mean, I … I mean, I’m looking for…” He wondered what he should be looking for and had an idea. “I’m looking for the principal of the college.”

  “And you’ve found him.” The man wagged a teasing finger at Tadpole. “Or, perhaps I should say, I’ve found you.”

  “You?”

  “None other. I am Professor Frastfil, the principal of Canterstock College.” He looked as proud as a pointed roof. “And you are a roffle.”

  “Yes.”

  “Come along with me and tell me what you want here, in this splendid palace of learning, the finest market of magic there ever has been.”

  Saying this, he waved his hand, whistled and the walls of the corridor began to sprout branches. Dead, rotten branches, with the sullen remnants of leaves, hanging from the twigs. They stank of stagnant pond water, and as Tadpole brushed against them they snapped and fell.

  “What a brave show,” said Frastfil. “Such … such— ” he searched for a word — “such autumnal splendour.”

  Jackbones, dancing ahead of them, pushed his fingers into his mouth and pretended to gag. Tadpole couldn’t stop himself laughing. He tried to turn it into a cough, not to annoy Frastfil. But the man beamed down at him. “It delights you? Yes?”

  It made him feel sick. “Oh, yes. It delights me.”

  “Splendid.” Frastfil jingled loose change in his pocket and beamed wider than ever. The cheeriest person Tadpole had ever met. And so pleased with himself and his sad magic and his stinking college. It was all very different from the guide to Up Top.

  “I wonder,” said Frastfil. He stopped and looked at Tadpole. “You look like a roffle. That’s for sure. But you don’t speak like a roffle.” He became fierce all at once. Fear and anger fought for dominance on his face. “Speak up, boy. What are you? Are you a roffle?”

  “Is a party for punches a pot of palaver?” asked Tadpole.

  “That’s it,” said Frastfil. He made a little dance and beamed and beamed, and jingled his money. “That’s the roffle talk. Well, you can stop it now. It makes me dizzy.”

  Jackbones tapped his head and let his tongue loll out and crossed his eyes, to show Tadpole what he thought of Frastfil’s intelligence.

  Tadpole really did fall into a fit of coughing this time. By the time he’d finished and recovered they were at the door of the professor’s study. Jackbones slipped in and sat down in the most comfortable armchair. Frastfil sat behind his desk and tried to look important. Tadpole stood in the centre of the room.

  “Now,” said Frastfil. “Why were you looking for me?”

  He rested his hands on the desk and looked at Tadpole for an answer. It would have been impressive for a young roffle on his first trip Up Top, if the study hadn’t been quite so nasty. The desktop was covered with so much stuff, and all of it dreadful. A pile of old papers had worms in it. Purple slime bubbled up out of the top of an inkpot and spread over the pens and nibs and rulers around it. There was a rat, eating a dead squirrel, lifting its face and looking at Frastfil, as if t
o give a warning that he wasn’t prepared to share his dinner with the principal.

  “Speak up. We haven’t got all day.” Frastfil’s changes of mood came all at once, with no warning.

  The rat looked at him again, stroked bloody paws across its whiskers and carried on eating its dinner. Jackbones poked out his tongue and waggled it from side to side, sticking a finger up his nose at the same time. His cloak slipped to the side and Frastfil turned his head in that direction.

  “Is that…?” he began.

  Jackbones flicked the cloak back into place.

  “What?” said Tadpole.

  Frastfil shook his head. “Nothing. I sometimes think I see things, just out of the corner of my eye. You know?”

  In some ways it was like Flaxfield’s study: walls of books, and little jars and pots and feathers and strange implements. In the most important way it was entirely different. The books were mouldy and mildewed, their spines broken, pages falling out, foxed and frayed. The carpet was greasy. The walls were damp. And a thin layer of green slime covered many of the surfaces.

  “Ah,” said Frastfil, beaming again, plunging his hands into his pockets and jingling his loose change. “Ah, yes. A scholar’s study. You’ve never seen anything quite like it, eh? The finest place in the world.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I don’t mind telling you that when I took over this college it was in a pretty poor state. Not the great and wonderful place it is today. Oh, dear me, no. It was run down and failing. I made it what it is today. I changed everything.”

  “He did,” said Jackbones, standing up. “He did. I admit that. He destroyed Canterstock, almost single-handedly, with his stupidity, and weakness, and vanity, and laziness.”

  “What’s that?” asked Frastfil.

  “Just the wind,” said Tadpole.

  “Ah. Yes. Now, be quick with it. What did you come here for?”

  “Tell him,” said Jackbones, “that Ash sent you.”

  “Ash sent me.”

  It was as though Tadpole had run him through with a spear. Frastfil’s hands flew to his chest and he gasped.

  “Tell him she’s started the fight, the war,” said Jackbones. “Tell him he’s needed for the battle, and that the college will see blood before the week’s out.”

  Tadpole repeated this.

  Frastfil screamed. He tried to stand, fell back and fought to get his breath.