Starborn

by Toby Forward

  Tim ran in, leaving the takkabakks to disperse, back to their business of guarding the castle.

  “What does it want?” asked Tadpole.

  Mattie came away from the window. He sat back in his chair by the dead fire.

  “It comes to see Ash,” he said.

  “I want to see.”

  “All right.” Mattie stood up. “This way.”

  Tadpole followed, with more speed and less noise this time. He was growing used to the narrow passageways.

  “She’s got company,” whispered Mattie.

  Tadpole looked down into the tower room.

  Ash leaned against the window sill. Her arms were by her side. The grey dress fell in graceful folds. The draught lifted her hair slightly, framing the beauty of her face. Tadpole was glad that she was angry this time. It broke the spell of attraction that had made him want to go to her. He couldn’t tell at first who she was angry with: Tim, who sat with his tongue out, looking up at her, or Smedge or Frastfil, side by side, standing, listening to her.

  “You’ve wasted time,” she said. “Both of you.”

  Smedge met her gaze. Frastfil was trying to. His eyes kept returning to hers, only to glance away again. Tadpole could see that he was terrified.

  Something odd caught Tadpole’s eye. Something he hadn’t noticed before. The floor rippled.

  “I could be free of here now,” she said. “If you’d worked harder. Frastfil, what progress at the college? How goes it?”

  Frastfil spoke too quickly, the words falling out of his mouth in his terror.

  “Well. It all goes well. I’ve cleared away all trace, nearly all trace, of the old magic ways. New teachers. New teaching. New pupils.” He plumped himself up in importance. “And the two troublemakers have gone. Jackbones the librarian. Vengeabil the storeman.”

  “You killed them?”

  She stooped and Tadpole saw that the floor was solid enough. The rippling was the movement of thousands of beetles, crawling over it. She picked one up, snapped it in half, sucked it dry and crunched the shell. Tadpole looked away.

  Some of Frastfil’s self-importance drained away, and he made the best of a bad job. “No. No, I didn’t need to kill them. They left. I drove them out.” On the word “drove” he swept his arm forward, fist clenched, demonstrating the action.

  Ash crossed the room and put her face too close to his. “You drove them out? With your own hands? You threw them out?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What, exactly?”

  “They left.” Frastfil’s voice was broken. “I made the college too difficult for them, I suppose. They couldn’t stand my power any more. They ran away.”

  Smedge started to speak. Ash put her hand over his face, her fingers buried in his hair, her palm over his mouth.

  “Your power?” she said. “You? Power?”

  Frastfil hung his head.

  “Where are they now?” she said. “What’s happened to them?”

  Frastfil’s lips moved.

  “What? Speak up.”

  The principal of Canterstock College made a final attempt at dignity. He stood tall and spoke directly to her, as though unafraid. “What does it matter where they are? They’ve gone. The college is clear of them. Ready for you. Nearly ready. But nothing stands in your way now.”

  Ash took her hand from Smedge’s face and pushed Frastfil away. He tripped and fell, squealing, into the beetles. They crawled over him. He struggled back to his feet, whining and slapping, brushing them away. He regained his feet.

  “If you think—” he began.

  Ash clicked her fingers and Frastfil’s mouth disappeared.

  “Tell me,” she said to Smedge.

  He was dressed as a college pupil when he started his account. By the end of it, he was all in black and grey, a tunic and trousers, boots and leather gloves. A sort of soldier.

  “The library was the last stronghold of the old college,” he said. “Once Jackbones had gone I set about emptying it. I left Dr Duddle in charge. He’s loving throwing away all the old books.”

  Ash smiled and patted his cheek.

  “Good boy,” she said. “It will be my own room.”

  Tadpole remembered the endless rows and tiers of galleries, out of sight, and wondered how they would ever empty them all. How would they even reach them all?

  Ash leaned down and stroked Tim. “And you’re a good dog,” she said. “You’ll be our college dog, won’t you?”

  Tim turned big, trusting eyes up to her.

  “New magic,” she said. “Wild magic. My magic. I’ll be free of this prison. I’ll gather round me the best, the most powerful company of wizards ever seen.”

  She put her hands to her head and pressed. “And I know now,” she said. “I know now how to take young magic. I’ll never die. I did it once. I can do it over and over again. Canterstock will be my everlasting kingdom.”

  Mattie touched Tadpole’s arm. “It’s all right,” he whispered. “It can’t happen. She can’t escape from here. She has these dreams. I’ve seen them before.”

  Tadpole tried to smile.

  Ash darted forward and slapped Frastfil hard across the face. “Wipe that silly smile off,” she said. “Do you think I don’t know what you’re thinking? Do you?”

  Frastfil mumbled.

  “What?”

  He looked away and mumbled again.

  “If you don’t speak plainly, I’ll feed you to the kravvins,” she said.

  Frastfil’s eyes widened. He flailed his arms about, pointing to his face. Ash looked at him. His mouth wasn’t there. Just smooth skin from nose to chin.

  “Oh, yes,” she said. “Of course. Well, I’ll tell you, shall I? You think I’m a prisoner here and can’t escape. You think I’ve never found the seal and I never shall. I’ll never destroy it. That’s it, isn’t it?”

  He nodded.

  “But I don’t need the seal, now,” she said.

  She nodded to Smedge, who darted out a hand and grabbed the dog by its collar. Tim crouched and whimpered. Smedge kicked him, hard, and Tim’s back leg gave way underneath him.

  “Don’t break anything,” said Ash.

  Smedge pulled the collar harder and Tim slid towards him, his claws scraping the floor.

  Tadpole gripped his staff, finding it difficult not to call out and tell Smedge to stop torturing Tim. The dog hung its head and waited for the next kick.

  “Enough,” said Ash. “Send him away.”

  Smedge put his face to Tim’s ear and whispered. The dog listened, shaking, and bolted off as soon as Smedge released his grip on the collar.

  “The seal is on its way,” Ash continued, to Frastfil. “But there are other ways out of here. Ways that aren’t sealed, I think.”

  Ash flicked her fingers and Frastfil’s mouth reappeared. He jingled the coins in his pockets and looked puzzled. “What?” he said.

  Ash lowered her voice, and Tadpole had to lean over to hear her.

  “Roffle doors,” she said. “I could escape that way.”

  Frastfil took his hands from his pockets and grasped his tunic, in the pose he used when he lectured students. “That will never work,” he said. His voice grew more confident as he spoke. “Because all the roffles have taken to the Deep World. And, anyway, even if there were to be a roffle Up Top, he would never show us the roffle doors. They’re a secret no roffle will share. As it happens,” he added.

  “Oh, shut up.”

  “What?”

  Ash spat a half-chewed beetle into his face.

  “I had a roffle here, once,” she said. “Megatorine.”

  “Megatorine. I know him. Nice, helpful chap.”

  Ash turned her back on him.

  “Not helpful,” she said. “He wouldn’t tell me where a door was.”

  “I told you so.”

  “Shut up!”

  Frastfil stepped back.

  “He was about to. He was just going to tell me where there was a door. Bu
t he didn’t manage to get the words out in time.”

  “Why not?”

  “He broke.”

  “What do you mean, broke?”

  Ash smiled. Tadpole rested his cheek against the stone wall, to draw comfort from its coolness.

  “I mean,” said Ash, “that I had to encourage him to tell me. And, perhaps, I encouraged him too hard. He broke before he could say.”

  Frastfil beamed at this, as though he didn’t think about what had happened to the roffle, only that he could prove himself right. “I told you,” he said. “They never tell. And, anyway. There are no roffles here now. No more to ask.”

  “No?” said Ash.

  “What do you think?” Ash asked Smedge.

  Smedge smiled.

  “Tim thinks he scented one,” he said.

  Tadpole felt a rush of fear. He drew his face away from the squint. He stepped back, and a cold, wet nose brushed against the back of his hand. He jumped, and nearly cried out in fear.

  Tim’s eyes looked up at him.

  Mattie sprang back and pressed himself against the stone wall, so thin that he disappeared against it, like lichen. Only the shield stuck out, a metal sconce.

  Tadpole turned to run upstairs.

  “Kill.”

  “Eat.”

  Kravvins blocked his way.

  He ran down.

  “Smash.”

  “Rip.”

  “Eat.”

  Kravvins again.

  Tadpole swung his staff at them, the star-flecked end crashing into a head and splitting it open. The grumble of hate swelled into a roar. They surged at him.

  “No,” said Smedge. He elbowed his way through and stood between Tadpole and the kravvins. “Eat him later. Ash needs him first.” He put a slim hand to Tadpole’s cheek. “I need him first,” he added. “Make way.”

  There was no way to escape his escort. In minutes, Tadpole was back in the cell with Khazib.

  Smedge chained him, ankles and wrists, to the wall.

  “It’s getting dark out,” he said. “I’ll be back tomorrow. With Ash. You know what we want. Be ready to tell us.”

  Tadpole rushed at him, and the pain of the iron restraints made him call out. Smedge hissed a spell, and the fastenings tightened, pinching his flesh.

  “Tomorrow,” he said.

  Sam woke early, the sun capturing the house

  and holding it prisoner. He got up, looked out of the window and was shocked to see Tamrin approach. So near, only yards away, and he had no sense of her at all. No shock of joining. No impulse of her.

  They saw him at the window, so he had to wave. Cabbage waved back, always ready to greet, always open to meeting. December raised a cautious hand. Jackbones nodded. Tamrin looked away.

  He could see that she felt it, too. She felt the same. There was no overlap of their minds.

  The door clattered open and Sam heard the greetings, hearty at first, and then astonished. He climbed back into bed and curled up.

  The voices rose and fell. Loud pleasure. Silent wonder. Murmurs of question. Silent embraces. Soft stories. An awkward pause. The clank of metal on pan. Buzz of friendship. Sam screwed up his eyes and tugged the blanket tight.

  When the door opened he made himself still as stone.

  Whoever came in said nothing. Moved to the corner. The chair creaked. Sam strained to hear the voices downstairs, trying to work out which one was missing.

  He knew anyway. It was the voice that had hardly spoken since they had entered the small house. He relaxed his grip on the blanket, kept his head covered.

  “Where have you been?” he asked.

  Tam didn’t answer.

  “Are you all right?” he asked. Stupid question. The sort you ask a stranger. Anything to make her speak.

  She remained silent.

  Sam pushed the blanket aside and sat up. He didn’t look at her.

  “How did you get here?” he asked. “Did you know we were here?”

  He wondered where they had found bacon in an empty house. The scent wafted up the stairs. The voices were happy now. The sound of any family meal. A small spell was enough for him to be able to hear everything they said.

  “If you don’t answer me,” he said, “I don’t know what’s been happening.”

  “That’s the trouble,” said Tam.

  He looked at her for the first time.

  “Anything?” he asked.

  She shook her head, and raised an eyebrow. He shook his head.

  They stared at each other.

  “What happened to us?” asked Sam.

  “The mirror.”

  “What?”

  “When the mirror broke. I think that was when it happened.”

  “I was losing you before that.”

  “I know. But that was panic. Distance. Wild magic. I still had glimpses, moments. You?”

  “Flashes of contact,” said Sam.

  He thought about it.

  “You’re right,” he agreed. “Since the mirror smashed, nothing.”

  “What about Starback?”

  Sam hunched and plucked at the edge of the blanket.

  “Nothing?” she asked.

  “Flashes. Sometimes. Nothing real. He stayed longer than you did. But he’s fading now. Leaving me.”

  He turned a wet face to Tam.

  “I’m going to be alone, Tam.”

  “I know.”

  They didn’t speak again.

  When a small tap came on the door Sam had settled his face again, and Tam was ready to speak.

  “Yes?” she called.

  “Can I come in?”

  “Come in,” said Sam.

  Dorwin looked in. “We saved some breakfast.”

  “I’m not hungry,” said Sam.

  “That doesn’t matter,” she said. “We’ve all got work to do, and we need to be fed. Tam’s having a second breakfast, aren’t you?”

  Tam managed a smile. “At least there isn’t a roffle,” she said. “Otherwise there’d be nothing left for us. Come on, Sam.”

  Sam could feel the puzzlement in Dorwin’s mind as Tam encouraged him off the bed. She didn’t understand their need to talk now.

  They waited for her to go before Sam asked, “Are you sure Tadpole went home?”

  “I think so.”

  “What if he didn’t?”

  “Then he’s dead,” she said.

  The looks on the faces in the kitchen told Sam that they knew something was wrong. They were too gentle to ask.

  The bacon was good, salty and thick. Cabbage served up the food with a generous hand. Sam found that he was hungry after all. He ate in silence. The others carried on a sort of conversation, avoiding anything important, saving it till later, when he and Tam had eaten. They had all caught up with each other’s news while Sam was in bed.

  “Look at us,” said December, when Sam had reached the stage of mopping up the last of the egg yolk with a crusty bit of bread. “Do you think we’re all that are left?”

  “All what?” asked Sam. “Sorry.” He swallowed his bread and continued. “What do you mean, all?”

  “All that’s left of magic,” said Flaxfold.

  Sam spread butter on a new slice of bread.

  “There’s Ash,” said Tam.

  Sam could feel that they were looking at him to see if he was saying it. He ignored them.

  “Yes, Ash,” Flaxfold agreed. “I mean, all that’s left of real magic. Old magic. There’s Ash and the wild magic. And there’ll still be Frastfil and the college and their school magic.”

  “There’s plenty of good magic there,” said Cabbage. He finished his work at the stove and sat next to Sam. “It’s where Jackbones taught me.”

  The old librarian smiled at him, and Sam saw how tired he was, how thin and empty.

  “Jackbones has been a good master,” said Flaxfield, “but he was apprenticed, as well as college-trained. As were you, Cabbage.”

  Cabbage raised a hand in acknowledg
ement. “You and Jackbones together,” he said. “You’re my masters. I know. And I’m forever grateful.” He looked sad. “I missed your Finishing. Pretending to be Vengeabil, at the college.”

  Dorwin took Sam’s plate and put it on top of Tamrin’s. “What about your other apprentices?” she asked.

  “All dead, I think,” said Flaxfold. “Ash has been busy. Her kravvins have worked their worst.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Dorwin.

  “No. Not sure. But I think that if any of them survived they would have been drawn here today.”

  “I’m sure of it,” said Flaxfield. “All the magic that came from the mirror, to me and Flaxfold, and that we passed on to apprentices, is here in this room, now. We are the old magic. All of us.”

  Sam felt a thrill of pleasure run through him at this. He pushed it aside, ashamed.

  “What’s wrong, Sam?” asked December. “What are you thinking?”

  Sam shook his head. Tamrin spoke for him. “He’s thinking what a fine thing it is to be one of this small group,” she said. “He’s thinking that it’s the greatest thing in the world to be a wizard. And not just any wizard, but one of the wizards of the old magic.”

  They nodded at this, one in agreement.

  “But he’s ashamed,” she said. “Ashamed to be proud of the smallness of the group. He thinks he should be like Flaxfold and Flaxfield. That he should want more and more magic, more and more wizards.”

  Sam felt himself tremble at her words.

  “It’s over, isn’t it?” he said.

  Flaxfield put his hands together and rested them on the table. The confusion between him and Flaxfold resolved into a single, double person for a moment. Where there had been an old man and an old woman there were two, younger people, identical and neither one nor the other. “Over?” they said together.

  No one could speak.

  The moment passed and they were two again.

  “I don’t know,” said Flaxfield. “I really don’t know.”

  “All I know,” said Flaxfold, “is that we’re what’s left. And whether we start now or end now, we may as well enjoy it.”

  “Just a minute,” said Sam.

  “What now?” asked Flaxfield, signs of his old impatience tearing at the edges.

  “Dorwin,” said Sam. “If we’re the last of the old-magic wizards, why is she here?” He opened his hands to her in apology. “Sorry. I don’t mean I don’t want you here. I just want to know.”