Starborn

by Toby Forward

  The galleries rained down laughter and applause. Jackbones looked up and laughed and spread his arms again.

  Sam and Tamrin, separate again now, looked on. Sam saw the joy trickle from Jackbones’ face and his arms slowly fall to his sides.

  The laugher diminished.

  A slender foot appeared round the iron stair.

  “Springmile,” said Sam.

  The woman let her eyes rest on him for a moment, but she didn’t hesitate on her path to Jackbones.

  “Well done,” she said. She reached out her hand and took his. “Well done, Jackbones.”

  The limitless faces appeared around the galleries high above them. They gazed down, with solemn welcome. Sam expected a noise. Applause? Or shouts? Or the strange, disturbing whispers he remembered from before when the faces appeared. But there was silence and soft smiles.

  Jackbones held Springmile’s hand tight.

  “Is it finished?” he asked.

  “It is finished,” she said.

  He didn’t look back.

  Sam tried to put out his hand to touch Jackbones, a farewell. Springmile stood between them and guided the librarian to the step. She pressed her hand to his back and he walked up.

  “I’ll be with you in a moment,” she said.

  She faced them and put out her hand for Tadpole.

  “Come here, roffle,” she said.

  Tadpole didn’t move at all,

  fixed to the spot with some feeling he didn’t understand.

  “Come,” said Springmile. “I won’t hurt you.”

  Tadpole took a single step towards her and stopped.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  She smiled.

  “I want to see a roffle who’s a wizard,” she said. She made a sweeping gesture with her arm, the shimmering dress catching the light as it moved with her. Indicating the rows of never-ending galleries high above them she said, “All the past magic of all time is here. Collected on these shelves. Going on beyond going.”

  Tadpole felt a shudder of irritation as Sam interrupted.

  “Can we use it?” he said. “The magic stored here. Can we take it out again? Because if we can, we—”

  Tadpole tapped his foot and silenced Sam.

  Springmile waited for Tadpole to speak.

  “Please,” he said. “Carry on.”

  “Don’t you want me to answer Sam’s question?”

  “Do you want to?” he said.

  She laughed out loud, and the whole gallery laughed with her. A laugh of simple delight, not mockery.

  “A wizard’s question,” she said. “Better than a roffle riddle.”

  Tadpole laughed, too.

  “I can show you,” she offered. “All that’s up there, beyond where the college readers go. High up, with the Finished Magic. If you’d like.”

  Sam tried to interrupt again, and Tadpole’s spell kept him silent.

  “Let him ask,” said Springmile.

  Tadpole tapped his foot again.

  Sam shouted at him. “Don’t you magic me. Don’t you dare.”

  “Sorry,” said Tadpole.

  Sam pointed a finger at Springmile. “She’s going to take you away. Into the galleries. And you won’t come back. Ever. It’s a trick.”

  “Sam,” she said. “Sam. Don’t you know me better than that?”

  “No,” he said. “No, I don’t.”

  Cabbage took Sam’s arm. “Let Tadpole go with her,” he said.

  “Will you bring him back?” said Sam.

  “Yes. I promise,” said Springmile.

  Sam gave her a sideways look. “Today?”

  “Today. Within the hour. Minutes, perhaps.”

  Tadpole gripped Sam’s shoulder as he passed him and followed Springmile up the winding iron stair.

  Tamrin hadn’t watched much of this. She kept to the shadow and the corner. It was as it had been before Sam had arrived. Back in the days when she was the college disgrace. The girl, expelled for naughtiness, who wouldn’t leave. The girl who stole food from the kitchens and hid in the rafters. The girl who had more magic in her toe than all the other pupils put together.

  She welcomed the feeling of loneliness and being different from the rest. It was an old friend who never let her down.

  Whatever else happened she had the comfort of not belonging. So it didn’t matter if they didn’t care.

  She wondered if she could make her way to the door and slip out before they remembered her. There were plenty of places in the college where she could hide. They’d never find her. In the end, they’d have to give up and go away, back to their own lives.

  She edged along the side of a bookcase and towards the open door.

  Just before she reached it, Tim came in and went straight to her. He barked.

  The others looked at her, turning their faces from the stairs.

  Tamrin sighed.

  Tim barked again.

  A curious, disturbing sound, because it wasn’t a dog’s mouth, it was a boy’s. The body was the same, furry and brown. The legs were the same. It was the head and feet. A boy’s hands. A boy’s bare feet. A boy’s face.

  “What’s happened to you?” she asked.

  Tim barked. This time it was a sort of word.

  “Worn!” he barked.

  “What?”

  “Worn off.”

  The more he barked, the more clear the words became, until his own voice returned.

  “The spell. It’s worn off.”

  “Some of it,” said Tamrin.

  “Help me,” said Tim. “Please. When Smedge disappeared, the spell began to wear off. I’m almost myself again. Please help me.”

  “Why?” Tamrin’s face was blank.

  “You’re my friend.”

  Tim tried to rub himself against her legs. She nudged him away, quite roughly, but not enough to hurt.

  “No,” she said.

  “You won’t help me?”

  “I didn’t mean that. I mean no, you’re not my friend.”

  “I was.”

  “Yes. I know. And when Smedge and Frastfil attacked me and lied about me, you could have helped. And you didn’t. You’re not my friend.”

  Cabbage began to speak, and Sam stopped him.

  “I was frightened,” said Tim. “I couldn’t help you.”

  “I was frightened,” said Tamrin. “I needed a friend. And you weren’t there. You turned to Smedge. And this is what you became.”

  “Please,” he said. “Help me. I can’t stay like this.”

  Tamrin shrugged. “You know,” she said, “if I could help you, I would. You’re not my friend. You never will be. But I’d do it for you, if you promised to go away and never bother me again. But there’s no magic left. So I can’t, can I?”

  Tim’s tail disappeared between his legs. He crouched low and shook.

  Sam patted him. Cabbage put his arm around Tamrin and she shook it off.

  “What’s happening?” asked Tadpole.

  “You’re back,” said Sam.

  “Sorry I’ve been so long,” said Tadpole. “I wasn’t sure you’d still be here.”

  “What do you mean, so long?”

  “Hours, at least. It might have been days. It’s amazing up there. There’s a whole—”

  Springmile touched his shoulder and shook her head.

  “Anyway,” he said, “I’m sorry I’ve been so long.”

  He saw Tim and blinked.

  “Is that…?”

  “Yes,” said Tamrin.

  “What happened?”

  “It’s a long story,” she said. “But he wants the spell removed. And I think you’re the only one who can do it.”

  Tadpole frowned. He looked at Sam. “What do I do?” he asked.

  Springmile touched his shoulder again and whispered in his ear.

  “Sorry,” said Tadpole. “I forgot. Tam, please, tell me what to do.”

  Tamrin felt a glow of pleasure that she tried to suppress.
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  “Why are you asking me?”

  Tadpole looked at Springmile.

  “Go on,” she said.

  “I need lessons,” said Tadpole. “From Sam. And from you. If I’m to be a proper wizard. And I think it has to be you, as well as Sam. You made this staff for me, didn’t you? Please, will you help?”

  Tamrin looked at Sam. His face was set, hard, until he caught her eye.

  “Sam?” she asked.

  “I can’t do it on my own,” he said.

  “What do you want?” she asked Tim.

  “To be myself,” he said.

  “Say that, then,” she said to Tadpole.

  Tadpole rapped his staff on the floor.

  Before he could speak a spell, Sam said, “You’ll have to stop doing that. It’s going to be really annoying.”

  Tadpole blushed. He put his hand on Tim’s back and said, “Be yourself.”

  “Thank you,” said Tim.

  “What’s happening?” said Tadpole. He span round and looked at Sam, then Tamrin. “It’s gone wrong. I got it wrong. Stop it.”

  Tim yelped and ran across the library.

  “No,” he barked. “Nuff.”

  The head and hands and feet melted away, and Tim was all dog again. With paws and a lolling tongue and floppy ears.

  He barged into Tamrin’s legs and looked up at her.

  “It’s nothing to do with me,” she said. “I needed a friend when you were there. And you weren’t my friend. Smedge didn’t make you a dog. It’s what he found in you.”

  “You’d better go,” said Sam.

  “Come on,” said Cabbage. “I’ll take you down to the storeroom. At least you needn’t starve.” He looked at Sam and Tamrin. “I’m not going to say goodbye,” he said. “I’ll see lots of you, won’t I? And you, Tadpole. I make the best breakfast for thirty miles. All right?”

  “All right,” said Tadpole.

  Cabbage walked away, clicking his fingers for Tim. The shadow of a small, grey cat slipped out after him.

  With a last, reproachful look at them, Tim trotted off.

  “And that leaves just you three,” said Springmile.

  “I want to show Tadpole the roof,” said Tamrin.

  “A good idea,” said Springmile. “Then find somewhere to sleep. It’s getting late.”

  She embraced all three of them.

  Sam watched her disappear up the winding stair, and felt lonely, lost.

  “What’s it like up there?” he asked. “I mean, right up? I’ve been to the lower galleries, where the readers go. But what’s it like higher up?”

  “Come on,” said Tamrin. “The stars will be out.”

  There was no moon

  and Tadpole stared into the slow, black sky.

  “How many stars are there?” he asked.

  The three of them lay on their backs, on the sloping slates of the turret roof, Tadpole in the centre.

  “Millions,” said Tamrin. “More than can ever be counted.”

  “There are books about them,” said Sam. “In the library. Maps and charts, but more are not counted than are known.”

  “I remember,” said Tadpole. “There wasn’t time to look at them, though.”

  He sensed that Sam had moved away from him a little, and he remembered Springmile’s advice to be careful in what he said.

  “Please will you teach me the names of the patterns?” he said. “I don’t think we’ll need new ones, after all.”

  “It’s all right,” said Sam. “You’re the first of the new. I know that. Don’t be careful around me.”

  “We’ll get used to it,” said Tamrin.

  “Can I be your apprentice?” he asked. “Both of you.”

  The silence climbed all the way from the top of the tower to the furthest star. Sam and Tamrin looked up into the night, not at each other. At last, Tadpole answered his own question. “I can’t, can I?”

  “I’m sorry,” said Sam.

  Tamrin took a deep breath before she said, “That’s all gone for us. It’s you, now.”

  “But we’ll be your friends,” said Sam.

  “Will you tell me things? About magic?”

  “Everything,” said Tamrin. “I promise.”

  She let Tadpole take her hand and squeeze it. He had never been so happy. Two friends and a sky full of stars. And magic. He shifted, ready to make a spell, remembered himself and stopped.

  “Go on,” said Sam.

  “Please,” said Tamrin.

  Tadpole propped himself up on his elbows.

  “It’s just that I want to do it,” he said. “Like you want to sing when you’re happy, or run, or swim.”

  “Or eat,” said Sam.

  “That’s it. Roffles love to eat.”

  “Go on, then,” said Tamrin. “Show us.”

  Tadpole stood up and raised his staff.

  “But don’t rap that thing, all right?” said Sam.

  “Sorry.”

  Tadpole clicked his fingers. The stone top of the turret bloomed into a glowing line of jasmine that lit his face and breathed a mist of delicate perfume into the night air.

  Sam sighed.

  Tadpole pursed his lips and blew. Green and blue and silver-grey lizards crept silently from the jasmine. Each as small as a fingernail. They darted among the dark-green fronds and rested on the white flowers, licking black tongues across their cheeks, reflecting beauty in the starlight.

  Tamrin propped herself up and looked at Sam. He nodded.

  When Tadpole had turned the whole of the rooftop and the turret into a garden, full of colour and scent and tiny creatures, Tamrin sat and enjoyed it, until Tadpole saw that it was hurting her to be there.

  He blinked, and it was all gone.

  “I’m tired,” he said. “Let’s sleep.”

  Tadpole and Sam slept in Sam’s old dormitory.

  Tamrin wouldn’t stay. “I never slept here after I was expelled,” she said. “I have a comfortable place. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  They spent the morning looking all around the college.

  “I want to see everything,” said Tadpole. “Starting with the kitchen.”

  The pantries and larders and cool-rooms were stocked with every sort of food.

  “And it’s all fresh,” said Tadpole. “How?”

  Tamrin and Sam were one voice in reply. “Magic. Don’t forget. This is no ordinary place.”

  So they ate a breakfast fit for a roffle.

  “We’ll wash up later,” said Tadpole.

  “We’ll do it now,” said Tamrin. “Wizards still have to wash up.”

  She cleared the dishes away, and caught Tadpole tapping his staff on the ground, gently, so they wouldn’t hear.

  “None of that,” she warned.

  “Why?”

  Sam washed the plates. “Because magic’s not a short cut. It’s not a cheap way to miss work. It’s for something.”

  “What about the flowers last night?”

  “Sheer, simple joy,” said Tamrin. “That’s good. But the rest of the time, well, here’s a towel. You can dry the things. No magic.”

  “And then we’ll look at the college?”

  “Yes.”

  Classrooms and laboratories, the dormitories and the studies, corridors and kitchens; Tadpole followed them round in astonishment.

  “It’s so huge,” he kept saying. “But so small, as well, the tiny rooms for the older pupils. The teachers’ studies. I love it. What’s through here?”

  He pushed open a wide door and entered the great hall.

  “Oh,” he said. “Oh. That’s just … I mean, it’s…”

  “Yes,” said Tamrin. “Make sure it fills with pupils, will you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She means,” said Sam, “that if you’re the first of the new, and Boolat has been destroyed, there must be a reason why this place is as it was before. I think you’re supposed to use it, for new wizards.”

  “But there aren
’t any new wizards,” said Tadpole.

  “Wait and see.”

  “The garden, next,” said Tamrin.

  “And then it must be time to eat again,” said Tadpole. “It’s after noon.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Tadpole refused to believe the garden when he saw it.

  “It’s bigger than three towns of Canterstock,” he said. “It would never fit inside the walls.”

  “How do you think the library fits inside the building?” asked Sam.

  Tadpole saw Sam’s face and apologized. “This is very hard for you,” he said. “Please be patient with me.”

  “It’s all right.” Sam rested his hand on Tadpole’s shoulder. “We’ll get on all right, the three of us.”

  “Shall we eat, now?”

  “Not yet,” said Tamrin. “There’s the entrance quadrangle and the porter’s lodge. Then, after all that, you need to find Cabbage’s storeroom.”

  “Quickly, then,” he said. “I’m starving.”

  “Roffles,” said Tamrin.

  Overnight, the letters had vanished from the pigeon holes and the porter’s lodge was clear and neat.

  “Ready for the new start,” said Tamrin.

  “Let’s eat,” said Tadpole.

  “Try the gate, first,” said Sam. “It can be heavy.”

  Tadpole unbolted it, turned the huge key in the lock and grasped the round, iron handle. It was bigger than both his hands together. He turned it to the left.

  “It’s not bad,” he said. “Fairly easy.”

  The gate swung open.

  “It’s not Canterstock,” said Sam.

  Tadpole stepped through.

  A small crowd of people gathered round the gate. They stepped back in alarm as it opened. Tadpole saw Delver and his neighbours, and his father. He turned to look at Tamrin. She and Sam were gaping in wonder.

  “The Deep World,” she said.

  “Hello, Tadpole,” said Delver. “I thought you were going Up Top?”

  Tadpole’s father advanced. “What are you doing in there? And where did it come from? And it’s nearly time for dinner. And what’s that roffle pack? Where did you get that? You’re not going Up Top. It’s too dangerous. And what are you all dressed up like that for? Wait till your mother sees this. And,” he said again, “what are you doing in there? And what is it anyway?”

  Tadpole looked at the gate. A bright, brass plate said, Starborn College.