Mocklore Box Set (Mocklore Chronicles)

by Tansy Rayner Roberts

Lord Dreamer broke the kiss, and breathed the combined magic of Drak, Quillsmith, Ladybird and Kloakor into a second sphere. She rubbed the salt circle away with her foot, and sent the sphere to join the first. They glowed white and then black at the moment of merging, then became a soft, mottled grey.

  Lord Invisiblus came through the doors with a sullen Quillsmith. “Time to go?” he said cheerfully.

  “Our new life begins,” Dreamer agreed. She smiled sweetly at Egg. “You will be remembered, Egfried Friefriedsson.”

  “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing,” he said wryly.

  Dreamer blew him a kiss, then turned towards the grey sphere. Quillsmith and Invisiblus joined her. The three of them stepped into the sphere of magic, and were gone.

  The sphere shrunk to the size of a small cherry plum, fell to the floor of the observatory and rolled towards Egg. He picked it up and put it in his pocket.

  Aragon and Singespitter were waiting for him outside. “I take it we don’t need to escort you back up to the sorcerer’s tower?” Aragon asked.

  Egg managed a smile. “I’d rather not, if you don’t mind. Too many stairs.”

  “Right, then,” said Singespitter. “You know what comes next.”

  Egg sighed. “A conversation with Kassa.”

  Aragon clapped him on the back in a comradely fashion. “And you thought you’d already had a bad day.”

  Aragon and Singespitter guided Egg to a door in a corridor lined with red velvet. The boy knocked, and entered. The door closed behind him.

  “I suppose we could listen at the keyhole,” said Singespitter.

  “Or we could have lunch,” said Aragon.

  Lunch won. They wandered along the corridor together.

  “So that’s an end to it,” said Singespitter.

  “Looks like.”

  “Tell me how much you love Kassa.” The question came out of nowhere.

  Aragon froze. “Any particular reason?”

  “Take pity on an ex-sheep who needs to hear it.”

  “Well, if you insist,” said Aragon Silversword. “For a start, I love her boots.”

  “They are good boots,” Singespitter agreed with a sigh.

  Egg found himself in a study, elegant and mahogany-lined. Kassa sat on a large desk with her back to the door, gazing out the window. “It seems funny to see sunshine over Drak,” she said. “It’ll probably take them a while to get used to the daylight concept.”

  “Where is everyone?” Egg asked.

  “Well, let’s see.” She slipped off the desk and into the chair. “I found Sean and Clio asleep at the foot of the Great Staircase and sent them home to Cluft. The professors are still running around on a wild goose chase, except Incendia Noir who has scored herself an invitation to an intimate supper with Lord Sinistre. Both of them, naturally, have gone off to spend a few hours selecting the perfect outfit. The kitchen staff have been thrown into an absolute frenzy, since it’s their job to conjure up an entire supper menu in less than four hours. It takes a surprisingly long time to carve pears into slivers, poach poppy seeds and whip up lettuce mayonnaise, you know. Then there’s us. Are you ready to talk yet?”

  “About how stupid I was, or how dangerous I was?”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Egg. We’re not even halfway through the semester. You can’t be expected to know everything yet.”

  Egg pulled the tiny grey sphere out of his pocket and placed it on the desk. “I gave the magic back. All of it that wasn’t mine to start with. I wish they’d taken the rest.”

  “Why?” Kassa said in surprise. “You can’t deny your own magic, Egg. That’s like denying your hair colour, or your height.”

  “But all those lectures about how magic is bad for you…”

  “It is bad for you. And dangerous and powerful and perilous and all those other things. But it’s yours. You have to deal with it and control it and learn to appreciate it without falling into the trap of obsession or dependence. These are complicated lessons, Egg. Second year stuff, if not postgraduate.”

  “I got it all wrong,” he said miserably.

  “I didn’t do much better, and I’ve been around a lot longer than you. I should have seen that you were in trouble, and I didn’t. I got my own magic gradually, in bits and pieces. The first twenty or so times I used it, something went seriously wrong. That’s an easy way to learn responsibility. You, however, became practically omnipotent overnight. It was like throwing a toddler into a stormy ocean in the hope that they’ll figure out how to swim.” She frowned. “To be fair, my parents did do that to me, and I am a pretty good swimmer.”

  “The worst thing is that I liked it,” Egg burst out. “I liked the power, not being ordinary.”

  Kassa shook her head. “Ordinary is a choice, Egg. Like ‘villain’ is a choice. Learning to control your magic is the most important choice of all.”

  “How do I do it?” he asked.

  Kassa smiled. “Be yourself. Try not to hurt anyone. Forgive yourself for your mistakes, and learn from them.”

  “Sounds easy.”

  “It isn’t, believe me. But think about this. Magic is an empty thing to fill your life with. It doesn’t give much back. Find something else that you enjoy and spend as much time as you can doing that to balance things out. If magic is not the most important thing in your life, you’ve already won the battle. Oh, and keep taking my Philosophy of Magic class, I’m looking forward to your mid-semester essay. Particularly if you choose the question about magical ethics and responsibility.”

  Egg relaxed. “I was expecting you to shout at me,” he admitted.

  Kassa stood up and moved around the desk. She hugged him briefly. “Only if you don’t use footnotes properly. Come on, let’s find the kitchens and snaffle some pear slivers.”

  Lord Sinistre sat at a table in the breakfast room, wincing as bands of bright sunlight cut through the gap in the curtains. There was a lot to get used to.

  The Chamberlain arrived at the same time as Lord Sinistre’s breakfast was brought in on a covered plate. He waited politely until the serving maid had left the room. “Three pieces of news, my lord.”

  Lord Sinistre was so excited that he didn’t even start in on his breakfast. “Nice to be back in the old routine,” he said happily.

  “As you say, my lord. Firstly, it has taken quite a deal of effort, but almost all the demonic beasts who escaped from the Underground Zoo during the elemental storm have been recaptured. I’m afraid most of the creatures were run to ground in the Hall of Wardrobe. There was a bit of a scuffle, and a lot of collateral damage.”

  “Never mind that,” said Lord Sinistre, distracted by a strange smell that was coming from under the cover on his breakfast plate. “I’ve worn all those outfits, anyway. Plenty more where they came from.”

  “Yes, my lord. As it happens, the second piece of news comes from the velvet factories. The workers are so outraged at the thought of making velvet without magic that they have gone on strike.”

  “I see,” said Lord Sinistre, quite dejected. What was that smell? It was quite…intriguing. “And the third piece of news, Chamberlain?”

  “I’m taking a day off, my lord.”

  “Another one?”

  “A family matter. Do you have a problem with that, my lord?”

  “Oh, no. Why should there be a problem? Here I am in the middle of a complete restructure of our society, and the only person in the city who knows what he is doing chooses to take his day off. I’m ecstatic.”

  “That wouldn’t be sarcasm, would it, my lord?”

  Lord Sinistre smiled. “I’m learning from the best, Silversword. Off you go.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” Aragon hesitated before leaving. “There is one more thing.”

  “A fourth piece of news? That’s highly irregular.”

  “More of a warning, my lord. It appears that our Head Cook has been swapping recipes with some of the dinner ladies of Cluft.”

  “Is that go
od?”

  “I’m not entirely sure. Perhaps you would care to examine the results?”

  Lord Sinistre lifted the cover of his plate and recoiled from the contents. “What in Drak is that?”

  “Ah,” said Aragon. He leaned over the plate. “That would be steak, sausages, bacon, mushrooms, tomato, fried bread and three kinds of egg, my lord.”

  “I see,” said Lord Sinistre. He inhaled deeply. “Cancel all my appointments for the morning, Chamberlain. I think this will require some serious attention.”

  Aragon grinned as he left. “As you say, my lord.”

  “You call this eggs on toast?” complained Sean McHagrty, standing at the counter in the Majestic dining hall. He stared in horror at the wafer-thin slice of toasted muffin with a tiny poached quail’s egg perched upon it. A faint trace of peach mustard had been drizzled over the yolk of the egg.

  “What’s wrong with it?” demanded Mistress Pott.

  “Oh, nothing much. Could I have another twelve, please?”

  Clio was already seated. Her tray held a plate of Mistress Pott’s new fruit salad — three grapes prettily arranged on mint leaves — and a tiny goblet of raspberry cordial. She glumly prodded the grapes with her fork, moving them around the plate.

  Sean joined her, putting his tray down. “Haven’t you cheered up yet?”

  “You wanted to be my friend,” she pointed out. “That means putting up with me even when I’m in a bad mood.”

  “I get that, but it’s been days.”

  “That happens to be how long I’ve been feeling bad.”

  “So, stop it. It doesn’t suit you.”

  “And you’re bored.”

  “Little bit.”

  She managed to crack a smile finally. “And you’ve got something better to do?”

  He put his pleading face on. “Imani Almondstone keeps giving me the eye. I’ve never let an opportunity like that go past!”

  Clio glanced across the hall, just in time to see Imani turn her face hurriedly aside. “Go on,” she sighed. “Break her heart. I never liked her much anyway.”

  “You’re a gem,” Sean said cheerfully, leaning across the table to kiss her on the forehead. He scooped up his tray and moved across the hall, pasting a charming grin on his face. “Imani, has anyone ever told you that you have a beautiful smile?”

  Clio shook her head. She still didn’t see how that worked for him. He really wasn’t that cute.

  A shadow fell across her table. Egg stood there. “Can we talk?”

  “That depends,” she said. “Are you going to buy me dessert?”

  “It’s breakfast time.”

  “Don’t mess with a beautiful idea.”

  Kassa sat in the deck chair on her balcony, trying to get up the energy to go downstairs and get a cup of coffee, and possibly a bacon sandwich. It was a bacon sandwich sort of morning.

  The door opened behind her. “Where have you been?” she complained. “I haven’t seen you for days. I know there’s not as much room now you’re human again, but that doesn’t mean you have to move out!”

  Singespitter joined her on the balcony and stood at the railings, staring out at the view of the ocean. “That a pirate ship out there?”

  “Hard to say. Purple might just be the in thing for ships this season.”

  “That purple ship just fired a cannonball into the side of the white ship.”

  “It’s probably pirates,” she conceded.

  “I’ve been talking to Vice-Chancellor Bertie.”

  She stared at him, a little confused by the shift in conversation. “About getting your own room?”

  “About the Great Reversing Barrel. He’s fixed it.”

  “You mean he’s chopped it into tiny bits and buried them somewhere?”

  “No, I mean it’s now in full working order.”

  “Should we declare a National Emergency?”

  Singespitter looked down at her. Strange, seeing him so much older than he should be, his face creased and his hair greying. The Glimmer took those years from him, Kassa thought guiltily. He still had the body language of a teenager.

  “Bertie’s tested it thoroughly,” said Singespitter. “By some strange fluke, it doesn’t reverse things anymore, but it does return things that it previously reversed to their original state.”

  Kassa frowned. “What do we need reversed back? We can’t put Harmony in there, not now they’ve restored their magic themselves. I had a peek at that scroll of yours yesterday, they’re doing quite well for themselves.”

  “Not them,” he said simply. “Me. I want to reverse me.”

  Kassa stood up so fast that the deck chair folded itself up at her feet. “What? What the glory gods are you talking about?”

  “I want to go back to being a sheep,” said Singespitter.

  “But this is your natural form! This is what you are supposed to be!”

  “I don’t care. The human thing isn’t working out for me, Kassa. I’ve been a sheep too long.”

  “But you can do anything as a human that you could as a sheep,” she protested. “More, because you’ll have opposable thumbs.”

  “They’re not all they’re cracked up to be, thumbs. Not compared to wings.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said, her voice breaking a little.

  Carefully, Singespitter leaned forward and kissed her on the mouth. The kiss was long and sweet, and his eyes were sad when he pulled away.

  Kassa took a deep breath. “Okay, now I understand. But it’s still stupid.”

  “You won’t try and stop me?”

  “If it’s your decision, I have to accept it. But isn’t there any other way?”

  Singespitter smiled. “Believe it or not, I’m looking forward to it. I won’t get cold in winter, as long as I can stay away from those bloody students with the clipping shears during Rag Week. And I’ll be able to fly again, Kassa. You’ve no idea how much I’ve missed that.”

  Lost for words, she hugged him, burying her face in his sheepskin coat. He hugged her back, tightly. “I’ll see you soon.”

  After he left, Kassa lowered herself back into her deck chair and buried her face in her hands for a long time before emerging and taking several deep breaths. “The day is definitely calling for bacon sandwiches,” she said aloud. “Possibly three.”

  Outside the Majestic, Egg brought Clio an ice cream cone topped with liquorice curls and pink sprinkles. “Is that enough dessert for you?”

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” she said faintly.

  After they had deposited the ice cream in the nearest waste bin, they walked across the square of student residence. “How are you?” she asked.

  He shrugged, uncomfortable. “Coping.”

  “Kassa told me something about what happened. All that magic…”

  “It’s not an excuse.”

  “No.” Her voice trailed off. Bravely, she tried again. “Have you started on your Philosophy of Magic essay yet?”

  “Can’t quite face it. Kassa keeps hinting about extra reading, and how she expects more of me than everyone else.”

  “I could come over to your room this afternoon. We could work on our essays together.” A ghost of a smile flashed across her face. “I happen to know that Sean won’t be there to interrupt us.”

  “I’d like that,” said Egg.

  At lunch time, Aragon was waiting for Kassa near the river that snaked around behind the Mermaid Tower. She regarded him with some suspicion. “Where’s the picnic basket?”

  “Already set up.” He motioned across the river. A red and white checked rug was set out under a sweeping pine tree. An elegant silver-haired lady was busily setting out cups, plates and cutlery.

  Kassa panicked as she took in the situation, and tried to run away. Aragon was prepared for this possibility, and grabbed her around the waist. “Oh, no no no,” she protested wildly. “This isn’t fair! This is the very opposite of fair!”

  “I met your parents.�
�

  “At knifepoint! Aragon, I can’t do this. It’s not right.”

  He squeezed her gently. “I’m not going anywhere this time. We may be living and working in different cities, but you are still going to have to face the fact that you and I are together. It’s time you met my mother.”

  “But she’ll hate me,” Kassa wailed.

  “Remember Bounty?”

  “Your ex-girlfriend, the one who wears chainmail lingerie in public?”

  “My mother couldn’t hate anyone as much as she hated Bounty.”

  “Say it again,” Kassa grumbled.

  Aragon could have repeated the comment about Bounty, but he knew that wasn’t what Kassa was referring to. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said again, slowly and distinctly.

  She took a deep breath. “All right, then. I’ll meet your mother. But if she says one bitchy word about my clothes, I get to stab her.”

  “If she says one bitchy word about your clothes, I’ll stab her myself.”

  Bracing herself, Kassa Daggersharp went forward to meet her destiny — or, at least, her destiny’s mother.

  Clio looked at the drawings that were pinned up around the room. She was in total awe. “I can’t believe Sean didn’t tell me about this.”

  “I swore him to secrecy,” admitted Egg. “I wasn’t sure what you’d think.”

  Every image was familiar, even rendered through Egg’s unique ink-heavy drawing style. Clio glanced past images of the Light Lords, the warlocks and the draklighted Cluft to settle on one image in particular, the shadowy confrontation between Aragon Silversword and his brother. She shivered.

  “I thought I should give fiction a miss for a while,” Egg said apologetically. “Taking a leaf out of the epic poets and chronicling history instead. Do you mind?”

  Clio gazed at an image of her mother. Egg had captured Dahla’s face perfectly. “I love it,” she said. “How’s it going to end?”

  “Like it did in real life, of course.”

  “But history doesn’t end, it keeps on going. What’s your cut off point? What will be the concluding note to this epic of yours?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I hadn’t thought about it. How do epics usually end?”