The Chosen Ones

by Scarlett Thomas

  Wolf noticed this and so stood right on the edge of the tramlines waiting for the next serve, with his racket in his left hand. Of course now Tabitha blasted her serve down the middle. It was an ace. Hardly anyone ever hit aces against Wolf. Tabitha smirked and moved across to serve to Effie. As if to mock her opponent, Tabitha now played a slow looping serve that bounced in the middle of the box and then plopped down on Effie’s head. The spectators roared with delight.

  This was becoming intolerable. Wolf and Effie had yet to win a point, and Blessed Bartolo were now three games up. The next two games continued in more or less the same way. Wolf served left-handed, only to find each of his efforts blasted back for a winner. After each point Tabitha and Barnaby high-fived each other in a particularly smug way, while Wolf tried to manoeuvre Effie into the right position. What on earth were they going to do?

  17

  After they’d lost the first set 0–6 Wolf requested a toilet break, and he and Effie went out into the quiet corridor. Soon, Raven and Lexy found them. Raven took out her wonde and cast the Shadows, and then they found a quiet room off the hallway where they could hide for a few minutes. Apparently Terrence Deer-Hart was on the prowl looking for Effie. Lexy set about rubbing an ointment into Wolf’s arm, while Raven chanted a healing spell over Effie.

  ‘Where’s Maximilian?’ said Wolf.

  ‘He’s trying to steal the caduceus from Leander,’ said Lexy. ‘Apparently he can disappear now, which is quite helpful.’

  ‘Can you see anything yet?’ asked Wolf.

  ‘No,’ said Effie. She didn’t admit to her friends that she was actually becoming quite scared. She knew that they looked to her for leadership and there was no way she was going to let them down. Especially when they were trying so hard to help her.

  Soon it was time to go back. There was no sign of Maximilian or the caduceus. Wolf led Effie back to her seat by the umpire’s chair and got her water bottle out for her. Not that she needed to replace any fluids. She hadn’t had to run at all in the whole of the last set.

  On Court Two the Tusitala School second pair, Olivia and Josh, were also having a hard time. Effie could hear jeering and booing coming from the spectators.

  ‘What’s happening?’ she asked Wolf.

  ‘I think they might have just won their first point,’ he said.

  Just then something dropped into Effie’s lap. It was the caduceus. Maximilian had got it! And he must have slipped through between the dimensions in order to deliver it. As soon as Effie touched it, her sight was restored. How could that be? She blinked once, twice. Yes, her sight was fine. Effie knew the words to the Shadows well after having heard Raven recite them so often. She had a sense that she could say the spell now and it would work. She muttered it and – yes – to her surprise, she managed to hide the caduceus. What else could she do? She didn’t want to cheat exactly, but . . .

  Her hearing was enhanced, just as it had been on the bus, and so she could hear what Tabitha was saying to Barnaby on the other side of the umpire’s chair.

  ‘Well, I’ve got no more M-currency either.’

  ‘You must have something in your bag?’

  ‘I’ve got a chocolate bar.’

  ‘No, you idiot. Something to replace my power. There’s no way we’ll win otherwise.’

  ‘Are you insane? We didn’t drop a point in the last set.’

  ‘Yes, because I had plenty of M-currency.’

  ‘Well, it’s chocolate or nothing.’

  ‘I’m sure I had one more dried monkey brain in here somewhere.’

  ‘God, you’re disgusting,’ said Tabitha. ‘I don’t know how you can eat that revolting stuff.’

  ‘You eat crushed butterflies for breakfast every morning!’

  ‘That’s different.’

  ‘Can’t your friends do something?’

  ‘They’re selfishly saving their power for their own matches,’ said Tabitha. ‘What about yours?’

  ‘Same. We’ll have to rely on our skill.’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘Time, please,’ said Dr Green.

  ‘Right. I’ll serve,’ said Tabitha to Barnaby in her cut-glass voice. ‘I believe I’ve had the most aces so far.’

  ‘Yes, well, I think all that’s about to change,’ said Barnaby.

  He was right. This time, when Tabitha served to Effie, Effie could actually see the ball. It wasn’t quite as wide as Tabitha’s previous serves, which had cost a little bit of M-currency each time. Indeed, now that Dr Green could see the lines properly and was no longer under Barnaby’s blur curse, he was able to call the serve out. Effie attacked Tabitha’s second-serve, blasting the ball down the tramlines behind Barnaby. It was the first point Effie and Wolf had won.

  It doesn’t take much to turn the momentum of a tennis match. If you can put doubt in the mind of your opponents, then what has been a 6–0 lead can soon turn into one set all. And doubt seemed to come easily to Tabitha. The more points she lost, the more sulky and petulant she became. At one point she got in such a huff about one of Dr Green’s line calls that she ignored four of Wolf’s serves in a row. When Tabitha and Barnaby lost the set, she yanked her necklaces so hard that they broke, and pearls were scattered everywhere.

  Many of these pearls made their way onto Court Two, where Olivia and Josh were currently one set down and losing the second by three games to one. Unfortunately, most of the pearls rolled onto Blessed Bartolo’s end of the court. The boy, Edward, slipped on the pearls and fell, breaking his ankle in three different places. Even though his partner begged him to limp on, he could not. Alas, they forfeited their match. Two points to the Tusitala School. Coach Bruce actually shed a tear.

  All of which meant that the Tusitala School had done the unthinkable and got ahead. In the NASTY league, each school is awarded a point for every set it wins, plus a point for an overall win. So, with Effie and Wolf just having drawn their match at one set all, the Tusitala School suddenly had three points and Blessed Bartolo had two. If Blessed Bartolo was to draw this fixture, then Tabitha and Barnaby would have to win the championship tie-break that always took the place of the third set. They would have to be the first to reach ten points, clear by two.

  Before the tie-break began, Effie sat on her chair holding the caduceus and listening to Tabitha and Barnaby arguing. He was saying that she should let him hit more balls because he was a boy and stronger, and she was telling him that she could beat him any day.

  Something strange had been happening to Effie while she was holding the caduceus. The umpire’s chair had been manufactured in another country, and had some foreign writing on its leg. Effie could now read this as easily as if it had been her own language. It didn’t say anything particularly interesting – it was just some health and safety advice – but the main thing was that Effie could understand it. And Tabitha’s tennis bag had been made by a fashionable company on the other side of the world. Effie could now understand that the strange logo was a word meaning ‘vanquisher’ in an ancient version of this country’s language.

  ‘So what’s our strategy?’ Wolf asked Effie as they stood up to go and play.

  ‘We’ll just let them beat themselves,’ said Effie. ‘They’ve already started. Look.’ She gestured to Wolf to look over at Tabitha and Barnaby, who were still arguing. As they got up to play, Tabitha rather spitefully kicked Barnaby in the shin.

  ‘Oh, Maximilian just brought this, by the way,’ said Wolf, giving Effie back her ring. ‘Maybe you should wear it?’

  ‘I don’t want to cheat like they are,’ said Effie. ‘Let’s try and win the old-fashioned way.’

  ‘All right,’ said Wolf. ‘But put it somewhere safe. I don’t like the atmosphere in here. What if someone tries to steal it back again?’

  Effie’s tennis skirt, despite being for ten- to eleven-year-olds, had a little zipped pocket in which you could put a car key. Effie had always thought this very stupid. Now she realised it was actually quite useful. She put the ring ins
ide and stepped on the court to play. Something was bothering her, even so.

  The caduceus. It had felt all right to have it while Leander had her ring. But now Effie had both boons. And she had used Leander’s if not to cheat then at least to get an unfair advantage. Of course, this was insignificant compared to what Blessed Bartolo’s had been doing. But even so, Effie now asked herself why she had told Maximilian to get the caduceus in the first place. Why hadn’t she just asked him to return her ring? It was as if she had felt compelled to touch the caduceus. But why?

  Now that the Blessed Bartolo team had run out of M-currency, Effie and Wolf didn’t need any further help. By the time the Tusitala team were leading eight points to three, Tabitha was crying so much she could not even see the ball. Effie then aced her, for the tenth time in the match. Tabitha was on her last tennis racket, having smashed all her others, but that didn’t stop her now flinging it on the ground and then stamping on it. Effie couldn’t believe they had almost done it. One more serve to Barnaby, which he tried to hit back for a winner and failed. ‘Out!’ called Dr Green. And . . . They had won! Even Terrence Deer-Hart became quite excited and shouted ‘Bravo!’ several times until Maximilian somehow got him to stop.

  When Tabitha and Barnaby came to the net they limply shook hands with Effie and Wolf, but didn’t smile.

  ‘We’re going to get you for this,’ hissed Tabitha. ‘You won’t know where, or when, or how. But we will never forget. You will suffer so much you’ll wish you had never been born.’

  Which was not the most sporting thing to say after losing a tennis match, but then Blessed Bartolo pupils had never been the most sporting of opponents.

  When Effie got back to the changing room, Leander was waiting in an alcove near the door. He looked a bit like a bat, with his black velvet cape folded around him. He had merged with the dark concrete wall in a way that had made him almost invisible.

  ‘Well,’ he said, stepping out. ‘I suppose you think I’m going to let you keep it.’

  ‘What?’ said Effie. ‘Oh, your caduceus. Of course not. Here.’ She held it out to him. ‘I was going to try to find you to give it back.’

  ‘And after I rescued your ring from Dr Green, too.’ Leander snorted. ‘Nice way of thanking me, sending your friend to steal my boon.’

  ‘You rescued it? Why didn’t you give it back to me, then? Why did you go off with it?’

  ‘I was looking after it for you. And anyway, I wanted you to see what it felt like.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘When someone else touches your boon. When they hide it, like you did on the bus.’

  ‘But I didn’t! I . . .’

  ‘It’s worse when they can use it, like you obviously can.’ He shook his head in a confused way. ‘But I can’t use your ring. I should be able to use almost any boon, certainly any ring, but not that one. What is it?’

  Effie didn’t understand what he was asking her for a moment.

  ‘What are you?’ asked Leander.

  Effie knew that she couldn’t tell him. She couldn’t let him know what her ring was. Everyone seemed to want to get their hands on it, and she had no idea why. She wasn’t going to help them by identifying it to anyone who happened to ask. And she was determined not to trust just anyone now, not after what had happened in the market. Effie did want to tell Leander who she was and what the ring did, because there was something kind and familiar in his eyes, and she had a feeling he might even be on her side, but she just couldn’t. She shook her head.

  Leander sighed and held out his hand for the caduceus. Effie pushed it towards him. And then, as he reached out and took hold of it, something peculiar happened. While his hand and Effie’s were both on the caduceus, Effie had a momentary feeling of being able to understand anything in the whole world: any book, any language, any person. It was similar to the feeling she’d had on the bus, but stronger, because this time Leander didn’t pull the caduceus from her, and she forgot to let go. In fact, the feeling was so strong that she must have blacked out for a moment. When she opened her eyes, Leander, and his caduceus, were gone.

  On the way home, Terrence insisted on buying gifts for Effie’s family, as he’d decided to invite himself for dinner. He thought the best place to do this was the Esoteric Emporium, so he got the bus driver to drop them off. He promised Effie that once the shopping was done they’d get a taxi back to her house.

  Coach Bruce was still weeping softly at the front of the school bus. His strong, heroic team had won! They had beaten Blessed Bartolo’s! Of course, winning meant promotion to a division filled exclusively with Blessed Bartolo teams, and so he had doomed his players to many months of being cursed, hexed and subject to forms of voodoo that only the worst children can think of. Still, there was great glory in winning, regardless of the actual consequences.

  The Esoteric Emporium was a dusty and dark supermarket that sold almost everything edible or drinkable you can think of that exists in the Realworld and is old or fermented. All old and fermented things have some natural magical power, of course. Unfortunately M-currency dissolves in alcohol, but that didn’t seem to be an issue for Terrence.

  ‘Does your father like wine?’ asked Terrence. ‘I do. I think we’ll have a lovely bottle of this vintage champagne, which we’ll follow with this delightful Chablis and then perhaps this . . .’ He picked up a particularly dusty bottle of red wine. ‘Oh yes,’ he breathed. ‘Thirty years’ bottle age. An excellent gift. Does your father like Margaux? Of course he does. Every living being likes a good Margaux. Do you think your father will mind if I sleep on your sofa? It’s just that I’ve recently had quite a problem with my boiler and . . .’

  As they walked along the aisle containing jars of sauerkraut, miso, kimchi, kombucha and other kinds of fermented vegetable matter, Terrence carried on talking about problems with his boiler and then drifted into his recent medical history. It struck Effie then that although Terrence seemed to want to find out about her, she knew an awful lot more about him.

  They reached the cheese section, and Effie was overwhelmed with the smell. It was as if thousands of boys had all taken their socks off at once and then dangled them in front of her nose.

  ‘And an époisses,’ said Terrence, picking up a round cheese in a wooden box. ‘And a large slab of Stinking Bishop. A very thoughtful gift, Stinking Bishop, I think everyone would agree about that. I am, you realise, a very generous man.’ Terrence’s eyes sort of misted over. ‘I wonder if Skylurian realises that. Do you think . . .’ he began, looking at Effie. ‘Do you think that Skylurian is the most beautiful woman in the world? I do.’ They walked on. ‘Does your father like charcuterie? Ha! Who doesn’t like charcuterie? I suppose not the “darker” charcuterie, although dear Skylurian does love a bag of dried sparrows’ eyeballs. Maybe just a nice salami and some liver sausage.’

  The bill came to over three hundred pounds, which Terrence Deer-Hart handed over in cash.

  ‘Now, where will we find a taxi?’ said Terrence, as they left.

  It was a good question. Old people always moaned about how difficult everything was now, and would reminisce about the days when you could order a taxi using just your phone. Now, after the worldquake, it was not so easy. You could page one of the taxi companies, or go to one of their offices, but there was often a long wait. Mages could usually summon a taxi fairly easily, though, and witches could send out a call via the Cosmic Web. Although, of course, most witches had portable broomsticks and so had limited use for taxis.

  ‘What are you?’ said Effie to Terrence, as they walked down the hill to where he thought a taxi office might be.

  ‘What do you mean, what am I? I’m a famous author,’ he said. ‘And a Capricorn, and um . . .’

  ‘No. What’s your kharakter?’

  ‘Ah. Composer, of course.’ He tossed his long curls. ‘Skylurian analysed me. She thought perhaps I was a bard, like Laurel Wilde – all that classical, archetypal storytelling and so forth – but no; i
t turns out I’m a much more important writer than that. Apparently some writers can be engineers – they are the ones who spend all their time making little models and diagrams of their locations and doing vulgar things like “world-building”. No, I’m a composer.’

  ‘What do composers do?’

  ‘They compose, little flower, they compose. They create the new, the ground-breaking, the innovative. They are the true avant-garde. Do you know what the avant-garde is?’

  Effie shook her head.

  ‘I do,’ said Terrence. ‘It’s . . . Well, it’s when very important artworks are . . . Well, the artworks are very new and original and sometimes French and . . . It’s extremely interesting, anyway.’

  ‘So what have you composed?’ Effie asked.

  ‘My books, of course! Apparently it’s quite rare for a composer to create books. Although when they do, according to Skylurian, they are the greatest and most important books in the world. Some composers make music, or art, or . . .’ He visibly struggled for a moment to think of something else. ‘Other things.’

  ‘Can you do magic?’ asked Effie.

  ‘Of course I can! Yes. Well, more accurately, no. Not currently. Not yet. Although I am to begin learning very soon. Dear Skylurian says I am also a mage, the most magical and powerful of all the kharakters. I must say, it’s an interesting world, once you’ve epiphanised.’

  ‘When did you?’ said Effie. ‘Epiphanise, I mean.’

  ‘I think it was last Tuesday,’ said Terrence. ‘It certainly opens your eyes, I can tell you.’

  ‘And how do you know Skylurian Midzhar?’

  ‘She’s my publisher, little flower. My gorgeous publisher.’