by Andrew Symon
Jack had no time to be surprised. The spinning and the loud drone started and finished so quickly that he had barely time to register where they were going. He was still feeling giddy as Grandpa Sandy lowered his cloak. The Cos-Howe entrance chamber was well lit this time, with a dozen burning torches on the wall.
“The meeting’s here?” exclaimed Petros.
“The Congress meets as circumstances dictate,” replied Grandpa, leading them towards the great wooden door. “I believe some senior Shian wish to impress on the Cos-Howe contingent that the Congress is in charge.”
Jack saw that the tables that had been there on their previous visit had disappeared. Instead, one long wooden table at the far end faced them. Behind this were twelve high-backed wooden chairs, at which sat the Shian Congress.
They’ve all got the same cloak as Grandpa.
Starting at the left end, Jack saw Murkle and Rowan, conversing earnestly. Next to them sat a similarly old woman, whose wispy grey hair sprouted from underneath a small felt hat; then two gnomes, feverishly whispering with one other. Then an empty chair and an imposing throne, then two more empty chairs. Then a tall black woman with grey hair and a piercing gaze, who sat tapping her fingers rapidly on the table; then a Darrig who glowered as the group entered. Next to him, a hunched old man sat silently, his face hidden by his cloak hood. Jack tried to assess how friendly or hostile each would be.
The tall black woman stood up and indicated silently to Grandpa Sandy to join the table. As he moved to take an empty seat, he patted each youngster reassuringly on the shoulder.
Atholmor and Samara entered from a side door. Atholmor’s cloak was a slightly brighter shade of green, but he wore the same dark tri-cornered hat as Grandpa. Everyone stood in silence until Atholmor had taken the throne, and Samara the seat between Grandpa and Armina, leaving vacant the seat to Atholmor’s right.
Doonya went to the side of the great chamber, while Aunt Katie remained with the youngsters, facing the table.
“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “Just answer the questions, and we’ll soon be out of here.”
Jack noted that Cosmo was standing near Doonya, but that they were pointedly ignoring each other. Cosmo nodded silently at Jack, which made him feel a little better.
Atholmor tapped the table.
“This special meeting of the Congress is convened to hear from these young people.”
“They have been meddling in things that should not concern them.” Murkle rose from his chair. “In my day an apprentice would have been cast into iron for consorting with an enchantress.”
“What do you mean, ‘consorting’?” shouted the tall black woman.
“Please, Armina, Murkle, let us have order!” said Atholmor firmly. “These young people are not on trial. We merely wish to discover what they know.” He faced the small group. “We understand that you were taken to see Tamlina, and that she drank some potion. We wish to know what she said while in a trance.”
Jack moved confidently forward. “Tamlina only let me and Rana and Lizzie go with her. She drank her broth and went into a daze. She was mumbling something about my father and a Brashat trying to trick each other. Then she chanted about ‘sphere and silver’, and ‘the Seat of Power’. That was it.”
He stepped back to join the others.
The figure at the far right now removed the hood from his head. Jack looked up, and shuddered as he recognised the man who had looked in at Daid’s window. The man’s face had a long scar from below his right ear to the corner of his mouth, giving his face a sinister lopsided look.
“These children are mixing in dangerous company. Soon we’ll have Brashat swarming all over because of them. They must be kept where they cannot put us all at risk – under lock and key, or else banished.”
“Please, Finbogie, I have asked for good sense to prevail. I am aware that the Brashat have an interest in these matters, and like you I am keen not to let them too close to our secrets.”
“What secrets?” snorted Murkle. “With these children meddling, nothing will remain secret for long.”
“There is no doubt that these youngsters are well intentioned.” Rowan’s gentle voice was a heartening change from Murkle’s. “I am sure that we would like to know what they have learned.”
Jack relaxed. At least some of the Congress was on their side.
“What exactly did Tamlina say about ‘sphere and silver’?” Atholmor spoke firmly.
Jack looked back at Rana and Lizzie. “If … if sphere and silver they would gain …” He paused, unable to recollect the rest.
“The Seat of Power they would win,” concluded Rana promptly.
“Attain,” Lizzie corrected her. “It’s ‘they would attain’, not ‘they would win’.”
“Same difference,” said Rana huffily.
“Thank you, young ladies,” said Atholmor. “Now, she mentioned a Brashat by name, is that right?”
“That’s right. Konan,” replied Jack. “She said him and my father were travelling through Keldy trying to trick each other.”
“Tamlina will have killed them both,” said Finbogie with what might have been a satisfied look. “She’s not to be trusted.”
“Thank you, Finbogie,” said Atholmor evenly. “That does not help us.” Turning back to the youngsters, he continued, “Now I also understand that you saw a ring on Tamlina’s hand. Could you describe it?”
Aunt Katie stepped forward and placed Rana’s sketch of the pattern on the table. Atholmor inspected this, then passed it along towards Murkle, who sat silently at the end.
“Murkle, I don’t recognise this symbol, and yet it is clearly important, or Tamlina would not have worn such a ring.”
As the Shian history expert, Murkle was evidently the one to consult. His frown changed to a look of expectation. As the piece of paper reached him, he grasped it eagerly, but the anticipation on his face died almost immediately. Eventually, and with a heavy heart, he admitted, “I do not know this symbol. I do not believe it to be Shian.”
A buzz ran along the length of the table. Atholmor leant towards Grandpa Sandy and whispered in his ear. Grandpa continued to stare ahead of him, and nodded slowly. Jack looked across at Aunt Katie, who shrugged her shoulders. After a moment, Atholmor spoke again.
“We need to consider this. If the symbol is not Shian, we must find out its significance.”
“What do they know about the King’s Cup?” demanded Finbogie.
“It’s a piece of Dameve trickery,” said the old woman with the shawl. “The Cup was stolen from us, and the fools have lost it.”
“Thank you, Ban-Eye, please do not insult our human neighbours in that way, particularly with the young people here.” Atholmor once again spoke firmly, emphasising his authority. He looked at Petros. “Now, you went to France where you saw the Cup, is that right?”
“It was just a fiery outline,” said Petros. “It disappeared when the French captain tried to grab it. Everyone laughed then, like they knew it would happen.”
Atholmor turned now to Cosmo, who had remained silently standing by the side wall. “Is that right? The cup is just an imitation?”
“There’s no secret about it,” said Cosmo, stepping forward. “We play for the fiery cup every year. The real Cup disappeared long ago – everyone knows that.”
“But is there anything distinguishing about this replica?” asked Atholmor.
“It’s just a goblet. It’s got some funny symbols across the base of the bowl.”
“Like Tamlina’s ring,” shouted Rana. “It’s the same pattern! They’re all the way round the bowl …” Her voice trailed off as she saw the look of astonishment on the faces of the Congress members.
“What?!” shouted the old woman with the shawl. “That’s a lie. The Cup is Shian, and those Dameves have added something to it. Just let them come to my woods – I’ll show them what terror is.”
“Ban-Eye, I have asked that that language is not used here,” said Atholmo
r wearily. “We are the Congress, the Seelie Court, and we have certain standards to maintain.”
“And where have your standards got us, Atholmor?” challenged Finbogie. “The Brashat disrupt the Seventh, you tolerate them having one of their boys as an apprentice under the castle and we suspect they are after the Stone, and yet you do nothing about it. It’s time we sent them packing.”
“Finbogie, as you well know we have our reasons for allowing the Brashat boy to study under the castle,” said Atholmor with a sigh.
“You would have a war with the Unseelie, is that it, Finbogie?” Murkle spoke in an even voice. “Do you need reminding of what happens when the Shian fight each other?”
“Atholmor, these discussions should not be in front of the children.” Samara spoke for the first time, and there was a moment’s silence along the table. Jack had been watching this debate develop with a mixture of fascination and misgiving. The Congress was the most important body of Shian in this part of the country, and here they were, arguing like … well, like children.
Atholmor reflected for a moment then beckoned Doonya forward, who bent down so that Atholmor could whisper in his ear. Jack saw his grandfather nod at Doonya, who then turned and paced towards the youngsters.
“We’ll wait outside a while,” he announced, shepherding them back towards the large wooden door.
“Is Cosmo staying, then?” asked Petros.
“Cosmo’s got some information about the Cup.”
“He’s said all he knows,” said Rana dismissively as they left the great chamber, “and that wasn’t much. Honestly, he didn’t even know about the Cup’s markings, and he’s seen it loads of times.”
“The Cup was just a symbol to him, he knew it wasn’t real,” pointed out Jack. “So what do those spiral shapes mean anyway, if you’re so clever?”
“I don’t know,” retorted Rana, “but they’re important, aren’t they, Dad?”
“Yes, they are,” replied Doonya. “Now, we’ll just wait here until we’re called back.”
“Does the Congress always argue like that?” said Jack.
“You’ve caught the Congress at a difficult time,” answered Doonya evasively. “It’s like Grandpa said: things are changing, and not everyone likes that.”
“Grandpa said the Cup tells secrets of life and death. And anyway, humans don’t think death is the end. They go on living somewhere else afterwards,” said Jack.
Jack gasped for breath as Rana, looking daggers at him, dug him sharply with her elbow, and he realised that his aunt was wiping tears from her eyes. Doonya had put his arm around Katie’s shoulders, and Lizzie was hugging her waist. Jack looked at Petros, who shrugged, as if to say, “What did I tell you?”
“Not all the humans believe that,” said his uncle. “Even for those who do, death can be frightening.”
“How come Fenrig’s allowed under the castle?” Jack tried to change the subject.
Doonya pulled at his earlobe. While aware that Atholmor had alluded to certain reasons for Fenrig’s presence, he evidently didn’t want to give more away. His unease was helped by Grandpa Sandy opening the wooden door and beckoning them all back in.
As they took their places facing the table, Atholmor spoke. “My young friends, I am sorry that you have not seen us in better circumstances. We have to steer a course in troubled waters. Cosmo here has explained the story of the fiery cup, but he is unable to tell us what patterns were on this symbol.”
“We didn’t get a good look at the cup. It disappeared when the French captain tried to grab it,” said Jack.
“Tamlina mentioned devils from Adam’s race too,” said Rana. “And someone else, ‘the Grey’, she said.”
“The Grey!” shrieked Finbogie dramatically. “That’s all we need. She’ll have joined forces with the Brashat. We must take action.”
There was renewed muttering and chatter along the length of the table.
“If there’s work to be done with the Grey,” said Armina, her eyes sparkling fiercely, “then I will do it.”
“Thank you, Armina,” said Atholmor firmly. “But first, let us conclude with these young people. Can you tell us anything else about what Tamlina said?”
“When she woke up, she mentioned a stone. Rag-something.”
There was a pause while the Congress members looked blankly at each other. Finally, Atholmor spoke.
“It’ll have been one of her charm stones; she must have hundreds. Was there nothing else?”
The four youngsters looked at each other, then, feeling that they had nothing new to add, Jack said, “No, sir.”
“Thank you for coming along tonight. You have brought us important information. Now maybe your uncle and aunt can take you home. Thank you, Cosmo, you may also go now.”
23
Matters of Life and Theft
Back at the house, everyone flopped down into the chairs in the front room. Only Rana had not been overawed by the evening’s events.
“We’d done nothing wrong,” she reasoned. “And they said we helped.”
“Finbogie was horrible,” said Rana. “Why do old people get like that?”
“He can be quite fierce,” said Doonya. “You saw his scar? He got that battling a Dunter, long ago.”
“He said we should be banished,” said Petros heatedly. “That’s not fierce, that’s mean. I’ll get him one day.”
“That’s enough, Petros!” snapped Doonya. “We’re all on the same side.”
Petros muttered under his breath.
“What about Armina?” said Lizzie. “She said she’d take on ‘the Grey’. That’s brave, isn’t it?”
“Who’s ‘the Grey’?” asked Jack. “I never understood that bit.”
“The Grey’s been around for centuries,” said Katie. “She’s like an enchantress, only more powerful. And dangerous. A lot of people – Shian and human – end up dead if they get too close to her.”
“I’m sorry for talking about humans dying,” said Jack. “I’d forgotten it upsets you.”
“That’s all right, Jack dear. I think we’d better explain a few things to you. Let me get some juice and biscuits for you all.”
Once they had their refreshments, Katie began.
“You all know that humans don’t live as long as Shian. And my father wasn’t very old when he died. Petros, I know Daid teaches you about this: what’s one of the big differences between Shian and humans?”
Petros thought for a moment. “You mean, how they think about death? Well, Shian can live for hundreds of years, but when they die no one knows what happens. Dad’s told me about the island, where some people think they go.”
“That’s right. Nanog,” said Katie. “We don’t know if it’s true, because if Shian do go there, they never come back. Some, like the Brashat, don’t believe in that at all. They believe that when we die, that’s it, nothing.”
“So nobody really knows?” said Rana incredulously. “Why’s everybody so upset, then?”
“Because of all this talk of the Cup, and its power over life and death,” said her father patiently. “That’s a prize Shian will fight for, but the Stone has not brought us the strength we thought it would.”
“You heard Tamlina talking of a sphere too, isn’t that right?” said Katie.
“What’s that got to do with dying?”
“The manuscripts tell of a great power when three treasures come together,” said Katie. “We have the Stone; the fiery cup has reawakened interest in the real Cup, because whoever has that might be able to control death. If you add in the Sphere showing your true path – that’s a powerful combination.”
The silence was broken by Grandpa appearing at the door of the front room.
“All here? I thought the young ones might have gone to bed.”
“We were just discussing the three treasures,” said Doonya. “They need to know what we’re up against.”
“You have certainly helped the Congress tonight.” Grandpa Sandy looked
at the four youngsters keenly. “We must find the Cup, and the Sphere if we can, and bring them here, where they’ll be safe.”
“Safe from who?” demanded Petros.
“From those Unseelie who would wish to control life and death. For us, and the humans,” replied Grandpa evenly.
“So what do we do now?” asked Jack.
“You continue your studies. Perhaps you can discover the whereabouts of these treasures.”
“We’re just apprentices,” said Petros plaintively. “Shouldn’t the Congress be doing that?”
“He’s right,” said Katie to Doonya. “They’re too young to be taking this on. They should leave things to the Congress.”
“Although a strong Congress is needed to keep the Unseelie parts of the country in check, as you saw, the Congress is not as united as it should be,” said Grandpa.
“Then what chance have we got?” demanded Petros.
“You have lessons with Daid, don’t you? The secret may be there. Or indeed with Murkle and his tales.”
Jack groaned at this. “What have the manuscripts told us so far about the Cup?” he asked. “The replica’s no use.”
“The manuscripts talk of a human journey with the Cup.” Doonya stood up. “A journey to a cave, and death followed it. If we can find the cave, we may get somewhere.”
Over the weekend Grandpa, Doonya, Jack and Petros sat huddled in the front room, discussing where the cave might be, but without inspiration or success. Rana and Lizzie protested that it was unfair to exclude them, and their mother’s attempts to entice them out for a shopping expedition along the High Street were met with scorn. Mealtimes were sullen affairs.
As Jack and Petros set off for their workshops on Monday morning, Rana’s voice called after them. “Don’t you worry about us, we’ll be fine, stuck here with nothing to do all day. You go off and enjoy yourselves.”
Petros gave Jack a resigned look, and turned into Cormac’s house. As Jack neared Gilmore’s workshop, he saw the tailor standing by the door.
“Come in,” he said, but without his usual good humour.
Jack looked quizzically at Freya, who just shrugged. Fenrig and Doxer stood beside her, both looking down at their feet.
