by Andrew Symon
“I am very sorry to report that some cloth has been stolen.” Gilmore avoided looking at any one of the four youngsters. “In all my years of teaching apprentices I have only once had to deal with theft before. This is not something we expect of apprentices here.”
Nonplussed, Jack looked at his colleagues. Freya didn’t look worried, but fidgeted with a square of silk. Doxer was silent, and continued to stare at the table. Only Fenrig dared reply.
“How d’you know? There’s piles of stuff all over this place.”
“The ‘stuff’, as you call it, is expensive, some of it rare.” Gilmore fixed him with his eye. “I have been teaching you how to look after it, to know it and care for it. It would appear that you do not have the qualities to make a good tailor. Now, have you removed any cloths from this workshop?”
Fenrig stared back. “I don’t need your stupid cloths. So what are you going to do about it?”
“I will contact your father and ask him to remove you. It is clear you do not wish to learn this trade.”
“My father’s not going to be pleased if you send me away. Not pleased at all,” sneered Fenrig.
Gilmore paused, evidently weighing this up. Eventually he spoke again. “I will see you first thing tomorrow morning. I suggest you find something else to do until Murkle’s lesson.”
Fenrig sloped off, and the others took their places at the table. Finally, after a strained silence, Gilmore spoke again. “I will not tolerate theft. Is that understood?”
Jack and Freya mumbled assent, and set to work on their cloths.
When Gilmore had gone to his house for lunch, Jack and Freya discussed Fenrig’s dismissal.
“Gilmore will never expel him,” said Freya matter-of-factly. “My dad told me Fenrig’s father and Gilmore go back a long way. Briannan’s supposed to be smart, but Fenrig’s an idiot. He was bound to get caught sooner or later.”
“You know he was stealing?”
“I’ve seen him slipping bits of cloth into his satchel. I’m surprised Gilmore didn’t notice before.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“None of my business,” said Freya casually. “Besides, it’s useful having someone as stupid as him here. Helps distract Gilmore.” She looked at Jack evenly.
Jack examined her face, but couldn’t work out what she had meant by this.
Murkle’s lesson that afternoon lived down to expectations. After an hour and a half of sheer boredom, Murkle dismissed the class, but asked Jack to stay behind. As the last youngster left, Murkle went back to his chair.
“I trust you are not going to be over-ambitious in the matter we discussed?” he asked brusquely.
“Wha–what d’you mean?” Jack tried to look evenly at his tutor, but his voice betrayed him.
“I mean there are things that are the concern of the Congress, not of young apprentices, and you have already meddled with very dangerous people. You may be brave, but do not be stupid.”
“I just want to find my father,” said Jack, turning to the door.
“Jack.” The unexpectedly friendly tone halted Jack in his tracks. “Be careful.”
Jack turned and looked at Murkle, but there was nothing in the tutor’s demeanour to suggest that he had even spoken.
When Jack got home, he reported the story to his grandfather, who shrugged.
“I never could make Murkle out. He’s clever enough, but completely without charm. But if push came to shove, I’m sure he’d be on the right side.”
“Gilmore thinks Fenrig’s been stealing,” said Jack. “He’s threatened to expel him.”
“As you know, the Congress has its reasons for allowing Fenrig to be here. For a start, it allows the Brashat to think they’ve achieved something. And you can keep an eye on him.”
“He disappears after class. I don’t know where he goes.”
“Nevertheless, keep a close watch on him. I’ve heard he speaks carelessly; you might learn a great deal.”
Jack pondered this. “When are we going travelling, Grandpa? You said we could go and find out things.”
“Equinox is at the end of next week. The time will be right then. In the meantime, see if Daid can throw any light on the Cup. Remember it’s called the King’s Chalice in some stories.”
However, Jack was to get no chance to ask Daid any questions, for his teacher was mysteriously absent on the Thursday when the apprentices met outside his house.
“How’re you getting on with your book?” asked Purdy as she and Jack walked slowly back down the square.
“It’s too long, I should’ve chosen something shorter. Bits are interesting, but it just goes on and on.”
“Mine’s not bad. This rich lady kept a diary when she went travelling around the north lands. She even talks about some of the humans who mixed with the Shian. I think that’s why Daid has the book.”
Jack’s ears pricked up. “I didn’t know the humans were that interested in us.”
“Not many are. You can borrow the book if you like. I’ve nearly finished it.”
“No thanks,” said Jack. “I’ve got enough to read with my book.”
The next few days passed slowly. Fenrig continued to appear at Gilmore’s, but nothing more was said about his presence or the stolen cloths. Jack couldn’t concentrate. He was itching to get away again, to feel the fresh air on his face. It made him feel free. Being cooped up wasn’t helping his mood, and he snapped frequently. Rana and Lizzie’s attempt at a simple levitation hex was met with a withering retort, and Aunt Katie’s encouragement to finish his meals only brought on grumpiness.
After what felt like the longest week of his life, the day of the autumn equinox and the trip to Keldy finally arrived. Jack’s heart raced at the thought of the ‘little walk in the woods’ Grandpa had planned for the boys.
Doonya led Katie and the girls to the low road mound. Jack watched as his uncle’s cloak enveloped the small group, and then witnessed the spinning that seemed to start from under the cloak before all four disappeared.
“Us next,” said Grandpa, and the three of them stepped onto the mound.
“Wind-flock Keldy.”
The others were waiting for them. Rana, grinning widely, had clearly enjoyed the journey. Lizzie looked peaky, but seemed determined not to give this away.
“Come on, they’ll be waiting for us at the house,” said Katie.
The group of seven made their way along the path, and soon found themselves in the big house.
“Oh, it’s good to see you,” beamed Aunt Dorcas. “It seems like ages since you were here.”
“Only three months,” said Rana. “Just after midsummer. Can you show Lizzie and me how you do your baking?”
Petros looked questioningly at Jack. His sisters were not usually so keen on domestic affairs.
“Are you two feeling all right?” he asked, only half-jokingly.
“Oh yes,” said Rana nonchalantly “I’m sure you’ve got things to do. We’ll just get on with some home cooking. We can have things ready for when you get back.”
This sounded suspiciously keen to Petros and Jack, but Aunt Katie was delighted. “Oh good,” she said. “We can do all sorts while the men are away.”
“We’d better be going,” said Hart.
The others followed him, and within minutes were heading into the woods.
“Are you sure you know where she is?” asked Doonya.
“A grig told me two days ago,” replied Ossian. “She collects roots at equinox by the big hawthorn. I told the grig to pass word that you’d be comin’.”
“How many did you say there would be?” enquired Grandpa.
“I didn’t say a number, just that Jack from Rangie and some family would be there.”
“What?! You mentioned Jack by name?” demanded Doonya.
“She’s met him before. I thought that made sense,” replied Ossian huffily.
“The last time she met him she tried to give him some kind of potion,” poi
nted out Grandpa. “And it wasn’t hawberry juice.”
They walked on in silence. Suddenly a buzzing noise was heard, and a grig flew in and made towards Hart. The tiny creature perched on his shoulder, and a whispered conversation took place.
“What is it?” asked Grandpa as the grig flew off.
“It’s Dorcas. Something’s happened at the house. I’d better go back.” Hart turned to Ossian. “You take care, you hear? Don’t be taking unnecessary risks.”
24
Equinox
After several minutes they came to the clearing where they had waited on their previous visit.
“She’ll send a grig when she’s ready,” announced Ossian. He sat down and began pulling pieces of twine into snares.
Jack leant against a tree stump and started to peel bark off the dead wood. Petros, quickly bored, began stamping on dead branches. Sitting around in the woods was not his idea of fun, and he mused longingly on Edinburgh’s many attractions.
They had waited about twenty minutes when Jack thought he heard a rustling and a low giggle behind him. He turned round, but saw nothing unusual. Ossian stood up and stretched. He began whistling, tunelessly. After a couple of minutes of this low monotonous sound, Doonya snapped, “Can’t you be quiet?!”
“I’m callin’ someone,” Ossian shrugged, and resumed his whistling. Within seconds, a small antelope-like creature had emerged from the trees, making a soft purring noise.
Jack looked at the animal. Like a roe deer in shape, it had a strange mixture of colours – brown, red, grey, yellow – and a small horn between its eyes. He whispered to Petros, “What is it? It’s too small for a unicorn.”
“Tappa, Kirin,” said Ossian soothingly. He turned to the others. “This is the Kirin. He’s come to say the History Pool waters are disturbed.”
Grandpa turned with interest. “Indeed. I have myself only once seen them in that state. How far off are they?”
“About a mile. I’ve never seen them like this before. Who wants to come?”
“We have to see Tamlina,” said Doonya urgently. “Who knows when we’ll get another chance?”
Grandpa Sandy, evidently torn between two impulses, reflected for a moment, then said, “Pierre, you go with Ossian and watch the waters. They may have something to tell us.”
“All right. But if there’s not much happening when we get there, I’m coming back.”
Once Ossian and Doonya had followed the Kirin into the woods, Jack turned to his grandfather.
“Grandpa, where’d that creature come from? I’ve never seen one before.”
“The Kirin come from Japan. They’re said to bring judgement – punishment and reward. I’ve never seen one before, either. Young Ossian certainly has a way with creatures.”
“What’s the History Pool?” asked Petros.
“It’s a pool which reveals stories from the past. When the circumstances are right, the waters get ruffled; when they clear, they reveal pictures of mysteries. There’s no knowing what it may tell, but it’s certainly worth investigating.”
“Is it like that time your simul–simul-something …”
“Simulacrum?”
Jack nodded. In his mind’s eye he could see again the tableau of silent figures as they played out the history of the Stone.
“No, Jack. Those pictures showed what I could remember. But sometimes what you think is true isn’t true at all. My memories created those pictures, and memories can distort. The History Pool only ever shows the truth. Now, I wish that enchantress would let us speak to her.”
After what seemed like ages, a flurry of tiny wings heralded another grig. It flew up to Grandpa and perched on his shoulder. He took out a tiny biscuit from his pocket and gave it to the creature.
“We can proceed,” he said quietly to the two boys. “But carefully, all right? I am not altogether certain that we can trust Tamlina. We are to follow the path to the west.”
The barely visible path was not the one the boys had used in their earlier encounter. They walked on in silence for several minutes, when an abrupt voice commanded them, “Halt!”
Obediently, they all stopped. After a pause, the voice resumed.
“Did ye think ye could trick me, Sandy o’ the Stone? I will not be made a fool of.”
Grandpa Sandy looked perplexed. “Tamlina,” he said, “we mean no harm, and we have attempted no trickery.”
Tamlina’s form appeared in front of them. She looked as she had the first time Jack had seen her: black-cloaked, her dirty hair fell down over her face and shoulders.
“I sense five o’ ye,” she said slowly. “Where are the ithers?”
“They went to investigate the History Pool,” explained Grandpa. “The Kirin told our companions that the waters were disturbed.”
Tamlina’s eyes narrowed. “Very well,” she said warily, “whit is’t ye wish tae know?”
Jack was relieved to see that there was no potion brewing nearby. He saw too that Tamlina wore the Triple-S ring on her finger. Nudging Petros, he indicated her hand with his head.
“You know well that we have been the Watchers of the Stone for many years. Manuscripts have been found that talk of the Stone and other treasures. We wish to know about the King’s Chalice, and of a magical sphere. Also,” and at this Grandpa looked cautiously at Jack and Petros, “we wish to find out about Gosol.”
Petros looked up. That was the name he had heard his father and grandfather mention back under the castle. Tamlina appeared to consider this request for a while.
“There’s little mystery aboot the King’s Chalice,” she said eventually. “The answer’s under the castle. Did ye not realise that these matters concern the humans too? Ye should seek yer expert on human concerns.”
Then, in a slow chanting voice, she intoned, “As the moon shall rise on the Eve of All Hallows, so is revealed the great King’s Chalice.”
Her eyes had glazed over for a brief moment while she chanted, but this quickly passed, and she resumed speaking. “The Sphere will be revealed in the fullness o’ time. And Gosol is the key tae all three treasures. Oor destiny is mixed up wi’ all o’ creation.”
“You mean the humans?” demanded Petros.
“Foolish child!” A bolt emerged from Tamlina’s right hand, and Petros fell, stunned.
Jack shrank back instinctively as Grandpa Sandy drew his sceptre and prepared to return fire, but Tamlina fell back herself with an audible gasp. She sat on the ground for a moment, wheezing softly. Getting awkwardly to her feet, she moved forward and helped Petros up again. Grandpa lowered his sceptre, watching her carefully.
“Ye made me lose my temper, young man,” she said in a calm voice. “In times past ye might niver have walked again. But times are changin’, and some o’ the old ways are goin’. Dae ye forgive me?”
Jack and his grandfather were almost as stunned as Petros had been. For an enchantress to carry out a punishment and then ask for forgiveness was unheard of. Petros’s mouth opened and shut, but no words came out. Grandpa Sandy rescued the situation.
“Tamlina, this is most charitable. Petros should have held his tongue. To ask his forgiveness astonishes us. Might I ask why this change has come about?”
Tamlina looked at him intently. “Sandy o’ the Stone, I think ye ken the answer tae that. The manuscripts ye hae seen talk o’ Gosol, do they not?” Grandpa Sandy inclined his head. “And ye ken that Gosol binds together all o’ creation.”
The quizzical looks of Grandpa and the others prompted her to continue.
“In the heavens, and on the earth, and under the earth, all o’ creation meets. My Raglan telt me that. And Shian and human can mix. But be warned: it’s a blessin’, and a curse.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” blurted Jack.
“But Gosol resolves all such. Look again at all the papers under the castle. If ye seek, ye will fin’ the Cup; that may lead ye tae the Sphere. In the fullness o’ time ye may discern creation’s mystery.”
&
nbsp; Seeing that Jack was clearly bursting to speak, Grandpa looked hard at him and shook his head slowly, but Jack stepped forward and raised his hand. His blue eye burned fiercely, and he looked Tamlina directly in the face. She stared back, her mouth half smiling.
“Yer eyes are distinctive, young man. I believe we have met before?”
“I–I have been here before,” stammered Jack, “to find out about my father, Phineas of Rangie. But can I ask one question?”
Tamlina nodded assent.
“Your ring: what does it mean?”
Tamlina paused, and looked down at the large ring.
“Good things come in threes,” she said, then paused. Then, in a sing-song voice she chanted:
A Frenchman’s great cup was elsewhere besides,
Its fortunes beset by warfare and tides,
A king’s chosen vessel, a thief’s brief reward,
Its future determined by fire and by sword.
Tamlina paused again, then mumbled, “I tire. Soon ye may fin’ the Cup. But be warned, for ithers seek it. Young Jack, perhaps ye ha’e already met Konan o’ the Brashat? Saddux like him will fight ye. And ye will never fin’ them forgivin’. Tak’ ye this ram’s horn. One night it may help ye tae summon allies in yer quest.”
She handed Jack a polished ram’s horn, with a small mouth-piece at one end.
“Tak’ care. The winnin’ o’ the Chalice will demand brave hearts.”
With that Tamlina faded from their eyes.
“That hurt,” Petros grumbled, rubbing his chest.
“What was that about Konan the Brashat? I’ve never met him.” Jack’s mind raced. “And what kind of allies will a ram’s horn bring? She was so different this time. I mean, I know she zapped Petros, but then she apologised. Why would she do that, Grandpa?”
“Times are changing,” frowned Grandpa. “And we may not have much time to find out what we need. If the Brashat are after the Cup, then we must hurry.”
He set off briskly back the way they had come.
“She talked of the Raglan again, Grandpa,” said Jack, panting slightly as he tried to keep up.
