by Cliff McNish
As Jarius watched the youngsters, it seemed that they might have stayed in their crouched position forever if they had been allowed. But an adult Gridda prodded them forward. Awkwardly, trying to fend off the adult, the infants were hurried towards the entrance of Heebra’s tower. Their spiders hurried after them, not wanting to be left behind. Bounding in long leaps, the infants bent their backs low, tunnel-fashion. It never occurred to them to check how high the eye-tower was. In the tunnels there was rarely any reason to look up.
The last of the infants were pushed inside the tower entrance. The pounding of their bodies reverberated through the stone as they made their way up the enormous stairway.
‘What are you going to do with them?’ Jarius asked.
‘I am going to test them, of course,’ answered Gultrathaca.
Jarius glanced across. ‘Test them how?’
‘I want to see how quickly newborns can be made to adjust. I intend to bring them to the eye-window and throw them out.’
‘What? But they can’t fly. They don’t know how yet!’
The infants were closer. Jarius could hear their fearful, confused chatter. The first watcher spiders, baby-sized like the infants they belonged to, preceded their arrival. They called back, warning their owners about the strange green light of the window.
‘It is unfair to ask them so soon,’ Jarius protested.
Gultrathaca shattered the eye-window. Shards of glass and ice showered the chamber, blown back by the wind. ‘I agree,’ she said. ‘That is why I have prepared you, Jarius. I want you to show them how it can be done. I want you to jump first.’
3
Countries
Without Borders
‘Rachel, skip the tourist run and do some proper flying,’ Eric complained.
‘Why don’t you just relax? Take it easy. Enjoy the sights.’
‘I’ve seen the sights.’
‘Speed,’ she groaned. ‘Is that all you get excited about?’
‘What else is there?’
With Eric loosely hitched on her back, Rachel cruised over the Himalayas. Below them some of Earth’s tallest mountains offered alluring views of their frozen tips: K2, Nanga Parbat, the majestic precipices of the Annapurna range. Rachel breathed in the coldness, cherishing the winds gusting through her hair.
Above Makalu, the Earth’s fifth highest summit, she found children plunging feet first. As their bodies impacted the north face, a great sheet of snow broke away. Gleefully they rode the avalanche, racing each other down the slopes.
‘I think we can match that,’ Rachel said. ‘Ready for a dare?’
‘Yeah. Why not!’
Rachel immediately dived towards the nearest ridge. As her trajectory spells took charge Eric attempted to keep his cool. ‘OK, tell me when,’ Rachel said. ‘Don’t mess up, now.’
Eric tried to calculate how long before they hit the ridge – but they were travelling too swiftly.
‘I can’t … slow down … now!’ he bawled, screwing up his eyes.
Rachel deliberately waited. At the last possible second her manoeuvring spells kicked in. She dragged her shoes against the slope, showering Eric with ice particles.
‘Very funny,’ he muttered.
‘Too fast for you, eh?’
‘I wasn’t scared a bit,’ Eric said stiffly, wiping the ice and snow from the hood of his parka. ‘Do it again if you like. See if I care.’
‘Later, maybe. Let’s check out what’s going on at the other peaks first.’
Rachel returned eastwards, swooping over the Everest region. The fittest of adults had failed to climb a handful of these mountains, but children had conquered them all. As Rachel flew by Everest itself, there were hundreds circling the summit. Some carried adult relatives or helped friends whose magic was not strong enough to reach this altitude on their own. Many of the world’s best flyers were here on this day of near-perfect visibility. One was a teenage girl. She plunged and rose at will in the thin air, and then returned to a crèche of toddlers to show them, more slowly, how she had done so.
‘What about the prapsies?’ asked Eric, seeing no one he recognized. ‘I thought you were taking us to see the boys.’
‘Let’s stop off for a tan first.’
Eric shrugged. ‘Where? The Caribbean?’
‘Maybe.’
Rachel changed direction and gave control to her shifting spells, heading west.
‘Florida Bay,’ she announced, as they arrived.
They were a long way from shore, perhaps four miles. A few adults were dotted about, churning the surface in their pleasure boats, but they were outnumbered. In these warm latitudes the waters abounded with children. They did not require boats. Their magic allowed them to swim directly with the life of the sea. As Rachel looked on, she saw boys following dolphins, half in and half out of the surf. Two girls were arching their backs, shadowing a group of hunting barracuda.
‘Hey, what’s he doing?’ Eric called out.
A slim boy was out alone amongst the waves. With smooth underwater kicks he followed a broken fishing line. The line led to a marlin, twisting on a barb. The boy caught the thrashing head of the marlin, held it steady and wrenched out the hook. Eric gave him a salute. Seeing this, the boy saluted back, then broke from the waters and headed further out to sea.
Rachel followed him for a while. There were fewer children this far from shore, but an exclusive few specialized in underwater spells. They were able to dive down to the pits and trenches at the bottom of the world.
‘Deepers!’ Rachel called out, craning her neck. ‘Way down! Right under us!’
Over a mile below, the deepers were holding onto the flukes of sperm whales, hoping to witness an encounter with giant squid. Rachel’s information spells reported that among the diving children was a magical signature she knew. It belonged to a little French boy whose rainbow she had once spoiled on a hot summer’s day.
She smiled, shifting back over land.
Amongst the steaming sawgrasses of the Florida Everglades, they passed over a baby petting the crusty hide of an alligator. Nearby some brothers were chasing raccoons up a tree, giving the animals a head start.
Typical sights.
There were youngsters here from all parts of the world. The national borderlines between countries had never meant much to children, and now they meant nothing at all.
Eric laughed, seeing a small girl. ‘How would you like to try that, Rach?’
The girl was hunkered down in the dry dirt next to a diamondback rattlesnake. The snake had been minding its own business, but the girl wanted to play. Planting her elbows on the ground, she nudged the snake’s slatted mouth with her nose – daring it to strike.
‘Too easy,’ Rachel replied.
‘You’re joking!’
‘Only one snake, and not especially poisonous.’ She glanced around for a new direction to take.
‘Let’s move on,’ Eric said, and, as he guided her around Florida, Rachel soon knew why.
A thin boy in shorts and a dirty long-sleeved shirt stood in the shallows of the Okeechobee river.
‘A spectrum.’ Eric whispered the name in awe.
Rachel alighted in the muddy waters and walked over to the boy. As they approached the boy took no notice of them. He kept so still, so perfectly still, that his ankles made no ripples whatsoever.
‘They’re so rare,’ Rachel said. ‘I’ve never been this close to a spectrum before.’
‘It’s their leader,’ Eric remarked. ‘It’s Albertus Robertson himself.’
‘Is it? Are you sure?’
‘I know them all.’
‘How? They all look similar to me.’
Eric shook his head. ‘No, Rachel, they don’t.’
Albertus Robertson was a sensitive-looking boy, around ten years old, with light brown eyes. His hair was a long, straggly mess, clearly not brushed for weeks. Like all spectrums, he was slightly short for his age, with the usual abstracted gaze. In all other ways
Albertus resembled any other child, except for one extraordinary feature: his ears. They were unnaturally wide and thin, several sizes too large, almost comical. Hinged on a specialized joint no child had ever possessed before, the ear could turn flexibly in all directions. As Rachel watched Albertus Robertson, she perceived a tiny rotation; his head moved. The motion was so small that only her spells detected it, not her eyes. It was a precise movement – a single degree of arc – as he scanned a pre-selected segment of the sky.
Rachel murmured, ‘Seems as if Albertus hasn’t bothered to wash or take care of himself lately.’
‘He’s probably got better things to do.’
‘Like what?’ Rachel hoped Albertus could not hear her. ‘What’s he looking for out here?’
‘I don’t know, Rach. Albertus doesn’t either. That’s what’s so interesting about the spectrums. None of them has a clue what they’re doing it for. There’re dozens of them around the world, just gazing all day at the sky.’
For a while Rachel watched Albertus Robertson, but there was no change in his unnerving stillness. Even in a world now filled with unusual children, the spectrums were different. They were the only ones who had changed physically. Before the Awakening they had looked and behaved like anyone else. Following it, their ears developed within days, along with their silence and lack of movement.
‘They can’t fly or do the simplest spells,’ Eric told Rachel.
‘I’ve heard they don’t even talk.’
‘I think you’re wrong about that. Everyone is. They might not talk to us, but they talk to each other – or they’re going to.’
Rachel glanced sharply at Eric. ‘How do you know that?’
‘I’m not sure, it’s just a hunch.’ He could hardly take his eyes off Albertus Robertson.
‘A hunch? No, there’s something else going on between you and the spectrums,’ Rachel said. ‘You’re always noticing things about them no one else does. Albertus has never been identified as their leader. How can you know he is?’
Eric shrugged.
‘The spectrums don’t even meet,’ Rachel said. ‘Surely they don’t have a leader. They’re all loners.’
‘They don’t meet yet, Rach. I think that’s going to change as well.’
As Eric said this Albertus Robertson cocked his head. He stared at Eric, intrigued. A spectrum had not been known to do this before. They never reacted to another human presence. For a moment Albertus’s placid brown eyes lingered on Eric, then his head whisked back to its former position.
Deeply affected by what had just happened, Eric said, ‘There’s something else about the spectrums, too. Thrillseekers like to hang around them.’
‘Thrill-seekers! Are you serious?’ Thrill-seeker was the general term given to the most reckless children, always pushing their magic to dangerous extremes. To Rachel, the contrast between those daredevils of magic and the passive spectrums was ludicrous.
Eric said, ‘Surprising, eh? I can’t imagine what they’ve got in common, but something’s going on. I’ll bet there’s a thrill-seeker round here somewhere. In fact, I know there is.’
Now that Eric had mentioned it, Rachel could detect another magical presence nearby, though keeping out of sight.
‘Anyway, let’s leave Albertus in peace,’ Eric said, dragging his gaze away. ‘He enjoys his peace and quiet, old Albertus.’
‘How do you know that?’ Rachel demanded, exasperated.
‘Dunno, just do.’ He prodded her. ‘What about the prapsies? You promised! Have you forgotten again?’
Rachel said, ‘No, I’ve just been putting it off. For as long as possible.’
‘Ah, you know you love the boys really, Rach!’
‘Mmm.’ With a final glance at Albertus Robertson, she shifted.
They reappeared over southern Italy. Local children were plunging in and out of the Vesuvius volcano, but Rachel’s destination was different. She alighted in bustling Naples. Eric was happy to be on the ground and, for a time, on foot, both of them simply explored the narrow twisting roads of the city. They passed a chic jewellery shop, extremely expensive.
‘Look at that,’ Eric said.
The heavy steel doors of the shop had been destroyed. Only bent edges remained to show where they had once been. Three children were placed at the entrance to guard the shop instead. They stood outside, looking casually menacing.
‘Must be a lot of thievers about,’ Eric noted. ‘I wouldn’t have expected that here. Not during the day, anyhow.’
Rachel nodded bleakly. Fences, walls, locks, reinforced concrete, barbed-wire – traditional defences like these could not keep out the really gifted children. ‘I’ve seen worse,’ she said. ‘In Africa, especially. Cairo. Nairobi. Lagos. Terrible things are still going on.’
The emergence of magic had brought new problems as well as joys. The thiever gangs had started up in the poorest countries. After the Awakening millions of children who had never had enough to eat did not wait. They simply took what they needed. On the world of Ithrea, in one special room Rachel had created food seemingly from magic alone – but that was only the trick of a Witch. Even the most magical children could not conjure food out of nothing.
Typically the thievers came at night, raiding crops, stealing cattle. An experienced gang could take what they wanted before an adult could even spot them. For a hefty price kids might hire themselves out as anti-thievers to help guard a valuable property or chase down an attacker, but hardly any children could be bothered with such dull work unless it was their own family possessions they were protecting. And, supposing a thiever was caught, who dared punish the offender? Adults were no match physically for most children any longer. In a few countries desperate to keep some control over the thievers, children themselves had been sworn into the security forces, given special powers by the courts. But it made little difference. Children escaped detention; they evaded jail. Even if less talented children could be safely locked away, friends would soon use their magic to free them.
A sudden fluttering of wings, though, made Eric and Rachel forget altogether about thievers.
‘Whoa! Here they come!’ he said. ‘Here come the boys!’
Hurrying into an alley where they would be less easily seen, he watched the prapsies flap jubilantly towards him. They headed directly for Eric, in perfectly straight lines, and incredibly swiftly. Not even the most agile child could catch a prapsy – though many had tried.
Devoted to Eric, the child-birds had recently taken to flying far and wide to find him gifts, each trying to outdo the other. Eric clicked his fingers – and the prapsies landed, at exactly the same time, on his head. Their rosy cheeks perspired in the spring air, dripping sweat on his scalp. Eric didn’t care.
‘Hey boys, what you got?’
One prapsy carried a broken comb in its toothless mouth. Without waiting for Eric’s opinion, the child-bird attempted to tidy his blond curly hair. ‘Oh, this will make you handsome,’ the prapsy promised, ineffectually dragging the comb against his ear.
‘Where did it find that comb?’ Rachel asked. ‘It’s filthy.’
Eric shrugged. ‘Who cares? I’ll wash my hair later. You worry too much, Rach.’ He turned to the other prapsy. ‘And what’ve you got for me, then?’
The second prapsy held a knob of chewing gum in one claw. It offered this to Eric.
‘Er,’ said Eric. ‘Where’d you find that? Did you nick it from someone’s mouth?’
‘Oh, no! No, Eric!’ wailed the prapsy. ‘I wouldn’t give you second-hands. It’s fresh. Only my gums.’
‘Well, that’s all right, then.’ Eric opened his mouth and the prapsy dropped the thoroughly chewed gum inside.
‘Go on,’ the prapsy said expectantly. ‘Chew it.’
Eric chewed away. ‘No taste,’ he said. ‘I suppose it’s been in your gob a while, eh?’
Rachel said, ‘I think the question you should be asking is where it found the gum.’
‘On a fence,’ answ
ered the prapsy cheerfully. ‘There was dirt on it, and a fly, and some stink – but I licked that off.’
Eric spat the gum out. ‘Blimey, boys,’ he spluttered. ‘What are you trying to do? Kill me?’
‘Not good? You don’t want my present?’ The prapsy sniffed. Its face wobbled as it held back a tear. ‘I’m sorry, Eric. Did you want the dirt and fly on it? I didn’t think so.’ It turned angrily to its companion. ‘Your fault! You told me to suck the dirt off, you stupid pigeon.’
The other prapsy smiled smugly, saying nothing.
‘Off you go!’ Eric shooed them away. ‘Find me a proper treat. Something really good!’
Immediately both prapsies hovered side by side, trembling with excitement.
‘Whaddaya want? Whaddaya want, Eric?’ they squealed.
‘Something nice and tasty. Without stink!’
The prapsies sped off, spitting at each other. Rachel could still hear them when they were well out of sight, bickering and swearing.
4
Tokyo
Rachel flicked away the comb still protruding from Eric’s hair. ‘Let’s go,’ she said. ‘I still want to do some shopping.’
‘Do we have to?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where, then? New York?’
‘Japan!’
Rachel shifted them to the Far East, following the sun as it dipped down the sky: sunset in Tokyo. For a while she soared over the glass and steel skyscrapers of Shinjuko district, in the western part of the city. Rachel loved this area, especially the massive twin forty-eight-storey towers of the Metropolitan Government Building. By day thirteen thousand city bureaucrats still worked in the offices, but at night the structure belonged to the children.
‘Check out the gangs,’ Eric said. ‘They weren’t here last time we came.’
Several rival groups of children surveyed each other from the roofs of the skyscrapers. Each group was distinctly dressed, so there could be no mistaking where their allegiances lay.
