Jack Shian and the Mapa Mundi

by Andrew Symon

  And suddenly, silence.

  Jack felt icy cold. Out of the corner of his eye, he had seen his grandfather wave his sceptre in an arc above his head. It was as if he had thrown a cover over an unruly caged bird; from a squawking, arguing chaos, out of the blue there was calm. It was freezing, but it was calm. Jack could see, he could hear, but he couldn’t move a muscle.

  Grandpa Sandy lowered his sceptre slowly, making sure that his encasing hex was holding. He stepped forward and touched Olwen on the arm. She came to life, and with horror Jack watched her age in front of him. Her face began to wrinkle, her skin sagged and her lustrous brown hair showed flecks of grey. Alarmed, Grandpa Sandy removed his hand from her arm. Her ageing stopped abruptly, and she became immobile once more.

  Grandpa Sandy pondered this for a few moments, then reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a small stone. Placing this first in Olwen’s right hand, he touched her arm again; once more she came to life, and the ageing Jack had witnessed slowly reversed itself. Within a minute she had returned to her youthful state, but she was docile, and Jack saw his grandfather lead her away from the crowd. When they were about twenty yards away, Grandpa Sandy waved his arm over Olwen’s head and she simply disappeared.

  Walking through the motionless crowd, Grandpa Sandy trailed his sceptre on the ground, creating a thin line of fire. Then, retreating and facing the whole crowd, he directed his sceptre in the air, firing a single bolt. The crowd parted: the Kildashie to one side of the line and everyone else to the other side. The separation complete, the sceptre was raised again. Jack watched his grandfather wave his arm expansively over his head and dissolve the encasing hex.

  The arguments began afresh as the crowd found it could move and speak again, but without the violence that had gone before.

  “There will be no hexing at this festival!” roared Atholmor, holding up his hand for silence. “You were invited to demonstrate that Seelie and Unseelie can live in peace! Men of Kildashie, you are summoned to appear before the Congress to answer for your actions.”

  Tig approached the invisible wall.

  “We do come in peace. But Boreus thought he was being attacked. The Blue Hag was going to fire at him.”

  “You fool!” cried Atholmor. “She is no longer the Blue Hag – she is Olwen; her staff has no hex power. The snows have gone, and the cailleach’s powers of force with them.”

  “Then Boreus will atone for what he has done.” Turning round to Boreus, Tig ordered, “You will stay in the house of Atholmor as his bonded servant for seven years!”

  Boreus started to protest, but was silenced instantly by a blow to his temple from Donar.

  “And what use is an unconscious servant to me?” enquired Atholmor sarcastically. “The Kildashie council will attend the Congress this evening at Cos-Howe. Now go, and prepare your defence well.”

  Tig nodded. He gave orders to Donar, and the two of them ushered the Kildashie away. They turned and left the field silently, carrying the motionless figure of Boreus. As the group reached the edge of the woods at the foot of the glen, they melted into the trees.

  Jack felt a wave of nausea sweep over him, a delayed reaction to the skirmish.

  What is it about the great festivals? First midsummer, now this. The Unseelie can’t ever be trusted!

  The sick feeling gave way to anger, and Jack turned on his grandfather.

  “I told you there was something wrong with them! They’ve ruined everything!” he shouted. “I didn’t even get to use my firework wheel!”

  “That’s enough!” Aunt Katie barked. “We’ll just go home. Pierre, you come along with your father in a while. I’ll take the young ones.”

  Pierre: Uncle Doonya’s real name. When used in front of the children, it always meant things were serious. As indeed they were. Jack, half shocked at his outburst, felt salty tears well up as Aunt Katie led him and the others down to the low road entrance. Lizzie looked nervously at him, unsure of what to say, but Rana had no such qualms.

  “Well, that didn’t help,” she spat. “We could’ve stayed and got breakfast from the korrigans.”

  “Come on now.” Armina strode up behind them. “Back home. This is not the time or the place.”

  Jack found himself trotting beside Armina as she strode down towards the hawthorn tree. Rana and Petros followed on, with Lizzie urging her mother to join them. Wiping her eyes, Aunt Katie followed, and within a minute they were on the mound of earth that marked the low road. Armina stretched her long arms around them all and whispered, “Wind-flock castle!”

  Jack woke at midday. Like the others, he had gone to bed when they’d got home. Now he was hungry, but wasn’t sure if it was safe to go downstairs. Uncle Doonya had returned home a few minutes after Jack and the others, loudly making known his displeasure at that morning’s events. Jack knew he shouldn’t have shouted at his grandfather, especially in front of so many people.

  But I was right about the Kildashie. They’re dangerous; everyone can see that now.

  There was no sound from Rana and Lizzie’s bedroom next door. Jack looked across to where Petros lay, snoring gently. He had gone to sleep complaining of a headache, but not before he’d threatened Rana with dire consequences if she “explained” matters to their parents.

  He’s not waking for a while, but I’m hungry now.

  Jack listened as hard as he could, but could make out no sounds from below. He crept downstairs and pushed open the kitchen door. It squeaked horribly, and Jack’s heart leapt as he saw his aunt and uncle sitting at the table.

  “It’s all right, Jack; come in.”

  Unconvinced by his uncle’s calm tone, Jack advanced cautiously into the kitchen, leaving the door open behind him.

  “Sit down, Jack dear. I’ll get you some lunch,” said Aunt Katie kindly.

  “I was just going,” said Uncle Doonya, rising to his feet. “I’ll see you all later. There are things we need to clear up with Grandpa.”

  As Jack ate his lunch, he watched his aunt. She had the haunted look he’d seen in her eyes the previous autumn, just before they’d all gone up to Dunvik.

  The quiet was broken by Rana and Lizzie, who came in from the square.

  “Guess what we heard!” shouted Lizzie, her face flushed with excitement.

  “I’m telling; it was me who found out,” pouted Rana. “Freya told me her dad said that some of the Congress want the Kildashie to be suspended.”

  Jack smiled at the thought. “Serves them right. They can rot there forever.”

  Rana, however, had different ideas.

  “They’re wild, but not evil. The Brashat got suspended for stealing the King’s Chalice, and for trying to kill us. A fight over Olwen trying to hex one of them isn’t the same.”

  “There’s something very dangerous about stopping the Blue Hag’s echo,” said Aunt Katie. “They destroyed an awful lot of trees in Rangie, and there’s even rumours about them controlling the weather. Now come along, out of the house, you lot. And quietly: Petros is sleeping.”

  Exchanging knowing looks, Rana and Lizzie made their way out to the square. Jack followed them, at a bit of a loose end without Petros.

  “Come on up to the High Street,” said Rana, dragging him over to the Shian gate. “We’ve something to show you.”

  A chilly wind hit them as they emerged onto the castle esplanade above. For a moment Jack wondered about going back for a thicker coat, but Rana pressed him to continue.

  “Bet you’ve never been to the End of the World, have you?” she asked teasingly.

  Mystified, Jack looked at her. They’d gone past St Giles’ Cathedral, and were almost at the corner where the road to the right led to Falabray.

  “Purdy’s friends with one of the Cos-Howe boys,” said Lizzie, “and he’s playing in the match against Claville. It’s in Edinburgh this year. If we play our cards right, we might be able to see the match.”

  “Where do they play?” asked Jack.

  “Near Cos-Ho
we usually, but this year it’s the High Street. The castle’s one goal, and Holyrood Palace gate is the other. And if we go over there,” Rana pointed across to the Finisterre café-bar, “we should be able to see the match.”

  “Grandpa showed me that place once, but how d’you see the match? At least in Claville we were up high. Even on the top of that building you can’t see more than a tiny bit of the High Street.”

  “They’ve got some special screens inside. It’s like the humans with their cameras: different ones for different parts of the High Street.”

  “How come you know all this?” asked Jack, vexed that his younger cousins knew more than he did.

  “Purdy told Freya, and she told us.”

  “And can they really get us in OK? It’s a human pub too, isn’t it? They don’t allow you in unless you’re eighteen.”

  “It’s not just a human pub, silly,” pointed out Rana. “It’s part Shian. We haven’t found out how to get in yet, but we’re working on it. It’ll be nice to see the French players again.”

  Jack recalled how Rana and Lizzie had been captivated by one of the Claville players after the match the previous summer.

  “Bit old for you, wasn’t he?” he asked mischievously.

  Rana’s punch to his arm was swift and painful. Jumping back to avoid further attack, Jack bumped into his grandfather.

  “There you are.”

  Jack started. Had he been there all the time, listening to their conversation?

  “I’m glad I caught up with you. Something quite remarkable has happened. Don’t worry, Jack,” he added, seeing the dismay on his grandson’s face. “This morning’s spat is forgotten. The Kildashie have presented us with a problem, but the Congress will handle that. Something else has happened, to do with the Stone, and that’s got some Congress members in a tangle.”

  “Petros isn’t feeling well,” announced Rana. “D’you want to know why?”

  “I don’t want to hear sneaky tales, if that’s what you mean. Now, let’s get back home; we’ve things to discuss.” He turned back up towards the castle.

  Lizzie looked across at Jack, mouthing, ‘What’s up?’

  Jack shrugged. If it was the Kildashie, it wasn’t going to be good news, he was sure of that.

  5

  Lessons with Finbogie

  Within a few minutes the whole family were gathered together. Uncle Doonya looked pensive, but Jack couldn’t decide what he was thinking. Petros appeared looking dishevelled and complaining of a dry throat.

  “What I’m telling you now must not be repeated to anyone, do you understand?” Grandpa looked round the room. “Last night, while we were at the festival, Daid went up to the Stone Room. At midnight he felt a change in the air; the glass cabinet glowed and then disappeared for a minute. He was able to reach forward and touch the Stone.”

  There was a moment of silence while the enormity of this sank in.

  “Are you sure it’s not just one of Daid’s stories, Grandpa?” asked Petros. “You know how he … well, you know, he sometimes overdoes things.”

  A giggle escaped Lizzie’s lips.

  “But the special glass they use in the cabinet: you said Shian couldn’t break that,” pointed out Jack.

  “That’s just it: he didn’t break it. And I wouldn’t be telling you if I hadn’t checked. At times today the glass is permeable. I myself have been up to the Stone Room and touched the Stone.”

  “What about all the humans? Aren’t they going in and out as well?” queried Lizzie.

  “The stairs leading to the Stone Room have been damaged,” said Grandpa mischievously. “Visitors won’t be allowed up while they’re deemed unsafe.”

  “Can we all go up and see it, then?” asked Jack, his excitement rising.

  “That’s where we meet our first problem,” said Grandpa pensively. “The Congress – some of them anyway – are terrified that the Stone will be taken if word gets around. That’s why you’re not to breathe a word of this to anybody.”

  “You’d better tell them about Daid,” said Uncle Doonya.

  “Ah yes. In his excitement, Daid was a little unguarded and came back to the square shouting about what had happened. Luckily, hardly anyone was around, but the secret may already be out.”

  “Where’s Daid now?” asked Rana.

  “I’m afraid that for his own safety, Murkle has had to take Daid in. It’s vital that we don’t allow this to become common knowledge until we check what it all means.”

  “So he’s been locked up, has he?” asked Jack. “Like a prisoner?”

  “Because of what happened this morning, we must be careful. Tig has taken control of his more impetuous colleague, but you were right to distrust the Kildashie – they are Unseelie, after all. Daid might not be safe from them.”

  “Why are you telling us, then, if it’s such a big secret?” asked Petros gruffly.

  “Others may have overheard Daid last night, and they may tell you. But now you know to keep it quiet. This is dangerous.”

  “What’s the Congress doing about the Stone?” asked Jack urgently.

  “The Congress doesn’t want everyone traipsing in to the Stone, if that’s what you mean. The Darrig and his friends are standing guard; nobody will get past them.”

  “I’m sure it’ll all settle down soon.” Aunt Katie’s voice had more hope than belief.

  “So what’re we supposed to do then?” asked Petros grumpily.

  “Stay on your guard. Tell us if you hear anything unusual.” Grandpa Sandy looked sternly at all the youngsters in turn. “And we can do a little searching ourselves. We could see what Tamlina makes of all this. She was helpful last year. That’s where you youngsters come in. She seemed to take to you.”

  “She hexed me, Grandpa,” pointed out Petros. “Bloody sore it was, too.”

  “But she asked your forgiveness as well. And she knows Jack and the girls. We’ll decide after the Congress meets tonight.”

  Jack saw his aunt wipe a tear away as she turned and silently left the room.

  “With Murkle looking after Daid, you may just have to continue with your apprenticeships in the afternoon,” said Uncle Doonya. “But don’t forget to keep your eyes and ears open. And for goodness’ sake, don’t mention any of this to Fenrig or his sister.”

  “I know they don’t like us much,” said Rana, “but they might at least have come along to the festival.”

  “Olbeg thought it best to keep them away, since the Kildashie were going. It’s just as well they weren’t there when the hexes started flying,” answered Grandpa. “The Brashat and Kildashie are sworn enemies.”

  Jack’s antipathy towards Fenrig was not lessened by this knowledge.

  I don’t trust the Kildashie, but a well-aimed hex at Fenrig wouldn’t be that bad.

  Jack waited impatiently for news from the Congress. His grandfather and uncle had gone off before suppertime, but even by the time the youngsters were sent to bed, they’d heard nothing. Petros, having regained his usual good humour, speculated on the reasons for the lack of news.

  “Country boys, those Kildashie; the Congress should send them back to whatever windswept rocks they come from.”

  “But if it’s so obvious, why’s the Congress taking so long?”

  Jack didn’t sleep well, and the next morning his head felt muggy. Petros, however, was bright and optimistic as they headed down for breakfast.

  “The Congress will have sent them packing. D’you fancy coming up to the High Street after lessons?”

  Helping himself to some toast, Jack shrugged.

  “Did your dad come back last night, then?”

  As he spoke the front door opened, and they heard Uncle Doonya and Grandpa Sandy. Aunt Katie, who had been distractedly wiping some dishes, dropped a saucer, uttering a squeak of alarm.

  “It’s all right.” Grandpa’s voice was tired, but he looked relaxed. “We’ve had a very long time of it, and there’s lots to tell you. But you youngsters need to
get going to your work. Gilmore and Cormac will be wondering where you are if you don’t get a move on.”

  “But Grandpa,” protested Jack, “you’ve got to tell us what happened.”

  “There’s not enough time now. But one thing you do need to know: Finbogie has been asked to teach self-defence to all of the apprentices. He’ll start this afternoon with the youngest ones. Jack, go to his house after lunch. Daid’s still … indisposed.”

  “But Finbogie hates apprentices. He wanted us all put away last year,” pointed out Petros.

  “All the same, he knows about protecting himself. And he’s been asked to teach all of you.”

  “Are the Kildashie making trouble, then?” asked Jack quietly. “We wouldn’t need self-defence classes if there was no threat.”

  “Like Grandpa said, we can discuss things this evening. Now, off to your work.”

  As Jack and Petros left, they heard Rana and Lizzie coming downstairs.

  “Save yourselves the bother,” he said flatly, indicating the kitchen door. “Right now we don’t need to know.”

  It would do no good, he knew. Telling Rana and Lizzie not to do something guaranteed that they would do it.

  Gilmore was irritated that morning. Jack knew it wasn’t just his poor stitching or Fenrig’s non-appearance. Everyone in the square seemed tense, as if something bad was about to happen. Freya and Doxer could throw no light on things. For Freya this was unexpected, but she clearly had no more information about the Stone or the Kildashie.

  After lunch, Jack set off for Finbogie’s house. Boyce glowered as he approached. Jack saw Diana, Purdy and Suque whispering to one another, while Lee-Brog and Séan played with some cards.

  “Can’t we go in?” asked Jack, breaking the silence.

  “I’m keeping as far away from him as I can,” snarled Boyce. “He hexed me and my sister for no reason at all last year. He’s just a bad-tempered old …” His voice broke off as he became aware of a figure standing behind him.