Galloglass

by Scarlett Thomas

  ‘Let me go, please,’ she said.

  The guard looked at her in astonishment.

  ‘You really are a galloglass islander,’ he said. ‘I’d heard about your sort but never really believed in you.’

  ‘Yes,’ came a female voice from behind him. ‘She is indeed proving herself to be a galloglass with everything she does. I’d put that sword away if I were you, girl. Attacking others is forbidden in this world. But of course you wouldn’t know that, as you do not belong here. But we don’t solve things with violence.’

  Effie held her sword aloft, but it was true: she knew that fighting her way out would be the wrong thing to do. With a sigh, she used her magic to dissolve the sword and turn it back into the necklace.

  The particles of light fizzed and popped and then went on their way, heading towards the edge of the known universe and the end of time, where all particles of light must eventually go.

  ‘OK then,’ Effie said. ‘Well, in that case I’m just going to walk out of here.’ She stepped towards the door. ‘Please let me pass.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ said Dr Wiseacre, with a deep scowl.

  ‘If people here can’t attack other people, then how exactly are you going to stop me?’

  Dr Wiseacre looked like an exasperated teacher dealing with the worst troublemaker in the school.

  ‘For goodness’ sake. Bring her to the consultation room,’ she said to the guard. ‘And take away that necklace.’

  Dr Wiseacre strode off. The guard took Effie by the arm. When she struggled, he held on to her harder.

  ‘Ow!’ said Effie.

  ‘Keep still,’ snarled the guard.

  ‘How is this not violence?’ asked Effie. ‘You’re forcing me to go somewhere I don’t want to go. I want to see my cousin!’

  ‘And you’ve already been told: once your cousin knows what you are, she won’t ever want to see you again.’

  This had to be a lie. But it hurt Effie, deep inside.

  ‘Give me your necklace,’ said the guard.

  ‘No,’ said Effie.

  ‘Well then, I’ll have to . . .’ The guard reached to grab the necklace, but didn’t seem to be able to get close enough to touch it. ‘Ouch!’ he said, withdrawing his hand. ‘That burns. What have you done to it, you disgusting islander? You’re not supposed to have enough magic to make something as hot as that.’

  Effie wondered about summoning the sword again, but she sensed that what Dr Wiseacre had said about this world was right – the part about violence, at least. And Effie herself only used violence as a very last resort anyway. She had read about people vanquishing monsters and demons that were then absorbed back into themselves. She didn’t quite know what this meant exactly, but she knew it wasn’t at all the same as attacking your human enemies, not that magical weapons worked on anyone without M-currency anyway. Still, her necklace was safe for now. It was clear they couldn’t touch it without getting burned.

  One other thing was also becoming very clear. Dr Wiseacre was not following Otherworld rules either. Effie wondered what was really going on. She was less and less sure that what was happening here had anything to do with real Otherworld laws at all.

  The consultation room was down three staircases. It was small, dark and windowless. Effie wished Wolf were here. Or any of her friends, really. Maximilian would help Effie to think her way out of this – well, that or do some kind of dark mage mind-magic. Raven would cast a good spell, or get some of the local animals to come to help. Lexy would say comforting words and give Effie a potion or tonic. And, if her friends were here, then Effie would be able to discuss this situation and make some proper sense out of it.

  ‘Right,’ said Dr Wiseacre. ‘Let’s get serious. We’ve got your cousin in another room.’

  ‘What? Clothilde? No! Why?’

  ‘Because it is a crime here to consort with a galloglass, which is what she’s been doing. She is being questioned right now.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘And we are going to ask you some questions now before removing your magic and sending you back to the island.’

  ‘But I’m not—’

  ‘Here’s how it’s going to work. Every time you lie, we will drain her lifeforce. Do you understand?’

  Effie nodded silently.

  ‘Right. We won’t beat around the bush,’ said Dr Wiseacre. ‘Tell us how to get to Dragon’s Green.’

  Effie didn’t say anything for a moment. She didn’t understand what was happening.

  ‘What? But I don’t under—’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Dr Wiseacre. She turned a silver lever on the wall by the table. It clicked several times as it went around. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I forgot to mention that we will penalise you for every hesitation as well. Now tell me where Dragon’s Green is. I know that Froghole is the nearest town. But I need the actual coordinates.’

  ‘Why do you want to know where Dragon’s Green is?’

  Dr Wiseacre didn’t reply. She simply turned the lever again. Effie thought she could hear screaming in a nearby room. Was it her imagination? Or perhaps even a sound effect? She didn’t trust Dr Wiseacre at all. But what if it were real? The candle in the lamp on the desk danced ominously. Dr Wiseacre reached for the lever again.

  ‘Stop doing that for a second,’ said Effie. ‘Please.’

  Dr Wiseacre looked at her. ‘Are you going to tell me what I want to know?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t understand why you want to know where Dragon’s Green is,’ said Effie. ‘I thought I was here because I was a galloglass. But now it seems as if you just lied to get me here to get information about Dragon’s Green. I just don’t understand why.’

  ‘You are a very rude little girl.’

  ‘I want to know what’s going on,’ said Effie.

  Her head suddenly ached again. She was going to have to get back to the Realworld soon. If only she could get her vial of deepwater back she could at least restore some of her power.

  ‘You want to know what’s going on?’ said Dr Wiseacre. ‘I’ll tell you what’s going on. The Trueloves are a weak link. That’s what’s going on. It’s simply not safe to have the Great Library in the hands of people who are scattered across worlds – especially when it means galloglasses like you can have access to it. And the Trueloves are sloppy. They haven’t done a good job of protecting us in recent times.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You know about the book that was stolen. You must do. It was your mother who did it.’

  ‘My mother didn’t steal anything,’ said Effie.

  ‘But the book was taken away. Books must never be taken from the Great Library. Not without the ritual.’

  ‘Well, it certainly wasn’t my mother who did it. And anyway, I took the book back,’ said Effie.

  ‘Aha. So it did happen. I knew it!’

  ‘But . . .’

  ‘And it’s true what they say about the library. It is real! But the wrong people are in charge of it. Things are worse than I thought.’

  ‘You tricked me,’ said Effie. ‘That’s not fair.’

  ‘Yes, and it was easy,’ said Dr Wiseacre. ‘Proving yet again what a weak link you are. Just like the other Trueloves.’

  ‘You’re wrong,’ said Effie. ‘You’re so wrong about everything.’

  ‘You’d better tell me where Dragon’s Green is, and quickly. I think I can turn this lever about three more times before your cousin loses all her lifeforce. And then you’ll never see her again. Of course, as I’ve already told you, she won’t want to see you again anyway when she knows what you are. So you may as well tell me, and spare her – unless you really want to carry on acting like a selfish galloglass for ever. How do I get into the Great Library?’

  ‘I’m never going to tell you that,’ said Effie.

  ‘Then you and your cousin will die.’

  There was only one thing for it. Effie stood up and once again summoned her Sword of Light. It again formed out of the brightest, most ma
gical particles of light in the room. In an instant, Effie was standing and holding the golden sword aloft. Dr Wiseacre raised an eyebrow. She turned the lever once, but didn’t take her hand from it. Effie could hear more faint screams from a nearby room. Was it really Clothilde? Or just a trick? It didn’t matter. So what if Effie was going to be expelled from the Otherworld for ever. If there was any chance that Clothilde was being hurt, Effie had to save her. And she was never going to tell Dr Wiseacre where Dragon’s Green was, or the Great Library, or anything she knew about it.

  Dr Wiseacre turned the lever again.

  ‘Please stop doing that and let me go, or I really will have to use this,’ said Effie.

  ‘And then you will be removed anyway and forbidden from coming here ever again.’

  ‘Yes, and you will never find out about Dragon’s Green,’ said Effie. ‘Are you going to let me go or not?’

  Dr Wiseacre lifted her hand to turn the lever again. Effie couldn’t stand it. She couldn’t bear the idea of Clothilde being hurt, or – unthinkable – killed. She raised her sword and brought it hard across Dr Wiseacre’s body, from right to left, as if she was playing a massive two-handed tennis forehand. Effie’s sword didn’t cut flesh or bone – it was a magical weapon and so worked differently from that. But Effie was surprised when Millicent Wiseacre completely disappeared. Her heart jumped into her throat. Had she just made a really terrible mistake? Maybe. But she had also saved Clothilde. If she was really here. If she wasn’t . . . Well, Effie couldn’t take that chance.

  Still carrying her sword, Effie walked out into the dark corridor, holding the candle-lamp from the table. She was breathing hard. What had she done? As the adrenaline subsided she wondered again if Clothilde was even here. The guard was waiting for her in the dingy corridor, but he quickly realised the power Effie had, and what she was prepared to do with it, and so he held up his hands to show surrender.

  ‘Where is my cousin?’ said Effie.

  He shrugged.

  Effie raised her sword higher. ‘Where is my cousin?’ she repeated.

  ‘No one else here but you,’ he said.

  Effie took her vial of deepwater from around his neck. There was no sign of Frank Greyday. Effie tried a few doors but there was no evidence of Clothilde anywhere. He must be telling the truth.

  Effie continued down the dingy corridor and then made her way up to the door to the narrow cobbled street. She opened it. There, hovering anxiously on the magic carpet, was Clothilde. So she hadn’t been a prisoner at all. Her eyes were big and frightened.

  ‘Oh my goodness,’ she said, when she saw Effie’s sword. ‘Effie!’

  Effie quickly dissolved her sword. So Dr Wiseacre had been lying. Effie had suspected as much. But she’d had no other choice. If Dr Wiseacre hadn’t been lying . . . It was all too complicated to think about, suddenly.

  ‘Get on,’ Clothilde said to Effie. ‘I think the council are going to want to talk to you. We’re in big trouble.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ said Effie. ‘But she said she had you prisoner and she was turning this lever and . . .’

  ‘Shhh,’ said Clothilde. ‘Tell me when we get back. For now I just need to fly this thing as fast as I can. Hold on!’

  The phone was ringing in Leonard Levar’s Antiquarian Bookshop. It rang and rang and then stopped and then started again. Wolf was beginning to wonder if he should get out of bed and answer it. It was still dark outside, but Wolf could hear the faint song of a robin. Since the worldquake the Cosmic Web had got stronger; the birds now held some sort of dawn chorus every day of the year, not just in spring. There were also the bang-crash sounds of things being unloaded in shops around the bookshop. It was morning, just about.

  Wolf looked at his watch. Yes: it was quarter past six.

  Who would be phoning the bookshop at this time? One of Leonard Levar’s horrible old acquaintances, probably. And Wolf didn’t want anyone else to know he was in the bookshop. He put the pillow over his head and tried to go back to sleep.

  Ring ring. Ring ring.

  Whoever it was, was certainly very insistent.

  Eventually Wolf got up and pulled on a Tusitala School rugby team sweatshirt and put on some jeans. The phone started ringing yet again. This time he answered it. The ancient Bakelite receiver was heavy in his hand, as he held it to his ear.

  ‘Hello?’ he said.

  ‘Hello,’ said a stern voice. ‘I’d like to speak to a Mr Wolf Reed, please.’

  ‘Um . . . that’s me.’ Was he in some sort of trouble?

  ‘It’s concerning a Miss Natasha Reed,’ said the voice.

  ‘Yes?’ said Wolf, his heart starting to beat much faster.

  ‘We understand that you are looking for information concerning this person,’ said the voice.

  ‘Yes! Please – tell me where she is.’

  ‘All in good time,’ said the voice. ‘Do you have pen and paper?’

  ‘Yes.’ Wolf reached for the old yellow pad that he’d been using to make notes on rugby strategy.

  ‘Good. Await further instructions,’ said the voice.

  The phone went dead.

  The landscape underneath Effie was a blur of cloud and mist and green streaks of unidentifiable countryside. Clothilde hadn’t been joking when she’d said she was going to fly as fast as she could. She seemed to have gone higher, too. Up here the air came in icy bursts, and every so often the carpet lurched up, down, left or right, as it got caught in currents.

  By the time they landed, Effie felt cold and sick.

  And her headache hadn’t improved much either. She was running very low on lifeforce; she suspected even more so since she’d attacked Dr Wiseacre. She was going to have to drink some of the emergency deepwater from the vial around her neck. Of course, once it was gone there would be nothing standing between her and the Yearning – the horrible illness you get if you run too low on magical lifeforce. As soon as they got off the magic carpet she had the tiniest sip.

  ‘What is that?’ asked Clothilde, as they set off down the driveway to Truelove House.

  ‘It’s deepwater,’ said Effie.

  ‘What does it do?’

  ‘Tops up my lifeforce. I’m a bit low. I should probably be getting back soon.’

  Effie knew that ideally she should have gone straight to the portal on the Keepers’ Plains and returned to the Realworld. She’d been here too long already. But she had to tell Clothilde, Rollo and Cosmo about what had happened in Froghole. Effie felt sick inside at the thought of her diagnosis as a galloglass. But it was wrong; of course it was. And as for Dr Wiseacre and her horrible henchmen . . . Effie knew she shouldn’t have pulled her sword on them, but she thought they were hurting Clothilde. What was she supposed to have done?

  Clothilde sighed. She seemed actually annoyed with Effie for the first time ever. It was normal for Rollo to be annoyed – he was regularly a bit irritated with everyone. But Clothilde had always been so kind to Effie. What had she meant about them being in trouble with the council? And what was that anyway?

  Clothilde looked like she was about to say something, but then bit her lip.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Effie.

  Clothilde sighed again. ‘Nothing,’ she said.

  ‘Why are you so upset?’ asked Effie. ‘Is it because of the council?’

  ‘I just don’t understand how you cannot have realised that . . .’ Clothilde took a deep breath and shook her head. ‘It’s not for me to tell you. I’d just have thought you’d have worked it out yourself by now. Maybe what they say about the island is right after all.’ She looked away from Effie. ‘I don’t know. It can’t be. But . . .’

  For the second time that day, Effie felt like crying. If even Clothilde was saying things like that, then maybe they were all correct. Maybe all islanders were horrible, including Effie. Maybe . . .

  They had arrived at the house.

  Usually things here were so happy. But now there was quite a different atmosphere as Clothilde
and Effie walked into the drawing room. Pelham Longfellow was there, looking grave. Cosmo had come down from his tower. Rollo looked furious. And there was a woman with them that Effie had not seen before. She looked very, very old, and was wearing the same kind of soft pointed hat as Cosmo. Was she related to him in some way? Or maybe she was from the council?

  ‘Are you all right?’ Pelham asked Clothilde, springing up from the sofa and touching her on the arm.

  She nodded.

  ‘Dear child,’ said Cosmo to Effie. ‘I hear you’ve had yet another adventure.’

  ‘They’re getting closer to us,’ said Clothilde. ‘What do they want?’

  ‘The Collective have gone completely mad,’ said Pelham. ‘It’s exactly what I don’t miss about being here.’

  Clothilde gave him a look that was half sad and half cross.

  ‘We’ll talk about all that later,’ said Cosmo. ‘For now we need to resolve this other matter. You’d better leave us alone with the child.’

  Clothilde, Pelham and Rollo left the room, exchanging meaningful looks as they went.

  Wolf couldn’t concentrate on anything while he waited for the phone to ring again. He sat at the desk holding a pen ready for whatever was going to happen next. His stomach rumbled, and he didn’t move. He started to get cold. Normally he would have switched on the ancient oil heating system or lit a fire by now. But if there was any chance of hearing about Natasha he was not going to miss it.

  It must have been almost an hour before the phone rang again.

  ‘Hello?’ said Wolf, after picking up the receiver as fast as he could. ‘Hello?’

  He was greeted curtly by the same voice as before.

  ‘Please take down this address,’ said the voice. Wolf wrote down exactly what the caller said. It was somewhere in the Borders. ‘If you can get here by noon I will explain how to get the information you require.’