Galloglass

by Scarlett Thomas

  The student walked on without even realising that Effie had helped her.

  Effie wanted to stop and think about this and try and get back in the Flow again. But she’d promised to help Leander and Wolf. She took a candle and some matches and hurried down the first of the five flights of dark stairs towards the Special Collections reception. As she descended she realised that she felt . . . It was hard to describe. It was the opposite of how she felt when she had a headache from running out of lifeforce. It was as if she was magically full-up. Like someone had just put a new battery into her or charged her up.

  Effie knew that magic was very costly in the Realworld. That using it for anything that would be easier to accomplish with a physical action was foolish. But she just had to check something.

  She blew out the candle she was carrying. Immediately, she was lost in the sort of deep darkness you get a long way underground. She looked at the candle and willed it to light again in the same way she would will her caduceus to grow. Of course, Effie’s caduceus was designed to shrink and expand and it didn’t take much magic to make that happen. But creating fire from nothing? In the Realworld?

  The candle fizzed alight immediately.

  And Effie still felt fully charged.

  So that was what it was all about. The Flow topped up your magic and made you more powerful. That was why Effie had come out of her first experience with fifty thousand M-currency. The Flow, it seemed, was the very source of magic. Effie could see why people wanted her to discover it. She just wanted to get back in it as soon as possible. But instead she had to complete this task, which suddenly now seemed boring and insignificant. But she couldn’t think like that. Especially as being humble seemed to be one of the things that got you in the Flow.

  ‘Oh, it’s you again,’ said the wrinkled, red-haired librarian as Effie approached his desk. He was doing the cryptic crossword, possibly even the same one as last time. ‘I see you’re not bringing anything back. Good. Take all the blooming books, for all I care. Take them all home with you. Then you can be the one in charge of dusting them, and—’

  ‘Can you help me find something?’ Effie asked.

  ‘No!’ said the librarian, sounding horrified. ‘Good heavens. Whatever next! What do you think this is? I told you before. You’re on your own in there. And if you die—’

  ‘Yes, yes. It’s my own fault. I know. But the world is in danger and I need to find a book of warrior clerics’ prayers urgently. It could actually mean the difference between life and death – not just for me but for all of us.’

  The librarian rolled his eyes as if he’d heard all this before.

  ‘And you’re Euphemia Truelove, you say.’

  Effie blushed when she remembered how self-important she must have sounded before when she’d stepped forward and introduced herself.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But it’s not—’

  The librarian sighed. ‘I’ve heard your name in the prophecies.’ He frowned. ‘Aren’t you due to save the world today?’ He peered at Effie more closely, as if trying to work out whether or not to let her off a large library fine. ‘I’m not sure I care if I’m saved or not. But other people probably do. All right. Come on.’ He creaked himself out of his chair. ‘Warrior clerics’ prayers, you say. Pretty specific. And you’re clearly not a warrior or a cleric . . .’

  Effie followed him into the part of the library where Lexy and Raven had gone last time, with all the tall, dusty stacks. He carried on muttering to himself as he peered at the numbers on the shelves, none of which seemed to have any logic to them at all.

  ‘Aha,’ he said, and started to unwind a stack with a creaky brass lever. ‘Here we go.’ He unwound the shelves until there was just barely enough space for him to squeeze in. He plucked the book from the shelf quickly, as if he was taking it from the cage of some ferocious animal. And then he gave it to Effie as if it was contaminated.

  ‘There you go,’ he said. ‘Take it away. Take all the blooming—’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Effie. ‘Do you also have a book on the Flow?’ she asked him.

  ‘The what?’

  ‘The Flow. It’s like a magical current that you—’

  ‘Shhh,’ said the librarian. ‘No spoilers! No spoilers! Not so blooming loud. You’re not supposed to speak of it to those who don’t know.’

  ‘But you obviously do know.’

  ‘Well, I do now.’

  This was confusing Effie.

  Nevertheless, the librarian had set off in the direction of the Otherworld section, muttering as he went.

  ‘You’d better not ask me for anything else after this,’ he said. ‘Ever. Right. The Flow. The Flow.’ He reached to get the book from the shelf but it must have been mis-shelved or something, because he didn’t pull it out straight away. He scrabbled around for a while but then came back empty-handed.

  ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Oh dear. I forgot. It’s on loan. Never mind. Come back next week if you like, once we reopen after the world ends.’

  ‘You only have one book on the Flow?’

  ‘Yes, and that’s generous, considering what a big secret it’s supposed to be. But it’s the classic hypergeographic study by Thomas Lumas. Only book on the subject you’ll ever need. But anyway, like I say: it’s on loan.’

  ‘Who to?’

  ‘To whom,’ corrected the librarian.

  ‘Please,’ said Effie, ‘the end of the world doesn’t care about my grammar. Who has the book?’

  ‘That Diberi woman,’ said the librarian. ‘The Russian one. The poet.’

  ‘Lady Tchainsaw?’

  ‘That’s the one.’

  ‘But what would the Diberi want with a book about the Flow?’ said Effie. ‘I can’t imagine they’d approve of it. And Jupiter Peacock even wrote it out of his translation of “Galloglass”.’

  The librarian put his fingers in his ears. ‘La la la!’ he said. ‘No more spoilers, please. I can’t know all this.’

  ‘I think this is all connected,’ said Effie, but the librarian, who still had his fingers in his ears, completely ignored her.

  Lexy took the yeti by the hand and motioned for him to follow her. Poor thing. He looked terrified. But he also seemed grateful to see the sunshine. He let out a deep wail as soon as he saw the sky. Perhaps he was glad to be free. Or maybe he was trying to get a message to his parents, however many miles away they were. Or possibly he was just cold. Mind you, didn’t yetis come from snowy places? Weren’t they sometimes called abominable snowmen? Who knew if that’s what this creature even was. But it was what Jupiter Peacock had called him.

  ‘Shhh,’ said Lexy. ‘We need to find somewhere safe for you. The hospital’s not far. Do you think you can make it?’

  But the poor yeti was limping badly. Lexy had done her best with what she had, but the yeti needed more specialist help.

  Above them both, the sky was rapidly turning from a clear winter blue into a kind of deep, stormy purple. The wind started to whistle.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Lexy. ‘I think there’s a storm coming.’

  The yeti seemed as if he really couldn’t go any further. Lexy looked around for a place to hide him. He was far too heavy for her to carry. There was an old Portakabin just by the back entrance to the university that would have to do. It was green, and sort of mouldy on the outside, but warm and dry inside.

  ‘You’ll have to hide under a table if anyone comes,’ said Lexy. She couldn’t be sure whether he’d understood her or not. If only Raven were here. But maybe even Raven didn’t speak whatever language yetis understood.

  Lexy drew her school cape around her and hurried towards the Old Town Hospital – not the official one, but the secret one, where Odile Underwood worked. By the time she’d got to Reception the sky had grown a darker shade of purple and large wet flakes of snow had started drifting nonchalantly out of the sky, as if they didn’t care about yetis, secret books or the end of the world.

  Lexy looked quite bedraggled as she approac
hed the receptionist and asked to see Odile.

  ‘Nurse Underwood isn’t here,’ came her reply. ‘She’s doing home visits today.’

  ‘But it’s urgent,’ said Lexy. ‘Can someone page her, please?’

  ‘Well . . .’

  ‘Please,’ said Lexy. ‘It’s really important.’

  It turned out that Odile was just two streets away.

  ‘She’s in the Old Rectory,’ said the receptionist. ‘She says she’s tied up now, but you can go there and meet her if you like. She says she can help you next. Can I tell her what the matter is?’

  ‘No,’ said Lexy. ‘I’ll tell her myself.’

  When Lexy arrived at the Old Rectory it was Dora Wright who let her in. She looked sad, and was orbited by far less glitter than usual. Raven’s mother Laurel Wilde was hovering in the corridor, looking anxious.

  ‘What’s going on?’ said Lexy.

  ‘I could ask you the same,’ said Dora. ‘Do you realise that your hair is full of wet soot? Have you been in some kind of explosion?’

  Lexy caught sight of herself in the hallway mirror. What a fright she looked. Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered except getting help for the poor creature she’d left in the Portakabin, and then finding her friends and telling them everything she knew.

  ‘You could say that,’ said Lexy. ‘I need to see Nurse Underwood. Is she here?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Dora. ‘It’s Frankincense. She’s been bound. We just heard. And they’ve captured Beathag Hide and Festus Grimm as well.’

  ‘What?’ said Lexy. ‘Oh no!’

  ‘They seem to have decided to step up their binding of the Gothmen, along with anyone who can stand in the way of whatever the Diberi have planned for tonight. None of the nurses at the hospital can unbind people, but they can help a bit. Frankincense is in a terrible state.’

  ‘Who’s that?’ said Odile, coming down the stairs from the flat where Effie’s grandfather used to live. ‘Oh, Alexa Bottle. Good. Another healer. Make yourself useful. Can you bring me a bowl of iced water, a flannel, some homeopathic sulphur in the 1M potency, a drachm of feverfew, half a scruple of devil’s claw and a kettle of boiling water, please.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Lexy.

  ‘And you can tell me about your problem while we make Frankincense comfortable. I fear this is going to be a very busy day. I hope you haven’t got anything else planned. I could do with a little Apprentice to help me.’

  Lexy smiled and nodded, and a wave of relief poured over her. She was a true healer who needed to be able to help people and to make them better. And she’d been desperate to find a more senior healer to take her on as Apprentice. Had Nurse Underwood just offered to be Lexy’s mentor? If she had . . . Lexy would work so hard and Nurse Underwood would never regret it and Lexy would soon be able to forget all about the stupid business with JP. And she’d be able to help defeat him by healing the people he – and others like him – hurt. She knew she could tell Nurse Underwood everything.

  While Lexy waited for the kettle to boil she slipped back into Miss Wright’s rooms and, after knocking softly on the door, asked to borrow a pager. She should probably let at least one of her friends know that she was all right – not that anyone seemed to have noticed that she’d been out of action. But she needed to warn them about what Jupiter Peacock was planning. Raven answered immediately, and seemed very surprised that Lexy was safe and well and needed someone to translate from Yeti. But there was no response from Maximilian at all.

  22

  The Winter Fair Market was busy today, as people did last-minute shopping for their Midwinter’s Eve celebrations. Traditionally, Midwinter was celebrated at midnight with a cake made into the shape of a log and decorated with holly leaves and juniper berries. Midwinter evening meals usually consisted of a hearty chestnut soup with freshly made bread that was eaten at around five o’clock so that people could attend whatever public celebration of Midwinter they’d chosen before they went home for their cake.

  Tonight in the Old Town the choice was between Jupiter Peacock’s Midwinter Lecture, a firework display put on by the local council or a strange shadow-theatre spectacle put on by the Puppet Man. Most people had opted for Jupiter Peacock’s lecture. The fireworks would have been more popular had it not been for the weather. There’d already been a tornado just off the coast, and lots of reports were coming in of electrical snow storms – a phenomenon last seen during the great climate meltdown of the early twenty-first century.

  In the Winter Fair Market, snow was now falling thickly and people were cheerfully huddling around the little stoves. The hot chestnut man was doing a roaring trade with people who had forgotten to roast chestnuts for their soup, or who just fancied eating an enormous amount of chestnuts in one day.

  Maximilian searched for Madame Valentin’s stall. But it wasn’t there. It looked as if she’d packed up early or not even come out today. Maximilian remembered that her pet shop was next door to Leonard Levar’s Antiquarian Bookshop. He’d once had a distressing experience with some spiders that Levar had ‘borrowed’ from her shop. He headed there in the snow.

  When he arrived he could immediately tell that something was wrong. A man in green corduroy trousers was pacing anxiously in the snow outside the door to the pet shop, smoking a pipe and mumbling.

  ‘You cannot come hin,’ he said to Maximilian. ‘We’re closed.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘And all our snakes ’av hescaped also, so you might want to watch where you are treading.’

  Snakes? Maximilian used to be afraid of things like that. Not so much any more. Was this why the man was pacing and mumbling and smoking in the way he was? No. There was something more.

  ‘I came to see Madam Valentin,’ said Maximilian. ‘It’s about her prophecy.’

  ‘You are too late,’ said Monsieur Valentin bitterly. ‘She ’as been bound.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘Because of the prophecy. She is now unable to talk. I am waiting for a nurse to come and ’elp her. I ’av called many times but—’

  ‘My mum’s a nurse,’ said Maximilian. ‘They’ve been really busy.’

  ‘Why are they doing this?’ said Monsieur Valentin. ‘My poor Adele! It was not ’er fault she ’eard this prophecy.’

  ‘Who did it?’ asked Maximilian.

  ‘The Binder, hof course,’ said Monsieur Valentin. ‘After this ’ee also search next door for the boy that ’as been living there. I don’t know why. I tell him nothing, hobviously.’

  Maximilian tried to process all this.

  ‘Who is the Binder?’ he asked.

  Monsieur Valentin had been looking either at Maximilian or at his pipe while he’d been talking. But now his eyes settled on something just behind Maximilian. There was a beat, and then a small bony hand clamped down on Maximilian’s shoulder.

  ‘I am the Binder,’ came a thin, heartless voice. ‘And you, young mage, are going to have to come with me.’

  Effie hurried back to the chapel to give Leander the book. Wolf was awake, but still seemed a bit dazed. Leander was standing over him holding a small book and chanting something. Wolf gave Effie a half-smile and then chanted whatever it was back. He radiated calmness and joy.

  Effie put the book of warrior clerics’ prayers on the pew next to Wolf and left again. Sandalwood incense, Leander had said. Would they sell incense in the student shop? But it was already closed for Midwinter, so Effie left through the main entrance and walked in the falling snow towards Pickle Street, which, as well as housing the Esoteric Emporium and Dark Daze, had a little magic shop called Wanda’s.

  How this shop remained open was a complete mystery to everyone. People who didn’t believe in magic either didn’t notice Wanda’s tiny shop or, if they did, felt mildly offended by the idea that someone would charge something like ten whole pounds for fake crystals that didn’t even work. People who did believe in magic also didn’t approve of Wanda’s shop, but for them it was because it was so ta
me. The crystals did work – they were crystals, after all. But Wanda did overcharge for items that most people now got through mail-order catalogues. Still, she did sell a good range of incense.

  Effie was just about to open the door when she became aware of a dark shape on the pavement in the snow in front of the shop. At first she took it as rubbish that had been put out to be collected. But then she realised it was a person.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Effie said to the shape on the ground.

  The shape didn’t move.

  ‘Hello?’ said Effie. ‘Are you OK? Do you need help?’

  ‘We all need help,’ came a female voice. The dark shape moved, shook itself and sat up.

  It was the woman from the market. The one who had reminded Effie of her mother. Effie had given her eight pounds and then had her first experience in the Flow. Well, this was handy. This was another chance to—

  ‘Oh, I see,’ the woman said, nodding. ‘Now you consider me some kind of convenient portal. I’ve met your type before.’

  ‘No,’ said Effie. ‘That’s not it. I—’

  ‘I’m very cold,’ said the woman pointedly.

  ‘Here,’ said Effie. ‘Have my cape. I don’t mind.’

  The woman accepted Effie’s school cape. Now Effie shivered before her in the snow.

  ‘That’s better. Now, do you have any more money?’ asked the woman.

  ‘No,’ said Effie. ‘Only my friend’s money. I have to buy incense.’

  ‘Incense. Pah!’

  ‘It’s actually quite important, so . . .’

  ‘More important than getting back in the Flow?’

  ‘I can go in the Flow whenever I want.’

  ‘Oh, you can, can you? Sorry, girly. That’s not how it works. And I think you know it.’

  It was true. Ever since she’d lit the candle in the library, Effie had felt the Flow retreat from her somehow. She still had all the power it had given her, of course, but where before she’d sensed it as another dimension right next to her, so close she could just step into it at any time, it now seemed unreachable, like it was on a different plane of existence entirely. Did the Flow hate her too? Had she done that wrong, just as she did everything else wrong?