The Chrestomanci Series

by Jones, Diana Wynne

  “Was I?” said Tacroy. “I don’t visualise at all on the Passage – it’s more like night with a few stars to guide by. I find it quite hard to visualise even here on the World Edge – though I can see you quite well, of course, since we’re both willing it.”

  He saw that Christopher was staring at him, not understanding more than a word of this, and screwed his eyes up thoughtfully. This made little laughing wrinkles all round Tacroy’s eyes. Christopher liked him better than ever. “Tell me,” Tacroy said, waving a brown hand towards the rest of the valley, “what do you see here?”

  “A valley,” Christopher said, wondering what Tacroy saw, “with green grass. The sun’s setting and it’s making the stream down the middle look pink.”

  “Is it now?” said Tacroy. “Then I expect it would surprise you very much to know that all I can see is a slightly pink fog.”

  “Why?” said Christopher.

  “Because I’m only here in spirit, while you seem to be actually here in the flesh,” Tacroy said. “Back in London, my valuable body is lying on a sofa in a deep trance, tucked up in blankets and warmed by stone hot-water bottles, while a beautiful and agreeable young lady plays tunes to me on her harp. I insisted on the young lady as part of my pay. Do you think you’re tucked up in bed somewhere too?”

  When Tacroy saw that this question made Christopher both puzzled and impatient, his eyes screwed up again. “Let’s get going,” he said. “The next part of the experiment is to see if you can bring a prepared package back. I’ve made my mark. Make yours, and we’ll get down into this world.”

  “Mark?” said Christopher.

  “Mark,” said Tacroy. “If you don’t make a mark, how do you think you will find your way in and out of this world, or know which one it is when you come to it?”

  “Valleys are quite easy to find,” Christopher protested. “And I can tell that I’ve been to this Anywhere before. It’s got the smallest stream of all of them.”

  Tacroy shrugged with his eyes screwed right up. “My boy, you’re giving me the creeps. Be kind and please me and scratch the number nine on a rock or something. I don’t want to be the one who loses you.”

  Christopher obligingly picked up a pointed flint and dug away at the mud of the path until he had made a large wobbly 9 there.

  He looked up to find Tacroy staring as if he was a ghost. “What’s the matter?”

  Tacroy gave a short wild-sounding laugh. “Oh nothing much. I can see it, that’s all. That’s only unheard of, that’s all. Can you see my mark?”

  Christopher looked everywhere he could think of, including up at the sunset sky, and had to confess that he could see nothing like a mark.

  “Thank Heaven!” said Tacroy. “At least that’s normal! But I’m still seriously wondering what you are. I begin to understand why your uncle got so excited.”

  They sauntered together down the valley. Tacroy had his hands in his pockets and he seemed quite casual, but Christopher got the feeling, all the same, that Tacroy usually went into an Anywhere in some way that was quicker and quite different. He caught Tacroy glancing at him several times, as if Tacroy was not sure of the way to go and was waiting to see what Christopher did. He seemed very relieved when they came to the end of the valley and found themselves on the rutty road among huge jungle trees. The sun was almost down. There were lights at the windows of the tumbledown old inn in front of them.

  This was one of the first Anywheres Christopher had been to. He remembered it hotter and wetter. The big trees had been bright green and dripping. Now they seemed brown and a bit wilted, as far as he could tell in the pink light. When he followed Tacroy on to the crazily-built wooden verandah of the inn, he saw that the blobs of coloured fungus that had fascinated him last time had all turned dry and white. He wondered if the landlord would remember him.

  “Landlord!” Tacroy shouted. When nothing happened, he said to Christopher, “Can you bang on the table? I can’t.”

  Christopher noticed that the bent boards of the verandah creaked under his own feet, but not under Tacroy’s. It did seem as if Tacroy was not really there in some way. He picked up a wooden bowl and rapped hard on the twisted table with it. It was another thing that made Tacroy’s eyes screw up.

  When the landlord shuffled out, he was wrapped in at least three knitted shawls and too unhappy to notice Christopher, let alone remember him.

  “Ralph’s messenger,” Tacroy said. “I believe you have a package for me.”

  “Ah yes,” shivered the landlord. “Won’t you come inside out of this exceptionally bitter weather, sir? This is the hardest winter anyone has known for years.”

  Tacroy’s eyebrows went up and he looked at Christopher. “I’m quite warm,” Christopher said.

  “Then we’ll stay outside,” Tacroy said. “The package?”

  “Directly, sir,” shivered the landlord. “But won’t you take something hot to warm you up? On the house, sir.”

  “Yes, please,” Christopher said quickly. Last time he was here he had been given something chocolatish which was not cocoa but much nicer. The landlord nodded and smiled and shuffled shivering back indoors. Christopher sat at the table. Even though it was almost dark now, he felt deliciously warm. His clothes were drying nicely. Crowds of fleshy moth-things were flopping at the lighted windows, but enough light came between them for him to see Tacroy sit down in the air and then slide himself sideways on to the chair on the other side of the table.

  “You’ll have to drink whatever-it-is for me,” Tacroy said.

  “That won’t worry me,” Christopher said. “Why did you tell me to write the number nine?”

  “Because this set of worlds is known as Series Nine,” Tacroy explained. “Your uncle seems to have a lot of dealings here. That was why it was easy to set the experiment up. If it works, I think he’s planning a whole set of trips, all along the Related Worlds. You’d find that a bit boring, wouldn’t you?”

  “Oh no. I’d like it,” Christopher said. “How many are there after nine?”

  “Ours is Twelve,” said Tacroy. “Then they go down to One, along the other way. Don’t ask me why they go back to front. It’s traditional.”

  Christopher frowned over this. There were a great many more valleys than that in The Place Between, all arranged higgledy-piggledy, too, not in any neat way that made you need to count up to twelve. But he supposed there must be some way in which Tacroy knew best – or Uncle Ralph did.

  The landlord shuffled hastily out again. He was carrying two cups that steamed out a dark chocolate smell, although this lovely aroma was rather spoilt by a much less pleasant smell coming from a round leather container on a long strap, which he dumped on the table beside the cups. “Here we are,” he said. “That’s the package and here’s to take the chill off you and drink to further dealings, sir. I don’t know how you two can stand it out here!”

  “We come from a cold and misty climate,” Tacroy said. “Thanks,” he added to the landlord’s back, as the landlord scampered indoors again. “I suppose it must be tropical here usually,” he remarked as the door slammed. “I wouldn’t know. I can’t feel heat or cold in the spirit. Is that stuff nice?”

  Christopher nodded happily. He had already drained one tiny cup. It was dark, hot and delicious. He pulled Tacroy’s cup over and drank that in sips, to make the taste last as long as possible. The round leather bottle smelt so offensive that it got in the way of the taste. Christopher put it on the floor out of the way.

  “You can lift it, I see, and drink,” Tacroy said, watching him. “Your uncle told me to make quite sure, but I haven’t any doubt myself. He said you lose things on the Passage.”

  “That’s because it’s hard carrying things across the rocks,” Christopher explained. “I need both hands for climbing.”

  Tacroy thought. “Hm. That explains the strap on the bottle. But there could be all sorts of other reasons. I’d love to find out. For instance, have you ever tried to bring back something alive?
”

  “Like a mouse?” Christopher suggested. “I could put it in my pocket.”

  A sudden gleeful look came into Tacroy’s face. He looked, Christopher thought, like a person about to be thoroughly naughty. “Let’s try it,” he said. “Let’s see if you can bring back a small animal next. I’ll persuade your uncle that we need to know that. I think I’ll die of curiosity if we don’t try it, even if it’s the last thing you do for us!”

  After that Tacroy seemed to get more and more impatient. At last he stood up in such a hurry that he stood right through the chair as if it wasn’t there. “Haven’t you finished yet? Let’s get going.”

  Christopher regretfully stood the tiny cup on his face to get at the last drops. He picked up the round bottle and hung it around his neck by the strap. Then he jumped off the verandah and set off down the rutty road, full of eagerness to show Tacroy the town. Fungus grew like corals on all the porches. Tacroy would like that.

  Tacroy called after him. “Hey! Where are you off to?”

  Christopher stopped and explained. “No way,” said Tacroy. “It doesn’t matter if the fungus is sky-blue-pink. I can’t hold this trance much longer, and I want to make sure you get back too.”

  This was disappointing. But when Christopher came close and peered at him, Tacroy did seem to be developing a faint, fluttery look, as if he might dissolve into the dark, or turn into one of the moth-things beating at the windows of the inn. Rather alarmed by this, Christopher put a hand on Tacroy’s sleeve to hold him in place. For a moment, the arm hardly felt as if it was there – like the feathery balls of dust that grew under Christopher’s bed – but after that first moment it firmed up nicely. Tacroy’s outline grew hard and black against the dark trees. And Tacroy himself stood very still.

  “I do believe,” he said, as if he did not believe it at all, “that you’ve done something to fix me. What did you do?”

  “Hardened you up,” Christopher said. “You needed it so that we could go and look at the town. Come on.”

  But Tacroy laughed and took a firm grip on Christopher’s arm – so firm that Christopher was sorry he had hardened him. “No, we’ll see the fungus another time. Now I know you can do this too, it’s going to be much easier. But I only contracted for an hour this trip. Come on.”

  As they went back up the valley, Tacroy kept peering round. “If it wasn’t so dark,” he said, “I’m sure I’d be seeing this as a valley too. I can hear the stream. This is amazing!” But it was clear that he could not see The Place Between. When they got to it, Tacroy went on walking as if he thought it was still the valley. When the wind blew the mist aside, he was not there any more.

  Christopher wondered whether to go back into Nine, or on into another valley. But it did not seem such fun without company, so he let The Place Between push him back home.

  By the next morning, Christopher was heartily sick of the smell – it was more of a reek really – from the leather bottle. He put it under his bed, but it was still so bad that he had to get up and cover it with a pillow before he could get to sleep.

  When the Last Governess came in to tell him to get up, she found it at once by the smell. “Dear Heavens above!” she said, dragging it out by its strap. “Would you credit this! I didn’t believe even your uncle could ask for a whole bottleful of this stuff! Didn’t he think of the danger?”

  Christopher blinked up at her. He had never seen her so emotional. All her hidden prettiness had come out and she was staring at the bottle as if she did not know whether to be angry or scared or pleased. “What’s in it?” he said.

  “Dragons’ blood,” said the Last Governess. “And it’s not even dried! I’m going to get this straight off to your uncle while you get dressed, or your mama will throw fits.” She hurried away with the bottle at arm’s length, swinging on its strap. “I think your uncle’s going to be very pleased,” she called over her shoulder.

  There was no doubt about that. A day later a big parcel arrived for Christopher. The Last Governess brought it up to the schoolroom with some scissors and let him cut the string for himself, which added much to the excitement. Inside was a huge box of chocolates, with a vast red bow and a picture of a boy blowing bubbles on the top. Chocolates were so rare in Christopher’s life that he almost failed to notice the envelope tucked into the bow. It had a gold sovereign in it and a note from Uncle Ralph.

  Well done!!!! it said. Next experiment in a week. Miss Bell will tell you when. Congratulations from your loving uncle.

  This so delighted Christopher that he let the Last Governess have first pick from the chocolates. “I think,” she said dryly, as she picked the nutty kind that Christopher never liked, “that your Mama would like to be offered one before too many are gone.” Then she plucked the note out of Christopher’s fingers and put it in the fire as a hint that he was not to explain to Mama what he had done to earn the chocolates.

  Christopher prudently ate the first layer before he offered the box to Mama. “Oh dear, these are so bad for your teeth!” Mama said, while her fingers hovered over the strawberry and then the truffle. “You do seem to have taken your uncle’s fancy – and that’s just as well, since I’ve had to put all my money in his hands. It’ll be your money one day,” she said as her fingers closed on the fudge. “Don’t let my brother spoil him too much,” she said to the Last Governess. “And I think you’d better take him to a dentist.”

  “Yes, Madam,” said the Last Governess, all meek and drab.

  It was clear that Mama did not have the least suspicion what the chocolates were really about. Christopher was pleased to have been so faithful to Uncle Ralph’s wishes, though he did wish Mama had not chosen the fudge.

  The rest of the chocolates did not last quite the whole week, but they did take Christopher’s mind off the excitement of the next experiment. In fact, when the Last Governess said calmly, the next Friday before bedtime, “Your uncle wants you to go on another dream tonight,” Christopher felt more business-like than excited. “You are to try to get to Series Ten,” said the Last Governess, “and meet the same man as before. Do you think you can do that?”

  “Easy!” Christopher said loftily. “I could do it standing on my head.”

  “Which is getting a little swelled,” remarked the Last Governess. “Don’t forget to brush your hair and clean your teeth and don’t get too confident. This is not really a game.”

  Christopher did honestly try not to feel too confident, but it was easy. He went out on to the path, where he put on his muddy clothes, and then climbed through The Place Between looking for Tacroy. The only difficulty was that the valleys were not arranged in the right order. Number Ten was not next one on from Nine, but quite a way lower down and further on. Christopher almost thought he was not going to find it. But at length he slid down a long slope of yellowish scree and saw Tacroy shining wetly through the mist as he crouched uncomfortably on the valley’s lip. He held out a dripping arm to Christopher.

  “Lord!” he said. “I thought you were never coming. Firm me up, will you? I’m fading back already. The latest girl is nothing like so effective.”

  Christopher took hold of Tacroy’s cold woolly-feeling hand. Tacroy began firming up at once. Soon he was hard and wet and as solid as Christopher, and very pleased about it too. “This was the part your uncle found hardest to believe,” he said while they climbed into the valley. “But I swore to him that I’d be able to see – oh – um. What do you see, Christopher?”

  “It’s the Anywhere where I got my bells,” Christopher said, smiling round the steep green slopes. He remembered it perfectly. This Anywhere had a particular twist to the stream half-way down. But there was something new here – a sort of mistiness just beside the path. “What’s that?” he asked, forgetting that Tacroy could not see the valley.

  But Tacroy evidently could see the valley now he was firmed up. He stared at the mistiness with his eyes ruefully wrinkled.

  “Part of your uncle’s experiment that doesn�
��t seem to have worked,” he said. “It’s supposed to be a horseless carriage. He was trying to send it through to meet us. Do you think you can firm that up too?”

  Christopher went to the mistiness and tried to put his hand on it. But the thing did not seem to be there enough for him to touch. His hand just went through.

  “Never mind,” said Tacroy. “Your uncle will just have to think again. And the carriage was only one of three experiments tonight.” He insisted that Christopher wrote a big 10 in the dirt of the path, and then they set off down the valley. “If the carriage had worked,” Tacroy explained, “we’d have tried for something bulky. As it is, I get my way and we try for an animal. Lordy! I’m glad you came when you did. I was almost as bad as that carriage. It’s all that girl’s fault.”

  “The lovely young lady with the harp?” asked Christopher.

  “Alas, no,” Tacroy said regretfully. “She took a fit when you firmed me up last time. It seems my body there in London went down to a thread of mist and she thought I was a goner. Screamed and broke her harp strings. Left as soon as I came back. She said she wasn’t paid to harbour ghosts, pointed out that her contract was only for one trance, and refused to come back for twice the money. Pity. I hoped she was made of sterner stuff. She reminded me very much of another young lady with a harp who was once the light of my life.” For a short while, he looked as sad as someone with such a merry face could. Then he smiled. “But I couldn’t ask either of them to share my garret,” he said. “So it’s probably just as well.”

  “Did you need to get another one?” Christopher asked.

  “I can’t do without, unfortunately, unlike you,” Tacroy said. “A professional spirit traveller has to have another medium to keep him anchored – music’s the best way – and to call him back in case of trouble, and keep him warm, and make sure he’s not interrupted by tradesmen with bills and so forth. So your uncle found this new girl in a bit of a hurry. She’s stern stuff all right. Voice like a hatchet. Plays the flute like someone using wet chalk on a blackboard.” Tacroy shuddered slightly. “I can hear it faintly all the time if I listen.”