The Chosen Ones

by Scarlett Thomas

  Effie had understood less than half of this. But he somehow reminded her of older children at her school who had just got their exam results. Although she’d never seen anyone as happy as this with just an A* in some academic subject. This young man was acting as if he’d won a very valuable prize. As if someone had just told him what his life really meant. Which, Effie realised, someone just had.

  ‘Did you just have a consultation?’ she asked him.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ he said. ‘With Dr Foulscrape.’

  ‘Dr Foulscrape?’

  ‘She’s the very best there is,’ said the young man. ‘At least in this area. Most of them around here are charlatans, of course. But she works here because she genuinely wants to help runaways like me. She’s very good. Incredibly understanding.’

  ‘Where did you run away from?’ Effie asked.

  ‘Where does anyone run away from?’ he said, smiling ruefully. ‘Home. My village. Boring everyday life. You must have done the same, surely, if you’re here. I mean, why else does anyone come to the Edgelands? Unless . . .’ He peered at her more closely. ‘Heavens. Are you from the actual island?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Effie. ‘But I’m a traveller. I go between the worlds.’

  ‘Don’t you run out of lifeforce really quickly when you’re here?’

  ‘No,’ said Effie. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Wow,’ he said. ‘And is it all true? Is the island really dangerous and dark and full of murderers?’

  ‘Not really,’ said Effie. ‘Not where I live. Anyway, you have monsters, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, but everyone knows how to deal with monsters.’

  The young man rolled up his certificate.

  ‘I must start for home,’ he said. ‘If I leave now, I might get there by nightfall. I’m going to start building my laboratory straight away. My remedies are going to be known throughout the land!’

  He hurried away, leaving Effie looking at the warm light spilling out of the chamber on her left. She walked towards the opening in the fabric that worked as a doorway. There, embroidered in yellowy-gold thread was the name DR FOULSCRAPE. It didn’t sound like a very auspicious name for a doctor. But the young man had recommended her so very highly. She seemed to have completely changed his life.

  Effie knew she should turn back now, find a copy of The Chosen Ones – if there was one anywhere in the market – and then take it to her father immediately. She had to get her box back and then go to Dragon’s Green and see her cousins. As well as that, she had to find out about the Sterran Guandré and see if she could discover anything about what the Diberi were planning. She hadn’t seen Raven since yesterday afternoon. Perhaps she’d found something out by now.

  And Maximilian would have done some useful research, she was sure. He was so reliable like that. He was focused and intelligent, not hot-headed and impulsive like Effie could be. She wondered what Maximilian would have done if Dr Green had tried to confiscate one of his boons. But he wouldn’t have taken it to class in the first place. He was much too careful for that. It could never happen.

  Effie sighed when she remembered how much trouble she was in with the Guild of Craftspeople. And how horrible her father had been. She had probably missed another class at school now too, what with all that waiting around in the Funtime Arcade, which would probably mean another letter home. Effie found she didn’t much want to hurry back. And if she just stayed here a little longer, perhaps she could get a quick consultation. She so desperately wanted to know what her secondary ability – her art – was. And maybe even to buy something nice that went along with it. Something like the silver box for composers, or Festus’s compass.

  Before she knew what she was doing, Effie had entered the warmly lit chamber. Inside, all was muted white and cream, with flickering candles in yellow glass holders. There was a reception desk with a thick diary and a candle-lamp on it, but no receptionist. The chamber smelled strongly of lavender, with some other scent that Effie couldn’t quite place. There were several framed certificates hanging precariously from the fabric that functioned as the right-hand wall. Each one carried the name ‘URSULA FOULSCRAPE’ and then a different qualification. One was for ‘divination’, another was for ‘scrying’, whatever that was. Another certificate looked exactly like the one the young man had been carrying, except that at the top it had the words ‘INTERPRETER HEDGEWITCH’. In the middle of this were the numbers 5.50.

  Suddenly, a large woman entered the small chamber through a curtained opening behind the reception desk. She was wearing a white coat and carrying a clipboard. She had the biggest diamond earrings Effie had ever seen, which looked quite odd with her sensible haircut and clumpy black shoes.

  ‘Are you Daniella Bounty?’ she asked Effie.

  ‘No, sorry,’ said Effie.

  ‘She hasn’t turned up for her appointment,’ said the woman crossly. She shook her head and tutted. ‘Three YEARS is the current waiting time for a consultation with Madame, I mean DOCTOR Foulscrape. Of course we charge double for missed appointments. Dear oh dear. Anyway, who are you and what do you want?’

  ‘I’m Euphemia Truelove,’ said Effie. ‘I wanted to find out about having a consultation. But if the wait is really three years . . .’

  The woman looked at her watch.

  ‘Well,’ she said. ‘You might just be in luck. If Miss Bounty doesn’t turn up in the next few minutes, I daresay you can take her appointment. Very fortunate you’d be, though. We’ve had people waiting out there offering clients huge sums of money to take their slots, so desperate they’ve been. And after that profile of Madame, I mean DOCTOR Foulscrape in The Liminal recently . . . Here you go.’ The woman gave Effie the clipboard. ‘You can fill that in while you’re waiting. If Miss Bounty does turn up, we can always put it on file for you for three years’ time.’

  ‘What is it?’ asked Effie.

  ‘The basic test. Have you done one before?’

  Effie shook her head.

  ‘You read each statement and tick box 1, 2, 3, 4 or 5, depending on how strongly you agree with what it says. I’m Nurse Shallowgrave. Let me know if you need anything else. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll be back in ten minutes to collect the test.’

  Shallowgrave? That was even worse than Foulscrape. Effie suddenly had a terrible feeling about this. The test in front of her looked like a bad photocopy and smelled slightly of fried onions. There was something wrong in this chamber too, although Effie couldn’t work out what it was. Underneath the comforting lighting and lavender was . . . She wasn’t quite sure. Anyway, it was too late now. She could hardly just leave. And besides, if Effie didn’t do this now, she’d have to wait three whole years. Effie remembered how happy the young man had been with his consultation. And all those people who paid extra. And she was very lucky that this Daniella Bounty had not shown up. Fate obviously wanted her to do this.

  Effie started filling in the test. It was actually quite interesting and she became so absorbed in answering the questions that her worries soon faded. Some of the statements were definite 5s. For example ‘I find it easy to learn other languages’ and ‘I am more fearless than my friends’. Others were definite 1s, for example ‘I make a lot of diagrams’ and ‘I am an excellent cook’. Soon Effie found herself longing to know what all this meant. She finished the test and waited.

  A few more minutes passed and then Nurse Shallowgrave strode back into the small chamber. The smell of fried onions intensified. Her large diamond earrings glittered. She took the test from Effie and disappeared back beyond the curtain. More minutes passed. Then Nurse Shallowgrave emerged again and gestured to Effie that she should follow her.

  There was a thin dark passageway and then a black velvet curtain. Nurse Shallowgrave held the curtain aside and showed Effie into the small, dark chamber.

  ‘Eugenie Halfhound,’ she announced. Then she left.

  ‘Actually, it’s Euphemia True—’

  ‘Sit,’ came a silky, smooth voice. ‘Make y
ourself comfortable.’

  Effie sat on the only chair, which was wooden, and very, very hard. The chamber was far too hot and the only light came from a single flickering candle-lamp on Dr Foulscrape’s desk. The desk was quite untidy. There were matchboxes, notebooks, bottles of ink, tissues, sweet-wrappers and huge piles of paperwork. In the corner of the chamber was a large cauldron. Various crystals hung from the low fabric ceiling by thin pieces of thread. The small amount of light from the candle-lamp danced slowly around the gloomy chamber, changing from red to yellow to green to blue, depending on what crystal it had last travelled through.

  ‘Well,’ said Dr Foulscrape. ‘Greetings and blessings.’

  Her voice was like thick honey. Very sweet and dense, and with a slight European accent that Effie couldn’t place. She was wearing a crumpled black linen jacket and a white silk shirt. Her hair was dyed bright pink. She looked both very old and very young, and extremely wise. Effie immediately wanted to tell her all her secrets. How odd. She didn’t usually trust people so immediately.

  ‘Greetings and blessings returned,’ said Effie.

  ‘Well,’ said Dr Foulscrape. ‘Well, well.’

  ‘Do you have my results?’ asked Effie.

  ‘I do.’ Dr Foulscrape pressed her fingers together. ‘But I wonder. What do you think you are? Do you already have some idea?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Effie. ‘I know my kharakter already. I know I’m a true hero. But—’

  ‘A true hero? Whoever gave you that idea?’

  ‘Oh, um . . .’

  ‘You haven’t been speaking to one of those ghastly fortune tellers out there, have you? They’ll tell you you’re a wizard already and then charge you hundreds of krubles. A true hero. My my.’ She laughed and shook her head. ‘I haven’t heard that one for a very long time. A true hero – if it even existed – would be a positively AWFUL thing to be. All that traipsing around after monsters and dragons and great criminal masterminds!’ She laughed again. ‘Most people who come in here long to be alchemists, healers or guides. I have the occasional would-be hedgewitch or engineer. Do you know what people are worst at, Eugenie?’

  ‘It’s actually—’

  ‘I’ll tell you. At knowing themselves. People are EXTRAORDINARILY bad at it. Which is why we use the test. The test is never wrong. But of course the test needs something vitally important in order to function. Which is . . .?’ Dr Foulscrape raised her eyebrows. ‘I’ll tell you. It needs an interpreter. Not just anyone can read this test, you know. And do you know how long I’ve been doing this? I’ll tell you. Forty years. Impressive, no? And I am simply NEVER wrong about anyone. So . . . let’s see.’

  Dr Foulscrape started shuffling papers on her desk. Surely, Effie thought, if Dr Foulscrape had just been looking at her test it should be near the top of her pile? While the doctor scrabbled around on her desk, a very old and decrepit-looking cat jumped up from the ground, scattering pieces of paper everywhere. They couldn’t be pages from Effie’s test, could they? But the pieces of paper didn’t look like a test. They looked like some kind of warning or penalty notice, similar to the parking tickets Effie’s stepmother Cait sometimes brought home.

  Once a few more pieces of paper had been moved around it became clear that Dr Foulscrape had found the thing she’d been looking for. It was a bright yellow bowl full of slimy brown cat food. This was what Effie had been able to smell underneath the lavender.

  Dr Foulscrape stroked the cat as it ate, and it began to purr loudly. She started again on the paperwork. Her red glasses were perched in an uncomfortable-looking position on her nose.

  ‘Halfhound, Halfhound . . .’

  ‘It’s Truelove,’ said Effie exasperatedly. ‘My name is Euphemia Truelove.’

  ‘Oh, why ever didn’t you say? Here we are. Oh, yes. An interesting case. What did you say you thought you were? A true hero? Nope. You’re a warrior. I could have told you that anyway because of your ring.’

  ‘But my ring is . . .’

  ‘A Ring of Strength. Did you really think it was the Ring of the True Hero?’ She laughed again. ‘Oh, bless. You thought you were going around the Edgelands Market wearing something the goblins would have off your finger in seconds if they saw it? Something worth hundreds of pieces of dragon’s gold? Whoever told you this was a true hero’s ring needs their head examined.’

  Effie started to feel angry.

  ‘The person who told me about my ring was very wise,’ she said, remembering her beloved grandfather. Although . . . had he ever actually named the ring? Now that Effie came to think of it, the person who’d told her about her ring had not been a person at all, but a dragon.

  ‘This anger you show,’ said Dr Foulscrape, ‘is entirely characteristic of a warrior. You’ll want to be careful you don’t let it get you into trouble. Now, do you want to know the rest of your result?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Effie. ‘Sorry. Is it my art and shade next?’

  ‘Just your art. We do the shade together afterwards.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘And the art comes after payment, of course.’

  ‘Payment?’ Effie suddenly realised that she hadn’t asked anything about payment before. Of course she’d meant to, but it had all been so distracting with Nurse Shallowgrave looking for Daniella Bounty and then giving Effie her appointment. But of course she’d have to pay. This was the Edgelands after all. Things were not free here.

  ‘How much is it?’ said Effie.

  ‘Do you want to pay in dragon’s gold or M-currency?’

  ‘M-currency,’ said Effie.

  ‘Then it’ll be twenty thousand.’

  ‘Twenty thousand!’ said Effie. ‘But . . .’

  Dr Foulscrape took out a scanning device.

  ‘I see you’ve only got a thousand or so on you. That’s fine. I’m feeling kind today. I’ll take the ring instead.’

  ‘My ring? No. I’ll . . .’

  Dr Foulscrape’s face twisted into a cruel smile.

  ‘You’ll what?’

  ‘I’ll . . .’

  ‘Nurse Shallowgrave will prevent you from running away, if that’s what you were thinking.’

  ‘No! I just meant I’ll find some other way of paying you. Let me come back tomorrow. I can have more M-currency by then.’

  ‘Sorry, Eugenie, but that’s not how it works.’

  A cold chill seemed to go through the room.

  ‘I am NOT called Eugenie. And what’s more, I am not a warrior. In fact, I don’t actually care what the rest of your analysis is, as it’s so likely to be wrong. I’m not paying you anything.’

  Effie stood up and turned towards the exit.

  ‘Oh, yes you are,’ said Dr Foulscrape. ‘Nurse?’

  Nurse Shallowgrave came into the chamber holding a large syringe. Behind her was the young man Effie had run into outside. He didn’t seem to have left for home yet. He was now dressed in a black silk cape with black studded boots, and was carrying a gleaming dagger.

  ‘Ah, Curt,’ said Dr Foulscrape. ‘I wondered where you’d gone.’

  ‘Curt,’ said Effie. ‘You have to help me.’

  ‘Help you?’ he laughed cruelly. ‘What, help you die?’

  ‘But . . .’ said Effie. ‘I thought . . .’

  All at once she realised her horrible mistake. When Curt had bumped into her before, he’d just been acting a part. A part cleverly intended to make her desire whatever Dr Foulscrape had to offer. She was sure that there was no such person as Daniella Bounty either. It had just been another ploy to make her agree to the consultation without asking any questions.

  ‘You’re con artists,’ said Effie.

  ‘And you’re about to die,’ said Nurse Shallowgrave. ‘Now hand over the ring and I promise I’ll make it quick.’

  ‘You are never having my ring,’ said Effie. ‘I’ll—’ She touched her neck where her Sword of Light should have been. Of course, there was nothing there, just skin.

  ‘You’ll what?’ said Dr Foulsc
rape. ‘With no weapon and only 1,003 M-currency? Good luck. It will certainly be interesting to see what you think of to attack us. Maybe you’ve got friends here, but I think not. All your friends are elsewhere.’

  Suddenly, Curt slumped to the floor.

  ‘No, they’re not,’ said a familiar voice. ‘Effie, duck.’

  Effie did as she was told. As soon as she’d done so, an arrow pierced Dr Foulscrape’s chest. Then another arrow struck Nurse Shallowgrave. Effie, now shaking, turned slowly and stood to face her rescuer.

  ‘Festus?’ she said.

  Festus put away his bow. He didn’t seem very happy.

  ‘What did I tell you about these fortune tellers?’

  ‘I didn’t realise. I thought . . .’

  ‘You have to be a lot more careful if you’re going to come here,’ he said. ‘It’s not a game, you know. These people probably wouldn’t have killed you in the end. They just wanted your ring. But there are much worse villains out here. And, of course, I had to shoot them as soon as they threatened you, which is actually a great pity. We could have learned a lot from questioning them. Now they’ll be reborn somewhere and go completely unpunished.’

  He sounded very cross indeed.

  ‘I’m really so sorry,’ said Effie.

  ‘We’re going to have to start again with this whole operation now.’

  ‘What operation?’

  ‘Oh child, you have an awful lot to learn. You have no idea of what goes on here, do you?’ He sighed. ‘Can you keep a secret? What did you put on your test? I assume they at least gave you the real test. Did they have that as a statement? I am good at keeping secrets?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Effie, nodding. ‘I think I put a 4.’

  ‘Only true mages get a 5 on that one,’ said Festus. ‘But you’d better keep this secret.’ Festus looked around, and then dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘I’m an undercover agent investigating a large conspiracy in this marketplace. These vile galloglasses were just the tip of the iceberg. Later on I’m going to arrange the arrest of the new woman on the gate. I expect she fed this lot knowledge about what you had on you, so they knew to target you. It’s a good job you didn’t have anything apart from the ring this time.’