Bea felt her heart lift inside her chest and, since the matter seemed decided, she urged him further: ‘Tell him no and let’s go back to my grandfather.’
Marcel didn’t reply, but the set of his body and the unconcerned expression on his face showed that was exactly what he’d decided.
‘I’m not the first sorcerer to find my way here,’ he said to Gannimere. ‘Lord Alwyn came before me, before we were born. He would have been young then and in his prime. Why didn’t you have him take your place?’
‘You knew Alwyn?’
‘He was Master of the Books in Elster before me.’
‘And a fine wizard, but his powers were not what I sought. He served his purpose, though. It has taken many years, but then, what are mere years to me?’
Bea didn’t like the sound of this. One word had caught her ear above the rest. ‘Purpose?’ she asked.
‘He’s talking about the book,’ said Marcel, who was always ahead of them, it seemed. ‘Alwyn wrote about a great gift — the materials that let him make the green book.’ Turning to Gannimere, he said, ‘You gave him a small part of Arminsel to make into paper, didn’t you? You told him to bind it into a special book.’
Gannimere confirmed it with a nod and the faintest of smiles.
‘Did you know he made a second one?’
‘The Book of Lies,’ whispered Bea. A glance at Fergus showed he had guessed as well.
‘I know nothing of a second book,’ said Gannimere. ‘So he was more wily than I anticipated, but he did what I asked with the first.’
‘You told him to take the book to Noam, didn’t you?’
‘Yes. Noam was already a gathering place for sorcerers when I walked the Mortal Kingdoms. If the book was to find the wizard I sought, there was no better place.’
‘Marcel, what’s he talking about?’ asked Bea, who was becoming lost amid this talk of the green book. A companion to the Book of Lies! Her skin prickled at the thought of it.
‘The book was a way to draw a sorcerer like me to Baden Dark,’ Marcel told her. ‘Only those with the strongest powers could decipher its codes. Poor Suskin couldn’t, but I did it for him, by accident you might say.’
‘By whatever route, the book Alwyn made has brought you here, Marcel.’
‘It’s brought a sorcerer who could decipher the book. You couldn’t know who it would be.’
‘Not a name perhaps, but I knew how old you would be.’
‘How could you know? You cast your net very loosely, Gannimere. It might have been the Grand Master of Noam or one of the sages who came here.’
‘And I would have known they weren’t the one I was waiting for. But when I found you three by the stream, I knew my net had caught the fish I’d placed in the pond myself.’
Bea was even more confused by these riddles. To her surprise — or was it relief? — she saw that Marcel finally looked baffled as well.
‘The fish you’d placed yourself?’ he repeated.
‘Yes. After I’d sent Alwyn away to do his unwitting duty, I waited for a great sorcerer to find his way here to Baden Dark. None came. I saw then that I need not leave the matter to chance. Arminsel could help me. I don’t pretend to know all of its workings, but I had learned enough in five centuries for my purpose. Every year, babies are born with magic in their bones, passed down from sorcerers who have died. I was one, Alwyn another; but sixteen years ago, I caused Arminsel to concentrate that magic in one place, more powerfully than it could ever happen by chance. The baby born out of such magic would find the same magic in himself. This would be the child I needed, and when he grew, his powers would take him to Noam where he would discover a book that only he could read.’
Gannimere didn’t need to say any more and at last he fell silent. Bea and Fergus were silent too, unable to find words for their astonishment. The only words to escape anyone’s lips in the moments that followed came from Marcel. Bea felt them cut through her sharper than any knife.
‘The great task,’ said Marcel. ‘I know what it is at last — the great task I was born to carry out.’
Bea saw now that Gannimere had deliberately led Marcel on with his story until they reached this moment.
‘I’ll return later to see what you make of all this,’ the wizard said, and left them.
Bea and Fergus didn’t have to wait long to know what Marcel made of it. He could barely stand still, and for the first few minutes their eyes followed him about like a pair of dogs on the heels of a restless master.
‘Will you stop moving about,’ Fergus complained.
‘You heard him. All this magic in my hands.’
Marcel held them up before his face, inspecting them. Bea didn’t like what she saw. He was obsessed with his own powers as it was.
‘Yes, we heard him,’ said Fergus, trying to play down the excitement. ‘The question is: should we believe him? It’s not so hard to pretend such a thing when there’s no proof.’
‘But there’s plenty of proof,’ said Marcel. ‘The emerald-bound book was everything he said it was. I’d read enough to know that before it was destroyed.’
‘If he is telling the truth, what does it mean for us?’ Bea asked, emphasising the final word.
‘What does it mean?’ Marcel repeated, his eyes as round as the moon they hadn’t seen for so long. ‘It means the sages of Noam can have an answer. My magic worried them, even frightened them, I think, because they couldn’t explain where it came from. Now we know. It was Gannimere; a special act for a special purpose. At last my life makes sense.’
‘Your life has always made sense,’ Bea pleaded. ‘Even if you’d had no magic in you, Marcel, you are still a king’s son, you’re still a brother, you’re still a human being.’
‘Your powers are pledged to Elster. Isn’t that purpose enough?’ said Fergus.
Marcel didn’t offer a reply, didn’t even look at his cousin. Perhaps he hadn’t heard, thought Bea. She could only guess at what noise his own mind must be making inside that troubled head.
What concerned her more was the way Marcel had switched so quickly from doubt to accepting every word Gannimere spoke. He seemed changed by the story and Bea began to worry that the young man she cared for, the gentle, ever faithful boy she had first met in Fallside, was disappearing before her eyes.
She glanced at Fergus and found her own frown mirrored in his face.
‘Gannimere wants you to stay here with him, as the tree’s protector,’ Fergus said. ‘You can’t do that and serve Elster.’
‘But I would be serving Elster. Didn’t you listen to what Arminsel does?’ Marcel broke off to admire the tree once more, especially the higher trunks that bored their way into the earth above their heads. ‘It helps wisdom grow up through the soil, in every part of the Mortal Kingdoms, and that means Elster too. That can only be a good thing. It works against the evil that blights the lives of everyone when it blooms unchecked. This is a much greater task than being Master of the Books for my father’s people alone. I would be apprenticed to the greatest wizard who has ever lived.’
‘And you would become the greatest wizard after he dies,’ said Fergus curtly, leaving no doubt about the meaning behind his harsh tone.
‘Marcel, if you live here with Gannimere, you can’t be with the ones you love … and the ones who love you,’ said Bea. ‘We’ll never see you. It will mean the end.’
That last word came so abruptly. Marcel waited for more, and when it didn’t come, he prompted her. ‘The end of what?’
‘Of our friendship.’
Bea felt tears behind her eyes and had to stop before they burst onto her cheeks. She was suddenly ashamed of what she’d said, speaking for herself when there were so many solemn arguments to make.
‘Is that what you’re planning?’ Fergus asked bluntly. ‘To stay here with Gannimere?’
‘Don’t you see why I have to do this? I was born to it. Gannimere put the magic in me. If I have a duty it’s to him, even before my own father.’<
br />
Fergus’s anger burst like a fiery star in the sky. ‘King Pelham would be ashamed to hear you say that.’
‘No,’ Marcel shouted back with savage force. ‘He understands duty. He would know why I have to do it.’
Bea knew she should say something, come to Fergus’s aid with telling arguments, or to Marcel’s with soothing comfort that would help him choose calmly. But the truth was, she didn’t care about Arminsel or Elster, about duty or destiny; she just wanted to be gone from Baden Dark and for Marcel to come with her.
How much of this showed in her face she couldn’t tell. Fergus’s stony features left no doubt about what he wanted Marcel to do. No, expected him to do. Bea watched Marcel as he watched them, exploring their faces for some hint that either was on his side. There was none and this seemed to tip his anger over the edge.
‘You don’t understand what it’s like to have such power in your bones,’ he seethed at them.
He looked ready to rain some of that power down on them with more furious words, but instead he charged off into the woods where he’d hidden earlier. He used no spell to help him this time, but felt more separate from them than he had ever been.
‘What are we going to do?’ Bea said to Fergus. ‘He wants to stay here with Gannimere.’
‘Don’t worry, he hasn’t made up his mind yet. That’s why he’s so angry.’
Yes, she should have seen as much herself. People thought of Fergus as a sword-wielding fighter and never gave him much credit for reading emotion, yet he had seen through Marcel’s bluster. She was grateful to have him here. There wasn’t anyone she would rather have in his place; not Nerrinder, who judged people too quickly; nor her grandfather who believed everyone saw the world as he did. Bea knew of only one other who might have guessed what was truly in Marcel’s mind — his sister, Nicola. They had all been together once, Marcel, Nicola and Fergus, with Bea making four. For all their terrors, the dangers they had faced then seemed easier to defeat than Gannimere’s promises. Only one was standing with her now, though: Fergus, with a strength and certainty that she desperately needed to feel in herself. Leaning against him, Bea let her head rest on his chest. His body stiffened at such unexpected tenderness, then slowly relaxed. His right arm rose from his side and moments later she felt the gentle pressure of his hand between her shoulders. This was the comfort of friendship and Bea’s heart revived as she felt it pass between them. Her own arms reached loosely around his waist and, as the warmth of their embrace spread through them both, Fergus brought his left arm to join his right locking them loosely together.
Bea had stood with Marcel this way. Could it have been only days ago? They’d been through so much. She knew these were Fergus’s arms around her and didn’t pretend that they belonged to anyone else. They were the arms she needed for now; the only arms, the only body, that she could draw strength from.
‘I’m so ashamed, Fergus,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t want him to stay here, but not because he’s pledged to Elster. I want him to come back with us for myself. Whatever he does, I want to be a part of it, and if he stays here to take Gannimere’s place I’ll lose him forever. We’ll all lose him.’
A sharp snap disturbed her thoughts. Fergus had heard it too, because his head lifted from where it had been resting gently on her untidy hair. Bea loosened her hold enough to turn and found Marcel staring at them from the edge of the wood.
Come closer, Bea called in her head. Come to us and we’ll open this two-person circle and make it three, then we’ll go home together.
He didn’t come.
After a few moments, Bea freed herself a little more, though not entirely. The idea of the three friends embracing one another was still strong in her mind and she hoped he would sense her silent invitation and stride across the gulf that separated them; not just the ten paces his legs would have to take, but the rest that was not so easily named.
She could see his face clearly now and it wasn’t at all like the vision she had been creating in her head. His eyes were wide in shock, his brows lowered, the forehead and lips tightly creased. She’d seen anger in his face only minutes before, confusion too; she’d seen certainty and triumph, fear and jaw-clenched courage, but she had never seen this look before. All hopes of him coming to embrace them vanished. She broke away from Fergus. ‘Marcel, what is it? Tell us.’
He stayed silent. After a few seconds more of this unfamiliar stare, he turned and disappeared once more into the shadows.
CHAPTER 27
The Most Popular Spell in the Mortal Kingdoms
MARCEL FOUND HIMSELF PACING amid the deep shadows of Baden Dark’s unlikely forest for a second time within minutes. At first he’d been driven here by frustration when Bea and Fergus stood so firmly against everything he’d said. If they hadn’t, he would have made up his mind by now; yet, along with Nicola and his father, they were the two people he trusted the most. Of course he should listen to them. He couldn’t decide without them.
He’d walked out of the forest to do just that only to see them with their arms around each other. It was the tenderness of the embrace that shocked him, and he’d seen enough of their faces to know what comfort it gave each of them. Hadn’t he hugged Bea that way himself at their reunion? What a thrill there had been in it, like nothing he had ever felt before.
He was back now in the forest, with the weight of the decision he had to make pulling at him like lead in his pockets. He tried to set out his thoughts clearly, as though he were dealing cards, but instead of his father’s face or the great tree, his unruly mind taunted him with pictures of Bea with her head pressed against Fergus’s chest.
No, that wasn’t part of this decision. He pushed it aside and searched for Gannimere’s words.
The baby born out of such magic would …
No use. Before the wizard could command his attention, a different voice cut in.
You would have to leave behind the ones you love.
Bea and Fergus. They were two friends supporting one another, he told himself. People were like that; they needed the touch of others to know they weren’t alone. He felt a sudden need of that touch now, only to find his head full of the image of Fergus’s arms around Bea. The scene seemed burned indelibly behind his eyeballs. He’d always felt there was a special bond between him and Bea, something more than a friendship. He’d never said so to Bea and never thought quite what it meant. He’d come close to understanding when they hugged each other on the mountainside, yet since then he’d been overwhelmed by the rescue of Long Beard, the mysteries hinted at by the green book, and then Baden Dark, all of them connected somehow to the nagging uneasiness he felt in his sorcery. He’d been willing to give his life to rid the Mortal Kingdoms of evil. Now there was Gannimere. Was his proposal any different? No wonder he hadn’t thought of Bea much until now, until he saw her so snug within Fergus’s arms.
A new burden weighed in his chest, as heavy as any he carried from these other worries. Bea and Fergus had argued so forcefully against him. They had argued together. It hurt him to think of it. He had known fear and he had known grief before in his life, but they hadn’t cut him like this. He couldn’t give the pain a name, but he knew he must face it if he was going to make the right decision about Gannimere.
‘Marcel!’ Fergus was calling from the edge of the trees. ‘Come and talk to us. You can’t decide on your own.’
Should he summon his spell again and disappear? No, he was done with that. He emerged from the forest once more and found the two of them seated on the grassy slope leading down to the stream.
‘This idea of Gannimere’s —’ Fergus began.
‘Please, I don’t want to speak about it,’ he cut in. ‘I feel …’ He waved his hands wildly in front of him to show the confusion of his thoughts. ‘Exhausted,’ he said, when the right word finally fought its way to his lips.
This was true enough but, as tired as he felt, his eyes still watched for signs of the affection he had seen between them. It
was there, now that he looked for it, in the glances they shared amid the silence. He hadn’t realised before, hadn’t thought about it in such definite terms, but he knew it now with as much certainty as he had ever known anything: he wanted Bea to look at him the way she was looking at Fergus.
Since he had banned talk of Gannimere and Baden Dark, there was little for any of them to say. He was glad to have Bea so close, despite the extraordinary landscape they found themselves in, but what should he say to her. What could he say that would bring even a smile? In the silence, his thoughts drifted to magic, as they so often did. He’d learned many spells in Noam, one in particular that the dominie had insisted he write down in his blue book. ‘You’ll have more requests for this kind of magic than any other,’ he’d said and, like everything else in that volume he’d left behind, Marcel knew it by heart. The first line came to him: Figures standing all alone.
It was a simple piece of sorcery, easy for a young wizard who had already commanded the wind and the ocean. He could make it happen, just as he had made so much else take place in the world. All it needed was his will. The words, ready on his tongue, were useless unless his mind concentrated on the action they described.
No, don’t do it, he told himself. Bea is closer to you than anyone. Haven’t you just been telling yourself so?
He would have let the words of the verse recede unused into his throat if Fergus hadn’t chosen that moment to speak. Marcel didn’t hear the words clearly — something about the bow he’d watched them make while he was invisible among the trees. It was the fondness in Bea’s eyes when she replied that he caught hold of and it sliced into him as though he’d grabbed at a dagger in mid-flight.
He didn’t care then that the familiar uneasiness nagged at the corners of his mind. The magic lay in his bones and all he needed to do was will it into action. His hand passed before his face as he spoke the verse in his mind.
There, it was done. As proof, Bea’s face lost its smile as she spoke to Fergus. Once her last words were spoken, she moved her gaze to Marcel. The smile appeared again, for him.
The Book from Baden Dark Page 21