The Family Shame

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  Perhaps the ghosts went after them, I thought. Hart and Hound had had magic. Not much, admittedly, but enough to make them dangerous. The ghosts might have sensed their power and moved in for the kill.

  I coughed, somehow managing to talk. “Callam … how many magicians have come from here?”

  Callam didn’t answer for a long moment. “Very few,” he said. “A couple of kids from the next town got scholarships to Jude’s, I think, but otherwise … not many. Hart and Hound were the most powerful magicians in the town, Isabella, and you broke them. Your uncle is the strongest magician around and he’s not native to the region. I …”

  He stumbled. I silently cursed myself for distracting him, then forced myself to think. It was a welcome distraction from the growing stiffness pervading my body. The kids from the next town … had one of them been Rose? It was a tempting thought, but I didn’t dare let myself believe it. And otherwise … why had so few magicians come from Kirkhaven? Had the ghosts attacked anyone with strong magical powers? I wouldn’t have survived the encounter if Callam hadn’t been there. Someone with less power might have been killed very quickly.

  And there are stories about ghosts, I reminded myself. Granny had told us that much, hadn’t she? There must have been a few survivors.

  My mind started to wander as my body grew colder, despite the sun. I remembered being a little girl, so determined to make something of myself; I remembered making my pitch to my first client, a girl who had been as determined to make me her patron as I’d been to take her as a client; I remembered facing the Family Council, trying to answer their questions and knowing, all the time, that there were no good answers I could give. And I remembered icy fingers stabbing into my soul. I felt a rush of affection for Callam as I realised, once again, that he had saved my life. He’d been level-headed enough to spot the way out and take it even as the darkness crashed down on us.

  “We’ll be there soon,” Callam said, wheezing slightly. I felt him stumble, slightly. “I …”

  He stopped to gasp for breath. I cursed myself, again, for being so weak. He was strong, I knew, and I wasn’t that heavy … but carrying me for several miles had to have drained him. I wished, just for a moment, that I could cast a spell to help. But, even if I’d had the magic, I was in no state to cast a spell. I might wind up accidentally floating myself to the moon. I’d heard stories of magicians who’d tried to fly themselves to the moon, but none of them had ever come back. No one knew why.

  Cat will build an Object of Power that will take us to the moon, I thought, remembering the old stories about the Thousand-Year Empire. Sorcerers had once flown halfway around the world in a night, just to attend parties. And Akin will be there beside her.

  I tried to move my legs, just slightly, but nothing happened. They felt as if they were still nothing more than blocks of ice. I gritted my teeth as Callam started to move again, silently promising him all the rewards I could offer. But they were few and far between. Once, I’d had a credit line that was practically unlimited; now, I had nothing, save for the wretched necklace. And I didn’t think Callam could sell it anywhere. People would ask too many questions.

  And he’d probably be cheated, I thought. My vision was starting to blur. How would he be able to sell it properly? Is there anyone here, even in Caithness, who could pay for it?

  I must have blacked out for a few minutes, perhaps longer, because the next thing I knew was that we were standing in front of the gates. Panic ran through my mind as I remembered, too late, that Uncle Ira had guests. It was why I’d had the nerve to leave the grounds for so long in the first place. Callam lowered me to the ground, keeping one arm wrapped around my shoulder, as he rang the bell. There was no sound, but I knew Uncle Ira and Morag would be alerted. I wanted to tell Callam to run. He’d be in real trouble if …

  The gates opened. Uncle Ira was standing there, looking displeased. His eyes opened wide when he saw me - for a moment, I thought I saw actual concern in his expression - and then narrowed as he moved his gaze to Callam. I felt Callam shiver. We’d been out without permission, utterly unchaperoned … Callam might be in real trouble. And me too, for that matter. I’d defied my uncle’s orders. It was the second time I’d done it, too. He wouldn’t take that lightly.

  Callam started to say something. Uncle Ira made a gesture and Callam’ voice cut off abruptly. His arm vanished, sending me stumbling down to the muddy ground. I was dimly aware, as my vision started to blur again, of Uncle Ira looked down at me and muttering a spell. Magic tingled over me, unpleasantly. The ice seemed to grow worse. Uncle Ira tried two more spells in quick succession, then said a word I knew better than to repeat in front of anyone. I couldn’t help thinking that I was beyond help.

  “Uncle,” I managed. “Uncle …”

  “I’m here.” Uncle Ira sounded more annoyed than concerned. “What have you done to yourself?”

  I found it hard to speak. But I forced myself to speak anyway. “Don’t hurt him, please,” I pleaded. My mouth was turning to ice. I wasn’t sure he could actually understand what I was saying. “I’ll do anything.”

  There was a long chilling pause, long enough to make me wonder if I’d made a mistake, before Uncle Ira spoke. “Anything?”

  “Yeah,” I slurred, somehow. My head was starting to spin. It was hard to keep hold of my thoughts. I could no longer see, even though I was sure my eyes were open. But it didn’t matter. Saving Callam’s life was the only thing that did matter. “Anything.”

  “Very well,” Uncle Ira said. “Anything.”

  He tapped my forehead. The world went black …

  … And faded away to nothingness.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  I jerked awake, unsure if I was truly awake or simply dreaming.

  It took me a long moment to realise that I was lying in my bed in Kirkhaven Hall. Someone — Morag, probably - had closed the shutters, dimming the light to a level I found perversely comforting. My bed was drenched in sweat: I shivered, helplessly, as the memories flowed back to me. I’d been having nightmares while I’d been lying in bed … I pinched myself, just to be sure I was awake this time, then sat upright. Morag was sitting in a chair, reading a book. I couldn’t see the title.

  “Well,” Morag said. She looked relieved, rather than angry. “You gave us quite a scare.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, wondering how long her relief would last. “What happened?”

  “Your magic was badly drained - brutally drained, really,” Morag told me. She put the book aside - I couldn’t help noticing that it didn’t have a title - and stood. “There was no physical damage, as far as we could tell, but we thought we were going to lose you anyway.”

  I nodded. “And Callam?”

  Morag’s lips thinned until they were almost invisible. “I believe Master Ira wishes to talk to you about him,” she said, in tones of stark disapproval. “But rest assured the young” - she made a visible effort to choose her next word carefully - “man is still in the land of the living.”

  I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding. “Thank you.”

  “I don’t know if he’s done you any favours,” Morag said. I wasn’t sure if she meant Callam or Uncle Ira. “But I dare say he’ll address the matter with you himself.”

  She looked me up and down for a long moment. “I’m going to fetch you something to eat,” she said. “I want you to stay in that bed, understand?”

  “Yes, Senior,” I said. My body felt warm again, thankfully, but I didn’t think I could get up to use the chamberpot, let alone go walking around the hall. “I won’t leave.”

  Morag scowled at me, then turned and left the room. I looked down at myself, half-expecting to see scars or traces of frostbite or something. But my body was unmarred by … by whatever the ghosts had done to me. Someone had put me in a nightgown - I hoped it had been Morag - but otherwise I was unchanged. And yet, I could still feel the ice every time I closed my eyes. I’d come very close to death in
the ruined city and I knew it.

  The door opened. Morag carried a large tray into the room and placed it on the table. “You need to eat all of this,” she said, as she picked up a large bowl of carrot soup and passed it to me. “And then we’ll see how you cope before moving onto something more solid.”

  “Thank you, Senior,” I said.

  The soup smelt wonderful. I practically inhaled it. Morag watched me with faintly disapproving eyes, but she didn’t bother to comment on my table manners. Instead, she merely passed me a pair of potion vials and ordered me to drink them. I hesitated, remembering the last potion I’d been forced to drink, but there was no choice. They tasted foul, yet they worked well. I was feeling better almost before I finished the last drop of soup.

  “Good,” Morag said, stiffly. “Can you stand?”

  I forced myself to clamber out of the bed and stand on wobbly legs. It wasn’t easy to make my way into the bathroom, but stubborn pride kept me from asking for help. Morag had already filled the bathtub with water, thankfully. I tried to cast a heating spell, only to have my head suddenly explode with pain. I fell, badly. I would have hit the ground if Morag hadn’t caught me.

  “No magic,” she said. “Master Ira will talk to you about that later.”

  It was all I could do to remain calm as she heated the water, helped me to wash as if I were a little baby, then marched me back to bed. I wasn’t a child. And yet … Morag was treating me as though I was a toddler. I supposed I deserved it. I’d ignored Uncle Ira’s orders and nearly managed to get myself killed. I had no doubt that Morag was saving a lot of chores for me to when I was better.

  “There are books for you to read,” Morag said. “Or you can go back to sleep.”

  I met her eyes. “How long was I asleep?”

  “Five days.” Morag’s tone was so firm that I believed her. “You came very close to death, young lady. And I suggest you learn from the experience before you get yourself killed for good.”

  She picked up a book and passed it to me. I snorted inwardly - I was in no mood for reading about advanced charms - but I took it anyway and started to read. The author seemed to believe that everyone shared his enthusiasm for charms, even though half the spells he discussed were of little real value. He also assumed a degree of competence on the part of his reader that I found more than a little annoying. A number of his spells were effectively useless to anyone who didn’t know the background.

  The door opened, an hour later. Uncle Ira stepped into the room.

  “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better,” he said. He nodded to Morag, who stood and left the room. “We have a lot to discuss.”

  I sighed, inwardly. It was time to face the music.

  “I’m sorry, Uncle,” I said. “I …”

  “I have a lot of questions I need to ask you,” Uncle Ira said, cutting me off. “However, I’m not sure I could trust your answers.”

  He reached into his pocket and withdrew the compeller. I blanched, opening my mouth to protest as he pointed the device at me. It lit up, the light somehow reaching into my mind and freezing me in place. I was dimly aware that he was asking questions, and that my mouth was answering, but I didn’t know what I was saying. My thoughts felt sluggish, as if they were no longer mine. It was all I could do to keep from falling asleep.

  The light vanished. My head snapped forward, nearly hitting the bed before I caught myself and glared at him. I hated that device, hated it. I’d never felt so small or so helpless in my life, even when … no, I’d never felt so helpless.

  Uncle Ira put the compeller away and looked at me. “I believe I told you not to leave the grounds,” he said. “And I believe you were punished, earlier, for leaving the grounds.”

  “Yes, Uncle,” I said, sullenly.

  “Perhaps you could explain, right now, why you decided to ignore me,” Uncle Ira said, coldly. “I told you that this is a dangerous place for youngsters.”

  I swallowed, hard. He’d asked questions, questions I knew I’d answered. And yet … what had I told him? The truth, of course. What hadn’t he asked me? I didn’t know.

  “I wanted to do something for my birthday,” I said, finally. “And Callam suggested visiting the ruined city.”

  “I see,” Uncle Ira said. “So you decided to defy me and go out on an adventure that nearly got you killed.”

  “Yes, Uncle,” I said.

  “You came very close to death,” Uncle Ira said. “I am most displeased.”

  He met my eyes. “And you really should have told me about the gap in the wards,” he added, after a moment. “You owed your friend nothing.”

  “He is my friend,” I said. “And there’s no one else I can talk to here.”

  “Indeed,” Uncle Ira said.

  “He saved my life,” I protested.

  “After endangering it in the first place, I might note,” Uncle Ira said. He looked oddly thoughtful, as if I’d somehow distracted him. “But yes, he did save your life.”

  I looked back at him as evenly as I could. “What did you do to him?”

  “I asked him a number of questions, then let him go,” Uncle Ira said. He tapped his pocket, meaningfully. “Your friend does seem to have made himself quite at home on my property, young lady, but he doesn’t seem to have meant any harm. He’s nothing more than he seems, it would appear. And you did bargain for his life.”

  My blood ran cold. I’d told Uncle Ira I’d do anything. And anything covered a multitude of sins.

  Uncle Ira cleared his throat. “It seems that trying to keep the pair of you apart is a waste of time,” he added, after a moment. “You may spend time with him on the grounds. I’ve already cleared him to enter through the gates. You may not go down to the town without an escort, at least not with him. Your reputation is at stake.”

  I flushed. “Do you care?”

  “No,” Uncle Ira said. “But you might.”

  I frowned, unsure what to make of it. Uncle Ira wouldn’t be providing any real chaperonage, even if Callam and I were running around the grounds. He was more concerned with maintaining the proprieties than doing anything practical. And yet … I looked down at the duvet, wondering why Uncle Ira had decided to allow Callam to keep visiting the grounds. I’d known magicians who’d blow an intruder into dust or turn them into something permanently. Uncle Ira was being … odd. Did he think he really couldn’t keep us apart? Or did he have an ulterior motive of some kind?

  “Morag isn’t going to like it,” I said carefully, more to test the waters than to raise any real objection. “What about her?”

  “I’ll speak to her,” Uncle Ira told me. “You don’t need to worry about it.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “That doll of yours was very clever,” Uncle Ira added, after a moment. “I was really quite impressed. Some of the older rituals are quite hard to make work properly, but you succeeded. Mind you, it wouldn’t have worked in a building with better wards, wards smart enough to notice that you appeared to be in two places at once, yet it worked here. Very good work, young lady.”

  I felt my cheeks heat. “Thank you, Uncle.”

  “Mind you, it won’t work twice,” Uncle Ira added. “And I expect you not to try it again.”

  “Yes, Uncle,” I said.

  Uncle Ira met my eyes. “Whatever else happens, understand this. You are not to leave the grounds again, not without my explicit permission. You are not to do anything intended to spoof the wards or trick me into thinking you’re doing what you’re told. If you do” - he waved a hand at the blue walls - “you’ll spend the remainder of your exile here, eating bread and drinking water. Do you understand me?”

  I lowered my eyes. “Yes, Uncle.”

  “The ghosts came very close to killing you,” Uncle Ira added. He pointed a finger at me. “If they hadn’t, if you hadn’t suffered any consequences for your stupidity, rest assured that you would have been severely punished. As it is … I expect you to keep your side of the bargain.
”

  “Yes, Uncle,” I managed. My throat was suddenly dry. I’d offered him anything and he could demand anything. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

  “Hah,” Uncle Ira said.

  I drew in my legs and wrapped my arms around them. “Uncle … what were those things?”

  “The ghosts?” Uncle Ira shrugged, expressively. “No one really knows, to be honest. I believe, after digging through the handful of records that were left here, that Kirkhaven Hall was actually founded to study the remains of the city. But … the studies apparently went nowhere. There are a lot of myths about ghosts and other entities in the area, more than anywhere else this side of the Desolation, but very little solid information.”

  He steepled his fingers as he looked at me. “What did you make of the city?”

  I took a breath. “It was flying,” I said. I couldn’t think of any spell that could cause such devastation, but if one assumed the city had literally fallen to the ground … it did make a certain kind of sense. The wreckage reminded me of the time I’d broken grandmother’s teapot. “And then it fell out of the sky.”

  “That’s one possible answer,” Uncle Ira said. “Anything else?”

  “And it’s haunted,” I added. “But where did the ghosts come from?”

  “Good question,” Uncle Ira said. “And one to which I would like an answer.”

  He stood. “I’ll have a message sent down to your friend in a day or two, informing him that you’re ready to play with him again,” he added. “But remember what I said. Do not leave the grounds.”

  “Yes, Uncle,” I said. “I …what if I’m eating with his family. Or going somewhere where we wouldn’t be alone.”

  Uncle Ira pointed a finger at me. “Don’t try to change the rules, young lady,” he said. “You are to stay in the grounds until I say otherwise. Understand?”

  I swallowed. “Yes, Uncle.”

  Uncle Ira nodded curtly, then turned and walked out of the room. I stared after him, trying to understand what had happened. He’d used the compeller to make me talk, which meant … what? Did he know what I’d suspected about Callam’s true nature? And if he did, what then? Would he try to use Callam? Or … I wondered, grimly, why Uncle Ira had decided to allow Callam and me to remain friends. It made little sense. A moment of kindness from someone who didn’t particularly care about the social niceties or didn’t think my reputation really mattered in the long run … or something far more sinister? Morag wouldn’t be pleased when she found out. I wondered if she was going to be shadowing us as we wandered the grounds.