by J. R. Wallis
‘It’s an Imagining Book,’ said the gun, sounding excited. ‘Anything you draw becomes real. It’s very rare. He must be high-ranking, like you said. What do you think the key’s for?’
Ruby shook her head as the man in the mirror inspected the key carefully. When he seemed satisfied, he ripped out the page with the drawing still on it and balled it up and then walked over to the open fireplace opposite his desk. After dropping it into the empty hearth, he raised a hand and flashed a white spark out of a finger that hit the ball of paper causing it to burst into flames.
Returning to the desk, he picked up the key and approached a large painting on the wall that reached from the floor to the ceiling. The background of the picture featured a rolling landscape of green hills under a bright blue sky. There were houses of varying sizes dotted about, with the smaller ones painted a long way into the background. The smallest ones were barely more than tiny squares with twirls of smoke drifting out of chimneys on a hill. In the foreground of the painting stood two large Trolls, one on either side, painted almost life-size given how large the picture was. Their grey, scaly hands were raised as if ready to reach out of the picture and grab hold of whoever might be close by.
The man stood quite still as the creatures in the image started to move and lean forward, their noses popping out through the canvas. They sniffed the air and then, seemingly satisfied, shrank back into the picture. As soon as they had stopped moving, the man held up the key and presented it to the front door of a small house on the left of the picture. There was nothing to distinguish it from any of the other buildings, but, as he held up the key to the canvas, the picture seemed to scroll forward, bringing the background closer and closer until the frame was filled with the life-size front door of the house. The man pushed the key into the lock and turned it. There was a click and the door opened inwards as the man turned the handle and pushed.
Ruby couldn’t see clearly what was beyond the door, but there seemed to be a corridor with stone walls and candlelight flickering across them. The man stepped through the doorway and disappeared inside. But the scrying mirror did not move forward with him.
‘Follow him, Ruby!’ said the gun.
‘I can’t. Something’s stopping me.’
‘A charm, you think?’
Ruby nodded. All she could do was sit back and wait. When the picture returned to normal, she leant forward and saw that the door of the house through which the man had disappeared was still open.
She stood up and went closer to the mirror and studied the Trolls in the picture, going nose to nose with them.
‘Careful,’ whispered the gun. ‘They’re Brute Trolls.’
‘They can’t see or hear us,’ said Ruby. But, as she looked past their wrinkled snouts into their murky green eyes, she thought she saw something looking back and took a few paces back. The creatures looked big enough to snap her in two.
After a couple of minutes, the picture rushed forward again and the man reappeared, stepping through the door and back into the study. He shut the door behind him and locked it. The house shrank back into the background of the picture again until it was indistinguishable from all the others. He glanced at the picture to check all was as it should be before tossing the key into the hearth and setting fire to it with some conjured white sparks. He watched it flare up and melt away. Before he left the study, the man picked up the black Imagining Book from the desk and put it back on the shelf from where he had taken it and then closed the door behind him.
Nothing stirred. And then the room disappeared from the mirror, leaving Ruby staring at her reflection because she had decided not to follow the man. One of the rules of scrying, she had learnt early on, was that she could only scry on someone she had met before or on a place she had actually visited. Without the man in the room, the mirror could no longer connect to the study.
Ruby sat silently.
‘Well?’ asked the gun.
‘I’m thinking.’
‘Hard work, is it?’
Ruby sighed. ‘With you in the same room, yes.’
‘We could brainstorm.’
‘You’re a gun.’
‘A gun with ideas.’
Ruby sighed again.
‘We’re clearly meant to be a team.’
‘Is that so?’
‘The way the wyrd’s gone with Maitland and now Victor Brynn, the universe obviously wants us to work together.’
‘Does it?’
‘Of course. So what do you think about taking a closer look at that picture? Although I don’t know what we can do about that strange key. We’re stumped with that.’
‘You might be.’
‘Ah, so we’ve got a plan then.’
Ruby paused and took a deep breath. She smiled. ‘Yes, we have. Ready?’
‘I suppose so, but about this key—’
‘We’ve got a plan, remember?’
Ruby tucked the gun into her waistband and picked up a bottle of Slap Dust and emptied some dust into her hand. She asked to go to the room she had just seen, then banged her hands together and vanished.
*
The room smelt of pine and polish and in the distance she could hear the sound of Wilfried and his Master working in the garden together. Ruby hoped that they would stay outside long enough for her to do what she needed to.
She looked over at the picture on the wall, studying the two Trolls carefully. Although nothing about them seemed unusual, she took the gun out of her waistband before plucking up the courage to take a step closer when . . .
‘Stop!’ hissed the gun.
Ruby wobbled on one leg. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘A charmed picture only comes alive when you get close enough to it.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because I’ve seen them before. If a picture like that came alive every time someone came into the room those Trolls would be hopping out constantly. They’d have been onto you as soon as you arrived.’
Ruby stood still, watching the Trolls for any flicker of movement. Still there was nothing. Heeding the gun’s advice, she turned round and walked to the bookshelves, and ran her fingers down the various spines until she found the black Imagining Book. She took it to the desk and sat down, opening it to the first page just as the man had done. It was blank. Nothing but the finest, crisp white paper. Ruby took a black pencil from the pot on the desk and held it above the page. But instead of trying to draw anything she started to shade the paper lightly, colouring it in. As the page filled with a grey sheen, the outline of a key began to emerge, exact in every detail where the man had pressed down on the previous sheet of paper.
With the shape of the key revealed, Ruby began to trace it, her hand as steady as she could make it. She found it was easy enough following the groove of the lines with the tip of the pencil. Even the runes on the stem could be copied. Finally satisfied with what she’d done, Ruby inspected her work. But, as she admired it, she looked up suddenly, as she realized she could no longer hear the snip of shears or the ping of stones coming from outside.
She gave a little gasp when she heard voices in the house.
Ruby picked up the book and turned it upside down. She shook it as the man had done. But nothing happened. No key fell out. She shook harder. Something started to emerge, like it was popping out of a mould. One end of the key, the toothy end, dropped down. But the rest of it didn’t appear. Ruby kept shaking the book as she heard footsteps. Short and clipped.
Ruby took the end of the key, which felt lukewarm like a freshly baked loaf, and pulled it from the page. It was even at first, but gnarled further down, with the bow end of the key misshapen and ugly. The smell of hot metal prickled her nose and she tried not to sneeze.
Ruby tore out the page and closed the Imagining Book. Then she was up as quickly as possible. She placed the black book back on the shelf and turned to the painting.
Closer and closer came the footsteps.
There was nowhere for Ruby to
go except home. So she clamped the key between her teeth and quickly found some Slap Dust in her pocket. She vanished just as the door to the study opened.
Ruby arrived breathless back in her room and stood for a moment, waiting for her blood to cool down. She was biting so hard on the key, the muscles in her face were vibrating. Only when she’d relaxed and taken the key out of her mouth and gathered her breath, did she dare conjure up the study, using her mirror, which was easy to do now she’d been there. The two Trolls in the picture on the wall were still standing guard on either side. Spokes of sunlight poked through the window behind the desk, lighting spots on the red carpet.
The man was leafing through a large book he’d plucked from the shelves. As he did so, Wilfried walked slowly into the doorway and stood with his head bowed. When his Master found what he wanted, he thrust the book at the boy.
‘That’s the way to pick marjoram,’ he said, stabbing at the page. ‘Go and give it some more practice.’
Wilfried nodded and walked out.
‘Lunch in an hour!’ his Master shouted after him. ‘And I’d like you to make sure the van’s packed with enough supplies for at least a few days’ travel. We’re going back to look at that Ley Line again, but before that we’re off to an abbey tonight. St Anselm’s. We’ve got some business there for the Order. I want the van stocked with lots of rosemary and salt, as well as jars of Silver Fire before we leave this afternoon. The abbey has a reputation for Wihta so we need to be prepared.’
TEN
Ed hadn’t heard the magic speaking to him all day. At first, it had felt wonderful not to have the voice distracting him, especially because it was a Sunday meaning he had time to himself to play on his computer and watch television. But, as the hours wore on, he realized the magic wasn’t saying anything because it didn’t need to. His own thoughts were bubbling inside him after spending a bit of time the night before on his own in the Badlands. The magic knew, like he did, that ordinary life seemed a little different now. Further away somehow. As if someone had put a friendly arm round his shoulder and walked him backwards a few metres to give him a different view.
‘Okay, love?’ asked his mum when he came downstairs.
‘Sure.’
But his glass of milk tasted a little sour and the cookies he munched didn’t seem as crunchy as usual.
‘Guess what?’ said his mum as she put on her coat to go out. Ed smiled and shook his head. ‘Your father and I are planning a big summer holiday. All three of us. Somewhere hot with lots of fun things to do.’ She opened a brochure and tapped the page. ‘See. There’s waterskiing, sailing, snorkelling . . .’
Ed looked at the glossy pages full of smiling people having fun.
‘Looks amazing,’ he said.
‘You don’t sound so sure. We can go always somewhere else.’
Ed blinked. ‘No, it seems great. I’m . . . it’s all just a bit new, that’s all.’
‘Course it is.’ She kissed him hard on the head. ‘I’ve got to pop out. Marie’s got “man” problems again,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘Wants a chat, as usual. You okay on your own for a bit? Dad’s out too.’ Ed nodded.
‘Don’t forget, it’s family movie night. You’re choosing the film, remember, so get cracking.’
‘I know.’
He sat on his own at the table, thinking about school and holidays and his mum’s friend Marie, who he’d met a few times and was all lipstick and bouncy blonde hair and big teeth. His mum’s perfume lingered in the air like an afterthought and Ed reminded himself just how terrible it would be to lose her and his father if Thomas Gabriel was found out by the High Council. But there was a nagging feeling he’d lost something irreplaceable in return for his new life. Leaving the Badlands had left a small hole in him he couldn’t fill.
Ed was thinking so hard that when a jar suddenly appeared on the kitchen table, containing a handwritten message, he almost bit his tongue in two. He knew it was from Ruby because he recognized the handwriting.
I only scryed on you for a moment!
We’re going to see what we can find out about the Cutter.
Wanna come? In the sitting room if you do.
Ed drummed his fingers on the table, taking a minute to think about what to do. In the end, he went to fetch his emergency bottle of Slap Dust from the drawer in his bedroom.
After arriving at the cottage, he found Ruby and Thomas Gabriel in the sitting room as the note had said.
‘Jones!’ said Ruby, beckoning him over to the large ring of Slap Dust sprinkled on the floor. But the boy said nothing as he stood looking around, wondering if he’d done the right thing. Suddenly, he wasn’t sure.
‘Jones?’ He looked at Ruby like a startled bird. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I think so.’
‘You look . . .’
‘Confused,’ said Jones, nodding.
‘About what?’
Jones bit his lip. He felt too embarrassed to tell them how special he knew being a Badlander was, given how much he had always gone on about wanting to be an ordinary boy.
‘Being here brings back too many memories,’ was all he said and pointed at the mantelpiece. ‘Maitland used to check that with his finger every day to see if I’d cleaned it.’
‘If it’s so difficult being back, why did you come then?’ asked the gun.
Jones scowled. ‘Cos it sounded important. We need to find out about this person the Cutter, don’t we? What have you found out so far? I’ve got to get back home for movie night later, you know.’
The problem was, Ruby couldn’t tell him much. Nothing about the secret room beyond the picture. Not even the name of the Badlander she’d been scrying on or where his house was located. Which meant all three of them had to travel there together, guided by Ruby.
‘Ready?’ she asked when they were standing inside the ring of Slap Dust. The boys nodded. Ruby closed her eyes and thought of where she wanted to go and there was the sound of the Slap Dust fizzing.
Thomas Gabriel looked around the study. In the late afternoon sunlight coming in through the window, he recognized where he was immediately and he didn’t like it. Not one bit.
‘This is Randall Givens’s house,’ he hissed. The other two looked blankly at him.
‘You’ve been here before?’ asked Jones.
‘Yes! Givens is my mentor. I came to visit him when he took me on. He’s the one assessing my magical ability. And he’s the one who gave me this.’ Thomas Gabriel took out the ticking invitation from his pocket and waggled it in the air. ‘We have to leave. Now!’
‘Calm down,’ said Ruby. ‘Givens isn’t here. He left with his apprentice at least an hour ago.’
‘Calm down?’ Thomas Gabriel managed to say. ‘This man is the head of the High Council. If he knows I’m in his house without his permission, he’ll throw me out of the Order straightaway. He’ll say I’m not fit to be a Badlander.’
Ruby patted Thomas Gabriel reassuringly on the shoulder. ‘He won’t find out we were ever here.’
‘Do you really think someone like Givens is going to leave his house unguarded when he’s away?’ replied Thomas Gabriel.
A sudden BANG! from upstairs made him flinch. ‘See! We need to go!’
‘We need to stay! We have to get into the secret room that’s behind the picture,’ hissed Ruby, pointing at it.
Ruby glared at Thomas Gabriel and he glared back. And then they heard the sound of laughter and the patter of feet. Jones put his ear to the study door and listened and then he opened it, peering carefully into the hallway. The laughter grew louder.
Jones turned and grinned at the others. ‘Imps,’ he said. ‘It’s just naughty imps.’
Thomas Gabriel put his head round the door and saw a large group of imps at the bottom of the wide staircase. They were eating and drinking, watching as two brave imps came surfing down the stairs on tea trays, arms out, knees bobbling with the bumps and trying to keep upright. Half the crowd cheered and the other half
groaned as one imp came crashing down, the empty tea tray squirting up into the air and landing on top of it.
Thomas Gabriel took a breath. Adjusted his collar.
‘What on earth is going on?’ he bellowed, striding out into the hallway. He was greeted with nothing but silence. Pairs of red eyes looked up at him and then all the imps looked down at the floor in unison. Thomas Gabriel felt emboldened by that so he crossed his arms and turned up his voice another notch.
‘As some of you may know, I’m under the mentorship of Mr Givens.’ Thomas Gabriel twirled some white sparks round his fingers to make the point, hoping they wouldn’t go droopy and fade away.
Whispers travelled round the imps in front of him.
‘So!’ said Thomas Gabriel. ‘Who’s going to tell me what’s going on here?’
It didn’t take long to get to the bottom of what was happening. A group of imps had discovered the charm on their jar had come loose a few months ago and, whenever Givens was away, the imps had let themselves out. It had only been a matter of time before they’d started letting the others out too. Having the run of the house meant they’d disabled all the alarms and magical devices designed to alert Givens to any intruders. All in all, the situation had worked rather well for Thomas Gabriel and the others, although they were never going to admit it to the imps.
‘I won’t tell on you this time . . .’ he announced and all the imps breathed a sigh of relief. But he made sure all of them returned to their jars and the lids were screwed on tight. As a punishment, he made a small group of them take him round the house and show him all the magical devices and alarms that had been disabled as well as how to turn them on again when he left.
While Thomas Gabriel sorted out the imps, Jones and Ruby had time to study the picture on the wall. She pulled Jones back when he started walking towards it.
‘The gun said it’ll come to life if someone gets close enough,’ she warned him.
Jones nodded and sucked in his lips. ‘Tell me what you saw again, how Givens made it work.’