More Than a Game
The Realms. Book I
Morag Gray
Smashwords Edition
©Morag Jane Gray 2011.
Smashwords Edition, Licence Notes.
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With thanks to the late Diana Wynne Jones for permission to use ideas taken from her book, Fire and Hemlock.
Chapter 1
Edinburgh in December, when it's drizzling, isn't worth getting up for. Mum went out to finish the Christmas shopping. I stayed in and lay on the sofa, flicking through the TV channels, not wanting to think. I was getting over the "flu; my brother and sister were at my grandmother's in Annandale, and I was bored. Mum came in about half past five.
"Dad's not back yet," I said.
"Damn." She dropped her parcels on the floor. She glanced at her watch and unpacked most of the shopping bags. "Give me a hand with these, Finn."
"What have you got me?" I asked.
She swatted me. "Who said we're getting you anything? You got a trip to Scotland. Isn't that enough?" She grinned. "Wait and see."
We wrapped presents in shiny blue and gold paper, Mum wrote the tiny cards and I stuck them on as instructed. Some were to take to Dad's aunt's, in Cornwall, for Christmas. The Scots don't celebrate Christmas, so the other ones were for New Year, at Grandmother's. We would leave them there when we picked up Tania and Robin tomorrow. As Mum repacked the parcels into the shopping bags she asked,
"Are you ready for the morning?"
I grunted a reply that I hoped she interpreted as "Yes", although I hadn't started packing. She put the bags by the door so we would remember them, and looked at her watch again. Involuntarily I checked mine. Seven o'clock.
"He's very late," she said.
"Perhaps he's doing some last-minute shopping," I replied. Mum laughed, but her laugh was forced. She knew as well as I did that Dad has a pathological loathing of shopping. Tania, Robin and I all earn extra pocket-money by doing his shopping for him, even for everyday things. The only things he ever bought himself were presents for Mum, and he had her present weeks ago. I'd seen it.
"Maybe," she said. "What do you want for dinner? Chinese?"
"Fine," I shrugged. Mum disappeared into her bedroom and made a phone call. She was still on the phone when the delivery boy brought our dinner. I found her purse, and paid him, and waited. Eventually I took hers through to the bedroom. She waved an acknowledgement, but kept talking, or listening, to the voice on the other end. I ate my dinner alone – I can't remember what it was – and tried to read. When I'd read the same sentence six times, and still hadn't absorbed it, I put the book aside and curled up on the sofa, straining for footsteps in the hall, or the key in the lock, praying that Dad would walk in any minute. An age later Mum appeared at the bedroom door. She looked about a hundred.
"He left the music school at about a quarter to five," she said, her voice shaking a little. "The receptionist remembers speaking to him. She saw him in the car park, talking with a shorter, dark-haired man. Well, that's almost anybody. He got into a car with him."
"And?" I did and didn't want to know.
"The car belonged to a rental company. It was returned to them about an hour ago. It was rented out by a Mr Ferier."
"Oh Mum! What now?"
"I do everything I can to get him back," she said. "She's not getting him without a fight."
I hadn't even said goodbye to him.
*****
We didn't go to Cornwall. Grandmother cancelled Christmas, and New Year (except for the party for her staff). Instead, she hosted a council of war. Aunt Mary, Aunt Anne and Uncle Aub came up from Cornwall, Uncle J came over from Man, and Aunt Jane came from England. All sorts of people came and went with messages and scraps of information. I had to sit in on some of the sessions, and to be honest, they went completely over my head. Politics isn't really my thing, and at this stage most of it was politics. Tania went to everything; Grandmother and Aunt Jane insisted she needed to understand as much as possible. Robin sloped off somewhere – probably to the kennels. He loves dogs, and dogs seem to be besotted with him. And he gets on with the Master of Hounds, which is quite an achievement. Even Grandmother is wary of Mr MacMillan.
January slipped by, and my birthday, which nobody remembered. Then it was February, and we were still at Grandmother's. Uncle J had gone home, but Robin, Tania and I missed the start of school.
*****
Near the end of the shooting season Uncle Aub and Uncle Dod took some of the cousins, Robin and me shooting. By now males were superfluous at Grandmother's meetings, and I suspect the uncles were as bored as we were. Neither Robin nor I have been shooting much; when Dad is home he usually works Friday and Saturday nights, and Uncle J works at weekends, too. We both shoot at school – it's the only sport Robin does – but deer stalking is very different to clay bird shooting. You have to walk further, for a start.
We were stalking a doe up the bank of a burn. Robin was back with Mr MacMillan and the dogs. Uncle Dod turned to signal Mr MacMillan to let the dogs off, when we heard a commotion further downstream. The deer bolted, of course. Uncle Dod muttered something that I'm sure Grandmother never taught him, and we headed down to see what the fuss was. Mr MacMillan had the hounds by the collars – he's a little barbed-wire man, enormously strong, because those dogs weigh about 50 kg each – and was glaring at a shooting party across the burn. Robin was knee-deep in cold water, with a snarling hound between him and a pair of black retrievers challenging him to get out on their side. He was soaked. He inched backwards, keeping his eye on the dogs, and ignoring the gamekeeper who held his shotgun ready to use. He lowered it when he caught sight of us. Davy and Geordie (our cousins) and Uncle Dod strode forward to the edge of the burn. Uncle Aub motioned me to stay back with him.
"What is going on here?" Uncle Dod asked.
"My apologies, Your Highness," said a sandy-haired, sharp-faced man. "My greetings to you. I did not see you there."
"Greetings, Master Lowery," Uncle Dod bowed. Slightly. "May I present my guest, the Lord Auberon of Rade Perry." He indicated Uncle Aub and me. Uncle Aub bowed but said nothing.
"Greeting, Lord Auberon," Master Lowery replied. "And may I present my guest, the Lord James of Rade Foulis." A black-haired man nodded a bow. While these pleasantries (if that's what they were) were being exchanged, Davy and Geordie helped Robin scramble out of the water. He was shivering. One of the ghillies took off his coat and wrapped it round Robin; another handed him a hip-flask. Robin drank and spluttered.
"Nonetheless," Uncle Dod was saying – he has one of those smooth, quiet voices that mean trouble if you cross him – "I want an explanation of why you are holding my nephew at gunpoint."
Uncle Aub and the ghillies somehow shepherded Robin and me away so I did not hear what else was said. Back at Grandmother's however, all hell broke loose. Robin, dried and changed, was subdued. I didn't blame him. Grandmother was not in a good mood.
"What were you playing at, Robin?" she rapped her fingertips on her desk. "We have more important things to deal with at the moment than your foolishness."
Robin shook his head. "I wasn't fooling around. Something pulled me in and tried to drown me."
Grandmother frowned. "Drown you?" she repeated.
Robin nodded and shuddered. "It – whatever it was – reached up out of the burn and pulled me in, and held me under, even though it wasn't that deep. If Mr MacMillan hadn't let Jem and Peg after it, I would… it held me under and the dogs fought it off." He snapped his mouth shut.
"Mr MacMillan says that is so," said Uncle Dod. "And the evidence on the bank confirms it. He and a couple of ghillies examined it. The creature has gone, but its traces are clear."
Grandmother asked, "Who did you see? Who knows you are here?"
"Tod Lowery, and his guest, Lord James Foulis," said Uncle Dod. He looked nervous. "I had to introduce Lord Auberon." He flicked a glance at Robin and me. "All he knows about Robin is that he is my nephew. And of Finn he knows less."
"Good," said Grandmother.
*****
"Have any of you seen Granddad's knife?" Mum asked us at dinner-time on our first day home. Tania and I looked at each other, bewildered. I shook my head.
"No," said Tania. Robin blushed deeply and wouldn't look at Mum. She looked as if she wanted to damage him.
"Well?" she said at last.
"I had it, but I haven't got it any more," he mumbled. "I know where it is, though."
"I've turned the whole house upside down looking for it. You have no idea how worried I've been. Where is it?" she asked, her voice tight.
"A boy from school's got it. I bet it on a game of chess, and I lost. Last year." Robin stiffened for the outburst. Contrary to all our expectations, Mum flung her arms around him and hugged him hard.
"Oh Robin, that's the best news I've had all year!" she exclaimed. She smiled at his baffled expression. "You have found our champion," she added. I was pleased she explained, because I was as confused as he was. "It puts me out of the game, though. Now it will be up to the three of you to try to find your father. You in particular, Robin." Tania smirked. Mum went through to her room. She was there for ages. When she came back, her eyes were a bit red, but her voice was steady. She laid a small, green velvet bag it in front of Robin.
"See how you do with this," she said.
"What do I have to do?" Robin gulped, and turned pale.
"Play this boy again. Play honestly," said Mum. "Play to win." She glanced at me.
"Because Finn will be watching to make sure I don't cheat," Robin said, closing his hand over the bag, and sounding almost relieved.
*****
Joseph O'Connor is Captain of chess, and sometimes even Joseph has good ideas. Term One he decided that we senior chess club members should to watch the juniors playing at lunch-time to see if any of them were any good. They had already marked out some possible candidates by the time Robin and I got back to school. Several of us were hanging around one lunchtime watching two fourth-formers, both named Nick, playing. They were serious – take-it-apart-and-replay-it-for-weeks serious. They were pretty good, too. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Robin at a table by the window with a dark-haired, slightly blobby kid I was sure I'd never seen before. They were setting up pieces for a game. I detached myself from the Nick and Nick table, and keeping an eye on my brother, watched one or two of the other groups - the juniors tend to play with a dozen or so spectators – and worked my way over to Robin. He's not a bad player at all – much better than he thinks he is. He has an instinct, but gets caught out against the guys who think things out because he doesn't. Anyway, his main chess opponent is me, so he doesn't have much chance of winning. Before they started he fished around in the inside pocket of his blazer, and brought out the green bag. He opened it and tipped a silver badge with a green leaf design onto the library table.
"How about we play for this?" Robin said. The boy eyed it. I could tell he wanted it – I would too, if I was him. It was beautiful.
"Where did you get it?" he asked.
"Would you believe out of a Christmas cracker?" Robin asked.
"No," the boy said.
Robin laughed. "You're right, I didn't."
"I haven't got anything to bet," the boy said.
Robin grinned. "That's okay. Make it a favour, like last time." The boy agreed. A couple of the other seniors drifted over to watch them play. Robin opened. The dark-haired boy gave him a good game, though. Robin didn't play to lose. Ever. Robin lost.
*****
At dinnertime Mum said nothing. Robin ploughed through his meal.
"Is there pudding?" he asked.
"Not until you tell us about the green bag," Tania said.
"He won," Robin replied. "What does that mean? And now can I have some pudding?" Tania glared at him, then at me, and dumped a carton of ice cream in front of him. I got up to get some bowls.
"It means," said Mum, "that our champion, whoever he is…"
"I don't know his name, I never asked," Robin broke in.
"…that our champion now has the task of finding you a shield. If you had lost, the job would have passed to one of the others, probably your brother." She looked at the ice cream, and at the empty bowl beside it. She pulled both towards her and scooped ice cream into the bowl. While she did so, she said, almost absent-mindedly, "And by the way Robin, you'll have to bet him something else, and see if you can win a favour from him. If you can't, we're back to square one."
*****
A week later Robin tipped me off that he was going to bet a Playstation game. We had House Meetings that day, and Robin and the rest of our Fourth Formers were held back to discuss something they'd done wrong. The dark-haired kid was already in the library when I got there, with the chess pieces on the table. He was reading. I lurked around a pair of promising third formers who were playing at the next table. When Robin turned up he was puffing a bit. He produced the Playstation game. It was mine, the cheeky beggar.
"Oh, cool!" said the boy. "I got a Playstation for Christmas and I've only got three games, none of them as new as this one." He flipped it over and read the back of the case. He sighed longingly and put it next to his book. "Won't your mother mind you betting it?" he asked.
"No," said Robin. "Anyway, if she notices it's missing she'll probably think it was one I borrowed from the neighbours."
"But it's not available here yet."
Robin grinned. "She won't realise that. What are you reading?"
"It's my sister's," the boy said apologetically. "I grabbed it for silent reading. It's quite good, though." Robin picked it up the boy's book and flicked through it. He put it down on the other side of the table, closer to me. From where I was standing I could read the title: Fire and Hemlock. Seeing it gave me an odd sort of flutter.
"It's true, you know," Robin said, off-handedly. I have to admit, he's brilliant in these situations. I can never think of the right thing to say, and come up with about a dozen good responses hours later. Robin continued, "My mum and dad were at the party at the end of it."
"Yeah, right," the boy said. "It's just a story." Robin caught my eye and shrugged.
"Suit yourself," he said, and made his opening move. Eventually Robin set up a lovely trap and the boy walked right in.
"Ouch! I didn't see that coming," he said, casting a sad look at the Playstation game as Robin checkmated him.
"Never mind," Robin said. "There'll be more games. Plenty of time. Don't forget, you owe me a favour."
“What?" his defeated opponent asked.
"I'll think about it. I'll let you know," Robin said. The kid didn't look very comforted.
Chapter 2
A week passed, and Robin didn't ask this guy for his favour. Another week began. Mum was upset. Tania froze me out, and Robin kept evading the issue. In the end I asked Uncle J. for advice. He suggested that I talked to Robin. That was no use. Robin said, quite reasonably,
"How the hell am I supposed to ask him? How am I meant to explain? He'll think I'm a lunatic."
"And aren't you?" I said. He threw his clock at me. It smashed as it bounced off my shoulder and onto the floor. As I picked up the remains, I said, in the way one humours an imbecile, "Would it help if I asked him?"
Robin's face brightened. "Would you, Finn? Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!"
I scowled. I wasn't looking forward to it very much, either. "I'll do something," I muttered.
My chance came on Tuesday. Tuesday is detention day. The Year 13s were away at camp, and because I don't play rugby, I had to help supervise detention. Supervising detention is the most tedious job ever. Robin's chess-playing friend turned up, sent by the Chaplain. He must have been reading in class, because it's the only major crime in RE. Since I didn't know this kid's name, I took particular attention when Mr Whitmore called the roll, and stowed the information away for later.
Once the sinners had finished their time, I intercepted him.
"Are you Calum McIver?" I asked. He blinked at me, surprised, and nodded. "Robin says it's time for you to do the favour," I said.
He squinted at me. "Who are you?" he asked.
"Sorry," I laughed. "I'm his brother, Finn. We don't usually tell people that we're related. Can you phone Robin tonight? No, give me your phone number, and he can ring you." That way I could make sure the phone call was made. He told me his number and I wrote it on my hand.
I stood over Robin when he rang Calum, and shook him when he hung up.
"Can you come and stay for the weekend?" I exploded. "What sort of a favour is that?"
"Ow! Mum!" Robin roared. "It's not the favour. Let go, you sod! I'll ask him on Saturday!"
"You'd better," I snarled.
Mum"s a music teacher. We have to be careful not to thump too much when she's teaching. She finishes at 5 o'clock on a Friday. I was first home. Robin and Calum stopped at the shop. I passed them. Tania gets home late because she buses from the other side of town, and at the moment she is rehearsing for the chamber music competition, so she is eating, sleeping and breathing string quartet. (She plays the violin. They have a new violist this year, who is very pretty.) Tania is also very cranky. She stormed in while Calum and I were in the middle of a game of Tekken, shouted at us, making Calum lose a life, and clattered downstairs.
"Hello Tania, did you have a good day?" Robin said to the empty hallway. "I did, thanks for asking. Have you met my friend, Calum?" Calum grinned. Robin continued, "Calum, I'd like to introduce you to my lovely sister, Tania, prefect at St Teresa's College for Young Ladies, and domestic tyrant here."
"I've got a sister, too," Calum said. "I know what they're like."
"Yours couldn't possibly be as bad as ours," said Robin. Calum hesitated, allowing me to knock out his character.
"I dunno," he said. Tania thundered into the kitchen. Calum looked after her. "No, maybe not," he said. He realised I had beaten him and concentrated on the game again. He won the next round, and not because I let him.
The next day I lent Calum my bike and he and Robin biked to Westhaven. It is a former seaside resort that has long since been absorbed into the city. The beach cottages are gradually transforming into desirable dwellings for the exceptionally wealthy, but the beach is still free. I saw them down on the beach, with one of the chess-playing Nicks. I wondered if Robin had asked Calum yet. I suspected he hadn't.
I had gone over to Westhaven to see Uncle J. Mum was teaching, and Tania was out at a practice for something or other, and I needed to talk to someone. Uncle J. was in his vegetable garden. He seems to think he has some sort of mission to feed the world – us, at any rate. He was digging potatoes, and Sam, my baby cousin, was crawling around poking in dirt and eating things, mostly vegetables (I hope). Uncle J. sent me inside to make coffee – Aunt Diana was out – and we drank it under the oak tree while Sam investigated acorns.
"What's bothering you?" he asked outright. Uncle J doesn't pussyfoot around.
"Everything," I said. "I – we all - want Dad back, and, it's getting me down. Mum's brave, but she's putting up a front for our sake. Tania says she'll do her part when she has to, but at the moment it's up to Robin and me." I had a couple of mouthfuls of coffee while I tried to put my thoughts into words. At last I said, "I wish I knew what I'm meant to do. What we're all supposed to do. Mum's out of the equation, and she says so are you. So that leaves the Perry relations." I pulled a face. Aunt Anne and Aunt Mary are okay, but the rest of Dad's relatives are not exactly approachable. Uncle J grimaced commiseratingly. "And this kid Robin found. Calum... Robin didn't choose him deliberately, and we're dragging him into something he knows nothing about. I would have preferred someone older – I mean, my age, or Tania's. Or even an adult. Calum's a nice kid, and he's not thick, but..."
Uncle J. refilled our mugs and rescued a snail by distracting Sam with a biscuit.
"But he's not exactly what you had in mind," Uncle J. said. "To be perfectly honest, he's not what I had in mind, either. However. He has been chosen, for good or otherwise. We simply have to live with that, Finn, and do the best we can with the material we've got." He sighed. "And hope he's what we need."
"That's not a lot of help," I said. Uncle J grinned, and fished an acorn out of Sam's mouth.
"Do you trust your brother?" he asked.
"Of course!" I said, and then I paused. "Yes. No. I don't know." I swirled the dregs of coffee in my cup. "It's...I don't know." I did know, really. I was scared. I knew we had to find Dad and get him back before Easter. We had three weeks left. Calum did not fill me with confidence. I didn't trust Robin, either. Not entirely.
When they got back from the beach I could tell, by the way he was avoiding me, that Robin still had not asked Calum. I fretted all through dinner. Tania had made one of her chocolate and raspberry cakes for pudding, and I hardly tasted it. Usually it's my favourite. When we finished eating Robin said,
"You know that bet we made, Calum?"
"Yes," he said suspiciously.
"I – we've - decided what we want you to do for me- us."
"What?" he asked. He looked vaguely sick, and I felt sorry for him, in spite of the ominous feeling lurking at the back of my mind. Robin glanced at Mum, Tania and me. He took a deep breath and then he said,
"We want you to get Dad back."
After a pause that went on forever, Calum asked, "What did you say?"
"He said, "We want you to get Dad back”," I said. "We do. Seriously."
He looked from one of us to the other, trying to detect any indication of a joke. He went a bit green and said,
"But...I thought Robin said he was in England. Didn't you?" He glowered at Robin. Robin nodded. Calum scowled. "How? How am I supposed to get a grown man back from England? What am I supposed to do? I'm fourteen. I haven't got a passport. I'm not even allowed to go into town on my own without papers signed in triplicate from my mother. Tell me you're kidding."
"We aren't kidding," said Robin. "Dad is in England, or thereabouts. And we can't get him back without help, and you've been chosen to help us."
"Me?" Calum snorted. "You've got the wrong guy. You want someone else – a good all rounder, like Daniel Herbert." I thought so, too. Daniel's the Head Boy at school, captain of everything important, and probably going to be dux. Plus he's a nice guy. "Not me. I'm soft, and lazy. You want someone useful."
"But you've been chosen," Robin almost whined.
"Chosen? How?" Calum demanded. Robin chased imaginary crumbs around his plate. I felt a little bit sorry, no, actually, a lot sorry, for him.
"When I bet you that pocket knife. Last year"" he said. He flushed. "Only Dad wasn't missing then, and I didn't know, when I bet it, that it was important." He hunted vainly for another crumb. "And I wish I didn't know now," he added. Calum did not look impressed.
"Explain" Calum said. "Simply. In words of one syllable." Robin looked at me desperately, and helped himself to another slice of cake. He ate it, spoonful after agonising spoonful. Calum waited in silence.
"It's the thereabouts that's the problem," Robin said, after the last mouthful slid down. "Dad might be in England, but not necessarily this one – the one you need a passport to get to." He stared at his empty plate and eyed what was left of the cake. I moved it out of his reach. Robin took a deep breath, and said, all in a rush, "Dad's been kidnapped, and we need a human – you - to help us get him back. He might be in England as you know it, but he probably isn't. If we can get to the other England – in the Realms, we call it, we can get to Earth England if we have to. We've got until Easter, and if we can't get him back before then..." his voice trailed off and he turned his head away. "We're not like you; we're…we're not…human, we're fairies." Calum could not see that he was almost in tears. I think he heard it, though. To his credit, he did not laugh. He stared at Robin, and he glanced at me, and he said nothing for ages.
Then he asked, "Why didn't you tell me before?"
Robin grinned tightly. "I gave you a hint, and you didn't believe me then. How would you have reacted if I'd walked up to you and said, "Hi, I'm Robin, and I'm a fairy.” Think about it."
Calum laughed then. "True," he said. "So what would I have to do? I'm not saying I will help, but I'm not ruling it out yet."
Robin looked at me.
"I don't know yet," I said. "I'll have to talk to our uncle about it – if you agree."
"Do I have to decide now?" Calum asked. I
shook my head.
I don't think Calum slept much. I heard him tossing and turning all night. I didn't sleep at all.
When I arrived home from church Robin and Calum were already there. Robin was in the kitchen, making lunch, and Calum was standing in the hall, staring at the photographs on the wall. (Mum has all kinds of distant connections stuck up there. Dad calls it the Chamber of Horrors.)
"You didn't tell me you were related to the school chaplain," he said.
"I don't think you asked," I replied. "He's Mum's brother. Most of the time it's not important."
"Mm," he said, not taking his eyes from a picture on the wall. It wasn't one of Uncle J, though. "Is this your dad?" he asked, pointing to the photograph.
"Yes," I said. "That was taken about the time he and Mum got engaged." Mum likes this photo because in it Dad is smiling. He doesn't smile much.
"You look like him," Calum said. He stayed staring at the picture. I went through to the kitchen to see if Robin had made lunch for me, too.
"Where's Calum?" he asked.
"Standing in the hall staring at the wall. Why?"
"We – he asked me lots of questions on the way home. I don't know how well I answered them. I don't think I convinced him. And I don't think he's finished asking. Finn, what do we do if he says "No”?" Robin wiped his eyes. "What do we do then?"
"Pray," I said.
If Calum could tell, half a minute later, that Robin had been crying (well, almost), then he is more astute than I am. Robin is a showman - he's an even better actor than Dad. He sailed into the living room, carrying two plates.
"Lunch, Calum," he called. Calum left the hall, his eyes on the photographs as long as he could manage it.
"Where's mine?" I asked.
In the kitchen," Robin said, putting the plates on the floor and picking up the Playstation controller. "Get it yourself."
Robin hadn't made any for me – he'd done Nachos. I made myself toasted sandwiches. By the time I took them through to the living room Robin had finished eating; Calum was wiping up sauce and melted cheese with a damp corn chip. He scooped it into his mouth and sucked the grease and salt off his fingers. He looked sideways at Robin, then at me. He ran his finger round his plate again, then, just as I had taken a mouthful of molten cheese, said,
"What you said last night – it was true, wasn't it?"
Robin looked at me, and realised I couldn't help. Anyway, Calum was his challenge, not mine. "Yes," he said eventually. "It is all true. I know it seems weird, but we're not having you on."
Calum licked his fingers again, and stared at both of us in turn. "So where are the pointy ears?" he demanded. "What about the slanted eyes? And the unearthly beauty? Didn't you say you were fairies?
"Should I?" Robin asked me.
I shrugged, "It can't hurt now."
Robin's rather plump, but he moves like a cat. All in one movement he stood up and held out his hands, palms upward and hummed. He brought his hands together, and clasped them.
He said, "We don't have pointy ears, and Finn couldn't be called beautiful by anybody's standards. I might be; it's hard to judge that sort of thing yourself. But have you ever seen anyone else who can do this?" He drew his hands apart, and a strong yellow light glowed between them. Calum stared from one of us to the other. As we watched, he changed the light to green and then to blue, and cycled it through the spectrum. Calum watched agog. Shaking from the effort, Robin let the light go. He hasn't done much of that kind of magic before.
Calum narrowed his eyes. "How can I be sure that you really did that?" He turned to me. "Did you see that, too?"
I nodded.
"You can't," Robin snapped. "You have to believe your eyes. And trust us. Just like we have to trust you, that you won't go blabbing about us, or about Dad missing, or anything like that. You could get us taken off Mum, you know, if you told the right people. And I'd hate you forever if you did that." He blew his nose loudly. "We do need you to help us get Dad back. I didn't know, when I bet you that knife, that it was important, and Mum was so mad when she found it was gone. And she was so relieved when I owned up to what had happened." Robin stopped for a bit. Then he continued, "I know it sounds like a story, but we need you to accept things the way that the characters in a book accept things without question."
Calum said nothing for ages. He seemed to be concentrating on the game, but he wasn't, because he kept making silly mistakes. Finally, he said, "What do you think we should do? Easter isn't that far away. Why is it important, by the way?"
"It's more that it will be quarter of a year, but Easter does adds power to the mix because it's a holy time of year," I said. "You humans don't actually treat religion very seriously and you don't understand the fluxes of power that happen at holy times or in holy places. If we can't get Dad back by then we probably won't get him back at all because they will be able to use the extra power at Easter to strengthen their hold on him. Plus it's spring there, and that makes it more potent that it would be here, where it's autumn. They've got the advantage, you see, because they've got him. We are the ones on the back foot."
"Who's they?" he asked.
Robin looked at me and I looked at Robin. "Not sure," I said. "We think – only think, mind you, that its one of the English queens. Micol. She's queen of Rade Ferier, which is in Suffolk."
"One of the queens?"
"Yes," Robin explained. "There isn't just one fairy queen, just like there isn't just one king or queen in the human world. But kingdoms are smaller than they are here," he glanced at me for confirmation. "I suppose they're more like tribes, or clans, or something."
Calum nodded. He traced patterns with his thumb over the buttons on the controller. It was some time before he spoke again.
"Why does she – that queen - want your father?"
"Because of his music." Robin replied. "Skill in music isn't a very common gift among our people. All the Folk – fairies, we call ourselves Folk. There's the Hill Folk, that's us, and the Island Folk like our Aunt Diana, and…oh, heaps of others- we need musicians of any sort –human, fay or any of the other Peoples - because musicians help the magic work. There are other things, too. Finn's very good at logical, mathematical kind of stuff that I'm too lazy to think about, and he and I can work together and do all sorts of damage because music and logic fit together really well. If we got a designer as well…anyway Dad's a brilliant singer and he's got royal blood. He comes from an important family. The Perrys outrank the Feriers by a long way. And there are ways of making him co-operate, of harnessing his powers that I just wouldn't want to think of. I miss him. I don't want him hurt."
Calum sighed, and laid aside the game controller. "I haven't the faintest idea what to do or where to start, or anything," he said.
"If it is to be before Easter it would have to be next weekend, or the one after," I said. "And bring a friend. Someone you can trust."
"So how do I get to come here next weekend? And bring someone else. Who?"
"We could probably do something to get you here," said Robin.
"Someone who'll believe you and not blab," I said.
He was quiet for quite a long time this time, and then he asked, "What about my sister? She goes to the same school as Tania. I don't know if they know each other, though."
I said, "She'd probably be ideal, and then Tania can do something towards getting you here. Hang on." I stuck my head out the door. "Tania," I bellowed, "Can you come here a minute?"
Tania thumped her way upstairs and stood in doorway, and the look on her face implied she was anything but happy at being interrupted.
"This had better be good," she growled. "I'm in the middle of an assignment that's due in tomorrow."
"Leaving it a bit late aren't you?" said Robin. "You usually have them done almost before the teachers have finished handing them out." Tania glowered at him.
"We've been talking about getting Dad back," I said. "Calum thinks he might bring his sister. She goes to your school. Could you help to get them here?"
Tania frowned. "I don't know. Who is she?"
"Emma McIver," he supplied.
Tania smiled. "Fantastic. She's sensible. Yes, bring her if you can," she said.
"You know her, then?" I asked.
"Yes, you've seen her. She's the violist in our string quartet."
"Oh, yes," I said, my heart jumping, and my face remaining, I hoped, impassive. "I remember; the pretty one." Robin rolled his eyes disgustedly. "Can you organise a practice or conference or something for next Saturday?" I asked. "Or the one after that, at the latest?"
"Yep, no problem. I'll get onto it straight away," Tania said. She disappeared downstairs again.
"Now there's just the problem of getting you here as well. I'll think about it."
"Once we get here, what do we do then?" Calum asked.
"I don't know yet," I said. "But bring a jacket.
Chapter 3
That week was horrible. Robin avoided me and Tania and I snarled at each other whenever we met. By Friday I still hadn't thought of a good reason for getting Calum to our place. I asked Uncle J for advice but he said he had done all he was allowed to do.
After dinner on Friday night Robin and I were doing the dishes and Mum was folding the washing, when Tania came into the kitchen.
"Mum, Emma's on the phone," she said, shooting me a spiteful little glance. "Can she bring her brother tomorrow when she comes for quartet practise? Their mother's away and their father has to go to work."
Mum nodded. "Yes, that will be fine," she said, concentrating on folding Robin's P.E. shirt. She took the next item out of the basket without looking at any of us. Tania went back to the phone. I gave the pot I was washing a quick wipe over, dumped it on the draining board, and ran after her. She was just hanging up when I reached her room.
"How did you do that?" I demanded.
"What?" she growled.
"Get Calum to come," I growled back.
She glared at me. "I didn't DO anything. Things happen. Piss off; I've got to do some practise for tomorrow."
I didn't believe her. I stamped upstairs, accompanied by loud scales. Robin had vanished, and left me to finish the dishes by myself.
At twenty past nine on Saturday morning Steph Harrison arrived, lugging her cello. Tania was having a practice after all. I dragged Robin out of bed, and he was still blinking befuddledly when Calum and Emma (and Sophie, the other violinist) arrived. The girls went off to practise and we hung around in the kitchen while Robin ate toast and honey. Calum looked sick, and he refused toast. No one wanted to start a conversation.
At last Robin said, "Are we leaving from the beach?"
I nodded. "We have to leave here by half eleven, so get a move on."
He looked at the clock, stuffed the last of the toast into his mouth and ran for the bathroom. The shower was still running when Tania and Emma came upstairs.
Tania thumped on the bathroom door and yelled, "Hurry up Robin!"
The water stopped. I went into our room and took my time putting on my jacket, rehearsing in my head, for the thousand and third time that morning, what I had to do. Robin scuttled in, threw his pyjamas in the general direction of his bed, grabbed the nearest jacket (mine) and began searching for two shoes the same. I left him to it. Out in the hall I found Calum and Emma gazing at the Chamber of Horrors. Calum flushed when he realised I was there.
"Okay, I'm ready," Robin puffed. He combed his hair with his fingers while Tania hustled us all outside.
Down by the beach in Westhaven the wind blew icy cold. Robin made to jump down onto the beach.
"Stick to the sea wall," I ordered. "It's quicker." For once he didn't argue.
Considering the day, cold and cloudy, there were a surprising number of people about. The surf was good, and the car park was full of cars, and surfers getting into or out of wetsuits. At the end of the car park was a bright green sports car. The boot was open, and the lanky, dark-haired guy at the car was pulling on a t-shirt. I stopped dead. Tania hesitated and shot a nervous glance at me. I knew now. She hadn't done anything; that was true. But she'd said something.
The guy – Andrew Greenhough, his name is, he's half human and half Selkie, and he knows Mum and Dad - put on his glasses and said, "Hi. Going anywhere interesting?"
I glared at my sister. "I think you've got a pretty good idea of what we're up to," I said. "Are you offering to help, or are you just being nosy?"
He laughed. "I thought I'd helped already," he said. "One line of faulty code." Calum and Emma exchanged a significant look. Their father was at work, Calum had said, because new software had crashed the computer system
"It will cost me my job if my boss finds out," Andrew continued. "But he shouldn't – I've covered my tracks fairly well." He put on a black leather jacket and threw his wetsuit into the boot of the car. "So what have you planned? Where are you hoping to go?"
"I want to use the gap," I said. "I thought, if we went through at noon, maybe we wouldn't be too conspicuous. I've never done it without Dad before. I'd have preferred dusk, but I couldn't think of any way round it." I hadn't done it with a group, either, and that bothered me, too.
Andrew nodded. "Sounds good." He locked his car and put the keys in his jeans pocket. "I'll come, too. I owe your parents."
To be honest, I was glad he showed up. He might be useful, because none of us is wonderfully good at water.
We walked around the beach, past the smooth, civilised bit and on to the wild bit, between the cliffs and the rocks. Normally, I love this part; today I was too keyed up to notice. Tania and Emma walked together, talking quietly, and Calum bounded along on top of the rocks. He coaxed a sort of a conversation out of Andrew, who had rolled up his jeans and was wading. Robin irritated me by singing, and humming, and darting about between us. I wished he would take things seriously.
After we had been walking about quarter of an hour, the beach curved around in front of us, through an archway of rock. Beyond us, it sloped down to the water. A few fishermen were out, but no one else. No one was very close to the arch. We all stopped, and everyone stared expectantly at me. I looked to Andrew, but he shrugged and looked out to sea, as if to say "It's your task; you do it." My nerves leaped about like frogs in an electricity experiment. I ran my hand over the left-hand side – the seaward side of the arch. The rock was cold, numbing my fingers.
I found it; a slight fizz. I worked my frozen fingers into it, and nodded to Robin. He began the chant. I pulled, and the gap grew. I needed both hands to hold it open. Tania grabbed Emma's hand, and Emma seized Calum. Andrew tacked onto him, and Robin followed. His voice cracked slightly as he passed me. I hoped it wouldn't matter. Once he was through, I jumped after him, and pulled my hands away. The gap snapped shut. I ran my hands over the join, making sure it was properly closed, as Dad had taught me. For a moment or two I couldn't see; when the fog cleared, the beach wasn't the one I expected. Shingle, instead of sand, and cliffs instead of dead flat shore.
"This isn't it, is it, Finn?" Robin said. "I got it wrong." I nodded, and chewed my thumbnail. "Where are we?" he asked.
"Cornwall," said Andrew. He was in the water again, the waves frilling around his ankles.
"Sorry," Robin muttered. Tania scowled, and the poor kid quivered like a jellyfish.
"Sorry's not going to help much," she snarled. "What are we supposed to do now?"
"Make the best of it," I replied, aware of Calum and Emma listening. "Find someone we know."
"Are you mad?" Tania said. "Do you know how big this place is?"
"Yes," I snapped. She can be so aggravating. "I know exactly how big it is, and how far it is from where we intended to go. I also know it's Perry country, and if we can't find help here we can't find it anywhere." I stalked up the beach. Robin, Calum and Emma followed; Tania waited for Andrew to come out of the sea and muttered to him all the way up the cliff. She knew I couldn't hear what she said.
At the top we walked and walked along the dusty, white road. Tania kept grumbling sotto voce to Andrew. Robin alternately snivelled about having to walk at all or fell back and danced along beside Calum and Emma. Neither of them said much; from what I could see (which wasn't much – the light in the Realms is very dim, and it always takes my eyes ages to adjust. Apparently I'll grow out of it.), Calum was enjoying the walk about as much as Robin. Great. Robin scooted up beside me again, and for a while he walked in silence. Suddenly he darted off.
"Finn, come and see this," he called. I crossed the road to where he stood pointing to a milestone and grinning like a toothpaste advertisement. I squinted at the carved letters, and stooped and ran my fingers over the inscription.
"Portloe, three miles," I read. I could have hugged him. Of all the places he could have brought us to, this was the best. "If you're going to screw up in future," I said, "screw up like this." His grin stretched. The others caught up with us.
Tania squinted at the milestone and made a noise something like "Hmph." Emma and Calum exchanged a doubtful glance.
"At least we know where we are. Sort of," Tania said, almost nicely. She addressed Emma. "My brothers were supposed to get us to PORT LOGAN, which is in GALLOWAY, and our grandmother was going to PICK US UP THERE. INSTEAD, we are at PORTLOE, in CORNWALL, 300 MILES AWAY. We do have an aunt who lives near here. Otherwise, I HOPE FINN KNOWS WHAT HE IS DOING." I could hear the capitals. Cow.
"Yes, I do know what I'm doing," I lied. "We're going to visit Aunt Mary. Come on." I led the way down the road to Portloe.
Chapter 4
"Aunt Mary" sounds sweet, and apple-cheeked, and cosy; a white-haired little old lady with cats and knitting. Not ours. For a start, she hates cats, and keeps enormous great black dogs instead. And probably the only use she could find for a knitting needle would be as an offensive weapon. Everything about her is spiky: her hair, her clothes, her personality. She owns a couple of chains of hotels throughout Cornwall, Devon and Brittany. Years and years ago she ditched her husband and she currently (at least in January) lives on her own. She is Dad's aunt; his mother was her sister, Jane. I think Dad is a little in awe of her. I know I am.
Aunt Mary lives in a big house at the eastern end of Portloe. There we should be able to get food and rest, even if she wasn't home, and some help on our way. For the first time since Dad disappeared I felt as if things were turning our way. Calum walked beside me on the road to Portloe. He didn't speak much, and his head turned from side to side as he took in the scenery and the occasional glimpse of the sea. The village was busy. It was market day, and no-one bothered about another bunch of teenagers. Robin wanted to stop for ice cream, but none of us had any of the right money. Intending to go to Grandmother's we had brought Scottish pounds, not Cornish ones. Tania glared at me as if it was my fault. It was one of those days where it is too hot to wear a jacket but the wind from the sea scythes through you, so we were all grumpy and uncomfortable by the time we got to Aunt Anne's.
Emma and Calum stared open-mouthed at the daffodils on either side of the long driveway.
"What month is it?" I heard Emma ask.
"March," Calum answered. He rubbed his eyes. "Or at least, it was this morning.
"Weird," said Emma.
There was a squad of large, shiny cars parked outside the house. It seemed Aunt Mary was home. I rang the doorbell and Beech, the butler, let us in. He's a real, old-fashioned butler. He always calls us by our correct titles. He bowed extremely politely, and a little stiffly, to Andrew. He eyed Emma and Calum curiously.
"Forgive me," he intoned. His voice reminds me of mahogany. "I have seldom met sojourners from the Surface. I am honoured to meet you, Miss McIver, Master McIver." He turned to Tania. "I shall inform Her Ladyship that you are here, My Lady." Tania nodded slightly and Beech withdrew. Robin plonked himself into the nearest chair.
"Sit down," he said to Calum, and waved his hand towards the chairs. "I'm starving. Do you think he'll bring us anything to eat?"
"Hope so," I said. I was ravenous.
"What are we supposed to do?" Calum asked. He hadn't really spoken for hours. "I mean, we're… I'm hungry too. And… according to all the books and things that I've read, Emma and I can't eat anything here if we want to get home again."
"Oh, God," I said. "I hadn't thought of that." Tania gave me look to say, Well, what have you thought of? Sometimes I could throttle her.
"Watch me," said Andrew. "I'll act as your taster. I'm half human. There are things they can eat that I can't. But you really only need to worry about stuff with a glamour on it."
"What's a glamour?" Calum asked.
"It's a spell that you put on something to make look like something else. Usually better," Robin explained. "But what you start with has to be similar in some way to the end result. Um." He cast around, searching for something to transform.
"Like in the stories, when gold coins turn into dead leaves," Calum suggested.
"Yeah," Robin answered. "It's like, oh, I don't know, airbrushing. It's glitzing stuff up, and …" he seized a chair. "Watch this."
The chair was an ordinary side chair – gilded woodwork and green brocade upholstery. Robin concentrated, and in a few seconds we were all looking a huge gold and green throne.
"If you have the sight, or the right kind of charm about you, you can see through it quite easily," Tania said.
Calum grinned. "Yes. I can see it; the original underneath and the grand one on top, like a double exposure."
"I can just see the throne," Emma said, peeved.
"So can I," Andrew said. I looked sideways at Calum. Tania and I knew how to look to see through the glamour; there is no way he should be able to see it so easily. I just opened my mouth to ask him when Aunt Mary said,
"Very pretty Robin, but a trifle kitsch. You really are the most appalling show off."
He grinned, and the glamour evaporated. "I learned from the best," he said. Aunt Mary raised her eyebrows, but Robin pretended he didn't see and threw himself at Claude and Eustace, her dogs. Eustace shook his shaggy frame and knocked Robin to the floor. Claude pounced and licked Robin's face with a tongue roughly the size of a tea towel. Calum backed away. I wondered if he dislikes dogs.
Aunt Mary looked at each of us in turn, and then she said, "I wasn't expecting you. I'm leaving for Paris tonight; otherwise I would have been at your disposal. Nonetheless, what can I do for you?"
"We didn't mean to come here, Aunt Mary," Tania said, before I got a chance to speak. "We were meant to go to Grandmother's, but my clever brothers brought us here instead. I haven't a clue what they intend doing next. I doubt if they have, either."
"Have a wash and something to eat," retorted Robin, extricating himself from the dogs.
"Something like that," I agreed.
Aunt Mary eyeballed Andrew. "What brings you here, Andreas Riatach mac Murchadh Righ?"
Andrew turned bright red. "I owe Lord Robert," he replied, glancing sidelong at Tania. Aunt Mary intercepted the look.
"I see," she said. Her tone said, I don't think that's the entire truth. I thought she was right. "And who are you?" she asked Emma.
Emma curtsied! "Emma McIver, ma'am. And this is my brother, Calum. We're here because… because Calum is Robin's friend." Calum nodded and said nothing.
"I see," said Aunt Mary again, this time without the inflection. She smiled, which for any of the aunts is a rarity, and said, "We'll discuss this further once you are refreshed, and I've disposed of the Veryan Fund-raising Committee."
She rang the bell for Beech. Beech ushered us upstairs to wash.
Andrew, Robin and Calum were already in the drawing room when I got back. Robin had completely negated his wash; he was sitting on the floor fondling Claude's gigantic ears. Eustace lay behind Robin – Robin was using him for support – and watched Calum pacing slowly around, like someone at an exhibition, separated from from the furniture by invisible ropes. I sat down on a gilt and green chair-back settee. Aunt Mary likes 18th Century furniture. It's about the only thing she has in common with Aunt Jane. That, and the scariness.
"You are allowed to sit," Robin said.
Calum frowned, and the grinned. "It looks – it's unreal. No, that's the wrong word…"
He didn't finish what he was about to say because Beech returned with food and drink. Aunt Mary refuses to give minors – that is, anyone under twenty-five -alcohol, so it was dandelion cordial (which tastes much better than it sounds). No one else in our entire extended family is so tough. Calum took a glass, and one of the salty pastry things that Aunt Anne's cook is a genius at, and balanced on the edge of the most uncomfortable chair in the room. He took his cue from Andrew, neither eating nor drinking until after Andrew had given him a nod. Andrew grimaced at the dandelion cordial. He's a minor, too.
Beech had done several circuits of the room, and we'd eaten about three-quarters of the pastries before Aunt Mary came in, bringing Tania and Emma with her. Beech discreetly melted away.
"I have contacted your grandmother and informed her you are here," Aunt Mary said. "She is relieved to know that you are safe. However, she agrees with me that it would be foolish for you to try the gap again. I'm going to send you on to Aunt Anne. She may be of more help to you, and she can at least give you beds for the night. She is expecting you. Now," she turned to Tania. "What do you know of what you are up against?"
“Not much." Tania admitted. "We are pretty sure Micol Ferier is behind it, because Dad was last seen with James Anthony. We think. But you knew that anyway."
Aunt Mary nodded.
Tania said, "We're assuming she wants Dad to join her, willing or unwilling. Since no-one has had a message saying he is willing – Mum, or Grandmother, or Aunt Jane would have heard by now, and Micol wouldn't pass up such an opportunity to gloat, - we are assuming he is unwilling and will have his gift taken by force. In which case, we have until Easter at the latest. I think she'll want to make sure of him before then. I would, if I were her." She nibbled at a pastry. I admired her coolness. She spoke again. "I think – we supposed, Grandmother and Mum and my aunts, that somehow Micol put the enchantment in place at that master class he took in Edinburgh. I don't know how, because if she'd been there, or if James Anthony had, he would have been on his guard. Wouldn't he?" She turned to me.
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