Dogsbody (26 page)

“I’m afraid I cheated you,” he said.

“Oh, that’s all right,” Kathleen said politely, still looking at the dog.

It was only twitching faintly now. Sirius saw that if he was to go back into it, he would have to do it soon. It was no good giving the Zoi to Kathleen. Even if she would take it, he had already made it far too hot for her to hold. Somebody else would have to do it.

“Earth,” he said. “Could you take the Zoi and—?”

“I’m sorry,” Earth said regretfully. “I only know how to give life once.”

That left only Sol. Sirius looked around for him. The mist was pearly pink below. In it, the gray shapes of policemen and their well-meaning dogs were going round and round, trying to puzzle out the most confusing scents they had ever met. The sky above them, over the houses, was pink too, but Sol was still below the horizon.

“Fetch Sol, quickly!” he said to Earth.

“I’m turning as fast as I’m allowed to,” said Earth.

Sirius dared not leave that cooling dog. He had to wait. And it seemed to him that Sol would never rise that day.

Sol came at last. He stepped up above the roofs in a bright bundle of spiky beams, turning the wet slates into sheets of silver and the mist into glory.

“Sol,” Sirius said desperately.

Sol took one golden glance. “Oh, I see,” he said. “So you found it.”

“Yes, and here it is,” Sirius said, holding the Zoi out to him. “Take it and put me back into that dog again. Quickly!”

“I can try,” Sol said dubiously. “But I’ve never handled a Zoi before.”

“Take it,” said Sirius. “Put me
back
!”

“All right,” said Sol. Kathleen looked up, blinking, as he stretched out a hot yellow arm and Sirius put the Zoi in his hand. She shaded her eyes to look at the bright figure, that was either very near or very far away, standing just above the houses meditatively holding the Zoi. After a moment, the Zoi fired to a bright lump between his white-hot fingers.

Nothing happened.

“Put me back,” said Sirius. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying,” said Sol. “I see how to use it. But I’m sorry. I don’t think I can put you back.”

“Why can’t you? You must!” Sirius shouted at him. Sol simply shrugged. Sirius raised his wings and blazed with such rage that several policemen looked up and remarked on the queer green light there was this morning.
“Put me back!”

“I can’t,” said Sol. “Could you do it?”

“No,” said Sirius. “But that’s beside the point. Do it!”

His anger and Sol’s light were drying the mist away. A policeman saw Basil crouching possessively over his meteorite and shouted, “Here’s one of the lads!”

“I’ve told you I can’t,” said Sol.

“Blast you!”
Sirius roared. Then he noticed that Kathleen was staring at him in a wan, horrified way. He must be frightening her out of her wits. He did his best to settle his blazing pinions and smooth his flaming hair, and knelt down so that he would not seem so appallingly tall to her. “Sol says he can’t put me back into your dog,” he told her. “I’m sorry.”

“I know. I heard him,” said Kathleen. “You know, I really do believe you
were
inside Leo. His eyes used to look just the same when he was angry.”

“I’d go back if I could,” said Sirius.

“But I told you it wouldn’t be the same,” said Kathleen. “Leo would only die again when you left, wouldn’t he? It’s perfectly all right. Thank you for being so kind. I must go now. I think those policemen are looking for us, and I’d better tell them Robin’s gone to sleep over his puppy. Good-by.” She smiled at Sirius politely, before she turned and went carefully down the side of the mound.

Sirius stared after her. “What can I do?”

“Nothing,” said Earth.

“Come away,” Sol suggested, and held down a hand to help him into the empyrean.

Sirius spread his nearly forgotten wings and came up beside Sol. He felt strange and raw. It was darker than he remembered, and the noises astonished him for a moment. Space sang. There were great slow notes, high sweet sounds—every note in human music and more beside, all winding, twining, combining, and ringing out solemn and single, like a constantly changing tune. It was the sound the spheres made as they turned, and he had almost forgotten it.
Feeling stranger than ever, he began to walk the way he supposed was homeward, toward the green sphere. Sol left his own sphere and walked beside him. Sirius knew how conscientious Sol was, and realized Sol was doing him a great honor.

“Should I be going this way?” he said. “New-Sirius is Denizen now, isn’t he?”

“Well, no,” said Sol. “Not any longer. Your Companion isn’t there either, I’m afraid. Polaris sent word just before I dawned on your town that someone had used a Zoi to—er—wipe them out. Both spheres are standing empty now. Who did it?”

“Kathleen,” said Sirius. “She didn’t know.”

“So you can take back your sphere,” said Sol, “and start looking for another Companion.”

“I’m not having another Companion,” said Sirius. “And I’m not having Kathleen in trouble over it, either.”

“She won’t be,” said Sol. “Not if I have anything to say about it. She’s one of my creatures, and she was no more used to a Zoi than I am—here it is, by the way. Anyway, Polaris is vouching for us. Most of this was his doing. I wish he’d
told
me, but he was probably right not to. I can’t keep secrets. He saw where the Zoi fell, and when he couldn’t find it himself, he had you put as near to the place as he could, because he was sure you were covering up for your Companion.”

“But he was one of the Judges!” Sirius protested.

“Yes. But they were all three in it,” said Sol. “It was as irregular as Pluto’s orbit and there’s going to be an outcry from the Castor luminaries, and probably from other quarters too, but at least
they’ve got my evidence now. Polaris says you were so flaming loyal that they weren’t going to get any evidence against your Companion any other way. I still think they should have
told
me. If I’d known, I would have recognized her when she was trying to get you drowned. Then none of the rest need have happened.”

“The Zoi would have been lost, though,” Said Sirius.

“I’d have got it out of Earth in the end,” said Sol. “I’m not pleased with Earth—risking an Ice Age, acting dumb with me, and lying to Polaris like that!”

“Don’t be too angry,” said Sirius.

“Earth,” said Sol, glancing suspicious beams on him, “is mine. To do what I like with.”

“I know, I know,” Sirius said hastily. “I only meant that Earth was protecting a very strange child. I still don’t understand what he was, but he was stronger than any Zoi. Earth may have had no choice.”

Before Sol could reply, Polaris came down to meet them, holding out a hand to Sirius and smiling his likable smile. His brothers from the Big Dipper came too, and so did Antares, Betelgeuse and many more, all delighted to see Sirius again. For a moment, Sirius felt he could not face them. He looked back at Earth to steady himself. There, he saw that Miss Smith, after some argument with Mr. Duffield, had taken charge of Kathleen. A police car was taking them both back to Miss Smith’s house, on whose door Sirius had battered so often. It seemed the best thing to have happened. He wished he could have done more for her.

With Sol’s help, he was able to do one more thing for Kathleen.
It was in September, just before she went back to school. Kathleen was taller and browner and outwardly happier. Miss Smith had taken her to France all summer for a complete change. Now she was back, and out shopping for Miss Smith. She had lost her ability to see or understand luminaries, because, of course, that was not what she had asked the Master of the hunt for.

Nevertheless, Sol and Sirius managed, by gentle degrees, to lead her toward the river. They found she still would not go anywhere near what had once been the overgrown cleared space, in spite of the fact that it was quite different these days, with houses, flats and a new school going up all over it. They were forced to lead her on a long detour along the towpath. Sirius was forcibly reminded of himself as a dog, when he had to nudge and push and hint Kathleen to go where he wanted.

They nudged and pushed and hinted Kathleen downriver again, and then up one of the narrow streets—it, too, was due to be knocked down that autumn. They pushed her gently toward a gate with wire netting nailed above and below it. Then they could only wait and hope. Kathleen glanced over the gate, stopped and looked again.

Patchie’s puppies were by then about three months old. She was sitting in the middle of the yard, looking charming but harassed, while puppies seethed and fought and rolled in every other inch of it. It was clear that Yeff or one of his fellows had managed to jump the gate after all. Almost every puppy had a cream-white coat and red ears.

Kathleen put her shopping basket carefully on the pavement.
Then she hooked her fingers in the netting, pressed her face to it and stared. Sol slipped into the house and gave Patchie’s mistress a nudge. Patchie’s mistress remembered that her tea towels would be about dry and she went out to collect them. Kathleen watched the puppies rush up to her in a mob bawling to be fed.

“Little hypocrites, I only just fed you!” Patchie’s mistress said. She smiled at Kathleen. “I’ve got a rare old job on here, I can tell you.”

“I know you have,” said Kathleen. “Please—when they’re ready—could I buy one of the puppies?”

“Buy one!” Patchie’s mistress exclaimed. “I’m giving them away! I’d never find homes if I didn’t. Look at the number of them, will you! We nearly went mad when she had them. Patchie was too young anyway, and she couldn’t feed more than a few, so there was me and Ken and Ken’s Dad and my Mum and Ken’s Dad’s Mum, all on shift work feeding bottles to puppies. And I’d thought it was bad enough when our Ken fished Patchie out of the river! Mind you, we had a good laugh over it. They’re quite old enough to go now. Come on in and take your pick.”

She unlatched the gate and Kathleen stepped gingerly in among the tumbling puppies. All were appealing. Several were the image of Patchie. Kathleen sorted carefully through them. None of them had green eyes of course, but there was one which had the same yellow eyes as Robin’s dog, Fossil. Kathleen picked it up.

“This one. Can’t I really pay?”

“No you can’t, love. You take her. You’ve got the best of the lot there, to my mind. Some people say they don’t like her eyes, but I
tell them they don’t know a thing about it. She’s as clever as a monkey, that one.”

“Thank you, then,” said Kathleen. “I’ll come and show you how she gets on.”

She walked home to Miss Smith’s with her basket bumping and dangling off one elbow and the puppy snuggled up in both arms, very much as she had carried the much tinier Sirius.

“My dear, how lovely!” said Miss Smith. “I’d been thinking that what you needed was another puppy.”

“It’s not for me. It’s for you,” said Kathleen, and she put the puppy carefully in Miss Smith’s lap.

Miss Smith’s gnarled hands stroked the red ears. “I see why you got him. Apart from the eyes, he’s very like Sirius, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” said Kathleen. “But it’s not a he. It’s a she, I’m afraid.”

“Better and better!” Miss Smith exclaimed, quite delighted. “Then we’ll have puppies.” She put the little dog carefully down oh the floor. The puppy sniffed at the shiny toes of her shoes. “Leone? Viola? Miranda?” said Miss Smith, trying to think of a name. The puppy ran away sideways from her toes and suddenly threw herself back at them in an all-out attack. “I refuse to call you Patch or Snowy, and Beatrice won’t do,” Miss Smith said above the puppy’s rambles. “Agnes—no.” The puppy found her shoelaces and backed away with one in her mouth, whirring like a rattle, with her tail rotating furiously. “Melpomene? Too grand,” decided Miss Smith, laughing as the shoelace came out of her shoe and the puppy scuttled away with it, growling defiantly. Kathleen did not laugh. “What is it?” asked Miss Smith.

“I was just thinking—just noticing—” said Kathleen, “that Sirius needed me to look after him whatever shape he was. Only I didn’t notice.”

“Where there’s need enough, a way can often be found,” Miss Smith observed.

P
olaris often remarks to Sol that Sirius loses his temper much less often these days. But the one sure way to send him into a flaming rage is to suggest that he find a new Companion. Sirius will not hear of it. The small white sphere circling his goes untenanted, because he hopes that what Miss Smith said is true.

Another Diana Wynne Jones classic!

London, 1939. Vivian Smith thinks she is being evacuated to the countryside because of the war. But she is being kidnapped—out of her own time. Her kidnappers are Jonathan and Sam, two boys her own age, from a place called Time City. Built eons ago on a patch of space outside time, Time City was designed especially to oversee history. But now history is going critical, and Jonathan and Sam are convinced that Time City’s impending doom can only be averted by a Twenty Century girl named Vivian Smith. Too bad they have the wrong girl. . . .

With an introduction by Ursula K. Le Guin

1