Doubleborn (6 page)

The barn smelled sweet and dry. Sun sliced in through slit windows and picked out the motes and dust like stars. She could hear Winny rummaging through the stuff at the other end.

Sitting in a chair for the first time since she ran away made her sad. She missed Vengeabil. She missed the silences of the hidden corners of the college, the nooks in the library where she was shielded by walls of books, the winding stair to the turret, the empty studies where teachers used to sit and mark books before the numbers in the college dwindled.

“Anything?” shouted Winny.

Tamrin stood up and moved quickly, trying to look as though she had been searching.

She didn’t fool Winny, who gave her a reproachful look. They left Barbaron sitting in the sun and made their way in silence to the cart. Winny threw her finds on and lifted the handles. Tamrin snitched her scrap of metal from where she had tossed it and hid it in her cloak. Folding her thoughts on themselves she trudged alongside, away from the setting sun. ||

practising a shape-shift spell when he saw the crow. The bird circled the college, black against blue, soared to the left, and dipped out of sight behind the wall. Minutes later Smedge walked round the side of the wall and into the garden. He shrugged his shoulders as though getting used to his arms again.

“Hello,” said Tim. “Where’ve you been?”

Smedge smiled. Tim wished he wouldn’t do that. It made him nervous.

“What are you supposed to be?” asked Smedge.

Tim had hands like a dog’s paws. He looked down at them. Cat’s whiskers either side of his nose made him look startled.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “Dog?”

“What’s it like?”

“It hurts, you know,” said Tim.

He clapped his paws together and screwed up his eyes. The paws were still there.

“It took me ages to get them,” he explained, “and now I can’t get rid of them.”

“Why are you doing it?”

“Homework.”

Tim kicked a stone in an embarrassed way. “I’m falling behind a bit, you know?”

Smedge listened and made Tim carry on by his silence.

“I really need to do well,” said Tim. “I can’t end up as some sort of village trickster, making charms to stop the cow’s milk drying up or keeping the hay dry in the barn. I can’t. I’d hate that. I’d rather be a farmer or a grocer.”

He looked helplessly at Smedge.

“Dr Duddle says he’ll put me on a special report if I don’t get shape-shifting right by tomorrow. And then I’ll be in real trouble.”

Tim hated himself for talking to Smedge like this. If only Tam had been around he would have gone to her. She’d helped him before. But she’d gone now. He missed her.

Smedge smiled. Again.

“You have to work hard,” he said.

Tim clapped his paws together again.

“See? Can’t change back.”

“Were you completely a dog?” asked Smedge.

Tim blushed.

“Not completely,” he admitted.

“How much?”

“Oh, you know. Not all.”

“Just the paws?”

“Yes.”

“Oh dear.”

Tim wanted to leave Smedge now. He was nervous.

“Do you think I could help?”

“No, thanks. It’s all right.”

Tim edged away. He felt Smedge’s hand on his shoulder.

“Try this,” said Smedge.

Tim crouched. He fell forward. His arms were covered in fur. He turned his head. His feet were brindle, bent. He sniffed the grass. It was clean, sweet. He rolled on his back.

“How’s that?” asked Smedge.

It was uncomfortable. Sort of. Tim thought he might get used to it. He might grow to like it.

“Is that better?” asked Smedge.

What Tim tried to say was, “How do you do it?” What he actually said was, “Woof!”

“Ah,” said Smedge. “It’s not too difficult when you’ve got the trick of it. It’s like spinning a top. It’s a knack.”

“Can you teach me?” woofed Tim.

“I can help. If you want.”

Tim wriggled round and found his feet. He ran in a circle, chasing his tail.

“You remember,” said Smedge, “when Tamrin used to bully me?”

Tim stopped and cocked his head to one side.

He woofed a hesitant, “I don’t think so.”

“No?” smiled Smedge. “That’s a shame. Oh well. I’d better be off now.”

“Stop,” woofed Tim. “You can’t leave me like this. I can’t change back.”

“It’s odd, isn’t it, memory?” said Smedge. “You can’t remember how Tamrin bullied me. I can’t remember how to change you back. Never mind.”

He walked away. Tim bounded alongside him.

“I might,” he woofed. “I mean… You know?”

“You do remember?”

Tim sat down and looked up at Smedge. Smedge stroked his head.

“Good boy,” he said. “There’s a good boy.”

He picked up a stick and threw it. Without even thinking, Tim raced across the grass and brought it back. He dropped it at Smedge’s feet. He even enjoyed doing it at the same time as he hated Smedge. It was strange, being a dog.

“What do you remember?” asked Smedge.

“She locked you in a block of ice,” Tim woofed. “And left you there.”

“Do you remember other things?”

Tim remembered. He told Smedge.

“Good boy. Now, will you come with me to Professor Frastfil and tell him?”

Tim woofed a sad yes.

Smedge put his hand into Tim’s armpit, lifted him up and he was a boy again.

“Come with me,” he said.

Tim followed him from the sunlit garden through the door into the shade. ||

to swing the brass bell when she saw the small group of houses ahead on the road.

They’d been, if not silent, then guarded in their speech since leaving the barn. Tamrin knew she had been lazy and she was uncomfortable. Perhaps there had been things in the barn they’d missed because she hadn’t bothered to look? Perhaps she could have taken more of a turn with the cart?

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Winny didn’t answer her.

“I don’t do much with other people,” said Tamrin. “I’m not used to it. To helping. To doing what I’m told.”

Winny nodded. The cart was heavy. She kept her breath for pushing.

“Are we collecting?” asked Tamrin. “I’ll look properly this time.”

They had passed several houses and reached one with a path up to the door. Winny turned in and put down the cart handles. The house was long and low. Two storeys, with old red tiles. Small windows and a wide door. Tamrin could smell smoke; a brick chimney, twice the height of the house, stood back and to the right.

“Not here,” said Winny. “We’re delivering. Come on.”

She took the handles again and pushed the cart round the side of the house. Set back a little, and joined to the chimney, was a second building, bigger than the first. Dusk had edged in, and the glow of a fire within the second building looked both inviting and dangerous.

“Old iron,” shouted Winny. “Get your old iron.”

A man appeared in the doorway, blocking the view of the fire. He was big, wide-shouldered, his face back-lit, obscured. He held out his arms. Winny ran to him and hugged him.

“What have you brought me?” he asked.

“Come and see.”

They walked towards Tamrin, his arm over her shoulders.

“This is strange old iron,” he said, looking at her.

“This is Tam,” said Winny.

“Hello, Tam.”

He held out his hand for her to shake. She ignored it.

“I’m Smith,” he said.

“That’s not a name, it’s a job.”

“So it is,” he agreed. “But it’s what you can call me. Are you hungry?”

She was. She was also afraid now. It was too soon. Winny hadn’t told her they were there. And what about the tailor?

“No, thanks,” she said. “I’m not staying. I’ve got to find someone. Thank you for the company,” she said to Winny. “I’ve got to go now.”

Winny stepped forward, put her hand on Tamrin’s shoulder.

“Please stay and eat. Stay for the night. We’ll pick up the trail tomorrow. I haven’t forgotten your tailor. I promise.”

“Tailors, is it?” said Smith. “I can tell you a thing or two about tailors. Come on.”

He seized Tamrin’s hand and led her inside the house.

There were three places set at a table in the kitchen and the appetizing aroma of something roasting. Tamrin discovered she was very hungry and her legs ached. Even the little she had pushed the cart was more than she was used to.

The only two kitchens she had ever known were Vengeabil’s lair and the high, arched space of the college kitchen. This was like neither. It was smaller than Vengeabil’s. And where his was kitchen, study, dining room and workshop all in one, this was just a place to cook and eat.

None the worse for that, though. Tamrin looked at it and approved. There was no nonsense here. Everything was useful. She didn’t have to steer her way past an experiment or a pile of books. She could sit down at the table without having to check that the chair was clear first. So she did.

“You must be starving,” said Winny. She poured Tamrin a beaker of cordial and put it in front of her.

“Elderflower and rosehip,” she said.

Smith dipped a ladle into a bowl of hot fat and meat juices and poured it over the chicken that was roasting on a spit over the fire.

Fresh bread, crusty and brown, a dish of butter, peas and sliced runner beans, a jug of gravy, and finally the chicken, glistening and golden, were set in front of Tamrin. Winny refilled her glass, Smith carved the bird and they fell to eating and talking as though they had known each other for years.

Tamrin didn’t forget the tailor, but her first mouthful of the soft, moist chicken persuaded her that she could afford to wait until tomorrow to follow him. His trail would still be clear. And that reminded her.

“What were you going to tell me about tailors?” she asked Smith.

“Nothing.”

He forked another piece of chicken on to his plate.

“You said you were.”

“I said I could. I’m not going to.”

“Why not?”

“Not yet, anyway. I might one day.”

Winny frowned at her father.

“He’s like this,” she said. “Pay no attention to him.”

“What sort of wizard are you?” he asked Tamrin.

“Who says I’m a wizard?”

“You think I don’t know a wizard when I see one?”

He gave her a challenging look.

“How do you know?”

“Because,” he said, lowering his voice so that she had to strain to hear him, “because you haven’t done any magic.”

“If I wasn’t a wizard I couldn’t do any magic, so that doesn’t make sense,” she argued.

“Ah, but you could if you wanted. You chose not to. That’s the difference.”

Tamrin knew what was wrong with this argument. She just didn’t know where to begin to show it was wrong.

“Tell me,” said Smith. “Where did magic come from? At the beginning.”

Tamrin was becoming full. The chicken was so good that she didn’t want to stop eating it. She took a small slice, and a little more bread and some beans. It gave her time to think. She dipped the bread into the gravy and ate it.

“There are different stories,” she said, when she had swallowed the bread. “About where magic comes from.”

“Which one is best?”

“The mirror,” said Tamrin.

“How does that story go?” He sat back, comfortable from his meal, folded his arms and waited.

“I’m not allowed to tell you,” said Tamrin.

Winny started to clear the plates. Tamrin began to help her but Winny touched her hand and stopped her.

“You two need to talk,” she said.

“So you won’t tell?” asked Smith.

She shook her head.

“Why?”

“If I know it, then it’s wizard stuff and not for the likes of you,” said Tamrin.

She thought that Smith was going to hit her. His face twisted and he clenched his huge fist. She flinched back.

“The likes of me!” he shouted. And he erupted into the longest, loudest, most violent laugh Tamrin had ever heard. By the time he was finished his cheeks were wet with tears. “Oh, Winny. Thank you for bringing Tam. I haven’t had so much fun in years. The likes of me?”

Tamrin felt very foolish and she didn’t know why.

“Because I’m just a man who makes horseshoes?” he said.

Tamrin looked away.

“Because I’m a man who stands at an anvil all day with a hammer in his hand? Is that it? The likes of me? Not like a clever college-educated wizard?”

“They’re not clever,” she said quickly.

He puffed out his cheeks.

“No, they’re not,” he said. “You got that right at least. Now, are you going to tell me the mirror story?”

“No.”

“Is it the one where the king gets someone to make him a mirror of polished steel? The first real mirror ever made? Is that it? Where the king’s wife is expecting a baby and she’s the first person ever to see herself in a mirror? She stands in front of it and there are two of her. A queen and a reflected queen. She sees herself and faints. When the baby is born the next day, it’s laid in its cot. And the next time they look at it, there are two of them. Is that the story? What happened to the second baby?”

“It was taken to the forest and killed,” said Tamrin.

“Was it? Is that what the story said?”

“Yes.”

“And what happened to the mirror?”

“It was covered over so no one else could look at it. It was put away and never seen again. No one knows where it is.”

“But the magic had already spilled out,” said Smith.

“Yes.”

“Fancy,” he said. “The likes of me knowing a story like that. A working man with hard hands and strong arms.”

Tamrin didn’t like this. One moment Smith was a welcoming, friendly person, the next he was challenging her, laughing at her. And why had there been three places already set at the table when she arrived? She changed her mind about staying for the night.

“I think I’ll be going now,” she said. “Thank you for the food.”

She pushed her chair back and went to the door. It wouldn’t open. There was no bolt, no lock, just a light catch. She rattled it and tugged. The door wouldn’t move.

“Stay the night,” said Winny. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”