Jack Shian and the Mapa Mundi (2 page)

“The humans left the islands many years ago. The living got too tough for them – or maybe the Kildashie did. The Kildashie were forced onto the islands by the Brashat. There's no love lost between them.”

Jack thought that he ought to feel more kindly towards the Kildashie, but he didn't.

“There's something about them I don't trust. Controlling sound could be dangerous. And interrupting the Blue Hag, that's wrong, isn't it?”

“What they did was quite impressive. But you're right: breaking the spring rite was
infama
. They should have had more respect.”

Jack scowled. The way Boreus had moved towards him had definitely been threatening. Grandpa, however, would hear no more about it, and instead turned to the stories about the Blue Hag.

“Tell us how she becomes young again,” pressed Lizzie.

Grandpa smiled at her. “When the last of the snows have gone, the Blue Hag raises her staff aloft and sings out a long note that carries from one hill to the next. When the sound dies away, she is transformed and walks off the hill a beautiful young woman. Then spring has returned. It's the turning of the year – the season wheel has moved on.” He paused. “We'll catch up with her tomorrow.”

*

The next morning was dismal and damp, which set the pattern for the day. The Blue Hag showed no sign of coming out, and reluctantly Grandpa suggested that they would be as well to return to Edinburgh. Packing their things, they headed back for the low road.

Edinburgh Castle lay under a thin blanket of snow.

Life in the Shian square was too quiet. Many inhabitants were away, ushering in the new season with family and friends elsewhere. Jack, after an hour of idly kicking stones, put on his coat and went for a walk along the castle ramparts. Trebling up to human size as he passed through the square's side gate, he emerged next to St Margaret's Chapel. From there he walked around to the ramparts. Few human visitors disturbed the peace of the castle at this time of year; Edinburgh is not at its best in late February.

Jack's frustration at the slow end to winter grew. With Petros and Rana away in Rangie with their parents, it was just Lizzie, Grandpa and himself in the house. Little had happened since the great Hallows' Day battle at Dunvik nearly four months earlier.

Great battle
, thought Jack. It had certainly become much grander in the telling and retelling since. The snows had arrived not long after, and most Shian, according to custom, had retreated indoors for the winter.

Jack liked the firelight parties, the songs and the stories, but he had longed too to get out into the open. When his grandfather had suggested the youngsters accompany him to see the Blue Hag's great spring rite, he had jumped at the chance. Rana had pestered her parents to take them to Rangie for a few days, and Petros had been obliged to go too, for, as Uncle Doonya had put it, there was no way he was being left on his own in the house.

While Petros had decided that Rangie was less likely to be snow-covered than the hills north of Keldy (“a totally uncivilised place,” he had said), Lizzie had consented to go with Jack. So it was that their grandfather had taken them north to watch the great spring ritual.

A snowball hit Jack on the side of the face. He spun round angrily, only to find Petros and Rana standing ten yards away, laughing heartily.

“The look on your face!” exclaimed Rana gleefully.

The snow dripped down the inside of Jack's collar. Swiftly, he stooped down and scooped up a handful of snow. Within seconds, the air was thick with snowballs and shouts, and before long all three were both thoroughly warm and covered in melting snow. Flushed with the exertion, Rana called a halt.

“I thought the Blue Hag was going to make the snow disappear,” said Petros.

Jack brought them up to date with the story of the Kildashie, and how the Blue Hag was sulking.

“So we didn't miss much,” stated Rana.

“Seeing the Kildashie gliding was cool. But they're Unseelie. And they've got some kind of control over sound. I wouldn't trust them; Grandpa says they used to fight against the Brashat.”

“Unseelie fighting each other doesn't bother me. In fact, any enemy of the Brashat is probably all right,” pointed out Petros. “We're well rid of them.”

“Not all of them,” whispered Rana, pointing to the side wall of the chapel, where Fenrig stood scowling, his sister Morrigan by his side. Jack, Petros and Rana got to their feet, and for a few moments there was a silent stand-off. Finally, Morrigan spoke.

“C'mon, bro. We'll leave these peasants alone.” Quickly she and Fenrig passed through the gate to the square below.

“What're they doing here?” demanded Jack. He'd thought Fenrig and his sister were being kept out of the way while their father, Briannan, was suspended.

“Mum told me,” said Rana. “They're going to stay under the castle. Their dad's … well, you know. And they haven't got a mother. All the rest of their family got suspended, so there was no one to look after them.”

“Fenrig hasn't
got
a mother?” said Jack. “I just thought she was somewhere else.”

“Huh, boys,” snorted Rana. “You wouldn't take the trouble to find out.”

“Grandpa said she wasn't around, but I thought that just meant …” Jack's voice tailed off. He realised he knew very little about Fenrig. They had started their apprenticeship together the previous summer, but Fenrig had made it clear from the outset that he wanted nothing to do with the other apprentices.

Jack could see that Petros was unsettled by Morrigan's appearance. Quite apart from her deliberate insult, the knowledge that she could transform into a crow (and that, in this guise, she had nearly eaten him when he had used the beetler disguise at Dunvik) gave Petros the shivers.

“You mean they're going to be under the castle with us?” he groaned. “I knew it was too good to last.”

“How come you know about it?” Jack accosted Rana.

“Well, Mum said something about them being orphans and having nowhere to stay.”

“So who's been looking after them since Dunvik?” challenged Jack.

“Some of the Elle-folk took them, up to Iceland, I think. But they can't stay there forever. I can't see them fitting in.”

“It's not like they fit in here either,” pointed out Petros.

“There you are.” Their grandfather's voice carried out to them from along the castle ramparts. “I see you've been enjoying what's left of the snow.”

“Grandpa, why are Fenrig and his sister here?” asked Jack. “That's asking for trouble.”

Grandpa Sandy stopped. He looked down at the three youngsters thoughtfully.

“Petros,” he said after a few moments, “your mother would like you and Rana to go and unpack your bags. Would you go and help, please?”

Petros threw Jack a quizzical look, but decided against arguing.

“I need to get out of these wet clothes anyway. Come on, Rana.”

“Jack, we can have a little chat, just ourselves. I'll get you dried when we get to the Stone Room.”

Jack's eyes opened wide. He had only twice seen the Stone: just after he had arrived under the castle, and once after the fight at Dunvik. The long winter shutdown had meant further visits had been out of the question.

Wordlessly, Grandpa Sandy led Jack to the castle's War Memorial entrance, from where they could see the stairs leading to the Stone Room.

“We'll just wait here a minute,” whispered Grandpa, pulling Jack into the darkened doorway. “They'll be finished soon.”

Jack's damp clothes clung uncomfortably to his skin. He shivered.

A short while later, a man emerged from the doorway. He turned the key with a flourish, walked smartly across the small square and disappeared into the castle's Great Hall.

“We can go now.” Leading Jack by the hand, Grandpa walked up to the locked door. Placing his left hand against it, he whispered, “
Perlignum!
”

Jack felt a sudden lurch as he was pulled forward. Gasping slightly, he saw that he and his grandfather were at the foot of some stairs. They began to climb and soon reached the Stone Room's large security door.

“This one is alarmed,” whispered Grandpa. “Stand back a minute.”

Grandpa Sandy took out his sceptre and aimed it at the solid steel door. The sceptre's ruby glowed, and Jack was aware of a soft shimmering sound, like far-off thunder. He stared in astonishment as the door melted in front of his eyes. Once they were through, the door reappeared. Jack found that his clothes, suddenly, were dry and warm.

“You haven't come in that way before, have you?” asked Grandpa.

“No. You've only ever brought me up from the square. How d'you make the door disappear?”

“Oh, ways and means. You'll learn them as you get older. I'd better deal with the cameras.”

Grandpa Sandy held up his sceptre to the vaulted ceiling, putting the cameras on hold. Then he clicked his fingers, and two chairs appeared by the glass cabinet. Jack had seen the King's Chalice in the cabinet once before, but the sight of it made him catch his breath.

“It does look good in there, doesn't it?” said Grandpa. “The humans are delighted, even if they only get it for half the year.”

They settled down into the chairs, and Grandpa began.

“I'm sure you're surprised to see Fenrig. Quite a lot changed at Dunvik: although the Brashat got suspended, there was an agreement that all Shian should have access to the Chalice and the Stone.”

“I still don't see why we have to share them with the Brashat,” snorted Jack. “They wouldn't share them if they'd won.”

“The power of Gosol, Jack, remember. It's about the
goodness
of the creator force. We must do the right thing and for the right reason. Sharing the treasures was part of the agreement; even the Brashat, when the time comes, will be allowed access.”

“They were let off lightly. Three years suspended for all they did? They should never be allowed out.”

“The Chalice belongs to everyone, Jack. Fair shares. And part of the deal is to take care of Fenrig and his sister. Their whole family is suspended, so they've no one.”

“Rana said their mother's dead. Is that right?”

“She died when Fenrig was very young. Like you, he grew up without a mother.”

“He still had his father!” Jack shouted.

“I'm sorry: I didn't put that very well. I just meant he's had to cope with loss, like you. I grant you he's charmless, but sometimes there are reasons for these things.”

Jack said nothing.

“Anyway, the Congress has decided that we should keep an eye on Fenrig and Morrigan. They wintered with the Elle-folk, but they don't really belong there, so they'll stay in the square. Mawkit's left, but Olbeg and his wife are moving into that house; they'll look after them. Morrigan will work with Gregora the baker, so she'll be with Purdy. Fenrig will continue at Gilmore's.”

Jack stared at the contents of the cabinet. He didn't like what he was hearing, and sought some comfort from the Stone and the Chalice.

“Are you getting the Stone's buzz?” asked Grandpa softly.

Jack
was
feeling it: he couldn't deny that the Stone made him feel warm. It was even stronger than when he'd first seen the Stone the previous summer. The Chalice being there seemed to double the effect.

“It's a nice fuzzy feeling. But there's still something missing. What are we going to do about the Sphere?”

“Well, now that winter's coming to an end, we can start again. We couldn't do much once the snows came. The manuscripts Fenrig stole – well, evidently his father took them. We should have established where they were before suspending him.”

“And what about my father?” Jack's voice dropped low as he spoke.

“We keep looking. Never give up hope, Jack.”

“Can't we go and interrogate Konan?” Jack's mind flitted to the Brashat warrior, now merged with a large oak tree near the cave at Dunvik.

“I don't think that will produce much, unless you can find a way of unlocking the charm that put him there. But you never know.” Grandpa Sandy stood up now. “We have the Oestre festival soon. We'll go back to Rangie for that. And we could always consult Tamlina.”

Realising that his grandfather wanted to leave, Jack asked, “Can't we stay a bit longer? We've only just got here.”

“Another time,” replied his grandfather. “We should get back; it'll be supper time. Aren't you hungry?”

Jack
was
hungry, but the prospect of Aunt Katie's cooking was no match for time with the Stone. However, Jack could see that his grandfather was preparing to leave and, reluctantly, he stood up. With a click of his fingers, Grandpa Sandy made the chairs vanish. Holding his sceptre up to the vaulted ceiling, he switched the surveillance cameras on again.

Grandpa then wrapped his cloak around Jack, clutched his sceptre firmly and struck the floor. A red glow was followed by a rushing sense, and Jack found himself next to his grandfather back in the Shian square.

Within two days the snow was disappearing, leaving behind damp streets and gardens that squelched deliciously: the Blue Hag had resumed her annual ritual. While Lizzie complained that they hadn’t got to see the
cailleach
transform, Jack consoled himself that the festival in Rangie was only three days away.

Midsummer was the highpoint of their year for most Shian, but for Jack it was Oestre. Seeing the world come to life again after the winter brought him hope; and this year, it was the hope that he would find his father. The warming air and the lengthening days gave Jack a sense of optimism. Fenrig being back was a drag, but for now he was determined to relish the prospect of the festival at Rangie.