Jack Shian and the King's Chalice (11 page)

A message from Keldy revealed that Ossian had been grounded for a month. Neither Jack nor Petros felt comfortable making contact with anyone from Cos-Howe, and so no news was forthcoming about the fate of Grulsh and the two others brought back from France. Jack thought of asking Fenrig, but didn’t know how to broach the subject, and Fenrig made it clear that he didn’t want to talk in any case.

The two weeks of Jack’s enforced stay under the castle passed slowly. He was desperate to get out into the fresh air again. He had enjoyed being out among the humans, too. He couldn’t understand Ossian’s antagonism towards humans and had been looking forward to watching them closely with his cousins. Now he would have to learn about them from Daid the tutor.

Two weeks after the Claville match, Jack and the other new apprentices met formally together for their new lessons. Apart from Fenrig, there was Boyce, who had joined Petros in working with Cormac the woodcarver; Lee-Brog, apprentice to Tramen the shoemaker; Purdy from next door, who was learning to be a baker; Séan, who had joined Nachie the bard; and Kaol, who was learning music with Arvin. From outside the castle came Suque, who helped with the horses, and Diana, who was apprentice to a huntsman.

The youngsters had all finished work at twelve instead of three on the Monday and now congregated outside Murkle's house for lessons in Shian tales. However, none was bold enough to approach the door.

“He's really bad-tempered,” said Boyce. “Petros said his lessons are awful. He just drones on and on.”

“I heard he uses his belt,” said Suque. “Well, if he beats me, I've got a horsewhip, and I'll …” Her voice trailed off.

“You the one with the mad mother who ran away?” Boyce sneered at Jack.

Jack, turning beetroot, stammered, “Sh-She's not mad. She's … highly strung.”

A derisive snort revealed Boyce's opinion of this. There was a strained silence for a few moments.

“I don't see why you lot are waiting,” said Fenrig, who had just arrived. Striding up, he knocked firmly on the door. The sound echoed through the house, but there was no answer.

“If he's no' in, we can have the afternoon off,” said Séan hopefully.

Fenrig knocked again. “Murkle knows more tales than anyone else this far south,” he said without turning round. “It's got to be better than sorting out handkerchief rejects, anyway.”

If Murkle knows so much, maybe he can tell us about the King's Cup
, thought Jack.

A bolt was pulled creakily back. The door opened slowly to reveal a tall, dishevelled man. Under a long and grimy black cloak, his trouser ends were visibly frayed, his shirt was similarly worn and his gloves fingerless.

“What is it? What do you want?” he asked in a loud voice.

“We've come for our lesson,” said Fenrig equally loudly.

“What?” He cupped his hand to his ear.

“Our lesson,” shouted Fenrig.

“Ah, the lesson.” He didn't sound very enthusiastic. “You'd better come in.”

The hallway led into a small gloomy front room containing five chairs and two tables, arranged in front of a bare fireplace. A melancholy portrait stared from the one picture to grace the dank walls, but the room's most overpowering sensation was its smell, like stale over-boiled cabbage. Jack curled his lip in distaste.

He hasn't even bothered to get the lumis crystals working again. Cheapskate.

As the new apprentices tried to crowd inside, Murkle looked around with dismay.

“Oh no, no, this won't do. Out again, the lot of you.”

With difficulty, the nine extricated themselves from the room, some stepping outside the house, others turning and going into the small rear kitchen. Murkle grabbed Suque, the last to leave, as she was in the doorway. Without explanation, he placed his right hand on her head and clicked the fingers of his left hand. He whispered inaudibly, and she instantly shrank to half her usual height, whereupon he nudged her back into the room. Suque squealed in surprise, but realising what had happened, she went and climbed up onto one of the now towering chairs. The others followed in turn and were soon squeezed up onto four chairs.

“Let's get started,” announced Murkle. Remaining at his usual height, he loomed above the apprentices. “Now, the Congress has decided that you all need to be taught Shian tales and human lessons. I can't speak for human beings, having no contact with them if I can help it,” at this point Fenrig smirked, “but why you can't learn Shian tales at home with your parents I don't know.”

“He's going to be a bundle of laughs,” whispered Séan to Jack.

“I am not a bundle of anything,” snapped Murkle, whose hearing seemed to have improved dramatically. Several of the youngsters exchanged nervous glances.

“My unpleasant task is to impart to you impertinent young things some of my knowledge of Shian folklore,” he continued. “I warn you that I do not tolerate insolence or bad behaviour. We will start with the tale of the giant and the troll. Many years ago …” Murkle paused as he saw a hand shoot up.

“Please, Murkle,” said Purdy brightly, “I know this story. It happened hundreds of years ago, and this giant …” Her voice trailed off as she saw the look of dislike on the teacher's face.

“I did not ask if any of you knew this story already,” he barked. “And, as far as I am aware, the Congress has not asked you to teach the new apprentices. Or perhaps I'm mistaken, perhaps you are indeed the new teacher. Well, young Purdy, I'm obviously wasting my time here. Why don't you take over?” He sneered sarcastically as she squirmed in embarrassment.

“Does anyone else want to be the teacher?” asked Murkle, glaring round at the others.

Jack, like everyone else, had suddenly found the floor very interesting.
I'm not asking him about the King's Cup – or anything else
.

After a pause, Murkle resumed.

“The giant lived in a cave, far away to the north. In those days there were giants living on most hillsides, but they always lived alone …”

His monotonous voice lacked even the barest inflection to make it interesting. For two hours he spoke without stopping. There was no obvious connection between the tales, and no discussion about what each had signified. He paused only once, to summon a small goblet of water, which he quickly drained.

By three o'clock, the apprentices were all in a state of torpor. Boyce had twice dozed off, his head sliding down onto Jack's shoulder, whereupon Jack had nudged him sharply in the ribs. Murkle drew his final story to a close, and for the first time since he had started, he looked round at his audience.

“Next Monday we will continue with tales of the north countries. In time, I intend to discuss demons, including Amadan. I will expect you to be on time.” He stood up and walked to the door.

Diana, first to her feet, strode to the doorway. Murkle bent down and placed his hand unceremoniously on her head, and whispered under his breath. In a second, she had regained her normal height, and she left without a word. The others quickly jumped off their chairs and formed a line.

Within a minute they were all outside. After the gloominess of Murkle's front room, the square seemed very bright. Fenrig immediately ran to the foot of the square, but the others remained where they were.

Jack inhaled deeply and savoured the fresh air that came from the warren pipes in the rock wall.

“Well, that was a waste of time,” announced Boyce. “If I'd wanted a good sleep I could've just gone back to bed.”

“You mean we have to go through that every week?” moaned Kaol. “What's the Congress think they're doing, making him a teacher?”

Jack and Purdy strolled along the square, and she turned into the path leading up to her door.

“See you later.”

Jack smiled back, and walked onto the next house. Aunt Katie called him through from the kitchen.

“How did you get on today, Jack dear?” she asked brightly.

Jack mumbled something about getting on all right, but Katie wasn't giving up that easily.

“Come on, I know you're getting on well at Gilmore's, but tell me what this afternoon was like.”

Jack really wasn't in the mood to discuss his day, but his aunt persisted.

“It's boring, all right?” he snapped. “He just droned on and on. He even made the good stories boring.”

Though taken aback at Jack's anger, Aunt Katie rallied. “Well, we had heard that he's not very exciting,” she admitted. “But the stories must be good, and he knows ever so many. That's why he was chosen to be your teacher. Never mind, you've got Daid on Thursday. I'm sure he'll convince you that we can all learn a lot from the humans.”

Jack knew his aunt meant well, but he just wasn't in the mood. How could someone who knew so many good tales be so uninspiring? If human lessons were anything like the Shian tales, two afternoons a week might as well be written off, and there was still no word of him being allowed out beyond the Shian square. If he didn't get out and about soon, he'd go mad.

On Thursday afternoon, the new apprentices met outside Daid's house. Next door to Murkle's, it was on the face of it very similar. As Purdy was about to knock, the door opened, and they were greeted by a jovial man who ushered them in. A broad smile almost reached both ears, and his eyes shone with good humour.

The apprentices trooped into the front room, as they had done in Murkle's house, and it was immediately obvious that the two were strikingly different. Whereas Murkle's front room had been drab and cramped, Daid's was bright and roomy, even if the hundreds of books ranged haphazardly on shelves did make it look untidy. Lumis crystals in the outer wall caught the light from the square outside and diffused it around the room. There were enough chairs for everyone, and in the corner stood an upright piano.

“I've fixed the room so that it will accommodate us all,” chortled Daid. “Make yourselves comfortable.”

He began to tell stories about human life and history: some sad, some funny. Jack and most of the class sat enthralled – Daid was clearly an accomplished storyteller.

“Humans are stupid,” said Fenrig after a while, interrupting Daid mid-sentence. “They think they're clever, but they're not.”

“Now, what makes you think that, young man? I grant you, there are stupid ones, but are they any worse than us?”

“My dad says we should get them whenever we can,” continued Fenrig, not in the least abashed at Daid's response.

“Well now, that would be unfortunate,” said Daid with a smile. “We have to live near humans, if not with them. Does it profit us to be hostile?”

“We're getting them back for all they've done to Shian down the years,” said Boyce.

“It's true that in the past humans did some terrible things to Shian,” conceded Daid. “To illustrate, I'll show you a simulacrum.”

Jack watched as Daid used his sceptre to project the simulacrum onto the wall.

Just like Grandpa did.

Great crowds and burning houses; people tied to wooden stakes and set on fire. Others throttled and left to hang from trees, or tied to rocks and thrown into rivers. Silent screams of terror and pain shouted out from the wall, an eerie soundless echo of past torments. Purdy shuddered.

“Things got very bad after the Stone was taken away, as you can see. Weak without the Stone's power, we withdrew, away from the towns. Long ago the humans had all sorts of names for the Shian: some good, like the ‘good neighbours'; some bad, like the ‘demons'. Well, it got so bad that eventually they only thought of us as demons. And there are demons, such as Amadan, whose touch alone can kill. Both sides committed vile crimes.”

“Whole Shian families died out, didn't they?” asked Suque.

“That's right. Then someone had the bright idea of teaching humans that the Shian were nothing more than garden sprites, creatures no more powerful than lacewing flies. That ruse saved us.”

“But that sounds like a grig,” stated Diana.

“Exactly. And humans barely notice them. So, who can tell me about their dealings with humans?”

“I like using paving hexes so they trip up,” proclaimed Boyce.

“That's kids' stuff,” snorted Fenrig. “I bet you've never kidnapped a human, or put them to work in the forges.”

“And why do you like picking on humans?” asked Daid tolerantly.

“Because they're there and I feel like it.”

“A rather unimaginative impulse, I should say. Now, don't get the impression that I believe humans to be off limits. The haughty, the mean-spirited, they all deserve to be taken down a peg or two. Kidnapping – well, the Seelie do not approve of that. You know some good humans have Shian guardian angels, though they seldom realise it.”

Suque raised her hand. “Who should we play tricks on, then?”

“A good question, young lady. To answer, we need to find out more about what makes humans tick. Now, who has read any human books?”

Purdy put up her hand. “My mother showed me a book about baking. Humans use funny flour; their food tastes awful.”

Maybe that's why Aunt Katie's such a lousy cook
, thought Jack.
She's half-human
.

“I'm sure we all know that human food can be disgusting, but I meant human books about humans. They tell stories, just like us. Histories, novels and plays that let us see what makes humans what they are.”

“You mean stupid and greedy?” asked Fenrig, at which there was a muffled giggle around the room.

“No more so than some of the best known Shian characters from our own history,” said Daid without rising to the bait. “Now, I want you all to choose one book from my shelves over there, it doesn't matter which one. Over the next few weeks, one at a time, I want you to come back and tell us all about the book you've chosen, and what it tells us about humans. Is that clear?”