Jack Shian and the King's Chalice (12 page)

Fenrig was first up. Without looking, he grabbed the book at the end of the shelf and strutted out. The others followed more slowly, taking time to look at two or three books before selecting one. As they all stood on the pavement outside, Jack glanced at the book Purdy had taken.

“A Victorian Lady's Highland Journal?” he asked. “What's that about?”

“I don't know. I liked the look of it. What's yours?”

“
A History of the English-Speaking Peoples, Volume Three
. All the short ones were gone by the time I got to choose. Are you going home?”

“Yes. Mum said she wanted to ask me about everything as soon as we finished today.”

The next week the youngsters gathered in Daid's front room. Purdy was not there due to illness – a case, her mother said, of having eaten some human sweets found by Rana. The others found a seat each and brought out their books, with the exception of Fenrig.

“Lost it,” he said carelessly when questioned by Daid.

“Lost it?! These books are valuable, I entrusted them to you. Which one did you take?”

“Dunno.
Candid
, something like that.”

“That is a classic tale, which will help us all to learn about the human condition. I hope you will be able to locate it later today?”

“Or what?” sneered Fenrig. “You mean you'll stop me from learning about Dameves?”

“These lessons are not optional, young man,” said Daid through gritted teeth, the previous week's easy-going manner having deserted him. “You
will
find that book and bring it back to me by tomorrow evening. Otherwise I dare say the Congress will review your place here.”

“My dad knows Amadan. You wouldn't want
him
to get involved, would you?” said Fenrig sullenly.

Daid stiffened for a moment, then decided to let pass what was undoubtedly an empty threat.

“I trust the rest of you have taken better care of your books?” he asked evenly. “You, Boyce. Which book did you take?”

“It was a play set in Italy,” answered Boyce. “It's called
Romeo and Juliet
, but it was confusing. I didn't recognise a lot of the words.”

“That's excusable. It was written a long time ago, when human speech was rather different. Can you tell us what the story was about?”

“Well, these two young people are in love,” began Boyce, at which point Jack and several of the others began making mooning kissing faces at him. He snarled, annoyed by the teasing, but continued to narrate the basic plot.

“Very good,” said Daid, when Boyce had finished. “Now, who can tell me why this story is important?”

“Because it shows humans are capable of loving,” answered Diana.

“It shows they can't deal with love, you mean,” retorted Séan. “Fighting each other, all because two people want to be together.”

“Just like the Shian, in other words,” said Daid, at which there was a moment of silence, broken only by Fenrig's derisive snort. “Perhaps you could tell me, young Fenrig, what it is about humans that so antagonises you?”

Fenrig stared back at the tutor, and there was a pause before he said simply, “Shian and humans shouldn't mix.”

“Do you mean never mix, or only when a Shian needs something that only a human has?”

“They've got nothing we need,” answered Fenrig. “They think they have all the answers, but if they're so clever, how come they only live seventy or eighty years?”

“Ah, now that is an interesting point, and it will take some time to discuss. Who can tell me …” Daid's voice trailed off as a large figure appeared at the window, causing the room to darken appreciably. Jack turned, but could only make out an indistinct face.

“That's all for today,” said Daid hurriedly. “Next week you're all to bring me a story about human nature. Ask your parents, or anyone. True story or false, it doesn't matter. Now, come on, out with you.”

Flustered, Daid ushered the youngsters out of the house. As Jack and the others began to walk away, they saw someone emerge from the side of the house and slip quietly in at the front door.

Without preamble, Boyce walked up to Jack and punched him on the side of the head, knocking him to the ground.

“That's for
kissy kissy
,” he snarled.

Surprised by the attack, Jack sat for a moment.
I'll get you for that
, he thought.
Not now, when there's no one else around
.

“Who was that at the window?” asked Diana. “Daid looked frightened.”

“Probably one of his human friends,” snorted Fenrig.

“Humans are too big to come under the castle,” said Purdy.

“Wouldn't they shrink down, same as us?” queried Suque.

“That gate doesn't work on humans – Dad told me,” said Purdy.

“I saw a face, but not very clearly,” said Jack, getting to his feet. “It was an old man. I think he had a scar on his cheek.”

“Who are you going to ask for your story, Jack?” asked Purdy.

“My Aunt Katie,” replied Jack. “Her dad was a human, so she's got loads of stories.” Jack paused, then, out of devilment, he asked, “What about you, Fenrig?”

“I'm not wasting my time on that,” snapped Fenrig, and he raced off.

Jack saw him go round to the back of Mawkit's house, and thought of following to see exactly where he went, but then realised that this was futile. Fenrig had perfected the art of making himself scarce. Jack knew that he wouldn't see him again until the next morning.

As predicted, Fenrig appeared at the workshop the next day, and every other working day over the next few weeks. Their routine had settled down, and while there was no warmth in their relationship, each tolerated the other. Jack tried hard to get to grips with his work, and occasionally showed some promise. Fenrig, meanwhile, continued to gripe about not being allowed to make charmed clothes.

If tailoring was becoming routine, so were Murkle’s lessons. These remained as uninteresting as on the first afternoon. Daid’s lessons, on the other hand, were a mixture of delight and frustration. Sometimes he brimmed over with eagerness, keen to tell stories or impart little nuggets of information. At other times, he seemed anxious or preoccupied, unable to concentrate on the thread of a conversation.

Jack found that Aunt Katie was more than ready to talk about humans and their strange ways, although there were moments when she became sad when talking about her father and his human family. Jack found this inexplicable, and after a lesson at Daid’s he quizzed her about this.

“Aunt Katie, why’s it so hard to talk about your dad?”

“Oh, it’s just that he’s not here anymore. He left his family to come and live among the Shian, but you know that humans don’t live that long.”

“How old was he when he died?”

“He was sixty – not especially young. But they have a different way of dealing with death. His family accepted his decision to leave, even though they knew it would change him. When he died we let them know. They just said he had gone to a better place.”

“Where?”

“Oh, it’s not a real place,” said Katie, getting flustered.

“Is it one of the secrets about death that the King’s Cup is supposed to tell us?”

“Now, Jack, that’s enough about that. It’s time you were getting outside. Go and see what the others are doing.”

“But Aunt—” Jack’s voice trailed off as he saw his aunt start to cry again. He left her and went outside. Petros was by the grocery shop at the top end of the square, and called out as he saw Jack approach. “What’s up?” he said.

“Your mum’s upset. I asked about her father. You know, for our lessons with Daid. She gets so far, and then she just starts crying.”

“She’s always been like that. Listen, I was speaking to Dad earlier on, and he says that he’ll teach us a hex so you can come up above the castle again.”

Jack’s eyes lit up. It seemed like forever since he’d been out in the open. His two-week ban had been indefinitely extended – proof, claimed Petros, that the Congress was divided about having a Brashat under the castle. Jack could hardly wait.

“Where’s your dad? Can we see him now?”

“After supper. You won’t be allowed out on your own, but it’s OK to come with me. That way there’s someone around in case anyone tries to get you.”

“How many hexes d’you know?” asked Jack.

“A few. They’re not very strong, though. I think Dad’s going to teach us something better. But you know the rules: hexes are a last resort.”

“The players in Claville used hexes,” pointed out Jack. “That was just part of the game.”

“The bad ones aren’t allowed in sport. Remember Rob’s hex in the wrestling match? He was in trouble for that. Sport hexes will hurt you, but they don’t last long. And you’re not allowed to use them against children.”

If I get a good one, I’m using it on Boyce
, thought Jack as they headed back to the house.

That evening, Doonya took Petros and Jack aside.

“I know you want to get outside the square, Jack. Well, things have settled down now. The Brashat have been quiet, and no one’s tried to get near the Stone. Fenrig doesn’t seem to have any particular interest in you, and that’s good, or else he’s a very poor kind of spy. And remember his friends who took him to France? Well, they’ve been taken care
of
.”

“Fenrig was muttering about a binding hex. What’s that?” asked Jack.

“It holds someone, as if they’re frozen, only without being frozen. It’s not like being suspended. I’ve heard they’ll be kept that way for a long time. Cosmo had no option, considering what happened to the others in Claville.”

“Putting them to the iron was a bit much for what they did, wasn’t it?” asked Petros.

“The Claville Shian have good ties with the humans. Grulsh and the others violated their sense of what’s right. They’re out of the way, but there may be others, so don’t get careless. It’s all right for you to go out, as long as you’re accompanied, and as long as you know how to look after yourself.”

Jack nodded eagerly.

“We’ve taught you some simple hexes, but you know the rules. If you cast a hex maliciously, it’ll return to you three times over. If it’s very serious, then the Congress may have to be told, and then you’ll really be in trouble. Got that?”

Both youngsters indicated that they understood, but Jack was only half-listening. Everyone knew that you couldn’t go around hexing people. He just wished Uncle Doonya would get on with it.

“Whenever you go out, take these Aximon figures Cormac’s made,” continued Doonya. “Don’t stray too far. If anyone attacks you, grip the figure in your right hand and say, ‘
Salvus!
’ three times. That will slow down your attacker and give you time to get away – but only if you really believe it. You can’t fool the Aximon.”

Jack examined one of the figures in detail.

“How’s it work?”

“It’s a mixture hex,” replied Doonya. “Part Shian, part human. Because of that, the Brashat won’t use them. It’ll disarm an attacker, but only briefly. Look after the figures. If they save your skins, they’ll be priceless. And remember to say the words.”

“Yes, Dad,” said Petros, and Jack nodded in agreement.

“And Petros.” Doonya looked sternly at his son. “Don’t think I don’t know about some of the tricks you get up to with the humans. Don’t go overboard, all right? And don’t draw attention to yourself.”

“Is it only the Brashat I have to worry about?” asked Jack.

“It’s anyone who might try to grab you,” replied Doonya. “Because of our history with them, the Brashat are the most likely. Tomorrow you can go out again. But take care.”

Jack found it hard to get to sleep that night, and all through the next morning at Gilmore’s, though tired, he was impatient for leaving time. When Gilmore finally said the apprentices could finish, for once it was Jack who was fastest out the door, leaving Fenrig and Freya looking bewildered. Doxer, as usual, was impassive.

Jack hesitated when he stepped onto the esplanade. It wasn’t busy, but something made him hang back. How far should he go? He might have Shian enemies – but what about the humans? Were any of them dangerous? As he and Petros strolled around the esplanade, they chatted about Shian-human tensions.

“Ossian really doesn’t like humans, does he?” said Jack. “All that stuff about Dameves.”

“He’s all right. Most of that’s just show. I bet he didn’t tell you Uncle Hart’s a guardian for a human near Keldy. Ossian helps his dad out with that. You’ve got to take him with a pinch of salt.”

“What about the Aximon figure?” asked Jack. “I still don’t understand what your dad meant about it being a mixture hex.”

“I’m not sure. I heard Dad and Grandpa talking about hexes late one night. I’d gone downstairs for a drink. Then they talked about ghosts and a prophecy, but I couldn’t hear much of what they said. It’s about the Stone, and they mentioned a cup too, and there was something called Gosol. They seemed pretty excited by it.”

“You don’t think it was the King’s Cup, do you?” said Jack. “Grandpa told me that was just a story Shian told themselves about their power returning one day.”

“Dad said it disappeared ages back. We could ask him. He’s calmed down now about us going to France.”

Eventually, the desire to find out overcame Jack’s relief at being allowed out again, and the pair returned to the Shian square. They found Doonya, Grandpa Sandy and Aunt Katie talking in the kitchen, but the conversation died as Jack and Petros entered. Six inquisitive eyes faced the boys as they stood in the doorway. Sensing that they had intruded, Jack said, “Is there any juniper juice?”

Aunt Katie wordlessly poured two cups from a large jug and pushed them towards the youngsters.

“Thanks, Mum,” said Petros, taking his cue from Jack. “We’ve been out. Jack was enjoying being outside again.”

“I hope you’ll take good care out there,” said Grandpa kindly. “Now, what was it you really wanted?”