Chrestomanci - Charmed Life. The Lives Of Christopher Chant Part 30

Christopher's mind snapped away from mermaids and dragons' blood and he stopped short halfway across the oriental carpet.

Mama held out a lavender glove to him. "Darling boy!" she said shakily. "How tall you are! You remember dear Miss Bell, don't you, Christopher? She's my Companion these days. Your uncle has found us a nice house in Kensington."

"Walls have ears," remarked Miss Bell in her dullest voice. Christopher remembered how her hidden prettiness never did come out in front of Mama. He felt sorry for Mama.

"Christopher can deal with that, can't you, dear?" said Mama.

Christopher pulled himself together. He had no doubt that the Saloon was hung with listening spells, probably one to each gold-framed picture. I ought to tell the police the Last Governess is here, he thought. But if the Last Governess was living with Mama, that would get Mama into trouble too. And he knew that if he gave the Last Governess away, she would tell about him and waste all Tacroy's trouble.

"How did you get in?" he said. "There's a spell around the grounds."

"Your mama cried her eyes out at the lodge gates," the Last Governess said, and gestured meaningly around the room to tell Christopher to do something about the listening spells.

Christopher would have liked to pretend not to understand, but he knew he dared not offend the Last Governess. A blanketing spell was enchanter's magic and easy enough. He summoned one with an angry blink and, as usual, he overdid it. He thought he had gone deaf. Then he saw that Mama was tapping the side of her face with a puzzled expression and the Last Governess was shaking her head, trying to clear her ears. Hastily he sc.r.a.ped out the middle of the spell so that they could all hear one another inside the deafness.

"Darling," Mama said tearfully, "we've come to take you away from all this. There's a cab from the station waiting outside, and you're coming back to Kensington to live with me. Your uncle wants me to be happy and he says he knows I can't be happy until I've got you. He's quite right of course."

Only this morning, Christopher thought angrily, he would have danced with joy to hear Mama say this.

Now he knew it was just another way to waste Tacroy's trouble. And another plot of Uncle Ralph's of course. Uncle Wraith! he thought. He looked at Mama, and Mama looked appealingly back. He could see she meant what she said, even though she had let Uncle Ralph rule her mind completely. Christopher could hardly blame her for that. After all, he had let Uncle Ralph fascinate him, that time when Uncle Ralph tipped him sixpence all those months ago.

He looked at the Last Governess. "Your mama is quite well off now," she told him in her smooth, composed way. "Your uncle has already restored nearly half your mama's fortune."

Nearly half! Christopher thought. Then what has he done with the rest of the money I earned him for nothing? He must be a millionaire several times over by now! "And with you to help," said the Last Governess, "in the way you always used to, you can restore the rest of your mama's money in no time."

In the way I always used to! Christopher thought. He remembered the smooth way the Last Governess had worked on him, first to find out about the Anywheres and then to get him to do exactly what Uncle Ralph wanted. He could not forgive her for that, though she was even more devoted to Uncle Ralph than Mama was. And remembering that, he looked at Mama again. Mama's love for Christopher might be perfectly real, but she had left him to nursery maids and Governesses and she would leave him to the Last Governess as soon as they got to Kensington.

"We're relying on you, darling," said Mama. "Why are you looking so vague? All you have to do is to climb out of this window and hide in the cab, and we'll drive away without anyone being the wiser."

I see, Christopher thought. Uncle Ralph knew Tacroy had been caught. So now he wanted Christopher to go on with the smuggling. He had sent Mama to fetch Christopher and the Last Governess to see that they did as Uncle Ralph wanted. Perhaps he was afraid Tacroy would give Christopher away. Well, if Tacroy could lie, so could Christopher.

"I wish I could," he said, in a sad, hesitating way, although underneath he was suddenly as smooth and composed as the Last Governess. "I'd love to get out of here-but I can't. When the dragon burned me in Series Eight, that was my last life but one. Gabriel de Witt was so angry that he took my lives and hid them. If I go outside the Castle now I'll die."

Mama burst into tears. "That horrid old man! How awkward for everyone!"

"I think," said the Last Governess, standing up, "that in that case there's nothing to detain us here."

"You're right, dear," Mama sobbed. She dried her eyes and gave Christopher a scented kiss. "How terrible not to be able to call one's lives one's own!" she said. "Perhaps your uncle can think of something."

Christopher watched the two of them hurry away, rustling expensively over the carpet as soon as they came out from the silence spell. He canceled the spell with a dejected wave. Though he knew what both of them were like, he still felt hurt and disillusioned as he watched them through the window climbing into the cab that was waiting under the cedar trees of the drive. The only person he knew who had not tried to use him was Tacroy. And Tacroy was a criminal and a double-crosser.

And so am I! Christopher thought. Now he had finally admitted this to himself, he found he could not bear to go back to the Middle Drawing Room to listen to people asking Tacroy questions. He trudged miserably up to his room instead. He opened the door. He stared.

A small girl in a dripping wet brown robe was sitting shivering on the edge of his bed. Her hair hung in damp tails around her pale round face. In one hand she seemed to be gripping a hanful of soaking white fur. Her other hand was clutching a large waxed-paper parcel of what looked like books.

This was all I needed! Christopher thought. The G.o.ddess had somehow got here and she had clearly brought her possessions with her.

17.

"How did you get here?" Christopher said.

The G.o.ddess shook with shivers. She had left all her jewelry behind, which made her look very odd andplain. "B-By remembering what you said," she answered through chattering teeth, "about having to leave a l-life b-behind. And of course there are t-two of me if you count the g-golden statue as one. B-But it wasn't easy. I w-walked into the w-wall s-six times around the corner of m-my r-room b-before I g-got it right. Y-You m-must be b-brave to keep g-going through th-that awful P-Place B-Between. It was h-horrible-I n-nearly d-dropped P-Proudfoot t-twice."

"Proudfoot?" said Christopher.

The G.o.ddess opened her hand with the white fur in it. The white fur squeaked in protest and began shivering too. "My kitten," the G.o.ddess explained. Christopher remembered how hot it was in Series Ten. Sometime ago someone had put the scarf old Mrs. Pawson had knitted him neatly away in his chest of drawers. He began searching for it.

"I c-couldn't leave her," the G.o.ddess said pleadingly. "I brought her feeding bottle with m-me. And I had to g-get away as soon as they l-left me alone after the p-portent. They know I know. I heard M-Mother P-Proudfoot saying they were going to have to 1-look for a new L-Living One at once."

And clothes for the G.o.ddess too, Christopher realized, hearing the way her teeth chattered. He tossed her the scarf. "Wrap the kitten in that. It was knitted by a witch so it'll probably keep her safe. How on earth did you find the Castle?"

"B-By looking into every v-valley I c-came to," said the G.o.ddess. "I c-can't think why you s-said you didn't have w-witch sight. I n-nearly m-missed the s-split in the s-spell. It's really f-faint!"

"Is that witch sight?" Christopher said distractedly. He dumped an armful of his warmest clothes on the bed beside her. "Go in the washroom and get those on before you freeze."

The G.o.ddess put the kitten down carefully wrapped in a nest of scarf. It was still so young that it looked like a white rat. Christopher wondered how it had survived at all. "B-Boys' clothes?" the G.o.ddess said.

"They're all I've got," he said. "And be quick. Maids come in and out of here all the time. You've got to hide. Gabriel de Witt told me not to have anything to do with Asheth. I don't know what he'd do if he found you here!" At this, the G.o.ddess jumped off the bed and s.n.a.t.c.hed up the clothes. Christopher was glad to see that she looked truly alarmed. He dashed for the door. "I'll go and get a hiding place ready,"

he said. "Wait here."

Off he went at a run to the larger of the two old tower rooms, the one that had once been a wizard's workshop. A runaway G.o.ddess just about put the lid on his troubles, he thought. Still it was probably very lucky that everyone was taken up with poor Tacroy. With a bit of cunning, he ought to be able to keep the G.o.ddess hidden here while he wrote to Dr. Pawson to ask what on earth to do with her permanently.

He dashed up the spiral stair and looked around the dusty room. One way and another, he had not made much progress furnishing it as a den. It was empty apart from an old stool, worm-eaten workbenches, and a rusty iron brazier. Hopeless for a G.o.ddess! Christopher began conjuring desperately. He fetched all the cushions from the Small Saloon. Then on second thought he knew someone would notice. He sent most of them back and conjured cushions from the Large Drawing Room, the Large Saloon, the Middle Saloon, the Small Drawing Room and anywhere else where he thought there would be n.o.body to see.

Charcoal from the gardeners' shed next to fill the brazier. Christopher summoned fire for it, almost in too much of a hurry to notice he had got it right for once. He remembered a saucepan and an old kettle by the stables and fetched those. A bucket of water he brought from the pump by the kitchen door. What else? Milk for the kitten. It came in a whole churn and he had to tip some out into the saucepan and then send the churn back- the trouble was that he had no idea where things were kept in the Castle. Teapot,tea-he had no idea where those came from, and did the G.o.ddess drink tea? She would have to. What then? Oh, cup, saucer, plates. He fetched the ones out of the grand cabinet in the dining room. They were quite pretty. She would like those. Then spoon, knife, fork. Of course none of the silver ones would respond. Christopher fetched what must have been the whole kitchen cutlery drawer with a crash, sorted hastily through it and sent it back like the churn. And she would need food. What was in the pantry?

The salmon sandwiches arrived, neatly wrapped in a white napkin. Christopher gagged. Mermaids. But he arranged them with the other things on the bench before taking a hasty look around. The charcoal had begun to glow red in the brazier, but it needed something else to make it look homey. Yes, a carpet. The nice round one from the library would do. When the carpet came, it turned out twice as big as he had thought. He had to move the brazier to make room. There. Perfect.

He dashed back to his room. He arrived at the exact moment when Flavian opened its door and started to walk in.

Christopher hastily cast the fiercest invisibility spell he could. Flavian opened the door on utter blankness.

To Christopher's relief, he stood and stared at it.

"Er-hem!" Christopher said behind him. Flavian whirled around as if Christopher had stabbed him.

Christopher said airily, and as loudly as he could, "Just practicing my practical magic, Flavian." The stumbling sounds he could hear from inside the blankness stopped. The G.o.ddess knew Flavian was there. But he had to get her out of there.

"Oh. Were you? Good," Flavian said. "Then I'm sorry to interrupt, but Gabriel says I'm to give you a lesson now because I won't be here tomorrow. He wants a full muster of Castle staff to go after the Wraith."

While Flavian was speaking, Christopher felt inside the invisibility in his room-using a magical sixth sense which up to then he did not know he had-and located first the G.o.ddess standing by his bed, then the kitten nestled in the scarf on the bed, and sent them both fiercely to the tower room. At least, he hoped he had. He had never transported living things before and he had no idea if it was the same. He heard a heavy whoosh of displaced air from among the invisibility, which was the same kind of noise the milk churn had made, and he knew the G.o.ddess had gone somewhere. He just had to hope she would understand. She had after all shown she could look after herself.

He canceled the invisibility. The room seemed to be empty. "I like to practice in private," he told Flavian.

Flavian shot him a look. "Come to the schoolroom."

As they walked along the corridor, Christopher caught up with what Flavian had been saying. "You're all going after the Wraith tomorrow?"

"If we can get him," Flavian said. "After you left, Mordecai cracked open enough to give us a few names and addresses. We think he was telling the truth." He sighed. "I'd look forward to catching them, except that I can't get over Mordecai being one of them!"

What about Mama? Christopher wondered anxiously. He wished he could think of a way to warn her, but he had no idea where in Kensington she was living.

They reached the schoolroom. The moment they got there, Christopher realized that he had only canceled the invisibility on his room, not on the G.o.ddess or the kitten. He fumbled around with his mind, trying to find her in the tower room-or wherever-and get her visible again. But wherever he had sent her, she seemed too far away for him to find. The result was that he did not hear anything Flavian said forat least twenty minutes.

"I said" Flavian said heavily, "that you seem a bit vague."

He had said it several times, Christopher could tell. He said hastily, "I was wondering what was going to happen to Ta-Mordecai Roberts now."

"Prison, I suppose," Flavian answered sadly. "He'll be in clink for years."

"But they'll have to put a special clink around his spirit to stop that getting away, won't they?" Christopher said.

To his surprise, Flavian exploded. "That's just the kind of d.a.m.n-fool, frivolous, unfeeling remark you would make!" he cried out. "Of all the hardhearted, toffee-nosed, superior little beggars I've ever met, you're the worst! Sometimes I don't think you have a soul-just a bundle of worthless lives instead!"

Christopher stared at Flavian's usually pale face all pink with pa.s.sion, and tried to protest that he had not meant to be unfeeling. He had only meant that it must be quite hard to keep a spirit traveler in prison. But Flavian, now he had started, seemed quite unable to stop.

"You seem to think," he shouted, "that those nine lives give you the right to behave like the Lord of Creation! That, or there's a stone wall around you. If anyone so much as tries to be friendly, all they get is haughty stares, vague looks, or pure d.a.m.n rudeness! Goodness knows, I've tried. Gabriel's tried.

Rosalie's tried. So have all the maids, and they say you don't even notice them! And now you make jokes about poor Mordecai! I've had enough! I'm sick of you!"

Christopher had no idea that people saw him like this. He was astounded. What's gone wrong with me?

he thought. I'm nice really! When he went to the Anywheres as a small boy, everyone had liked him.

Everybody had smiled. Total strangers had given him things. Christopher saw that he had gone on thinking that people only had to see him to like him, and it was only too clear that n.o.body did. He looked at Flavian, breathing hard and glaring at him. He seemed to have hurt Flavian's feelings badly. He had not thought Flavian had feelings to hurt. And it made it worse somehow that he had not meant to make a joke about Tacroy-not when Tacroy had just spent the whole day lying on his behalf. He liked Tacroy.

The trouble was, he did not dare tell Flavian he did. Nor did he dare say that his mind had mostly been on the G.o.ddess. So what could he say?

"I'm sorry," he said. "Truly sorry." His voice came out wobbly with shock. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings-not this time anyway-really."

"Well!" said Flavian. The pink in his face died away. He leaned back in his chair, staring. "That's the first time I've ever heard you say sorry-meaning it, that is. I suppose it's some kind of breakthrough." He clapped his chair back to the floor and stood up. "Sorry I lost my temper. But I don't think I can go on with this lesson today. I feel too emotional. Run away, and I'll make up for it after tomorrow."

Christopher found himself free-and with mixed feelings about it-to go and look for the G.o.ddess. He hurried to the tower room.

To his great relief she was there, in a strong smell of boiled-over milk, sitting on the many-colored silk cushions, feeding the kitten out of a tiny doll's feeding-bottle. With the charcoal warming the air and the carpet--which now had a singed patch beside the brazier-covering the stone floor, the room seemed suddenly homey.

The G.o.ddess greeted him with a most un-G.o.ddesslike giggle. "You forgot to make me visible again! I'venever done invisibility-it took me ages to find how to cancel it, and I had to stand still the whole time in case I trod on Proudfoot. Thanks for doing this room. Those cups are really pretty."

Christopher giggled too at the sight of the G.o.ddess in his Norfolk jacket and knee-breeches. If you looked just at the clothes, she was a plump boy, rather like Oneir, but if you looked at her grubby bare feet and her long hair, you hardly knew what she was. "You don't look much like the Living Asheth-" he began.

"Don't!" The G.o.ddess sprang to her knees, carefully bringing the kitten and its bottle with her. "Don't say that name! Don't even think it! She's me, you know, as much as I'm her, and if anyone reminds her, she'll notice where I am and send the Arm of Asheth!"

Christopher realized that this must be true or the G.o.ddess could not have got to his world alive. "Then what am I supposed to call you?"

"Millie," said the G.o.ddess firmly, "like the girl in the schoolbooks."

He had known she would get around to school before long. He tried to keep her off the subject by asking, "Why do you call the kitten Proudfoot? Isn't that dangerous too?"

"A bit," the G.o.ddess agreed. "But I had to put Mother Proudfoot off the scent-she was ever so flattered-I felt mean deceiving her. Luckily there was an even better reason to call her that. Look." She laid the doll's bottle down and gently spread one of the kitten's tiny front paws out over the top of her finger. Its claws were pink. The paw looked like a very small daisy, Christopher thought, kneeling down to look. Then he realized that there were an awful lot of pink claws-at least seven of them in fact. "She has a holy foot," the G.o.ddess said solemnly. "That means she carries the luck of a certain golden deity.

When I saw it, I knew it meant I should get here and go to school."

They were back on the G.o.ddess's favorite subject again. Fortunately, at that moment a powerful contralto voice spoke outside the door. "Wong," it said.

"Throgmorten!" Christopher said. He jumped up in great relief and went to open the door. "He won't hurt the kitten, will he?"

"He'd better not!" said the G.o.ddess.

But Throgmorten was entirely glad to see all of them. He ran to the G.o.ddess with his tail up and the G.o.ddess, despite greeting him, "Hallo, you vile cat!" rubbed Throgmorten's ears and was obviously delighted to see him. Throgmorten gave the kitten an ownerlike sniff and then settled down between Christopher and the fire, purring like a rusty clock.

In spite of this interruption, it was only a matter of time before the G.o.ddess got around to school again.

"You got into trouble-didn't you?-when I kept you in the wall," she said, thoughtfully eating a salmon sandwich. Christopher had to look away.

"I know you did, or you'd have said. What are these funny fishy things?"

"Salmon sandwiches," Christopher said with a shudder, and he told her about the way Gabriel had put his ninth life in a gold ring in order to take his mind off mermaids.

"Without even asking you first?" the G.o.ddess said indignantly. "Now you're the one who's worst off. Just let me get settled in at school and I'll think of a way to get that life back for you."

Christopher realized that the time had come to explain the realities of life in Series Twelve to theG.o.ddess. "Look," he said, as kindly as he could, "I don't think you can go to school-or not to a boarding school like the one in your books. They cost no end of money. Even the uniforms are expensive. And you haven't even brought your jewelry to sell."

To his surprise, the G.o.ddess was quite unconcerned. "My jewelry was nearly all silver. I couldn't bring it without harming you," she pointed out. "I came prepared to earn the money." Christopher wondered how. By showing her four arms in a freak show? "I know I will," the G.o.ddess said confidently. "I have Proudfoot's holy foot as an omen."

She really did seem to believe this. "My idea was to write to Dr. Pawson," Christopher said.

"That might help," the G.o.ddess agreed. "When Millie's friend Cora Hope-Fforbes's father broke his neck hunting, she had to borrow her school fees. I do know all about these things, you see."

Christopher sighed and conjured some paper and a pen from the schoolroom to write to Dr. Pawson with. This intrigued the G.o.ddess mightily. "How did you do that? Can I learn to do it too?" she wanted to know.

"Why not?" said Christopher. "Gabriel said you were obviously an enchantress. The main rule is to visualize the thing you want to bring on its own. When Flavian started me conjuring, I kept fetching bits of wall and table too."

They spent the next hour or so conjuring things the G.o.ddess needed: more charcoal, a dirt-tray for the kitten, socks for the G.o.ddess, a blanket and several scent-sprays to counteract the strong odor of Throgmorten. In between, they considered what to write to Dr. Pawson and the G.o.ddess made notes about it in slanting foreign-look ing handwriting. They had not made much progress with the letter when the gong sounded distantly for supper. Then Christopher had to agree that the G.o.ddess could conjure his supper tray to the tower. "But I have to go to the schoolroom first," he warned her, "or the maid that brings it will guess. Give me five minutes."

He arrived at the schoolroom at the same time as the maid. Remembering Flavian's outburst, Christopher looked at the maid carefully and then smiled at her-at least, it was partly to keep her from suspecting about the G.o.ddess, but he smiled at her anyway.

The maid was obviously delighted to be noticed. She leaned on the table beside the tray and started to talk. "The police carried off that old woman," she said, "about an hour ago. Kicking and shouting, she was. Sally and I sneaked into the hall to watch. It was as good as a play!"

"What about Ta-Mordecai Roberts?" Christopher asked.

"Held for further questioning," said the maid, "with spells all over him. Poor Mr. Roberts-Sally said he looked tired to death when she took him in his supper. He's in that little room next the library. I know he's done wrong, but I keep trying to make an excuse to go in and have a chat with him-cheer him up a bit. Bertha's been in. She got to make up the bed there, lucky thing!"