Congress!”
Grandpa Sandy got unsteadily to his feet, clutching his goblet weakly.
“I … I know that some here feel the need to go to Tula. Very well; but I cannot sanction this detour for my grandson. Phineas may travel with you; I will take the rest to Novehowe.”
Jack saw his father’s eyes narrow, and his mouth set.
“Let us consult the Mapa Mundi . If there is a true path, that will show it,” said Iain Dubh.
“But it only shows itself to Jack!” screeched Murkle.
“And to the Hebseelie,” added Phineas. “Is that not right, Iain?”
“Only when Jack is present. It would not work for us, while you were down below. But we have seen Fractals’ Seer on it. The HebShian will go to Tula with Phineas.”
“Then what of Jack?” shouted Murkle again.
In response, Iain Dubh produced the Mapa Mundi , and handed it to Jack. It lay limply in his hands for a moment, before curling up into a sphere. But for a while, there was nothing to see in the two circles.
“This accursed place!” bellowed Murkle. “The magycks do not work here!”
“Wait!” Gilmore silenced Murkle with a glare. “See! The pictures form!”
Sure enough, into the circles came the image of Fractals’ Seer, and a feather. A gold-tipped feather.
“Then it is settled!” announced Iain Dubh triumphantly. “We take Jack and the Mapa Mundi to Tula! Your health, young Jack!” He raised his goblet, and drank deeply.
Jack avoided looking at his grandfather as he sipped from his goblet.
That’s not bad!
Then he clutched his head, as a roar assaulted his ears. Like the loudest traffic noise he had ever heard …
Oh no! Déjà vu.
In slow motion, Jack imagined Rana and Lizzie falling off their seats.
I know what’s coming next …
Yes: birdsong. Then … darkness.
My head hurts already.
Jack was dimly aware of voices; and of being carried. Over the next while – minutes? hours? days? – he was aware of arguments above him. Snatches permeated his consciousness …
“… poisoned him!” “Traitor!” “This is a plot!” “Unseelie spy!”
… but mostly the sounds wafted over him, like the angry buzzing of wasps. He felt sick, and stomach cramps gripped him.
When he could finally open his eyes, he felt roasting hot; and yet cold, at the same time. Armina’s blurred face hovered over him, and he could hear Ishona intoning a song, or a prayer, or something, beside him. He’d never felt so ill in his life. Opening his eyes made him want to be sick; but closing them made his head swim. In his head he begged for recovery.
“… quite clearly poisoned …” Armina’s firm voice again. “Like before.”
“We have never poisoned him. Someone must have slipped something into his goblet …”
Jack’s mind wandered off again. His forehead felt like you could fry eggs on it.
When he awoke, it was to the uncomfortable jolting sensation of being carried up steps.
“Where …” but he got no further.
“Don’t speak; save your energy.”
Evidently his father was carrying him.
Then a blast of icy air as they emerged into the open. Jack felt himself bundled onto a cart, which pulled away. Ishona knelt beside him and mopped his brow.
“We’re going to see someone,” she said calmly. “The cailleach will know what to do.”
Cailleach ? Jack had only heard that name at the start of spring, when Grandpa Sandy had taken him and Lizzie to see the Blue Hag clear the snows.
They trundled for what seemed like hours, finally stopping beside an old stone house. There were two tiny windows, and a low door which seemed overgrown by the thatched roof. Jack heard someone knock; then Iain Dubh’s voice murmuring. Shortly after, Jack was lifted from the cart and carried inside.
The house was dark, and reeked of peat smoke; but at least it was warm. Iain Dubh remained by the doorway.
“Put him doon.”
“ Cailleach ,” began Ishona as she set Jack down on a low bed, “this boy was poisoned. He has the key to the
Grandpa Sandy got unsteadily to his feet, clutching his goblet weakly.
“I … I know that some here feel the need to go to Tula. Very well; but I cannot sanction this detour for my grandson. Phineas may travel with you; I will take the rest to Novehowe.”
Jack saw his father’s eyes narrow, and his mouth set.
“Let us consult the Mapa Mundi . If there is a true path, that will show it,” said Iain Dubh.
“But it only shows itself to Jack!” screeched Murkle.
“And to the Hebseelie,” added Phineas. “Is that not right, Iain?”
“Only when Jack is present. It would not work for us, while you were down below. But we have seen Fractals’ Seer on it. The HebShian will go to Tula with Phineas.”
“Then what of Jack?” shouted Murkle again.
In response, Iain Dubh produced the Mapa Mundi , and handed it to Jack. It lay limply in his hands for a moment, before curling up into a sphere. But for a while, there was nothing to see in the two circles.
“This accursed place!” bellowed Murkle. “The magycks do not work here!”
“Wait!” Gilmore silenced Murkle with a glare. “See! The pictures form!”
Sure enough, into the circles came the image of Fractals’ Seer, and a feather. A gold-tipped feather.
“Then it is settled!” announced Iain Dubh triumphantly. “We take Jack and the Mapa Mundi to Tula! Your health, young Jack!” He raised his goblet, and drank deeply.
Jack avoided looking at his grandfather as he sipped from his goblet.
That’s not bad!
Then he clutched his head, as a roar assaulted his ears. Like the loudest traffic noise he had ever heard …
Oh no! Déjà vu.
In slow motion, Jack imagined Rana and Lizzie falling off their seats.
I know what’s coming next …
Yes: birdsong. Then … darkness.
My head hurts already.
Jack was dimly aware of voices; and of being carried. Over the next while – minutes? hours? days? – he was aware of arguments above him. Snatches permeated his consciousness …
“… poisoned him!” “Traitor!” “This is a plot!” “Unseelie spy!”
… but mostly the sounds wafted over him, like the angry buzzing of wasps. He felt sick, and stomach cramps gripped him.
When he could finally open his eyes, he felt roasting hot; and yet cold, at the same time. Armina’s blurred face hovered over him, and he could hear Ishona intoning a song, or a prayer, or something, beside him. He’d never felt so ill in his life. Opening his eyes made him want to be sick; but closing them made his head swim. In his head he begged for recovery.
“… quite clearly poisoned …” Armina’s firm voice again. “Like before.”
“We have never poisoned him. Someone must have slipped something into his goblet …”
Jack’s mind wandered off again. His forehead felt like you could fry eggs on it.
When he awoke, it was to the uncomfortable jolting sensation of being carried up steps.
“Where …” but he got no further.
“Don’t speak; save your energy.”
Evidently his father was carrying him.
Then a blast of icy air as they emerged into the open. Jack felt himself bundled onto a cart, which pulled away. Ishona knelt beside him and mopped his brow.
“We’re going to see someone,” she said calmly. “The cailleach will know what to do.”
Cailleach ? Jack had only heard that name at the start of spring, when Grandpa Sandy had taken him and Lizzie to see the Blue Hag clear the snows.
They trundled for what seemed like hours, finally stopping beside an old stone house. There were two tiny windows, and a low door which seemed overgrown by the thatched roof. Jack heard someone knock; then Iain Dubh’s voice murmuring. Shortly after, Jack was lifted from the cart and carried inside.
The house was dark, and reeked of peat smoke; but at least it was warm. Iain Dubh remained by the doorway.
“Put him doon.”
“ Cailleach ,” began Ishona as she set Jack down on a low bed, “this boy was poisoned. He has the key to the
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