“Sorry?”
“I was being Alicia. Were
you
being the rabbit?”
“Probably,” he said, not sure where this was going.
“In that case, you were this as well.” From her (pinafore) pocket, she unfolded a piece of paper and smoothed it out on her knee. She put it on the table for him to see. “That’s what the rabbit turned into.”
David picked it up and carried it round
the kitchen. “You drew this?”
“Yes.”
“Have you shown it to Mum?”
“Of course not, silly. What
is
that creature? I’ve looked, but it’s not in the book.”
“I don’t know,” he said quietly, folding the paper. Even though the drawing was childish and sketchy, there was enough basic detail to convince him that this was
what he’d almost morphed into in the therapy centre. “Can I keep this, Penny?”
She nodded. “If I can keep the book.”
“Are you sure you want to?”
“Mum says you’re going away. She says she’ll finish the story with me. I don’t think her version will be
quite
as scary as
yours.”
“No, it won’t,” he said, and tousled her hair. “I’m sorry I frightened you. Look after Mum for me. I have to go.”
But as he turned towards the door she
suddenly said, “I don’t want this any more.”
He stopped and looked back. She had put her black feather down on the table and was slowly pushing it towards him. “In the tunnel, you were fighting something.”
“The firebird you saw?”
She lifted her shoulders. “It was like a firebird, but ugly. Horrible.”
David picked up the feather and drew it through his fingers, feeling its sleekness against his skin. “I’ll look out for it,” he said. “And so will Boon.” The katt had
just jumped onto Penny’s lap.
“That’s two things protecting us, then,” she said. “Mum’s going to make us a dragon.”
Bushley Common was one of only threeplaces in the district surrounding the Merrimans’ home that was stillconsidered ‘real’ (sometimes called ‘natural’). It was a long, sprawling pieceof grassland, broken up by walkways andclusters of trees. Although it was abeautiful, undisturbed place, most citizensof Co:pern:ica Central avoided it. It wasgenerally believed that to be seen walkingin the ‘undeveloped’ countryside wasindicative of a desire to think
introspectively. And that could attract the attentions of an Aunt. Or worse, a Re:mover.
So it seemed an odd place for arendezvous, at first. But a plentiful amountof open space meant that conversationswould not be overhead. And there was
time enough to see any agents approaching. With those thoughts in mind, David chose a bench in the centre of the
common, shaded by one small tree. It was raining lightly and a mist was descending in grubby grey patches, but visibility was still good. He sat down and waited.
The first thing to approach him though was not Thorren Strømberg but a rather bedraggled black and white katt. Herein lay a peculiar irony. It was illegal to imagineer any structure upon the common, yet it was home to many stray katts. They survived by procuring the attention of passers-by. One kind sweep of the hand
could keep a katt constructed for several days, though many perished due to the sheer lack of visitors. This one was bold enough to find its way onto David’s lap and soak up enough fuss to keep it maintained for another spin at least. He was idly tuning in to its grateful purr when footsteps along the path to his right announced the arrival of Thorren
Strømberg. The Counsellor sat downwithout looking at him. “How are you?”he asked.
“Wide awake,” said David, glancingover both shoulders. No sign of anyonebehind them.
Strømberg noticed the katt and smiled. “I’m glad to hear it.” He uncapped a bottleof water and drank. For a man on the run,he looked in good shape.
“Do you have any news about my
father?”
The shock of blonde hair moved freelyin denial. “Once you’re in the Dead Lands, you’re pretty much cut off.”
“Will he survive there?”
Strømberg gave a confident nod. “Knowing your father, he’ll probablythrive. It’s only the clever ones, those whoquestion the way we live, who are sentinto the wilderness. Some say it’s a better,more natural way of life, though few arebrought back to tell the tale. You hearrumours now and then that an uprisingmight spring from there, but the realunease is developing here.”
“What do you mean?”
“This is a failing society, David. Icould talk all day about the negative
aspects of imagineering, how it’s left our minds lazy and stripped us of all sense of pride and ambition – but that’s not the real issue. There’s a whisper spreading among those who know that the Aunts are plotting to overthrow the Higher.”
David narrowed his gaze. “But no one really knows what the Higher is, do they? I was always taught that their fain is so powerful that they can cloak themselves and still maintain the Design. How can you conquer what you can’t find?”
Strømberg ran his thumb down the katt’s right ear. “Listen to me carefully, and don’t repeat this to anyone else: Mr Henry believes that the Higher are based in the Bushley librarium. He thinks they might operate through the firebirds.”
“What?” David leaned so far forward
that the katt was almost squashed against his knees. It hissed (rather loudly) but didn’t jump off.
“I know it sounds odd,” Strømberg said, looking off into the middle distance. “But I’ve seen enough in that building to convince me it’s plausible. It’s a place of great mystery, that no one on Co:pern:ica has managed to resolve – until you came into my therapy centre.”
David threw him a quizzical look.
“I saw the story book you were reading to Penny. That could only have come from the upper floors. Mr Henry and I have been trying to get up there for twenty spins or more. You managed it in a matter of weeks. How?”
David steepled his fingers just below his nose. There were katt hairs on them.
He blew them aside. “There was a code ina dragon book Rosa showed me.”
“The one that was dropped on yourchest while you slept?”
“You know about that?”
“Yes. From Rosa. Tell me about the
code.”
“When you flicked through the corners of the book it formed a sign. When I saw it, I could read it – in dragontongue.
Ow
!” David glared at the katt. For some reason, it had just dug its claws into his thigh. He unhooked the offending paw and said, “We only got as far as Floor 43 before the firebird that flamed me chased us out. I took the story book as proof for Mr Henry. The rest you probably know.”
Strømberg rocked forward on the bench a little. When he spoke again his voice
was bristling with urgency. “I want you to go back to the librarium as soon as you can and ask Rosa to show you
The Book of Agawin
. It’s hidden. But she’ll know where to find it.”
“Agawin? What’s that?”
“There’s no time to explain. The book is full of symbols. Read them if you can, then send for me. And David, be careful. That book is the oldest thing in the building. We think it might tell the whole history of Co:pern:ica – and of dragons.”
It was growing cold now and the mist was thickening. David thrust his hands into his jacket pockets and found Penny’s ‘gifts’ in them. He took out the drawing. “What do you make of that?”
Strømberg ran his fingers over the paper. “Where did you get this?”
“From Penny. She drew it. I was imagineering story characters for her and my adopted character turned into that creature. It was fighting a grotesque version of whatever dropped this.” He brought out the feather.
Strømberg turned it between his hands. “I saw a black firebird flying away from the debris of your father’s experiment. I traced it here on a hunch that it might be looking for you. You’re saying it broke into your consciousness – a firebird?”
David nodded. “Dad left me a film of
what happened in the lab. I studied it carefully on his com:puter. I think something came through the time rift. Something with powerful fain that invaded a normal-coloured firebird and turned it
black.”
“Then we must be careful,” Strømberg said. “If that’s correct, we’re dealing with an unknown threat as well as the Aunts. There’s no time to lose. Get to the librarium – tonight, if you can. Hide there if you need to. And find that book.”
“What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me. I won’t be far away. When you need me, I’ll be there. Just use your fain.” The counsellor stood up and offered his hand.
David shook it firmly. “Is there any chance you can find out where they took my father?”
“I’ll work on it,” Strømberg promised. “Go carefully, David.” And with that he pulled his collar to and walked into the mist.
As David watched him go, he thought
about calling a taxicar. But remembering he shouldn’t use his fain on the common, he stood up, placed the katt on the bench and got ready to walk in the opposite direction.
He had taken just two short strideswhen he was stopped by a tiny miaow. The katt had settled in a moody huddlewith its paws tucked underneath itself,staring straight ahead in that odd glazedfashion so familiar to their kind. The ends
of its fur were glistening with moisture.
“Sorry,” David said. “Can’t take you with me. You won’t be appreciated where I’m going.” He waved goodbye and set off along the path.
With a soft thump of paws the katt jumped down and trotted up beside him.
“No,” David said. He picked it up and
carried it back to the bench. “You mustn’t follow me. You have to stay here.” He plonked it down again and wagged a finger, then hurried off at twice his previous pace.
He was swallowed in the mist when the katt moved again. “Well, of course I’ll frighten the birds,” it said. But by then David was out of earshot. And the katt had
morphed into its true shape.
The Aunt Su:perior.
Gwyneth.
10
Around the same time that David wasmeeting Penny and trying to settle in againat home, Rosa was discovering the harshreality of life in the Bushley Librariumwithout him. Her keepers, the twin Aunts Primrose and Petunia, took not a shred ofinterest in her and didn’t care if she
organised the books or not. What mattered to them was cleanliness. For this reason
they did want the books picked up, but only so the floors could be cleared for scrubbing. Within hours of David’s departure, Rosa found herself down on her knees with a bucket of water and a manky brush, preparing a room that the Aunts could sleep in. She was made to go over it
three times at least, until Aunt Primrose was satisfied. As if that wasn’t enough, Aunt Petunia complained endlessly about the cold. There were shutters on some of
the windows, of course, but Mr Henry had never wanted them closed, and neither David nor Rosa had ever experienced what the curator affectionately called ‘goosebumps’ on their skin. (Strangely, they never did question the etymology of this word.) But Aunt Petunia was different. On the first day, she imagineered a thick grey coat and a scarf which wrapped three times around her neck and overflowed down her starchy back. Maroon gloves came next, to match her crooked bow tie. Then a hat with button-
down flaps for the ears. And she insisted that the window of the room be blocked.
Not closed. Blocked. To Rosa’sannoyance there were no shutters on thewindow in the room they had chosen, theone that she had so diligently cleaned. Yetwhen she offered to prepare the Aunts abetter room, one with tight-fitting shuttersand a lovely view of the daisy fields,which even had a southerly aspect to it (topick up the heat of the sun in themornings), they refused and said theywould stay where they were, near theground floor, well away from ‘thoseirritating birds’. And when Rosa ratherrashly stamped her foot and asked, ‘What,pray, should she block the window with?’the twins exchanged a wicked smile. “Thebooks,” they said in chilling unison. “Thebooks.”
With no choice but to do as she was
told, Rosa set about piling books into the window space to form a barrier against the wind. (This also shut out the light, though both Aunts favoured imagineered lighting anyway.) With every book she added, Rosa could feel the building resisting. It would move slightly and make the books topple, just as she was completing a stack. Or when she turned her back in search of a book she was sure would fit into a particular space, she would return to find the dimensions of the hole compressed. Only when she cried out, “Stop it! Stop it! I don’t want this any more than you do!” did it give in and let her complete her task. Even then there were gaps and the Aunts complained of draughts. “I can’t help that,” Rosa protested. The books alone were never
going to make for a perfect fit. But Aunt Primrose had a most hideous solution. The