Chrestomanci - Charmed Life. The Lives Of Christopher Chant Part 15

After barely one wriggle, the caterpillar burst up out of the gra.s.s and became the Willing Warlock again, a little disheveled, but very pleased with himself. He threw himself on Chrestomanci again. As for Chrestomanci, it was plain that the watch-chain had somehow disabled him completely. There was a second or so of furious struggle in the archway, while the Willing Warlock tried to grab Chrestomanci in both brawny arms, and Chrestomanci tried to get the watch-chain off his wrist using his left hand, and William Nostrum hung on to it fiercely. None of them used any magic, and Chrestomanci seemed only able to shoulder the Willing Warlock weakly aside. After two attempts, the Willing Warlock wrapped his arms around Chrestomanci from behind and William Nostrum dragged a pair of silver handcuffs from his pocket and snapped them on both Chrestomanci's wrists.

There was a scream of triumph from under the nodding hats of the audience-the scream of true witchcraft, which made the sunlight tremble. Chrestomanci, even more disheveled than the Willing Warlock, was dragged out from between the pillars. His tall gray hat rolled near Cat's feet and Henry Nostrum stamped on it, with the greatest satisfaction. Cat tried to get out from under Henry Nostrum's hand while he did it. And he found he could not move. Mr. Nostrum had seen to that with Mrs. Sharp's postcard. Cat had to face the fact that he was as helpless as Chrestomanci seemed to be.

"So it is true!" Henry Nostrum said joyously, as the Willing Warlock bundled Chrestomanci towards the apple tree. "The touch of silver conquers Chrestomanci-the great Chrestomanci!"

"Yes. Isn't it a nuisance?" Chrestomanci remarked. He was dragged to the apple tree and pushed against it. William Nostrum hurried over to his brother and pulled the watch-chain off Henry's bulging waistcoat.

Two silver watch-chains from two such ample brothers were more than enough to tie Chrestomanci to the tree. William Nostrum hastily twisted the ends into two charmed knots and stood back rubbing his hands. The audience screamed eldritch laughter and clapped. Chrestomanci sagged as if he were tired.

His hair hung over his face, his tie was under his left ear, and there was green from the bark of the tree all over his dove-gray coat. Cat felt somehow ashamed to look at him in that state. But Chrestomanci seemed quite composed. "Now you've got me all tied up in silver, what do you propose doing?" he said.

William Nostrum's eyes swirled joyfully about. "Oh, the worst we can, my dear sir," he said. "Be a.s.sured of that. We're sick of you imposing restraints on us, you see. Why shouldn't we go out and conquer other worlds? Why shouldn't we use dragons' blood? Why shouldn't we be as wicked as we want? Answer me that, sir!"

"You might find the answer for yourself, if you thought," Chrestomanci suggested. But his voice was drowned in the yelling from the a.s.sembled witches and necromancers. While they shouted, Janet began edging quietly towards the tree. She supposed Cat dared not move with Henry Nostrum's hand on his shoulder, and she felt someone ought to do something.

"Oh, yes," said Henry Nostrum, c.o.c.k-a-hoop with pleasure. "We are taking the arts of magic into our own hands today. This world will be ours by this evening. Come Halloween, dear sir, we shall be going out to conquer every other world we know. We are going to destroy you, my dear fellow, and your power. But before we do that, of course, we shall have to destroy this garden." Chrestomanci looked thoughtfully down at his hands, hanging limply in the silver handcuffs. "I shouldn't advise that," he said. "This garden has things in it from the dawn of all the worlds. It's a good deal stronger than I am. You'd be striking at the roots of witchcraft-and you'd find it shockingly hard to destroy."

"Ah," said Henry Nostrum. "But we know we can't destroy you unless we destroy the garden, my wily sir. And don't think we don't know how to destroy the garden." He lifted his free hand and clapped Cat on the other shoulder with it. "The means are here."

Janet, at that moment, stumbled over the block of stone that lay in the gra.s.s near the apple tree.

"Drat.i.tude!" she said and fell heavily across it. The audience pointed and screamed with laughter, which annoyed her very much. She glared around the circle of Sunday bonnets and hats.

"Up you get, dear Gwendolen," Henry Nostrum said gleefully. "It's young Cat who has to go on there."

He put an arm around the helpless Cat, plucked him off the ground, and carried him towards the block of stone. William Nostrum bustled up, beaming and uncoiling his rope. The Willing Warlock bounced up willingly to help too.

Cat was so terrified that he managed somehow to break the spell. He twisted out of Henry Nostrum's arms and ran for all he was worth towards the two pillars, trying to fetch out his dragons' blood as he ran.

It was only a few steps to run. But naturally every witch, warlock, necromancer, and wizard there instantly cast a spell. The thick smell of magic coiled around the meadow. Cat's legs felt like two lead posts. His heart hammered. He felt himself running in slow motion, slower and slower, like a clockwork toy running down. He heard Janet scream at him to run, but he could not move any longer. He stuck just in front of the ruined archway, and he was stiff as a board. It was all he could do to breathe.

The Nostrum brothers and the Willing Warlock collected him from there, and wound the rope around his stiff body. Janet did her best to prevent them.

"Oh, please stop! What are you doing?"

"Now, now, Gwendolen," Henry Nostrum said, rather perplexed. "You know perfectly well. I explained to you most carefully that the garden has to be disenchanted by cutting the throat of an innocent child on that slab of stone there. You agreed it must be so."

"I didn't! It wasn't me!" said Janet.

"Be quiet!" Chrestomanci said from the tree. "Do you want to be put in Cat's place?"

Janet stared at him, and went on staring as all the implications struck her. While she stared, Cat, stiff as a mummy and wound in rope, was carried by the Willing Warlock and dumped rather painfully down on the block of stone. Cat stared resentfully at the Willing Warlock. He had always seemed so friendly.

Apart from that, Cat was not as frightened as he might have been. Of course Gwendolen had known he had lives to spare. But he hoped his throat would heal after they cut it. He was bound to be very uncomfortable until it did. He turned his eyes up to Janet, meaning to give her a rea.s.suring look.

To his astonishment, Janet was s.n.a.t.c.hed away backwards into nothingness. The only thing which remained of her was a yell of surprise. And the same yell rumbled around the meadow. Everyone there was quite as astonished as Cat.

"Oh, good!" Gwendolen said, from the other side of the stone. "I got here in time."

Everyone stared at her. Gwendolen came from between the pillars, dusting off the dragons' blood fromher fingers with one of Cat's school essays. Cat could see his signature at the top: Eric Emelius Chant, 26 Coven St., Wolvercote, England, Europe, The World, The Universe-it was his, all right.

Gwendolen still had her hair up in that strange headdress, but she had taken off the ma.s.sive golden robes.

She had on what must have amounted to underclothes in her new world. They were more magnificent than any of Chrestomanci's dressing gowns.

"Gwendolen!" exclaimed Henry Nostrum. He pointed to the s.p.a.ce Janet had vanished from.

"What-who- ?"

"Just a replacement," Gwendolen explained, in her airiest way. "I saw her and Cat here just now, so I knew-" She noticed Chrestomanci limply tied to the apple tree. "Oh, good! You caught him! Just a moment." She marched over to Chrestomanci and held up her golden underclothes in order to kick him hard on both s.h.i.+ns. "Take that! And that!" Chrestomanci did not try to pretend the kicks did not hurt. He doubled up. The toes of Gwendolen's shoes were as pointed as nails.

"Now, where was I?" Gwendolen said, turning back to the Nostrum brothers. "Oh, yes. I thought I'd better come back because I wanted to see the fun, and I remembered I'd forgotten to tell you Cat has nine lives. You'll have to kill him several times, I'm afraid."

"Nine lives!" shouted Henry Nostrum. "You foolish girl!"

After that, there was such a shouting and outcry from every witch and warlock in the meadow, that no one could have heard anything else. From where Cat lay, he could see William Nostrum leaning towards Gwendolen, red in the face, both eyes whirling, bawling furiously at her, and Gwendolen leaning forward to shout back. As the noise died down a little, he heard William Nostrum booming, "Nine lives! If he has nine lives, you stupid girl, that means he's an enchanter in his own right!"

"I'm not stupid!" Gwendolen yelled back. "I know that as well as you do! I've been using his magic ever since he was a baby. But I couldn't go on using it if you were going to kill him, could I? That's why I had to go away. I think it was nice of me to come back and tell you. So there!"

"How can you have used his magic?" demanded Henry Nostrum, even more put out than his brother.

"I just did," said Gwendolen. "He never minds."

"I do mind, rather," Cat said from his uncomfortable slab. "I am here, you know."

Gwendolen looked down at him as if she was rather surprised that he was. But before she could say anything to Cat, William Nostrum was loudly shus.h.i.+ng for silence. He was very agitated. He took a long s.h.i.+ny thing out of his pocket and nervously bent it about.

"Silence!" he said. "We've gone too far to draw back now. We'll just have to discover the boy's weak point. We certainly can't kill him unless we find it. He must have one. All enchanters do." So saying, William Nostrum rounded on Cat and pointed the s.h.i.+ny thing at him. Cat was appalled to see that it was a long silver knife. The knife pointed at his face, even though William Nostrum's eyes did not. "What is your weak point, boy? Out with it."

Cat was not saying. It seemed the only chance he had of keeping any of his lives.

"I know," said Gwendolen. "I did it. I put all his lives into a book of matches. They were easier to use like that. It's in my room in the Castle. Shall I get it?"

Everyone Cat could see from his uncomfortable position looked relieved to hear this. "That's all right, then," said Henry Nostrum. "Can he be killed without burning a match?" "Oh, yes," said Gwendolen. "He drowned once."

"So the question," said William Nostrum, very much relieved, "is simply how many lives he has left. How many have you, boy?" The knife pointed at Cat again.

Again Cat was not saying.

"He doesn't know," Gwendolen said impatiently. "I had to use quite a few. He lost one being born and another being drowned. And I used one to put him in the book of matches. It gave him cramps, for some reason. Then that toad tied up in silver there wouldn't give me magic lessons and took my witchcraft away, so I had to fetch another of Cat's lives in the night and make it send me to my nice new world. He was awfully disobliging about it, but he did it. And that was the end of that life. Oh, I nearly forgot! I put his fourth life into that violin he kept playing, to turn it into a cat- Fiddle-remember, Mr. Nostrum?"

Henry Nostrum clutched his two wings of hair. Consternation broke out around the meadow again. "You are a foolish girl! Someone took that cat away. We can't kill him at all!"

For a moment, Gwendolen looked very dashed. Then an idea struck her. "If I go away again, you can use my replacem-"

The watch-chains around Chrestomanci c.h.i.n.ked. "Nostrum, you're upsetting yourself needlessly. It was I who had the cat-violin removed. The creature's around in the garden somewhere."

Henry Nostrum swung around to look at Chrestomanci suspiciously, still hanging on to his two wings of hair as if that kept his mind in place. "I doubt you, sir, very seriously. You are known to be a very wily person."

"You flatter me," said Chrestomanci. "Unfortunately I can't speak anything but the truth tied up in silver like this."

Henry Nostrum looked at his brother. "That is correct," William said, dubiously. "Silver constrains him to utter facts. Then I suppose the boy's missing life must be here somewhere."

This was enough for Gwendolen, the Willing Warlock, and for most of the witches and necromancers.

Gwendolen said, "I'll go and find it, then," and minced up the meadow towards the trees as fast as she could in her pointed shoes, with the Willing Warlock bouncing ahead. As they pushed past a witch in a high green hat, the witch said, "That's right, dear. We must all hunt for the p.u.s.s.y." She turned to the crowd with a witch's piercing scream. "Hunt for p.u.s.s.y, everyone!"

And everyone raced off to do it, picking up skirts and holding on Sunday hats. The meadow emptied.

The trees around it shook and waved and crashed. But the garden would not let anyone get very far.

Brightly colored witches, cloaked wizards, and dark warlocks kept being spilled out of the trees into the meadow again. Cat heard Chrestomanci say, "Your friends seem very ignorant, Nostrum. The way out is widders.h.i.+ns. Perhaps you should tell them so. The cat will certainly be in summer or spring."

William Nostrum gave him a swirling glare and hurried off shouting, "Widders.h.i.+ns, brothers and sisters!

Widders.h.i.+ns!"

"Let me tell you, sir," Henry Nostrum said to Chrestomanci, "you are beginning to annoy me considerably." He hovered for a second but, as quite a crowd of people, with Gwendolen and the Willing Warlock among them, were whirled out of the trees into the meadow again, and seemed very indignant about it, Henry Nostrum set off trotting towards them, calling, "No, my dear friends! My dear pupil!

Widders.h.i.+ns. You have to go widders.h.i.+ns." Cat and Chrestomanci were left alone for the time being by the broken arch and the apple tree.

16.

"Cat," said Chrestomanci, from almost behind Cat's head. "Cat!"

Cat did not want to talk. He was lying looking up at the blue sky through the leaves of the apple tree.

Every so often it went blurred. Then Cat shut his eyes and tears ran out across both his ears. Now he knew how little Gwendolen cared about him, he was not sure he wanted any lives at all. He listened to the shouting and cras.h.i.+ng among the trees and almost wished Fiddle would be caught soon. From time to time, he had an odd feeling that he was Fiddle himself-Fiddle furious and frightened, las.h.i.+ng out and scratching a huge fat witch in a flower hat.

"Cat," said Chrestomanci. He sounded almost as desperate as Fiddle. "Cat, I know how you're feeling.

We hoped you wouldn't find out about Gwendolen for years yet. But you are an enchanter. I suspect that you're a stronger enchanter than I am when you set your mind to it. Could you use some of your magic now, before someone catches poor Fiddle? Please. As a great favor. Just to help me get out of this wretched silver, so that I can summon the rest of my power."

Cat was being Fiddle again while Chrestomanci talked. He climbed a tree, but the Willing Warlock and the Accredited Witch shook him out of it. He ran and he ran, and then jumped from between the Willing Warlock's grabbing hands, a huge jump, from somewhere immensely high. It was such a sickening jump that Cat opened his eyes. The apple leaves fluttered against the sky. The apple he could see was nearly ripe.

"What do you want me to do?" he said. "I don't know how to do anything."

"I know," said Chrestomanci. "I felt the same when they told me. Can you move your left hand at all?"

"Backwards and forwards," Cat said, trying. "I can't get it out of the rope though."

"No need," said Chrestomanci. "You've more ability in the little finger of that hand than most people-including Gwendolen-have in their entire lives. And the magic of the garden should help you.

Just saw at the rope with your left hand and presume that the rope is made of silver."

Cat tipped his head back and looked at Chrestomanci unbelievingly. Chrestomanci was untidy and pale and very much in earnest. He must be telling the truth. Cat moved his left hand against the rope. It felt rough and ropish. He told himself it was not rough rope, it was silver. And the rope felt smooth. But sawing was rather a strain. Cat lifted his hand as far as he could get it and brought the edge of it down on the silver rope.

Clink. Jingle. The rope parted.

"Thank you," said Chrestomanci. "There go two watch-chains. But there seems to be a very firm spell on these handcuffs. Can you try again?"

The rope was a great deal looser. Cat fought his way out of it with a series of clatters and thumps- he was not sure quite what he had turned it into- and knelt up on the stone. Chrestomanci walked weakly towards him, with his hands still hanging limply in the handcuffs. At the same time, the Willing Warlock spilled out of the trees, arguing with the witch in the flower hat.

"I tell you the cat's dead. It fell a good fifty feet." "But I tell you they always fall on their feet."

"Then why didn't it get up then?"

Cat realized there was no time to waste trying to imagine things. He put both hands to the handcuffs and wrenched.

"Ow!" said Chrestomanci.

But the handcuffs were off. Cat was suddenly very pleased with his newfound talent. He took the handcuffs in two and told them to be ferocious eagles. "Get after the Nostrums," he said. The left handcuff took off savagely as ordered, but the right half was still a silver handcuff and it fell on the gra.s.s.

Cat had to pick it up in his left hand before it would do as it was told.

Cat looked around then to see what Chrestomanci was doing. He was standing under the apple tree, and the talkative little man called Bernard was stumbling down the hillside towards him. Bernard's Sunday cravat was comfortably undone. He was carrying a pencil and a newspaper folded open at the crossword. "Enchantment, five letters, ending in C," he was murmuring, before he looked up and saw Chrestomanci green with tree mold. He stared at the two watch-chains, Cat, the rope, and the numbers of people who were hurrying among the trees around the top of the meadow. "Bless my soul!" he said.

"I'm sorry-I had no idea I was needed. You need the others too?"

"Rather quickly," said Chrestomanci.

The witch in the flower hat saw him standing away from the tree and raised her voice in a witch's scream.

"They're getting away! Stop them!"

Witches, warlocks, necromancers, and wizards poured out into the meadow, with Gwendolen mincing among them, and hurriedly cast spells as they came. Muttering rolled around the garden. The smell of magic grew thick. Chrestomanci held up one hand as if he was asking for silence. The muttering grew instead, and sounded angry. But none of the people muttering came any nearer. The only ones who were still moving were William and Henry Nostrum, who kept spilling out from the trees, running hard and bawling faintly, each with a large flapping eagle after him.

Bernard chewed his pencil and his face looked ribby. "This is awful! There are so many of them!"

"Keep trying. I'm giving you all the help I can spare," Chrestomanci said, with an anxious look at the muttering crowd.

Bernard's bushy eyebrows bobbed up. "Ah!" Miss Bessemer was standing above him on the slope. She had the works of a clock in one hand and a cloth in the other. Perhaps because of the slope, she seemed taller and more purple of dress than usual. She took in the situation at a glance. "You'll need a full muster to deal with this lot," she said to Chrestomanci.

A witch in the muttering crowd screamed, "He's getting help!" Cat thought it was Gwendolen. The smell of magic grew, and the muttering became like a long roll of thunder. The crowd seemed to be edging forward slowly, in a bobbing of fancy hats and a bristle of dark suits. The hand Chrestomanci was holding up to stop them began to shake.

"The garden's helping them too," said Bernard. "Put forth your best, Bessie-girl." He chewed his pencil and frowned intensely. Miss Bessemer wrapped her cloth neatly around her pieces of clock and grew noticeably taller.

And suddenly the rest of the Family began to appear around the apple tree, all in the middle of thepeaceful Sunday things they had been doing when they were summoned. One of the younger ladies had a skein of wool between her hands, and one of the younger men was winding it. The next man was holding a billiard cue, and the other young lady had a lump of chalk. The old lady with mittens was crocheting a new pair of mittens. Mr. Saunders appeared with a thump. He had the dragon tucked playfully under one arm, and both of them looked startled to be fetched in the middle of a romp.

The dragon saw Cat. It wriggled out from under Mr. Saunders' arm, bounded across the gra.s.s, and jumped rattling and flaming into Cat's arms. Cat found himself staggering about under the apple tree with quite a heavy dragon squirming on his chest and enthusiastically licking his face with flame. It would have burned him badly if he had not remembered in time to tell the flames they were cool.

He looked up to see Roger and Julia appearing. They both had their arms stretched stiffly above their heads, because they had been playing mirrors again, and they were both very much astonished. "It's the garden!" said Roger. "And loads of people!"