The Poisoned Crown (29 page)

“They hate me,” Nokosha said. “Why should I care?”

“Because they’re your people. Because this is your world. Because— because caring is part of being alive. They only hate you because you want them to. When you were a child—a cub—they mocked you for your spots, didn’t they? So now you have to be a pariah by way of revenge. I think that’s so idiotic it’s unreal.” He was getting angrier, knowing there was no way to get through to a closed mind, kicking at the door in frustration. “Everyone you care for—everyone you
ought
to care for—is going to be killed, but that’s all right as long as you can go on being an outcast and telling yourself it’s all their own fault.”

“They don’t listen to me,” Nokosha said. “Why should
I
listen to
you?
”

“No reason. No reason at all. I didn’t come to talk to you. I wanted to find Ezroc. At least he’s trying to save people, even if they don’t want saving.”

“You know Ezroc?”

“Didn’t Burgoss tell you?”

“No, he didn’t. It isn’t a recommendation. The albatross killed my only friend—or left him to die.”

“Oh, grollocks,” Nathan said—a vulgarism unique to Widewater. “Ezroc told you what happened. You just want someone to blame. Keerye was taken by the Floater, even though Ezroc told him to be careful. I saw it.”

“The witness …” The selkie drew himself up onto the ice, moving nearer to Nathan, the sweep of his seal body reshaping itself into legs that wormed across the floe.

“I was in his mind. You wouldn’t understand—or believe me. You’re so obsessed with not believing in anything—”

“I certainly don’t believe in you. Otherworlds are fairy tales for chicks and cubs. I believe—” He sprang so fast Nathan had hardly any time to react. He jumped back, but his feet skidded and even as he fell the selkie was on top of him, pinning him down, a hand around his throat. Fingers pressed on his windpipe, squeezed the vein beneath his ear. The bloodbeat grew loud in his head.

“I believe in
this,”
the selkie said with vicious satisfaction.
“Now
you’ll tell me the truth. What are you really after?”

“The Crown.” Nathan’s voice was reduced to a croak. “I—told you. Stupid …”

Nokosha’s grip tightened. Nathan saw the spots detach themselves from his face and spread through the air, turning vision into a blur. “The truth!”

“Told you.” The croak had become a whisper. “I come—from— another world …”

And then everything went black.

N
ATHAN WOKE
up in his own room to find his throat bruised and tender and snow melting on his clothes. Even so, he was half smiling. He lay for some time picturing Nokosha’s face when his victim vanished from his chokehold into the empty air.

At tea he said to Annie: “Doesn’t it make you furious when you’re telling the truth and people don’t believe you?”

“Definitely,” Annie said, thinking of Pobjoy. “But there’s no point in losing your temper. You just have to convince them.”

I hope Nokosha found my disappearance convincing
, Nathan thought. And then, with a pang of guilt:
I still haven’t been able to warn Denaero …

“He thinks I’m potty,” Annie said, more to herself than her audience. “He thinks we’re all potty.”

“Sorry?”

“Nothing. What do you want for supper? After last night, I don’t feel much like proper cooking. And we did have a big breakfast.”

“Toasted cheese?” Nathan suggested.

“Good idea.”

O
N
M
ONDAY
morning Annie was in the bookshop when she got the letter. The headmaster of Ffylde had picked his moment, giving her the holidays to adjust to Nathan’s changed circumstances and, since he would be away, preventing, or at least postponing, her storming his office in an outburst of maternal rage. He informed her that although Nathan’s academic record was satisfactory—“Satisfactory!” Annie expostulated—the school had decided to terminate his scholarship after GCSEs, feeling such preferential treatment was unfair both to other pupils and their parents. His predecessor, Father Crowley, had been prone to favor those students with family problems—“What family problems?”—or other personal difficulties, sometimes forgetting that boys from a more stable environment were equally deserving. Under the new regime the idea was to create a level playing field where no such favoritism would be allowed. If Ms. Ward was unable or unwilling to pay the fees—perhaps she might consider extending her mortgage— no doubt Nathan would be perfectly happy in state education, where he would have the opportunity to make friends more suited to his outlook and lifestyle. The headmaster might even venture to suggest that such a change would be beneficial to Nathan, since it would demonstrate to
him that in the real world there was no such thing as a free pass to the future.

He was hers faithfully, et cetera.

Annie finished reading the letter, set it down on the desk, checked that the shop was empty, and screamed.

It provided her only a modicum of relief. When she had finished screaming she read the letter all over again, fuming at every sentence, every phrase—
“Ms.
Ward! I’ve always been Mrs., even though I’m not. How dare he call me Ms.? He’s talking like I’m a bimbo who shags around and doesn’t even know who Nathan’s father is. Family problems, indeed! All right, I
don’t
know who Nathan’s father is, but he doesn’t know I don’t know, and the school doesn’t know I don’t know, and they have no
right
—
Friends more suited to his outlook
—
No such thing as a free pass
—anyone would think Nathan had done something
wrong
instead of being the best pupil they’ve ever had. His English teacher, his history teacher, they all agree …” She reached for the telephone with a hand trembling with fury and distress, and dialed Bartlemy.

“Would you like me to pay his fees?” Bartlemy said. “I would be happy to do so, if that’s what you want.”

“Oh no—no—I didn’t mean—I wouldn’t ask—”

“You’re my family,” Bartlemy said. “And I can afford it, I assure you.”

“Thank you,” Annie said. “Thank you so much. You’ve been better than family, to both of us. But that wasn’t why I called. I wanted to—”

“To get things off your chest?”

“Absolutely. It’s such a horrible letter, so condescending and—and
superior
, as if Nathan were the sort of boy who collected Anti-Social Behavior Orders in his spare time and was going to grow up to be a hooligan—and even if he
was
like that, no headmaster worthy of the name should ever dismiss him in that way. Sorry, our school is only for the rich and the privileged; your son may have brains but he should stay in the gutter where he belongs.”

“Is that what he said?” Bartlemy remarked. “Dear me.”

“It’s what he
meant.
And since it’s an abbey school, I assume he’s supposed to be a Christian. I don’t want Nathan to go there anymore if that’s how they feel about him, but… but…”

“He
may want to stay,” Bartlemy supplied. “His friends are there, after all. Apart from Hazel and George he’s not close to the children in the village, not anymore. You’ll have to discuss this with him. But don’t rush at it. Calm down first. You’ve got the whole of the Christmas vacation.”

“Of course,” Annie said gratefully. “I’ll do that. It’s just—I got so
angry
…”

“Naturally,” Bartlemy said. “I suspect the new headmaster has his own agenda. He sees the school as a business that is intended to make money—he’s probably going to increase the fees as soon as he can, and put all sorts of expensive extras into the curriculum. His motto is presumably that you get what you pay for, and the more people pay, the more they will think they get. Much of modern society subscribes to that sort of logic. And as the school revenues expand, so the headmaster’s reputation will expand with them, carrying him on to other, more highly paid headmasterships at still more expensive and expansive schools, with a possible knighthood somewhere at the end of it. Not to mention seats on various prestigious committees and a life of general prestigiousness. I’m sure he has convinced himself that although Nathan is a bright pupil, he’s a disruptive element whose departure would benefit his classmates—and there are always other bright pupils, preferably with wealthier parents. Can I make a suggestion?”

“Go on.”

“Write back in the next week or so. There’s no hurry, but it will do you good to be taking action. Say you have consulted with Nathan’s uncle, who is happy to pay the school fees for a nephew so talented and promising. Mention me by name, and give this address. However, explain that the aforesaid uncle feels Nathan might perhaps be better off at another private school with rather higher academic standards, and in view of that you would like some time to consider the position. Conclude that you trust this will not be inconvenient, and so on and so on. Be very dignified and polite: that should put him in his place.”

Annie laughed aloud.

“That ought to make you feel a bit better.”

“Oh yes, it will.
Thank
you. You’re a genius.”

She hung up with a final
thank you
and was in the process of composing her dignified and polite reply when Pobjoy came in. The shop door, which seemed to have a peculiar affinity with her more questionable or unwelcome visitors, failed to clang, but she had already been distracted from her task by the entry of another customer—“Just browsing”—and she mouthed a greeting. In view of his attitude the previous weekend, she didn’t feel a smile was appropriate.

He didn’t even pretend to look at the books, approaching her desk with a brusque “Hello” and eyeing the intrusive customer resentfully.

In due course the customer selected a book, paid for it, and left.

“Who was that?” Pobjoy demanded unreasonably.

“Someone who wanted to buy a book,” Annie said. “This is a bookshop, remember? Although far too many of my visitors don’t, especially lately.” She added, setting him at a distance: “What can I do for you?”

“Nothing,” he said. “I’m the one who—look, I wanted to apologize. Things were very strained the other night, and some of us weren’t completely sober.”

“Are you suggesting
I
was drunk?” Annie said, mustering all her native hauteur, which wasn’t very much.

“Of course not. Not drunk, perhaps, but—”

“Not exactly sober?”

“You
were
at a party …”

“I was sober,” Annie perjured herself, “and before you ask, the children were sober, and Bartlemy was sober. We were all incredibly sober. I thought you said you came to apologize.”

“I did, but you’re not giving me a chance. I can’t believe that story the kids told—not the way they told it—in a court of law they’d be charged with contempt, but I shouldn’t have expressed myself quite so … I know you’re not nuts, and you can’t possibly be a criminal, though there’s obviously something criminal going on. I’m sorry if I
gave offense. Perhaps we could just agree to look at things differently. What you call a demon, I call a psychopath—”

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Annie said. “He might just tear your head off.”

“See what I mean?”

To his surprise, she laughed. “If Kal’s growing a soul,” she said, “you seem to be growing a sense of humor. Maybe you should put it in a pot and water it regularly.”

“I’ll try,” he said seriously. And then: “I could use some help. Perhaps you’d have lunch with me?”

“All right,” Annie said, caught off guard. “I mean—thank you.”

N
ATHAN HAD
gone to Chizzledown to see if Rowena Thorn could give him a job for a couple of weeks. He’d worked for her the previous year—she was always busy in the run-up to Christmas—and although the money was not particularly good he enjoyed learning about cleaning and restoration, and between them he and Eric were strong enough to move everything but a grand piano. Rowena, with whom he was something of a favorite, agreed immediately and said if he liked he could start now. He sent Annie a text, spent the rest of the day happily polishing chairs, and in the evening dropped in to see Hazel on his way home.

“You’re so lucky,” she said enviously. “I don’t have enough vacation to get a job. Anyway, Uncle Barty wants me to spend all of it working on stuff for school. He says we’re going to do some magic, too, only I know what he’s really up to. He’ll tell me I need to sharpen my brain first, like it was a blunt pencil, and then we’ll have to go through French grammar or something for the next two hours. It’s a plot to make me pass my exams, only it’s a complete waste, because I won’t.” She had evidently decided to relapse into self-doubt again.

“Well, if you’re sure …”

“Of course I’m sure.”

“Okay,” Nathan said. “Don’t then. It’s up to you.”

“Stop it,” Hazel snapped.

“Stop what?”

“Trying to persuade me to—to make more effort, and be
motivated
, and all that crap.”

“I never said a word to persuade you. I was just
agreeing
—”

“It’s the
way
you agree. I know you’re being devious.”

“If you know, then it isn’t working, is it?” Nathan pointed out. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, you were awfully clever last weekend—the pipe-cleaner trick. I shouldn’t have made fun of it. Only please don’t do it on anyone else.”

“It was pretty good, wasn’t it?” Hazel said, gratified. “Actually, I didn’t think it would come off. It never seemed to have any effect on Franco.”

“How would you know?”

“He and Mum should look unhappy.”

“D’you really want to make your mother miserable? Honestly, Hazel…”

Fortunately for their mutual accord, they left the subject, reverting to the events of the weekend, discussing them thoroughly and at length before Nathan moved on to Widewater and his encounter with the Spotted One.
I may not be able to get into other worlds
, Hazel thought when he’d gone,
but at least I’m involved now, I can
do
something.
And she remembered what Nathan had said about needing a spell so he could survive underwater. There must be such a spell, somewhere in the annals of magic; she could always ask Bartlemy about it. Only it would be so much better if she could find it herself…