“Good for you, girl!” said Mack.
Evelyn brushed this aside. “You can tell the others that as far as Number Five Shaker Row is concerned, Connie is still a member of the Society. If anyone wants to come here, they’d better be of that opinion, too—or else they should keep away.”
“I agree with you, Evelyn, but there is a virtue in keeping a cool head on these matters for a few weeks. We do not want to hand Ivor Coddrington more proof to back up his decision. Connie flouting his ruling would be just the kind of thing he will seize on and use against her.”
Evelyn was a little deflated by this view of the situation. “She lives here, doesn’t she? He can’t object to that?”
Dr. Brock got up. “He would if he could but, no, I don’t think he can take issue with that.” He strode over to the door. “Well, good-bye to you all—and Merry Christmas.” He let himself out, closing the door with a firm click behind him.
“Now,” said Evelyn, turning to Connie, “what are we going to do about your sleepwalking?”
“Lock her in her room?” suggested Mack.
“I don’t think that’ll do any good,” said Connie. “The sleepwalking me would find a way out, I’m sure of it.”
“Yes, and I don’t want you climbing out of your window in the middle of the night,” said Evelyn.
An idea came to Connie. “Can I ask Argand to stay?”
Evelyn was taken aback. “I thought you heard what I just said about dragons as houseguests. Anyway, what’s that got to do with your sleepwalking?”
“What stopped me last time was an encounter with Argand. If she was close by, she could snap me out of it before I did any damage—bring me back to myself.”
Evelyn smiled with relief to hear so simple a solution. “In that case, of course.”
“A dragon sleepover. Better invest in a fire extinguisher, Evie,” said Mack, putting his feet up on the table.
9
Sentinel
“I’m not sure you should come, dear,” said Mrs. Clamworthy to Col as she buttoned her coat. “It’s all very well for old folks like me to ignore the ban, but I don’t want you to put your training at risk.”
“Don’t be silly, Gran. Of course, I’m coming,” Col replied. He was already in his jacket and waiting for his grandmother by the back door. “What kind of friend would I be to Connie if I didn’t?”
Mrs. Clamworthy sighed. It was the last day of the Christmas holidays, and Evelyn had called a meeting of what she called “the pro-Connie faction” of the Chartmouth Chapter. Purpose of the meeting: to see if by pooling their wisdom, they could discover a way to help Connie solve her problem.
Col was pleased to find that there was a good turnout at Number Five by the time he and his grandmother arrived. He hoped Connie would take heart from this show of support for her. Mack and Evelyn were there, of course, sitting at either end of the table. Connie had taken a seat in a corner, as if she was not sure if she should be taking part. Argand was stretched out at her feet, asleep, twitching in her dreams. Col knew Connie well enough to realize that she was worrying about what would happen to her supporters if the Society found out about this meeting, but she avoided his eye when he tried to give her a reassuring smile.
Rat was perched on the draining board, playing with one of Evelyn’s mobiles that twirled above the sink, jiggling it so violently that it looked in imminent danger of collapse. Seated by Evelyn were Jessica Moss and her selkie companion, Arran, in his human shape for the moment. In Col’s eyes, Arran always had the look of a seal with his large, soulful dark eyes, long paddle-shaped hands, and thick brown hair that still shone wet from a swim. Jessica’s expression was defiant, as if she dared anyone to question her right to be there. Arran, by contrast, looked at ease—the threat of penalties for consorting with Connie was so much water off his smooth back.
Dr. Brock sat opposite Arran, calmly reading through some correspondence. Erik Ulvsen was chatting to Mack—they appeared to be well on the way to making friends. By Erik’s side was a frequent visitor from the London branch: Horace Little, also a companion to selkies. Horace, with old-fashioned gallantry, leapt to his feet to offer Mrs. Clamworthy his seat.
“Now, I think that’s everyone,” said Evelyn, calling them to order. “Thank you all for coming. We know what you’re risking in showing your support for Connie in this way.”
The room went quiet. Col saw that Connie now had her head in her hands.
“I didn’t call this meeting to annoy Headquarters—”
“Didn’t you, Evie?” interrupted Mack with a grin. “That’s not what you said last night.”
“Okay, I didn’t call this meeting only to annoy Headquarters,” Evelyn conceded. Col smiled: he knew that his father welcomed any opportunity to annoy the Society authorities; this same attitude had obviously spread to his new wife. “I called it because I think that we can best help Connie if we put our heads together and see if we can cast some light on what’s gone wrong with her gift.”
“Hmm,” said Horace. “I wish we had a unicorn companion among us—or even a rock dwarf companion—someone used to healing or exploring the layers of the mind.”
“So do I,” agreed Evelyn. “But as the Society authorities in their wisdom have seen fit to cast Connie off, we’re all we’ve got, so we’ll have to do.”
At that moment, there was a knock at the back door. Connie shrank into the shadows. Dr. Brock and Horace exchanged a worried look, wondering if the secret of their meeting had already been betrayed. Erik and Mack stood up, ready to defend Connie from any incomers. Rat was the only one present who seemed completely unconcerned. He jumped down from the sink and flung open the door.
“What d’you want?” he challenged the figure standing in the dark. The light from the kitchen did not seem to have any impact on the stranger. They could make nothing of the black shape among the shadows.
“I want to come in, young man,” came the reply.
“Not before you tell us who you are, mate,” Rat said, not moving aside.
“I’m Gard, a rock dwarf.” The visitor cast back his hood, revealing a coal-black craggy face that gleamed in the lamplight. “I have come a long way, and I’m used to a warmer welcome at this house.”
“Hey, a rock dwarf, that’s cool! You can come in,” said Rat, staring fascinated at Gard.
Dr. Brock and Horace rose to their feet to welcome their old friend. Even Connie left her corner to greet him. Gard took both of Connie’s hands in his black fists.
“I told you I would come.”
She smiled back at him, her thanks unspoken but understood. Gard swung around to face the Society members.
“And what is all this I see? An illicit meeting?” he asked sternly.
“Yes,” said Evelyn, her head held high.
“Good, good!” said Gard, his voice relaxing into a chuckle. “I thought Connie was in need of a friend, but I find her surrounded by them—that is excellent.”
“We were just saying, Gard,” said Dr. Brock—offering the rock dwarf a chair which he refused—“that we need someone experienced in plumbing the depths of the mind. Your arrival could not have been more timely. Perhaps you will be able to find the answer for us.”
Gard stood by the fireplace, feet planted on the hearthrug, his mallet swinging loosely in his right hand. His dark eyes, almost hidden in his coal-black face but for a gleam in their depths, scrutinized them all carefully.
“You look to me for answers,” he said gruffly. “Have you been able to find the question?”
“The question?” asked Dr. Brock.
“Yes. I think we do not really know what we are asking ourselves. Have we decided whether we want to know why Connie is doing this, or who is doing this through Connie? They are very different matters. Some of you, I know, still believe it is Connie who is doing these things. Perhaps even in part of her mind, Connie thinks that, too, or why else would she be hiding from you, her friends?”
The eyes of the
company turned to Connie. He was right: she had again slid back into her corner.
“It seems to me that her fear of herself is our main problem. Until she embraces what it is to be a universal—the dark as well as the light—she will not understand what is happening to her. And if she has the courage to do this, we must also have the fortitude to accept what she becomes. There should be no part of her, no matter how terrible, that we should shrink from.”
Col looked over at Connie. Was he ready to accept her with all her powers, even if they were as fearsome as Gard hinted? He had almost lost his life the other week trying to help her. Now that he knew such things lay within her, would he be willing to do so again? He hoped he would, but Col had to be honest that his feelings for her were now mixed with fear.
“You make it sound as if you’re asking us to take a terrible risk,” said Mrs. Clamworthy in a quavering voice.
Gard looked hard at her. “I am. You did not think your support for the universal was simply a matter of siding against Ivor Coddrington, did you? Supporting her is consenting to share the risk of exploring what it means to be a universal. She has been left too much on her own over these last two years. The Society has neglected its greatest treasure. Each of you have, or had, mentors to guide you. Who has been doing that for Connie?”
“We’ve tried,” said Evelyn, “but none of us are universals: we don’t understand what it is like to be one—how to be one.”
“Well, it seems to me that you are finding out now the hard way. Being a universal has always been perilous.”
“So, what do you think we should do, Gard?” asked Dr. Brock.
“Our task is not to find the answer, but to help the universal to find it for herself. Accompany her on this journey and not blame her for the consequences. She must feel no shame in what she discovers. I do not know what that will be: it might be that she is willfully using the storms to harm others, then lying to herself—and us—about it afterward—that is very possible. The human minds I have known are quite capable of such self-deception. It may also prove that other powers are at work. What they might be, I do not know, yet.”
Col was feeling uncomfortable—Gard was discussing Connie almost as if she was not there. Surely her voice should be heard? Was any of this making sense to her?
“Are you always so gloomy?” Rat broke in from the far end of the kitchen. “We all know she’s a menace, but then my ma thinks I’m a menace. And what’s life without a little bit of risk, I ask you? I’m right behind Connie. In fact, I was hoping you’ll let me come along for the ride. It’s not every day your friend turns out to have cosmic powers now, is it?”
Gard’s stern face cracked into a smile.
“I’ve not yet met you properly, young man, but I like your attitude. You must have some iron in your bones. What is your companion species?”
“The frost wolf.”
“Ah,” Gard said with a knowing look, “that explains it.”
“I’m with Rat,” Col spoke up. “Connie’s all right by me—all of her. I’ll just have to add some new moves to my training to dodge any more lightning bolts that come in my direction.”
“I never thought that unreasonable of her,” added Mack with a wink at his son, “you often drive me crazy, too. A lightning bolt was probably what you deserved.”
The atmosphere was visibly lightening as one by one each member spoke out to confirm their acceptance of the danger they were all risking in backing Connie. The only person from whom they had not yet heard was Connie herself. Gard turned to her.
“You see you have some faithful friends, Universal. Are you going to let us help you find the answer to your own mystery?”
Connie was struggling: of course, she was grateful that they were all coming out on her side and that they had declared that they would accept her, all of her, no matter what that meant. On the other hand, she did not want to put them in danger—none of them understood what they were letting themselves in for. She could not drag them into her trouble. They had already put their membership in the Society on the line for her sake; she did not want to ask them for any more—nor did she want to expose herself to them. She hunched her shoulders and stared at her hands, clenched on her knees, and refused to look up.
“She’s being an idiot again,” said Rat cheerfully. “You can tell when Connie wants to hide from us all—she goes into this silent misery act.”
“Ssh!” said Mrs. Clamworthy.
“Yeah, Rat, not everyone has the sensitivity of a stone like you do,” said Col.
“I could take exception to that remark, Col Clamworthy,” said Gard, but he was smiling. “I would not have phrased it in quite the way our young friend did, but it is time the universal stopped shutting herself off from us all—that was always the abiding sin of the Company of Universals and lies at the root of many of the failings of the Society. She should remember that, though her gift is special, it is only an extension of the gift that we all have. All of us have to learn that we contain the ugly as well as the beautiful.”
Gard’s words took Col back to his experience the previous year as Kullervo’s companion. He realized that he could help her because he also had to face something similar himself.
“Look, Connie,” Col said, his face reddening as he spoke up before the company. He had kept this experience to himself and had not intended to share it with others. “I caused suffering, too, last year—you saved me from it, so you know what I’m talking about. You know something about what I became then.” He took a breath. “I discovered, as Kullervo had made me into a warrior, that part of me—a part that I wish didn’t exist—well, it liked spilling blood and causing suffering.” The room was silent, but Col somehow found the nerve to continue. “I’ve had to accept that this urge will always be with me. It has to be mastered, so that I control it and don’t let it control me.” He got up and went to sit on the arm of her chair. “You have to stop thinking you’re especially bad, or especially dangerous. You must let us help you, the way you once helped me.”
Connie looked up and met Col’s eyes. She remembered the cold, determined Colin who had taken his place and the frightened childlike Col she had rescued from Kullervo’s assault. He was brave to admit this secret about himself; she had to find the same courage.
“Okay, okay,” she said shakily, “I give up. You all accept me as I am. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
Evelyn pulled Connie out from her corner.
“Come on,” said Evelyn, “no more hiding in the shadows. We’ve got work to do. Where should we start?” She looked at Gard expectantly.
“I think I know,” admitted Connie. “I think I need to take Gard to the underworld.”
A few days later, a small party of Society members headed for the mines. Gard refused to ride in Dr. Brock’s sidecar, saying that being so close to the ground made him feel ill; his bond with the earth rushed by so fast it made his head spin. Connie had drawn the short straw and therefore had a worm’s eye view from the sidecar of Gard clinging to the doctor’s waist, his head hidden in a spare helmet, his craggy extremities disguised in leather boots and gloves. Mack and Col rode the second bike, having volunteered to head off any inquisitive parties.
“Where’s Rat?” Connie asked as they slowed down for the bumpy track to the cottages. “I thought he wanted to come along?”
“He did,” replied Dr. Brock, “but I persuaded him that his time would be better spent keeping his family out of the way. Now that your brother’s back at school, there should be no one around. Horace has taken Hugh out on a trip in their boat.”
“So why do Mack and Col have to be here?” she asked.
“Just in case.”
Dr. Brock’s caution turned out to be farsighted. It was not Hugh nor the Ratcliffs that proved to be the problem. When the bikes pulled up outside the cottages, they discovered the lane was full of construction vehicles.
Mack removed his helmet and whistled. “Phew—I didn’t know about this
. Then again, Evie and Masterson aren’t talking, thanks to our little storm-raiser, so I s’pose he’s gone full steam ahead and began building the wind farm without telling us. Doesn’t waste time, that one.”
Builders were swarming over the hillside; trucks bounced across the fields with loads of earth; like badgers on a sandy bank, bulldozers had made a good start on digging foundations.
“How are we going to get Gard over to the mines with no one noticing?” asked Col. “Do you think we should come back tonight?”
“It will be fine,” said Gard, stamping his feet, relieved to be back on solid ground. “If you gather around me, no one will see. I’ll keep my hood up, boots and gloves on.”
Connie led them to the footpath across the edge of the field. There were fewer builders this way, though there was a small gathering of men by the fence, all looking at a large plan that was flapping in the wind. Connie hoped they would be too interested in their discussion to notice the strange party.
As they approached, the nearest man turned around. It was Mr. Masterson. His eyes fell on Connie at the front of the group, and his normally affable face hardened. Muttering something to the builders, he sent them up the field and stood waiting for her to draw level with him. Connie wondered what she should do. She could hardly turn and run, but she also couldn’t pretend she was only out for an innocent stroll, not with Gard along.
“Miss Lionheart, what are you doing on my land?”
“I thought it was a public path,” she replied meekly, not wanting to provoke him further.
“It is. But I thought that you at least would not have the audacity to revisit the scene of your crimes.” Mr. Masterson now took in the rest of her group. “And with the very people you almost killed. Very odd indeed!”
“Have you a problem with us being here, Masterson?” asked Mack, the edge of a threat in his voice.
“But she’s banned! None of you are supposed to be with her!”
Mack took a step forward and lay his hand on Connie’s shoulder, revealing Gard behind him.