“No, I won’t forget.”
“Will you be okay now?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”
When he’d gone, Connie stayed where she was. She pressed her knuckles in her eyelids and pummeled herself awake. White streaks swirled before her closed eyes.
Not as white as the light that had pierced them earlier, a voice in her head whispered.
The clock in the hall struck six, and Connie heard the central heating hum to life. A bath—that was what she needed. A nice, warm bath that would wash away this nightmare.
But as the water pounded into the iron clawfoot bathtub, Connie heard an echo of the fury of the waves. She knew then that she would not dare to close her eyes again until she had no choice but to give in to sleep.
2
Assessment Sunday
The next day was Assessment Sunday, when new members of the Society found out if they had a gift with mythical creatures. Connie bicycled down the lane to her Great-Uncle Hugh’s cottage in plenty of time for her friend Rat’s test. The little house was at the far end of the Masterson estate (the Mastersons were also Society members), with a handy cove where Connie’s great-uncle liked to go fishing. It was also convenient for the Society to conduct its assessments away from prying eyes, as few people ventured down the private road. Hugh was not party to this fact, not being a member of the Society himself: he just thought he’d found a quiet spot to spend his retirement. Like most people, he thought the Society was an environmental protection group. Connie had been asked to ensure that Hugh stayed indoors that day—something she hoped to achieve with the bribe of a newspaper.
She let herself in the back door. “Hi, Uncle Hugh. I’ve brought you a Telegraph.”
Hugh was still finishing his breakfast. He beamed at his great-niece over the plate full of toast. “Thank you, my dear. That was very thoughtful of you. Fancy coming all the way out here just to give an old man a treat!” He poured Connie a mug of tea from a chipped blue and white pot. “Here, you might like to see this.”
He passed her a postcard from his sister, Godiva, who was currently in Brazil.
Connie read it through. “Sounds as if she’s having fun.”
“Yes, my sister has finally found herself after all these years. Joined some folks from your society in Rio and learning Portuguese, would you believe it?”
Thanks to Connie, Godiva had finally admitted that she was a companion to wood sprites after years of rejecting the Society and everything to do with it.
“That’s great—I’m really pleased,” said Connie.
“And so am I, even if you are all as nutty as fruit cakes. How’s Evelyn, by the way?”
“Oh, you know, excited about the wedding.”
Hugh gave his great-niece a shrewd look, taking in the tired shadows under her eyes. “And has she said anything about where she and Mack are going to live afterward? You know you’re always welcome here if they don’t have room for you—though I suppose it’s a bit too quiet for a youngster.”
“Thanks, Uncle Hugh. I’d like to come for the Christmas holidays as they’ll be on their honeymoon. I dunno after that. Evelyn’s said that she doesn’t expect life to change much.”
“Doesn’t she now!” Hugh chuckled.
There was a thump and a shout from next door. Connie grimaced at her uncle. “So, how are you getting on with the neighbors?”
Rat had arrived in the area last summer as part of the Ecowarrior encampment in Mallins Wood. When Mr. Masterson gave Rat’s father a job for the lambing season, the family had moved out of their chilly bus and taken up residence in the cottage next door to Hugh. Their introduction had been a disaster: Wolf, the family pet Alsatian, had thrown himself at Hugh in a jealous rage when he had seen the old man hugging his great-niece. Connie was a big favorite with Wolf.
“Well, apart from his heavy metal music, her screams when Rat does something to annoy her, and the menagerie of squawking animals the boy keeps in the coal shed, they’re the perfect neighbors.” Hugh caught Connie’s eye and winked. “Don’t worry. They’re not too bad, really. I’m rather fond of the boy, and Mrs. Ratcliff’s got a heart of gold. They always turn down the music when I ask. Had me over to tea several times lately. I think we’re getting rather chummy.”
“That’s good. I wouldn’t like to get on the wrong side of Mrs. Ratcliff,” Connie said.
“I’ll let you in on a secret,” said Hugh in a conspiratorial whisper, “she scares the living daylights out of me, too. Given a choice, I think I’d prefer to take on the Alsatian.”
Connie laughed and took her mug to the sink to wash up. As she looked out the window, past Mrs. Ratcliff’s laundry flapping in the breeze to the blue autumnal sky, she heard the growl of motorbikes approaching. It was time.
“Is it okay if I go for a walk?”
Hugh had settled himself behind the newspaper. “What’s that?”
“I want to go out.”
“Of course. But you’re not to go into the old tin mines. Oh, and don’t go anywhere near the cliff-edge. A great chunk fell away during that storm the other night, and the rest looks a bit shaky to me.”
Connie had been trying not to think about that. She gripped the edge of the sink.
“Did you hear, Connie?”
“Yes. I won’t go near the edge.”
He looked up. “Off you go then. Must not waste a lovely day inside.”
As Connie left the kitchen, she heard the rumble of engines more clearly now, heading in her direction. She arrived outside the Ratcliff gate at the same time as the two bikes. Dismounting quickly from his father’s Harley-Davidson and removing his helmet, Col greeted her with a quizzical look. She shook her head slightly. Now was not the moment to talk.
Mack Clamworthy parked the bike and slapped her heartily on the back, making her stagger.
“Hugh tucked up safely with the paper?” he asked.
Connie nodded.
Dr. Brock, the leader of the Society’s local chapter, got off the second motorcycle and bent over to assist the passenger in the sidecar, removing a series of packages and cages to allow him space to clamber out. With considerable difficulty, the Society’s assessor, Mr. Coddrington, unfolded himself like a telescope from the cramped confines of the sidecar. His thin face creased in a frown. Connie moved away. Mr. Coddrington always gave her the creeps. He seemed wrong somehow; her instinct told her that he wasn’t fully alive to the world, as other members of the Society were naturally. She never ceased to wonder how he had passed his own assessment. But then, his gift for weather giants was real enough. Maybe she just didn’t understand him—or them?
“This it then?” Mr. Coddrington asked as he looked disdainfully at the small row of cottages. “Where is the assessment to take place?”
“As I explained,” Dr. Brock said patiently, “Rat’s family are not members of the Society.”
“Rat? What kind of name is that?”
“His real name is Sean Ratcliff. Anyway, Ivor, I thought that we could use the cove down the track here. It’s sheltered from curious eyes.”
“Hmm. I don’t like doing assessments outside. You can get interference with the result. But I suppose it will have to do.” Mr. Coddrington’s eyes lighted upon Connie, and he turned to her with a chilly smile. “Ah, Miss Lionheart, delightful as always to see you!” He held out his hand and Connie reluctantly shook it. “You, in particular, will have to stand well back. We cannot have our universal confusing the assessors, can we?”
He was right. The assessors—a raven, a white mouse, and a green lizard—were already moving restlessly in their cages; and a faint hum was emanating from the black velvet bag, which Connie knew held the crystal.
“Of course, I’ll keep well out of the way,” she said.
“Let’s get on with it then,” said Mr. Coddrington in a brisk tone. “It looks as if the weather is about to turn.” He looked at his watch. “Give us ten minutes,” he told Mack, “I should be ready for him by then.?
??
The party divided, and Connie led Mr. Coddrington and Dr. Brock down to the sea.
“So, Miss Lionheart, what have you been getting up to recently?” Mr. Coddrington asked, smoothing his lank brown hair across his brow in defiance of the wind that was doing its best to dishevel it. On the surface his question sounded innocent, but Connie could not help but suspect that he had some ulterior reason for asking. He always made a point of keeping himself well informed about the activities of Society members. Did he somehow know about her storm-raising?
“Er, not much,” she said. Nothing I’d tell you, she added to herself.
“I wish I could be so fortunate,” Mr. Coddrington remarked. “Desk piled high with work—people constantly calling me up—it’s quite a breath of fresh air to escape the office to do assessments like this.”
“Oh, really?” Dr. Brock asked politely. “Are there lots of new candidates? That would be encouraging.”
Mr. Coddrington sniffed. “Not especially. But I’ve taken on a lot of Frederick Cony’s work for him now that he’s too ill to manage it—I’m keeping the Trustees’ office ticking.”
“That’s very kind of you.” (Connie thought Dr. Brock did not sound pleased to hear of Mr. Coddrington’s expanded role.) “How is Frederick, by the way?” Dr. Brock asked.
“Not good,” said the assessor, shaking his head. “Not good, I’m afraid.”
They reached the cove and found it deserted: a smooth crescent of sand lapped by gentle waves, with no unwanted visitors. Over to the west there was a new pile of earth and rock at the bottom of the cliff.
“Good thing the storm passed so quickly the other night before it did any more damage,” said Dr. Brock, gesturing to the landslide. “Did you hear it, Connie?”
Connie looked up at him guiltily. If she was going to tell someone, Dr. Brock would be a good choice. His blue eyes smiled at her behind his gold-rimmed glasses, inviting her confidence. But what would he think if he knew the truth? Would he be angry with her? Or would he fear her?
“Er…no…I slept right through it.” The lie out in the open, Connie felt even worse. She wanted to unsay it—blurt out the truth—but Mr. Coddrington was hovering at her shoulder. She couldn’t say anything now.
“Lucky you,” Dr. Brock said. “I couldn’t sleep a wink—roof came off the bakery next door—tiles smashing all over my front garden.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
Dr. Brock patted her on the back. “Why are you sorry? It wasn’t your fault.”
Mr. Coddrington jumped down onto the sand. “Wait up there, Miss Lionheart,” he called. “That should be far enough away. You can watch from there.”
Trying to push her guilty thoughts aside, Connie waited while the assessor and Dr. Brock arranged the equipment on the points of the compass: raven to the East, lizard to the South, mouse to the West, and crystal to the North.
“I wasn’t expecting to be allowed to watch,” she murmured to Dr. Brock when he joined her, leaving the assessor pacing the sands as he checked the distances between the compass points.
“Well, it’s not against the rules, but generally Ivor does these things in private. I think he’s showing off because you’re here.”
“Hey, Connie!” a voice called behind her.
Connie turned to see Rat, escorted by Col and Mack, coming down the path. Rat’s sharp-featured face was beaming; his unkempt nut-brown hair blew messily in the wind: he looked completely at ease with the proceedings, as if he thought it all one big joke. Connie reminded herself that he had not yet been initiated into the mysteries of the Society and did not understand what today’s test would mean for him.
“Hi, Rat,” Connie called back. “Ready?”
“Yeah. Wish me luck!”
Rat clattered down the wooden steps and crunched over the sand to Mr. Coddrington. As the pair stood close together, Connie could see that Mr. Coddrington was giving Rat the same talk he had given her at her assessment. Rat didn’t seem to be paying much attention, too preoccupied by the creatures in the cages.
“What’s your money on, Francis?” Mack asked Dr. Brock as he stretched out on the grass, chewing a strand. “Sea Snake like us?”
“Sadly not, I think,” said Dr. Brock.
“I hope he’s another pegasus companion,” said Col. “It’d be great having another one in our region.”
“Heaven help us,” muttered Dr. Brock. “The skies would not be safe for us poor dragon riders.”
Col laughed. “What do you think, Connie?”
“I think I can guess—but it won’t be pegasi, I’m afraid, Col.”
“Go on, tell us what it is.”
She shook her head. “That’d spoil the surprise. All I’ll say is that someone close to him has given me a hint.”
Rat was now standing in the center of the circle of objects. Mr. Coddrington had to show him again how to hold his arms out straight with palms pointing down, as he evidently had not listened to the instructions. Laughing out loud at the absurdity of what he was asked to do, Rat began to spin like a compass needle. Bird, lizard, and mouse: all were passed and all remained silent. Finally, Rat turned to the crystal. Up on the bank, Connie hugged her jacket close, sensing a sudden drop in temperature. A stillness settled on the scene as the wind died. Then the crystal began to glow and rattle. Rat dropped his hands in surprise. He hadn’t been expecting this.
Mr. Coddrington nodded and took a folder from his briefcase. He drew Rat aside and began to run through a sheet of questions with him.
“What’s he doing?” Connie asked.
“It’s the next stage, don’t you remember?” Col said—then stopped. “Oh, of course, you didn’t get this far, did you? The idiot failed you. It’s the creature assessment: he’s running through all Rat’s previous experience with animals to see which one points to his companion species.”
The four spectators watched as Mr. Coddrington bent over his papers. Rat was now taking things seriously, answering without any sidelong glances at his friends. The assessor then shut his folder with a snap and swept up his equipment. He shoved the mouse cage and the bag into Rat’s arms and led the way as they scrambled back up the beach.
“Well, that was all very straightforward,” Mr. Coddrington announced as he reached the top of the stairs. “No surprises there.” He cast a surreptitious look in Connie’s direction, and she knew that he was also thinking back to two years ago when she had given him the biggest surprise of his career. “He clearly falls in the Company of the Elementals. I’ll leave his induction to your chapter, of course, but my assessment is that his gift is likely to be with the frost wolf.”
Rat, who had been listening to all this with a bemused expression as he waited at the bottom of the steps, latched onto this last phrase.
“Frost wolf—so where’s my wolf?”
Connie broke into a laugh, seeing the expectant look on his face. Col hurried forward, took the cage and bag from Rat, and pulled him up onto the path.
“It doesn’t quite work like that,” Col said quickly. “You’d better let me explain.”
That evening, the new members of the Chartmouth Chapter of the Society were inducted in a brief ceremony at the start of the Annual General Meeting. Rat had to wait outside with the three other young inductees while old members took their seats in the Mastersons’ barn. The room was already full, but latecomers were still trying to squeeze in. Col was among them, having lingered with Rat in the yard. He climbed over the hay bales to reach Skylark, who was waiting for him at the far end of the Company of Two-and Four-Legged Beasts and Beings. They were close to the Elementals so they could be next to Rat when he finally took his seat. Col settled down beside the pegasus, then looked around for his other friends. Connie was on her own by the door, looking down at her hands. He wondered if he should call her over, but she was studiously ignoring everyone. She had successfully avoided the subject of the storm all day, taking cover in the excitement of Rat’s assessment. They had to talk
.
“Right, can I have everyone’s attention, please,” Dr. Brock called again. “We have a busy agenda tonight. But first, let us welcome our newest members.”
Dr. Brock’s companion—Argot, a red-scaled dragon—opened the door with a sweep of his tail, revealing the four young people waiting nervously outside. Silence fell. Rat gazed in amazement at the ranks of creatures before him—great boars, griffins, rock dwarves, winged horses, dragons—more than could be taken in with one glance. A chorus of phoenixes and firebirds began to sing as Argot blew a ring of fire—the gateway through which each new companion had to pass. This ancient custom was a test of courage, but no one had been known to stay outside with so many wonderful creatures to encounter. The room erupted into applause as each new member leapt through, Rat with typical bravado turning a cartwheel for extra effect. Then they split up to take their seats among each of the four companies. Rat ran to a place in the Elementals near Col, grinning with relief that he had survived that ordeal unsinged.
Col punched him on the knee. “You did that much better than me, show off!”
Dr. Brock stood up again. “A heartfelt welcome to our new members—I look forward to meeting each one of you at the party at the end of the meeting. But now to business: the re-election of the committee. We have no changes to announce this year. I have offered to continue as Chair as no one else has volunteered; Argot remains Vice-chair; Evelyn Lionheart, Treasurer; Lavinia Clamworthy, Secretary. We’re still looking for a volunteer from High Flyers to take a post on the committee, but you’ve all been very hard to pin down.” Dr. Brock looked over at the group ranged on the eastern side of the barn. A laugh rippled around the room; the winged creatures and their companions were notorious for their ability to evade responsibility.
Col didn’t join in the laughter, not finding it very funny. He had noticed that many members of the Society were growing increasingly apathetic. It had started in the headquarters in London with men like Mr. Coddrington with their rules and regulations getting in the way of any new ideas. That left other people, like his grandmother and Dr. Brock, doing all the work, fighting the battles with headquarters while the rest came along as passengers. How was the Society going to face the threat of Kullervo if they were so weak themselves?