Universal!
She started. Reverberating up through the soles of her boots was the voice of Gard, the rock dwarf.
Gard! she replied in surprise. I did not think you’d be able to talk to me again. She was struck by an unpleasant thought. Perhaps you’ve not heard? I’ve been expelled.
That is why I have sought you out, Universal.
But I’m not supposed to talk to anyone in the Society, she said, feeling it unfair of him to tempt her this way.
I am too old to care for such things. They can expel me, too, if they wish—but they will not. Coddrington has made a great mistake with you. The other Trustees will not let the expulsion stand.
Connie hugged her knees. But he said he had the power to do what he liked.
He does, but he will be out-voted at the appeal; I am sure of it. All the Trustees will have a voice then.
A feeling of relief warmed her. Yes, she felt sure Kira Okona and the unicorn Windfoal, Kinga Potowska and the emerald dragon Morjik, Eagle-Child and Storm-Bird would be fair. They would wish to help, not punish.
The news has reached them, thanks to the rock dwarves, and they are coming back to England. They will be here very soon. I’ll be with you even sooner.
Thank you, Gard.
Did you really accuse the companion to weather giants of working for Kullervo? Gard chuckled.
Er…I’m not sure. Possibly. I might’ve said something like that, Connie admitted. I got a bit carried away.
Well, you may have to prepare your apology before they can waive the expulsion. We have to respect our Trustees, even if the person concerned is Ivor Coddrington.
Okay. An apology seemed a reasonable price to pay if it meant that she would get help dealing with her problem.
Keep out of trouble and all should be well. There will be those that oppose your reinstatement, of course. This episode will not have helped dispel the distrust of the universals. It was ever thus.
Distrust?
Surely you understand by now? Coddrington is motivated by his fear of you—not because he works for our enemy.
I see, Connie said slowly as things began to make sense. I cut across the systems, spoil his neat arrangements.
That is so. And when you are old enough, and if tradition is followed, you will be invited to lead the Trustees as the representative of the Company of the Universals. We have not had a leader for many decades, for the gift had waned and those who possessed it became too frail. A universal in her prime is what Coddrington fears.
Ha! Connie laughed bitterly. I’m no leader, Gard, as you must know. You’ve seen what lies in me. No one will want me to lead now.
I’ve seen your potential. You are yet a sapling—there are many years before we see the mature tree. You have to keep on growing.
Connie shivered. That was what the minotaur said.
Who said?
Someone else. Someone wise. I’ll tell you when you get here.
You are getting chilled, Universal, Gard noted. Your feet are becoming as cold as my stone.
You’re right. Connie got up and stamped her feet. I’ll go in for breakfast now. And thank you, Gard.
Waving farewell to Mew, Connie ran back to the cottage, her heart now much lighter—she still had friends.
A few hours later, as Great-Uncle Hugh drove Connie and her younger brother, Simon, back from church, they came across a man in a long gray coat, striding down the lane to the cottages.
“What on Earth can he want?” Hugh wondered aloud. “Doesn’t look like the sort to be on visiting terms with the Ratcliffs, and I certainly don’t know him.”
“Perhaps he’s lost?” suggested Simon.
“I don’t think he’s lost,” said Connie from the back seat. “I think he’s a friend of Rat’s.”
As Hugh drew up to his front door, they saw Rat sitting on the wall, waiting for his mentor.
Connie was eager to get inside before Erik arrived, as she did not want to meet a relative of Mr. Masterson and another Society member. Rat, however, had spotted her.
“Wait, Connie, you’ve got to meet Erik.” He grabbed her by the elbow to stop her from disappearing.
“I can’t,” Connie muttered, trying not to let her brother or Hugh hear. But Hugh had spotted the tussle.
“’Course you can—you’ve got plenty of time before lunch,” Hugh announced. “I’m only just turning the oven on now. Come on, Simon. Come and give me a hand.”
“But Connie—” grumbled Simon.
“No ‘but Connies,’ thank you,” said Hugh. “It’s Christmas, and I’ve asked you to help—not your sister.”
Simon groaned but left Connie and Rat alone without further protest.
“Really, Rat, I shouldn’t,” Connie said, pulling away.
By now, the Norwegian had reached them. Connie gave Rat a pained look.
“Erik, this is Connie Lionheart,” Rat said, pushing her forward.
“Nice to meet you—but I think I’d better go now.” Connie could feel herself blushing.
“Why? I have looked forward to meeting you.” Erik shook her hand and didn’t let go.
“Well, you see…I’ve been expelled from the Society and you’re not really supposed to have anything to do with me.”
“For noe tull! Nonsense!” the mentor exclaimed. “You are a universal—how can we expel you?”
“But Mr. Coddrington said that—”
“Mr. Coddrington sounds like a small-minded bureaucrat, even if my Company did decide to elect him as Trustee. He certainly did not get my vote. As a universal, you are much more than him—you are our pack leader, and he is only a whining runt.”
Rat laughed. Connie was both gratified and annoyed with them for making light of the matter. Neither of these frost wolf companions seemed to understand how serious the situation had become.
“Unfortunately, Mr. Coddrington has a lot of power now,” she said, meeting Erik’s gaze. His eyes had a lupine hunger in their depths; he was not as harmless as he first appeared. Like Rat, there was a toughness to him: “hardbitten” was the word that came into her mind.
“Perhaps then, you should show him who is the dominant one in our pack?” suggested Erik. Reflexively, he touched an old scar on the side of his neck, the trophy of some past battle.
“What? Take him on?” Connie shook her head incredulously.
“If necessary.”
“That’s not…well, that’s just not me.”
Erik continued to gaze at her. “Maybe you do not know what is ‘you,’ yet. I think you need to meet Icefen. What do you say, Rat?”
Rat nodded eagerly. “Cool. Can we do it now?”
“I can think of no better time. Rat, you show her how it is done. And, Connie, remember: like it or not, you are our pack leader.”
Rat was already dragging on Connie’s arm to take her into the cover of the trees at the back of the field. “Come on, Connie. Let’s see if Icefen can carry two.”
That evening, as Connie digested her dinner by the fireside in a sleepy daze, she reflected on what had been her strangest Christmas yet. She and Rat had roamed far and wide on the back of Icefen, loping across bogs, splashing through icy rivers, climbing up hillsides. They had met a number of walkers in their travels on the moor, all of whom had scattered before them like frightened sheep. Each time this had happened, Icefen chased them, breathed on them, and the hikers had fallen to the ground unconscious. He seemed to enjoy the game, often inviting the attention of the unwary by flaunting his massive form in the most visible of places. To him, it was a kind of harmless hunting, which Rat found hilarious. Connie was not so sure. She wondered what dark dreams would remain with the unfortunate victims exposed to the icy breath.
Hugh and Simon were sitting together on the sofa, watching TV.
“Your aunt comes back tomorrow,” Hugh called over to Connie. “Do you want me to drive you over to Shaker Row to greet her?”
Connie had been wondering what she should do. Before th
e expulsion, she had been planning to stay on with her great-uncle to give her aunt and Mack some privacy. Now, it seemed better to get in early with her news before Evelyn heard it from someone else.
“Thanks. I think I’d like to get the house ready for them.”
“That suits me. Simon and I are off to the match in Chartmouth. You don’t want to come with us, I suppose?”
“How did you guess?”
“Oh, it’s just the way you roll your eyes every time Uncle Hugh and I talk about soccer,” commented Simon sourly.
“Each to his own, Simon,” said Hugh. “I’ve heard you groaning every time Connie says something about her society. Are you going to any more meetings, love?” he asked Connie. “I’ve noticed you have not been heading off to your usual activities the last few days.”
“No, I’m having a break.”
“Packed up for Christmas, have they?”
“Something like that.”
“That’s a shame. I know how much you enjoy them.”
The next day, Hugh and Simon dropped Connie outside Number Five and headed for the twelve o’clock kick-off in Chartmouth. She watched them go as Madame Cresson, her aunt’s cat, wound happily around her ankles.
“Has Mrs. Lucas been looking after you all right?” Connie asked, bending down to fondle the cat’s thick ginger fur. Madame Cresson looked up at Connie with her golden eyes and blinked, as if to say that she had deigned to accept the neighbor’s ministrations but only under duress. “Well, Evelyn will be back soon. You won’t have to put up with it any longer.”
Letting herself in through the back door, Connie found the house unpleasantly cold and unwelcoming, despite the fact that it had been empty for only two weeks. The heating had been set on the minimum required to stop the pipes from freezing, and there was a definite chill in the air. Deciding her first task must be to warm up the place, Connie went through the house turning on heaters and switching up the boiler. The last room she entered was the front room—a place she rarely chose to go as it always had a mournful feel, which she associated with the terrible night she had woken on the beach. Connie switched on the old electric heater with a clunk and wrinkled her nose at the smell of burning dust. Thinking she had better wait to check that nothing caught fire, she sat on the unyielding sofa. As ever, her eyes were attracted to the mantelpiece. Why were there a statue of a white horse and a figurine of a bronze bear up there? She had never asked her aunt, but wondering about it now, the answer seemed obvious: they must have been the companion species of her Great-Aunt Sybil and her husband, both of whom had been Society members. But which was which, Connie wondered?
The roar of a motorbike in the lane outside disturbed her from these thoughts. Evelyn and Mack were here already, and she felt nowhere near prepared for what would be a difficult conversation. Dashing back to the kitchen, Connie arranged the holly spray she had brought with her in the center of the table, filled the kettle, and switched it on, attempting to make everything as normal as possible. Footsteps crunched up the path, and she heard voices at the back door. Connie took a deep breath, hitched a smile onto her face, and waited for them to enter.
Evelyn Lionheart breezed into the kitchen, looking tanned and happy. Dumping her bags by the door, she folded her niece in a hug.
“Connie, it’s so nice you’re here!” she said, kissing her on the cheek.
Mack came in carrying a light rucksack and threw it on top of Evelyn’s luggage.
“Everything all right?” he asked. “How’s that son of mine?”
“He’s okay, Mr. Clamworthy,” Connie said awkwardly.
“Mack, darling. You make me feel a hundred calling me Mr. Clamworthy all the time. Anyway, now I’m your—what is it?—uncle, I suppose. No way am I going to allow you to call me ‘Uncle,’ so it’ll have to be Mack.”
The more he said, the more Connie wondered how she was going to broach the subject of what had happened in their absence. She decided she would wait till they were all sitting down.
“Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?” Connie asked. “Oh no, I’ve forgotten to get any milk.”
“Don’t worry, black coffee for both of us will be fine,” said Evelyn, rummaging in her bag. “Look, I got this for you.” She held out a kikoi, a brightly colored length of cloth like the one that Kira Okona, the unicorn companion, wore. “You can compete with Kira at the next meeting with the Trustees.”
“Yeah,” said Connie in a hollow voice, scrunching the material up in her hands. “Thanks—it’s lovely.”
Pouring the hot water onto the coffee grounds, she let Evelyn and Mack chatter on about their honeymoon. Mack appeared to be turning over a new leaf; he had not left his bride once to go swimming with the Kraken.
“Well, I thought ‘no banshees on Zanzibar, mate’ so it wouldn’t be fair,” he said with an uncharacteristically virtuous look.
“Fraud!” hit back Evelyn. “The Kraken doesn’t even like the shallow waters around Zanzibar—it was nowhere near us!”
“Well, you’ve got me there, I must admit,” said Mack with a laugh.
Connie saw that they had already fallen into the good-humored mocking of people at ease with each other. Despite her misgivings about Mack as an uncle, it looked as if all was going well—so far. She placed the coffee down in front of them and sat at the table.
“So,” said Evelyn at last, “how are things with you? Training going okay?”
Connie cleared her throat. “Er…I’ve got some bad news.”
“My mother’s all right, isn’t she?” asked Mack, putting down his cup.
“She’s fine.”
“The wind farm didn’t get turned down, did it?” asked Evelyn.
“No. Sorry, I should’ve mentioned: Rat told me that got the go-ahead last week.”
“That’s great. So, what’s up?” Evelyn said, shaking her head as if she could not imagine anything else could possibly be wrong.
“I don’t know how to tell you, so I’d better just say it. You’ll hear soon enough anyway…. I’ve been expelled from the Society.”
“Expelled!” Evelyn put her cup down abruptly, spilling steaming black liquid all over the table.
“You’re joking, right?” said Mack, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
“No, I’m not.” Connie got up to fetch a cloth to clear away the mess.
“Leave it,” said Evelyn tersely. “You had better tell us the whole story.”
Connie would have preferred to fiddle around with the cloth so she could avoid her aunt’s eye, but Evelyn insisted that she sit still and recount every detail. Connie was surprised—Evelyn seemed more worried to hear about the storm-raising than the interview with Mr. Coddrington.
“You say you’ve done this twice now, Connie? Why didn’t you tell me?” Evelyn looked appalled.
Connie shrugged. “I was afraid—ashamed, I s’pose.”
“And what does Dr. Brock say about it?”
“It was his idea to go to the Trustees for help. That’s how Mr. Coddrington got involved.”
Evelyn sat in silence for a moment, looking at her niece intently. Connie’s insides were squirming; she felt sure that she was about to be scolded again.
“Well, I think it’s outrageous!” Evelyn said finally. “You’re in deep trouble—and what does the Society do? Throw you out! As if that is going to solve anything!”
Connie looked up. This was not the reaction she had been expecting. She had thought her aunt would be mad at her for concealing her storm-raising, mad because she had shouted at the Trustee, mad because she had been expelled.
“Coddrington’s an idiot,” Mack interjected.
“He’s thrown you out at the very time you most need us. Well, we’re not going to take any notice of that, are we? And anyone in the local Society who thinks differently will have me to reckon with!” declared Evelyn.
“There’s an appeal. Gard thinks I’ll be all right,” Connie said. She felt much better already, knowing tha
t Evelyn was firmly on her side. She should have told her aunt long ago.
There was a gentle tap on the back door. Evelyn got up to open it and found Dr. Brock on the doorstep, bearing a box of groceries.
“Evelyn, good to see you back!” he said, kissing her lightly on the cheek. “Had a good trip?”
Evelyn nodded. “Come in.”
Dr. Brock entered the kitchen and spotted Connie sitting at the table.
“Ah. So you’ve heard then? I came over to tell you before you got a garbled version from someone else, but I’m glad you got to hear it first from Connie. We’re appealing against the decision, of course.”
Evelyn stood with her back to the kitchen sink.
“Stuff the appeal! We can’t wait for the Society to get its act together. Connie needs help, and she needs it now. If the Chartmouth Chapter can’t help one of its own, then what are we here for?”
“But, Evelyn, Connie’s long-term interests lie in getting back in the Society—you must see that.”
“As far as I’m concerned, she still is in the Society, and I intend to treat her as a member. Anyone who disagrees with me had better keep out of my way.”
Dr. Brock put the groceries on the table and sat down, toying with his dragon-skin gloves.
“Look, you don’t know what it was like. Connie, for whatever reason, almost blasted Col, Rat, and me off the face of the earth. People are understandably upset. She’s dangerous.” He turned to Connie. “Sorry, Connie, but it’s true.”
“I know,” Connie replied, looking down at her hands.
“Well, if you put it like that, we’re all dangerous,” said Evelyn. “The Kraken’s not exactly a laugh a minute; my banshees wouldn’t be invited into polite company; and as for your dragons, they don’t make very good houseguests, do they?”
“Of course not.” Dr. Brock sighed. “But they have their actions under control.”
“Well, I don’t know…” said Mack.
“You don’t agree with Coddrington, do you, Francis?” asked Evelyn.
“Of course not, though I can understand his position. Connie did accuse him of working for Kullervo.”