“I’m sure he’d love to,” said Connie, her spirits lifting a little when she saw Liam’s look of delight.
“Maybe I could come along for the ride on Rex?” suggested Simon. When Connie and Liam looked blank, he added, “The Nemean lion. I’m sure he could carry two—would you like to come, Connie?”
“I might later. But I’ll make my own arrangements for a ride.” It was Simon’s turn to look puzzled. “There’s something I’ve got to tell you.…” She stopped, sensing someone approaching from behind them. She knew without turning that it was the soft-footed companion to Storm-Bird.
“Universal, the Trustees would like to speak to you,” said Eagle-Child.
“Tell me later,” said Simon as he and Liam stood back to allow the Trustee to guide Connie into the stillness of the barn. Sentinel followed at a discreet distance.
Connie had known this moment would come—the moment when she would have to account for the conquest of Kullervo. But what could she say when even she didn’t understand everything that had happened? It was going to take her a long time to get used to her new gift, and she had a shrewd suspicion it would take others even longer. Over the last few years, she had been brought face-to-face with the prejudice against the universals in the Society: what would they do when they discovered that she had become even more unusual, placed herself even further beyond the stretch of their understanding?
Indeed, what had she become?
Walking into the center of the circle of Trustees, Connie sensed that emotions in the room were running high. The dragon Morjik crouched in the shadows like a rough-hewn rock of green granite. Only the glitter of his ruby eyes showed that he was glowing hot with life. Kinga was sitting between his forepaws, his ancient head resting on her lap. Storm-Bird croaked once from the rafters, seen in the darkness as a blacker shadow in the night. Windfoal gleamed with snowy purity at the western side of the barn, her long mane sparkling like the froth of a waterfall tumbling over her powerful shoulders. Kira, dressed in an orange and yellow kikoi, brought a vibrant dash of color into the room, making an exotic contrast to her unicorn companion. The Trustees for the Elementals, both past and present, sat still like pieces from a chess game in which two boards had been mixed up: Gard’s northern solidity of a Scottish king pitched against Mr. Chan and Jade, both from an antique Chinese board, lines fluid and graceful as willows.
Despite the silence that reigned in the room, Connie perceived that the Trustees were at once delighted and wary: overjoyed that Kullervo appeared to have been defeated at long last, but afraid of the one who had achieved it.
Without pausing to be asked, Connie threw out the links of the shared bond and waited for them to come to her.
Greetings, Universal, said Gard, stomping through the portal to her mind, stopping on the threshold to take a curious look at the silver ocean that now lapped there.
Hello, she said simply. Rising from the waves, she conjured an image of herself to stand with him, head bowed.
The other Trustees joined them, paddling ankle-deep in the water, bemused by the change that had come over her mind. Morjik stirred the water with a claw, sending concentric waves rippling off into infinity. He growled in recognition, seeing for the first time the ocean that he had sensed in her long ago.
When it was clear she was going to say no more, Gard spoke again. You took a terrible risk in challenging Kullervo.
Yes, it was terrible.
Will you tell us what happened?
I’m not sure I can explain. I took him at his weakest and…and now he’s no longer a threat to us. That’s all I can say.
So is he gone?
Yes—and no.
You speak in riddles, Universal.
Only because I’ve become a riddle, even to myself.
The Trustees pondered her words.
You broke the rules, Universal, said Kinga finally. We should expel you for that. But she was smiling.
Are you going to? asked Connie, not much worried by this threat. In that case, I should mention that I had the unanimous support of the Company of the Universals. I was acting on their behalf.
Eagle-Child laughed, his voice echoing from the waters. We have agreed that you can stay in the Society this time.
The universals always were a law unto themselves, grunted Gard. He rubbed his brow, still pondering the new landscape she had revealed.
Thank you, said Connie, I’d like to stay in the Society—that is, if you think you can cope with me.
Oh, said Kira, splashing her toes in the warm water as if it was the Indian Ocean, I think we’re used to you now.
Oh no, you’re not, thought Connie to herself.
With a slight nod of her shadow-head, Connie raised a soft bed of silver sand under Kira’s toes, glistening with shells, to honor the Trustee’s holiday mood. Kira gave an astonished gasp, bent down, and pulled out a curved conch shell. Putting it to her ear, she smiled at the universal: I can hear the waves of my home!
Eagle-Child was crouched on the portal, looking gravely at the water. Connie shivered and around him sprung up tall prairie grass, hissing softly in the wind. He stroked his hand across the tops of the grasses and began to hum a song of his people. Storm-Bird swirled overhead, flying in the clouds that raced across the silver sky. Flashes of lightning scored the canopy with sharp gashes of light.
What is happening, Universal? marveled Gard.
Connie shook her head slightly, denying him words of explanation; instead she sent him a stream of molten rock, curling it around him like a climbing rose and letting it set in a fantastical sculpture. He stepped away, leaving the stone flowers suspended delicately like an arch. Jade and Mr. Chan moved closer to examine it, wondering at its fragile beauty.
This goes beyond explanations, said Kinga as Connie now turned her attention to the Trustees for the Sea Snakes, surrounding them with a sudden growth of thick primeval forest. Kinga ran her hand over the rough bark of an oak, its roots nestled on a bed of moss. Turning to her fellow Trustees, Kinga added, The universal has become something we’ve never seen before in a human companion.
I think, Universal, you are now one of us, growled Morjik. A mythical creature. Or should I say: you are all of us.
Connie laughed softly. Yes, that’s it. You’re all here, and always will be, part of me.
Kinga shook her head. Something wonderful has happened to the universal—we can all see that and we must understand it. But I do not think this is a matter that will be grasped in one visit. Let us enjoy her victory for we still have many battles to fight if we are to save the world for all creatures. The universal’s task is far from over.
Connie ended the encounter. They returned to the present in the barn, feeling relaxed and peaceful.
“I know,” said Connie. “The threat from Kullervo may be gone, but his army is still out there. There are many more Axoils and many angry creatures who would want to punish humanity for our greed.” She looked around the circle, feeling a great tie of love binding her to each of these marvelous creatures. “I feel as if my work has only just begun.”
Col waited anxiously outside the barn. He knew that Connie was closeted with the Trustees, but he wasn’t worried about that: what could they do to the Society’s hero, the girl who had beaten Kullervo? No, he was worried for himself and for what he was going to say next. In the last twenty-four hours, he had gone from not understanding what love was, to seeing it in action as Connie sacrificed herself for him and Rat. She had opened his eyes to his own feelings, and he didn’t want to let this moment slip away. And Skylark, relieved that his companion had finally come to his senses, had sworn he wouldn’t speak to Col again unless Col did something about it.
Connie came out with Sentinel, looking happy. She spotted Col through the throngs of people and began to push her way toward him, greatly assisted by Sentinel who took his bodyguard duties very seriously. She had almost reached him when Omar Khalid intercepted her. She turned aside to speak to him.
Col watched as Omar bent low over his friend, talking intently. With a pang of jealousy, Col saw Omar raise his hand to stroke Connie’s arm. She was blushing. If Col didn’t do something quickly, it would be too late—for him. He pushed through the crowd and broke in upon the private conversation. “Sorry to interrupt,” he lied cheerfully. “Omar, do you mind if I borrow Connie for a moment?”
Omar clearly did mind but was too polite to say so. “Of course,” he said graciously. “I hope I’ll see you later, Connie.”
Not if I have anything to do with it, Col vowed silently. “Can we go somewhere I can speak to you on your own?” he asked Connie.
She nodded and let him lead her away. Connie expected that he wanted an explanation, and she knew he deserved one. If there were anyone in the world that she would tell the whole story to, it would be Col.
His determined attempt to get her on her own almost failed as Mr. Coddrington arrived in their path. Sentinel snorted with anger. Connie placed a restraining hand on the minotaur’s sinewy forearm to prevent him from charging.
“Miss Lionheart—Connie, if I may be so bold—may I say how delighted I am to see you safe and sound?” said Mr. Coddrington smarmily, reaching out to shake her hand. Connie snatched her hand away, leaving him grasping air. The assessor frowned.
Connie looked with distaste at the companion to weather giants, remembering all the pain he had caused her. And now he had the nerve to pretend he was her friend! A wave of silver-blue anger welled up inside her, tempting her to shift shape, to crush the insignificant creature before her. It was time he got what he deserved.
“Mr. Coddrington,” she said with a dangerous edge to her voice as she struggled to contain her anger. It was frighteningly difficult to stop herself from lashing out. “No, you may not. You’ve never been my friend and never will be.”
“Miss Lionheart,” protested Mr. Coddrington, bristling defensively at her tone, “don’t think that just because you are a universal you can get away with such impertinence to a senior member of the Society!”
“And don’t think you can get away with bullying me anymore, Mr. Coddrington, or you’ll find you’ve picked a fight you’ve no hope of winning. Keep out of my way in the future or else.” Connie began to walk away.
Col gaped at this new side to her character but hurried to follow.
“Or what?” shouted Mr. Coddrington at her back. “You can’t do anything against me!”
“Can’t I?” said Connie calmly. With an action so quick that Col could barely make out what she was doing, Connie conjured the universal’s bow into her hands, strung, and fired it. An arrow, bearing a sharp cold sting of stone sprite, whistled through the air and slapped Mr. Coddrington on the cheek. He was instantly frozen to the spot, a look of horrified indignation on his face. “Come on, Col.”
Col tripped after her, dumbfounded at what she had done. “Will he be all right? I’m not worried about him but, I mean, won’t you get into trouble?”
Connie shrugged, though she was still shaking. For a moment, she had felt something inside, a presence that goaded her into attacking. The balance of power between her and the part of her that was Kullervo was a delicate one: she had almost lost it.
“He’ll be fine. It’ll wear off in a few minutes. Anyway, I’m in trouble enough already.” She left this comment hanging as an invitation to Col to find out more. While walking the knife edge of her new nature, she would’ve liked to confide in him. Would he—would the others—think she was a monster? That was her greatest fear. But Col was too preoccupied by something else and didn’t take up her invitation to ask more.
They escaped the crowds and left Sentinel guarding the pathway to the stables. Col turned to her.
“Connie, do you remember what I said last night—that I had something to ask you?”
Connie nodded. “Yes.”
In the darkness away from the party, Col could have sworn she still glistened with that strange silver sheen he had noticed earlier. “I’ve been a complete idiot waiting so long, but last night helped me see you for the first time.”
She gave him a strange look. “There’s more to me than you think.”
Col grinned. “I know that. You’re the girl that beat Kullervo.” He was bright red now and not meeting her eyes. “I realized that I want to spend more time with you—and no one else, except for Skylark, of course, but that’s different.” He laughed nervously. “So I just wondered, would it spoil things if…if I asked you to go out with me?”
This was the last question Connie had been expecting, but she already knew what her answer would be—the answer she would have given him months ago if it had crossed his mind to ask her.
“No, I…er…don’t think it would spoil things.”
“So, will you?”
“Yes…but you might be getting more than you bargained for.” It was only fair to warn him, she thought. “I’ve changed since last night.”
Col just felt relieved that she agreed. He’d been a fool not to ask her before. It had taken a close shave with death to understand his true feelings. “Last night changed me, too, so I’m not worried about that,” he said, finally getting the hug he had missed out on that morning. He ruffled his fingers through her hair. “Look, no sparks.” He laughed and hugged her close.
Connie smiled, feeling more completely happy than she ever had in her life. She would tell him about Kullervo—but not yet. This moment was too perfect to spoil.
When Connie and Col returned to the party, arm in arm, they found that their presence had hardly been missed. Mack and Evelyn had arrived, Mack bearing the baby in his arms triumphantly, holding him up like the World Cup. Argand flew around them, breathing joyous golden flames into the sky, forming a glowing circle of fire to mark the little one’s arrival. Spotting Col, Mack skillfully avoided the elderly lady members who had come to coo over the child and dumped the baby on his older son.
“You know what my greatest achievement is?” Mack asked as he put his hand on Col’s shoulder.
“No,” said Col, not really wanting to hear about his father’s exploits just then.
“It’s having two smashing sons. Thanks for what you did last night. I know I don’t say this enough, but I love you.” He would have enfolded Col in an embrace if the baby hadn’t started crying at that point, feeling the squeeze of his over-enthusiastic father. Evelyn rushed over, but not out of concern as Col was doing fine, nursing the baby on his shoulder like a pro.
“See,” she said proudly to Connie, “he cries like a banshee already!”
“George swam like a fish when I bathed him,” said Mack, giving Connie a wink.
Connie looked up at the circle of fire and then down at the little bundle sniffing on Col’s shoulder. George Clamworthy blinked back at her with his mismatched eyes: one green, one brown. Her instinct had been right. She was no longer alone: the Company of the Universals had a new member.
Julia Golding, The Chimera's Curse
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