by ‘Ves,’ added Milady. ‘You may wish to begin by consulting your book.’
‘Bill Two? By all means. He probably knows something about dappledoks.’
‘Ask him about the Spriggan Dells, too,’ Milady suggested. ‘Not just the ones in Cornwall. Spriggans spread much beyond the borders of that county some time ago, and it may be no accident that this pup turned up in East Anglia.’
Then again, it might. The cottage did, after all, have a habit of moving around a lot.
Val spoke up. ‘Something else you can ask Bill, Ves. Quite a lot of major artefacts have gone missing down the ages. Some of them have turned up again, some haven’t yet. I would be interested to hear what Bill knows about that, considering he’s spent time at the Library of Farringale.’ She frowned. ‘Or, his predecessor did. Does Bill Two have all the same information?’
‘Yes,’ said Jay. ‘Indira made an exact duplicate.’
Valerie’s eyes gleamed in a way I did not quite like. ‘Can I borrow that book, Ves?’
‘Are you planning to give it back?’
She thought about that. ‘Would “someday” do?’
‘Not really.’
‘Books belong in the Library!’ Val protested.
‘But this one’s mine!’
Valerie folded her arms, and stared implacably at the spot in mid-air where Milady’s voice somehow manifested sparkles. ‘Can I request a second duplicate for the Library?’ she said.
‘Yes,’ said Milady.
Valerie brightened at once. ‘I’ll talk to Indira.’
‘Orlando,’ corrected Milady. ‘Indira is assisting on this project.’
‘Nobody talks to Orlando,’ said Valerie, rolling her eyes. ‘You mean send a requisition form up to the attic and hope he notices.’
‘He will notice. Valerie, please continue to consult the Library’s existing resources, and relay anything you find to Ves and Jay.’
‘Of course, Milady.’
‘Jay, I imagine a visit to the site where you found the pup may shortly be in order. If you will be so kind as to facilitate the journey?’
‘Certainly.’
‘The Spriggan Glades are a different matter. They will have to be consulted, but I do not recommend that you do so immediately. They can be prickly, and difficult to deal with. I am endeavouring to secure a guide for you.’
I wondered if this guide might prove to be, in fact, a spriggan. Could be. Fae folk rarely mixed much with the human worlds, trolls somewhat excepted. They kept to themselves, tucked away in their own Dells, Glades, Knowes and whatever else, and did not much set foot outside. But still, it was not unheard of for a fae to enrol at the Hidden University, and the Society had even had a few on their staff at one point or another. I wouldn’t be in the least surprised if Milady’s guide turned out to be… unusual.
We stayed a while longer, bouncing thoughts around about the pup and its possible origins. Since it was nothing but speculation, Milady called a halt eventually and sent us off. ‘Keep me informed,’ she said as we trailed out of the tower.
I made her my usual curtsey on the way out. What can I say, Milady inspires a few old-fashioned impulses. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ I said.
The air sparkled. ‘There’s chocolate in the pots.’
Pots, plural. There was one waiting in my room, and two cups: for Jay and for me. Valerie sent me a snapshot of the second one adorning her desk in the Library: it was gold, and it had purple smoke coming out of the spout.
‘Huh,’ grunted Jay, eyeing our much more mundane-looking silver one with some suspicion.
‘Valerie and Milady go way back,’ I told him, contentedly pouring hot chocolate into the two cups. The chocolate itself was too amazing to care very much about the vessel.
‘And you two don’t? How long have you worked here?’
‘Only about a decade.’
He blinked. ‘Only? How long’s Val been here?’
‘Since forever, as far as I can tell.’
‘Not, like, literally.’
I grinned, enjoying the stupefied look on his face. ‘Probably not literally, but who knows? We are all about secrets at the Society.’
Jay shook his head. ‘Bill Two,’ he prompted me, accepting his cup from me with a smile of anticipation.
‘Right.’ I found the strength of will to set my cup down after only a single sip of the deliciously rich contents, and retrieved the Book.
I have a safe in my snug little room. I call it a safe more for convenience than because it represents the arrangement with any particular accuracy. It is actually a… well, it is a chamber pot. Don’t judge me. What could be more perfect? It is not even an attractive chamber pot, merely the plain white porcelain kind. It even has a crack in it.
See, if you barge into my room looking for valuables, the last place you bother poking your nose into is the ancient, cobweb-wreathed chamber pot lying under the bed, right in the back corner. If you did, all you would see is a dead spider.
Enchantments can be such fun.
Jay made no comment when I fell to my knees and began rooting under the bed, but one eyebrow rose when I emerged with the chamber pot. ‘Did Bill Two urgently need to relieve himself?’
‘He is a book, Jay. He is above such things.’
Jay’s other eyebrow went up. ‘Does he sleep in a chamber pot?’
I did something fancy with my hands. It was not at all necessary, of course, but it looks impressive. Without it, the process of magick looks sadly underwhelming.
When I had finished waving my hands about, the chamber pot more nearly resembled a rainbow crystal chest with an enormous lock on the front. Into this I inserted a matching crystal key, and the lid sprung open.
Jay put his face in his hands. ‘It’s rainbow,’ he muttered, muffled.
‘Of course it is.’ I lifted Bill Two out, left the chest on the bed, and returned to my chair — and my cup of chocolate. ‘Right. Hi, Bill Two.’ I settled the book in my lap, and took a moment to admire it yet again. It is the big, heavy, ancient-looking kind, with purple leather covers and a twelve-pointed star on the front. Devastatingly handsome.
‘Might I be so forward as to request an alternative name?’ said the book. ‘It is lowering to be addressed by my predecessor’s appellation.’
‘Of course! I ought to have thought of it before now. Did you have any particular name in mind?’
‘Well,’ said the book, sounding suddenly diffident. ‘I have always rather liked the word “gallimaufry.”‘
The book that knows everything would have a spectacular vocabulary, wouldn’t it? ‘A wonderful name,’ I said.
Jay leaned in my direction. ‘What does that mean?’ he whispered.
‘It means an assortment of different kinds of things.’
‘Fitting.’
‘Entirely. Gallimaufry it shall be!’
The book riffled its pages contentedly.
‘Shall you object very much to being addressed as Galli?’ I hazarded. ‘Gallimaufry is a lengthy word for regular use.’
‘Why not Mauf?’ said Jay.
I glared at him. ‘Let’s not confuse the issue—’
‘I find Mauf agreeable,’ said the book.
‘Um. In that case, Mauf it is.’
Jay smiled.
I took a gulp of chocolate. ‘Mauf,’ I began. ‘We are here to consult you on a matter of some importance.’
The book brightened, and I do mean that literally. The twelve-pointed star embossed into the surface gleamed with silver fire, and the dark purple of the leather lightened a few shades. ‘I shall be delighted to help!’ Mauf declared.
He liked to feel important. I had already noticed that. ‘We rely on you,’ I added, laying it on a bit.
Mauf preened. ‘How may I assist you?’
‘There is a situation at the Society regarding the sudden re-emergence of the dappledok species,’ I began.
‘Which dappledok species?’ said Mauf.
I exchanged a startled look with Jay. ‘Which?’ I repeated. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Dappledok is a Dell situated near the south coast of Cornwall,’ Mauf informed us. ‘Once famed for their talent with beasts of all kinds, its residents engaged in a number of selective breeding programmes and produced an array of hitherto unknown creatures with unusual, and highly desirable, abilities.’
‘What?’ I gulped chocolate, my head spinning. ‘There are more?’
‘I know of at least eight.’
I looked at Jay, eyes wide. He stared back.
‘Um,’ I said. ‘I don’t think Miranda knows anything about that.’
‘I don’t think Milady even knows,’ said Jay. ‘Or Valerie either.’
‘Right. Bill — Mauf — we are referring to a dog-like creature with golden fur and a single horn between its ears.’
‘The Nose-for-Gold, that being the literal translation of the original name in the spriggan tongue. Or Goldnose, as they were informally known in English.’
‘That sounds about right.’
‘Last referenced somewhere in the seventeen hundreds,’ said Mauf. ‘Believed to have become extinct sometime thereafter.’
‘That agrees with what Miranda told me. It’s true that they can sniff out valuable objects?’
‘It is, but the use of said power was banned by the Troll Court in 1703, the Magickal Councils of the Dells and Dales in 1704, and most of the various fae monarchs by 1706. This did not, of course, deter very many, and so the breeding of the Goldnoses themselves was subsequently forbidden.’
‘Even the fae monarchs banned them?’ I said, surprised. ‘But were they not created by spriggans?’
‘The spriggan queen, Parlewin, was the first to declare them outlawed. It is recorded that her favourite brooch, a gaudy object made from gold and rainbow diamonds, vanished under mysterious circumstances in early 1705 and since her primary rival at court was known to be in possession of a trio of Goldnoses, the culprit seemed, to her majesty, obvious enough.’
Jay grinned. ‘Perhaps it did not occur to the original breeders that anyone might be audacious enough to use it on them.’
‘Mauf,’ I said. ‘Do you know of anyone who defied the ban?’
‘It is written that many did, at first, and the penalties for flouting the law had to be significantly increased. This proved effective, and over the next fifty years or so recorded instances of Goldnoses being bred gradually dwindled to nothing.’
‘What penalty did they impose?’ asked Jay.
‘The worst penalty ever suffered for illegal ownership of a Goldnose was Divesting.’
‘Um,’ I said as my stomach fell through the floor. ‘Is… is that still valid?’
‘In some communities, yes,’ said Mauf.
‘Argh,’ I said.
See, Divesting is a nice euphemism for the total stripping of all of a person’s magickal abilities. Forever. I do not even know how it is done; few do. Only the highest authorities in the land are capable of it, and it is usually handed out only in cases of extreme misuse of magick.
Was I in danger of that, for rescuing a puppy?!
‘Do not trouble yourself unduly,’ said Mauf kindly. ‘This law applies in those magickal communities or countries which date back to the early eighteenth century, namely the Troll Court, the faerie courts, the Magickal Councils of the Dells and Dales, the—’
‘But not the Hidden Ministry?’ I interjected, unable to bear the suspense while Mauf rattled through another forty-three or so such organisations.
‘Indeed not. The Ministry was founded in 1787, by which time the problem of the Goldnoses had so far receded into the past that it was not thought necessary to carry over that particular law. As such, Ves, you are presently committing no official crime.’
He did not need to add that this would only hold true until somebody thought it worth their while to write up a new law about it. I decided not to think about that because something more immediately pressing occurred to me. ‘But I was when I took the pup into Rhaditton!’
‘Arguably only. There is no actual prohibition against having a Goldnose pup with you in Troll territory, provided you are neither engaged in using it nor in breeding more.’
Phew. ‘Thank you, Mauf,’ I said.
Jay patted my shoulder comfortingly, which I took to mean that my brief panic had been showing on my face. Don’t get me wrong, I will cheerfully bend any number of rules when I feel it is necessary. But outright flouting inscribed magickal law is another matter, and this is not exactly an emergency situation going on here. No one wants to risk a Divesting without thoroughly good reason.
I’d lost my train of thought by then, and could not immediately think of what next to enquire of Mauf. Luckily Jay still had his wits about him. ‘Mauf, can you think of anybody who might have managed to maintain the Goldnose breed since the eighteenth century into the present, and without detection?’
‘Until now,’ I amended.
Mauf fell silent for a while. Was he thinking? Could a book like him (or more rightly, it) think, in the real sense of the word? Was he riffling through all his archives? I wondered, not for the first time, how so powerful yet peculiar an enchantment worked.
‘Not immediately,’ said Mauf at last. ‘There are no recorded instances of any concerted breeding programmes in operation since 1727, when a group of renegade spriggans were found to have established a miniature state for themselves in an otherwise abandoned Dell. They were all imprisoned, and it is not written that they ever escaped, or that they were ever released.’
I sighed, a little bit disappointed. But I suppose life would be far too easy if Mauf had an easy answer to everything. Wouldn’t it? Challenges are good for the character, right?
Right.
