The Chimera's Curse Page 9

  “If you are ready, Universal,” said Kinga, “we will continue our discussions through the shared bond. All will then be able to take equal part.”

  Connie nodded.

  “You are still weak, Connie,” added the unicorn companion. “The chimera’s attack has taken more out of you than you realize. Windfoal says we must be careful. Signal when you are too tired to continue.”

  “I will,” Connie said.

  Kira looked to the other Trustees. “First, let my companion heal the scars in the universal’s side. She will be more comfortable after that.”

  There was a brief pause while Windfoal and Connie bonded together. The stream of silver balm unwound from the tip of the unicorn’s horn and twisted itself around Connie’s waist like a bandage, easing the tightness and pain of the scars left by the stitches. Connie immediately felt better.

  “I am ready for the shared bond,” she said at last, and sat with head bowed as she waited for the three other mythical creatures to approach. With Morjik and Storm-Bird, she welcomed back old friends, but the encounter with Jade came with the thrill she always experienced on meeting a creature for the first time. The rock dwarf’s presence stole up through the floor like a stream of liquefied emeralds, the slow creep of the rock-forming powers of the earth speeded up so Connie could sense the crystallization of Jade’s thoughts in her head without waiting millennia. With his companion came the shy, neat presence of Chan Lee. The shadow-Mr. Chan bowed low, asking permission to enter the bond, which Connie immediately granted, and he took his place in the shadow-Chamber of Counsel created in her mind. Finally, she raised a silver image of herself to sit in the middle of the shadow-chamber, a focus for her thoughts and speech.

  Now that the Trustees and universal could all hear one another through the mediation of Connie, the discussion began in earnest.

  What shall we do about the chimera? asked Eagle-Child. Was it hunting alone?

  I don’t know, said Connie. I don’t think I understood it properly. I’ve never met anything like it before. I think the creature’s unstable, somehow driven into madness by fighting against itself.

  It is the chimera’s curse to be thus, said Windfoal sadly, to be always divided in its own nature.

  Like our world. Morjik grunted. We are like the chimera, tearing each other apart.

  Maybe, said Windfoal, but the chimera has always been like this. We have not. We were once whole and healthy, living in balance. We can be so again. I do not know if any healing can be brought to this creature.

  Connie shook her head. I don’t think it can ever be peaceful.

  So, said Kira, if the chimera is that disturbed, we cannot hope to turn it from its path by persuasion. We must find it and remove it to a safe place. We also need to find out if it was the agent of another. I, for one, do not believe its presence on Dartmoor was a coincidence. Chimeras are rarely found outside the Mediterranean.

  I didn’t sense anything other than the chimera when it attacked me—Connie stopped. She suddenly remembered how during the fire up on the tor, at the point of losing consciousness, the dark tide she associated with the presence of Kullervo had swept upon her. As these thoughts could be sensed by those sharing the bond, she had no need to put them into words.

  He was there? said Kinga.

  Maybe. I don’t know for sure.

  It is probable, honorable colleagues. With the brother to universal a companion, said Mr. Chan with a deferential bow to Connie, the shape-shifter does not need to do more than place chimera in locality and wait. Companion will seek out creature: we all know this.

  I agree, said Connie. But I don’t understand why Kullervo would do this? To kill me or capture me?

  I’d say he was trying to assassinate you, said Kinga with a disgusted curl to her lip. That venom almost did the task.

  But that would mean he’s finally given up on turning me to his side, said Connie. Which would mean—

  Which would mean he found another universal. He does not need you, concluded Mr. Chan.

  Revenge now on his mind, said Jade in a silky voice.

  The prospect of Kullervo finding another universal filled all of them with dread. The shadow-chamber became obscured by a cold, damp fog as Connie could not contain her bewilderment at the new thought that Kullervo would now stop at nothing to eliminate her. The worst was not the fear for her life—but his rejection of her—though she should not want him, he was still her companion. And if they did not find the other universal first, who knew what Kullervo would persuade him or her to do? She was also ashamed to feel a twinge of jealousy; she hated to think someone else shared that bond.

  Stupid thought, she told herself, hoping the others had not sensed this traitorous feeling.

  Be comforted, Universal. Morjik growled, dispelling the fog with his warm breath. Too many assumptions made. We do not know if there is another universal. We do not know that he wants to kill you. Scare, yes. Drive you to him, yes. But kill?

  Morjik’s right, said Eagle-Child. The chimera may only have been following its nature. If our side had not intervened to save you, maybe Kullervo’s plan was to come and get you at your weakest.

  Connie wasn’t sure if this prospect was very comforting, but at least it wasn’t a sentence of death.

  We need the chimera, concluded Kira decisively. We have to take it away from the universal, but we also must ask it if it is working for Kullervo and what its orders were. That will answer many of our questions. But how can we catch it? Do you know where it is, Universal?

  On the moor. But I don’t know for certain. It eludes me, you see. I’ve never been able to pinpoint it until it’s very close. I don’t think I want to get that close again, Connie added with a shudder that made the floor of the shadow-chamber quake. Sorry.

  Brothers and sisters, what would we do with it even if we did catch it? asked Eagle-Child, looking around at his colleagues. It is not an easy beast to constrain even for a dragon or a giant.

  Kullervo did so, grunted Morjik.

  Yes, said Kinga. If the creature is Kullervo’s tool, we must assume that it is obedient to him part of the time. Kullervo must have found some inducement to make it bend to his will. If we knew what that was, perhaps we, too, could bring it under control long enough to make it safe and find out what we need to know.

  Storm-Bird croaked. Eagle-Child shifted uneasily. It is not the Society’s way to capture and control, the Native American said in a firm tone. That is the way of exploitative humans—and of Kullervo.

  What do you suggest we do then? asked Kinga. Allow it to run amok on the moor, trapping Connie in Hescombe because we cannot allow her out? You’ll be caging her if you refuse to let us capture this creature.

  You are right, Companion to Dragons, said Eagle-Child fairly, his humility defusing any frustration that was building in the southern quarter of the room. I ask only that we make sure our means are not those of our enemies, even if our end is better.

  We should find out more about the creature, said Jade in a soft voice. Let us see what knowledge you have here in your British headquarters. If that fails us, we should send abroad to other great collections of the Society.

  I’ll summon the librarian, said Kira, jumping to her feet.

  Er…said Connie, restraining the overeager Trustee with a misty cord across the exit from her mind, hadn’t I better end the encounter first before you leave?

  Sorry, Connie. Kira laughed. Yes, I remember what it was like to end the shared encounter too abruptly. I’d not like to experience that again.

  Slowly and calmly, Connie reeled in the links that extended from her to the creatures, ending the shared bond for now. All opened their eyes, blinking to find themselves back in the glittering surroundings of the real Chamber of Counsel.

  “As I was saying,” said Kira with a warm smile at Connie, “I’ll fetch the librarian.”

  Barely five minutes had passed before Kira returned with Mr. Dove, the white-haired librarian Connie had met on
her first visit to the headquarters. He followed the Trustee, staggering under the weight of a large leather-bound volume. He almost toppled over with the combined hindrance of the book and his attempts to bow.

  “Mr. Dove has kindly agreed to help us in our search for knowledge,” said Kira to her colleagues. “Here, why don’t you put that book on this table?” She pulled forward a gilt-decorated, three-legged table that had been standing against the wall.

  “Thank you,” said Mr. Dove breathlessly, mopping his brow with a red silk handkerchief. “Much obliged.” He glanced apprehensively over at Morjik, then darted a look at Storm-Bird, and took a swift sidelong survey of Jade. Connie dipped into her mind, glimpsing a hint of pale light dancing over his sparse crop of white hair. Yes, he was a companion to the will-o’-the-wisp; no wonder the large creatures disturbed him.

  Lastly, Mr. Dove’s eyes fell on Connie, sitting hunched up on the center of the compass. He gave her a respectful bow.

  “Universal, a pleasure to meet you again.” His eyes crinkled in a smile. “I should have guessed you would be here.”

  “Mr. Dove,” said Kinga, stepping forward, “we would be grateful if you could tell us what stores of knowledge the library possesses on the subject of the chimera.”

  Mr. Dove reached in his top pocket and pulled out a pair of half-moon glasses which he perched on the end of his bony nose. With a slight cough, he addressed the company: “This book is the index to all records we keep on the different mythical creatures. They are all listed alphabetically by name. If we have anything, it will be here.”

  He opened the book, sending clouds of dust into the air as the covers thumped onto the tabletop. He ran a long, tapering finger down the list: “Chaonian Bird, Charybdis, Chichevache…ah! Here it is—Chimera, or Chimaera, pronounced Kai-meer-a. The entry is very brief, I’m afraid, as you don’t see many of those in England. In fact, this is the first one I’ve come across. Now, let me see.” He fell silent as he peered at the details once written down by quill. “Should have all this on computer, I suppose,” he mused. “I have a terrible time reading some of the handwriting, but then, it somehow makes me feel more connected to my predecessors than a print-out.” Kinga coughed at his elbow to remind him of the urgency of their business. “Yes, yes, here it is: we have one book on the subject. It is called A Treatise on Conjoined Creatures and Multiple Monsters, by Guy de Chauliac, translated by Edward Alleyne.” He sniffed. “A rather offensive title if you ask my opinion. We would never call any creature a ‘monster’ these days, but I suppose we have to make allowances as they were unenlightened days back then.”

  “And where is it?” Kinga asked abruptly.

  “Well,” said Mr. Dove with a smile at Connie, “normally, I would have to tell the reader that it was out of bounds, but you are in luck.”

  “Why?” asked Kinga, beginning to pace as she restrained her urge to be rude to the long-winded old man.

  “The book is in the universal’s reading room. The young lady before us is the only one who can reach it.”

  Kinga spun on her heel to face Connie. “You remember the title, Connie?” Connie nodded. “Then we would be grateful if you would make haste to read all you can in the time we have left. Morjik and Windfoal must leave under cover of darkness; their barge will be here at midnight so that gives you a few hours.”

  “But the library closes at six!” protested Mr. Dove, looking at his pocket watch whose golden hands showed that it was five o’clock already. Kinga looked hard at him and raised one of her dark eyebrows. Morjik released a puff of red smoke. “But of course, we’ll arrange a special extended opening tonight,” Mr. Dove added quickly, licking his dry lips.

  “Good.” Kinga gave him a curt nod.

  “But the universal is tired!” intervened Kira. “We must not work her so hard.”

  “I’m fine,” said Connie, suppressing a yawn. She was more eager than any of them to find out about the chimera if it could help them capture the creature. “Could you please send a message to my brother and the Clamworthys that I might be some time? They’ll probably want to take Liam home.”

  “Of course,” said Kinga. “I’ll take care of that.”

  “And we’ll arrange for some refreshments for you,” added Kira.

  Mr. Dove was about to protest at the idea of food and drink in the library, but one look at the pointed horn and ebony hooves of Windfoal made him think better of this.

  Up in the universal’s reading room, Connie took more time than usual to recover from the encounter with the great snake that guarded the entrance. The bite-like bond it demanded on each entry reminded her too vividly of the chimera’s fangs, and she felt sickened, her hand rising involuntarily to protect the place on her neck where the serpent had bitten her. Her skin still seemed to smart, and there were two lumps under her fingers where the teeth had sunk in, which throbbed slightly with remembered pain. To calm herself down, she poured a cup of coffee, took a mouthful of cheese sandwich, and enjoyed chewing it under the disapproving nose of the door-ward, which now lay curled up at the head of the winding stair, blue ribbon trailing from its mouth as it sucked on the golden key she had given it.

  Time for her task.

  Brushing the crumbs off the table, she got up to locate the book she wanted. She guessed it would not be filed under one of the four companies on the outer wall as the subject matter crossed the bounds of these categories. So instead, she knelt down in front of the low circle of bookshelves devoted to subjects to do with the gift of the universal. She ran her finger down the spines of the books on which she had so far barely made any impression. So much knowledge for her to gain! Here her life’s work was laid out before her. Hidden among the fat volumes filed under “C” was the book she sought: a slim, handwritten manuscript bound in black leather. The pages crackled as she opened it, releasing the smell of dust and decay. At first, she thought it was written in a foreign language as she could make out little on the page she had randomly selected. Laying it open on the table, she saw that she was wrong. The language was English, but English as people seven hundred years ago would have spoken it.

  Connie was about to give up in despair, as she understood only two words in five, when she turned a page and found a bundle of yellowing notepaper slipped between the sheets. It was dated December 1940 and bore the name “Reginald Cony.” Connie realized she had stumbled upon the notes made by the last British universal, the uncle that the Trustee Frederick Cony had told her about before his own death last year. She leafed through the pages. Reginald appeared to have been taking notes on behalf of a Society member and had addressed a letter to someone called George Brewer. But Reginald must have forgotten to take the notes with him, and the letter ended abruptly mid-sentence.

  Dear George, she read, I hope my last set of notes reached you safely through all the snow and ice. The griffin messenger said that the passage over the Arctic Circle was particularly hairy at the moment. I hope I can complete these today, but what with the frequent interruptions of the air-raids, I’m not confident. I got my call-up papers, as expected, so this will be my last opportunity to come here for some time. The lantern dome offers spectacular views of the bombers coming in from Germany but it isn’t the safest place to be. We’re moving as much as we can down to the basements, but I’m afraid the universal’s collection will just have to run the risk as I’m not going to try getting past the door-ward with a bundle of books. I don’t think it understands about human war.

  No, it wouldn’t, agreed Connie, smiling to find that her predecessor had shared her mixed feelings about the guard.

  Now, as I wrote in my last letter, I fear de Chauliac spends most time on the chimera. I won’t bore you with the details.…-- -->

  Oh do, urged Connie, but it was hopeless: she was decades too late to influence this correspondence.

  But he does mention the shape-shifter a couple of times. It seems that Kullervo is able to calm the chimera’s madness by turning into a chimera himsel
f. This way the different parts of the chimera can communicate with their Kullervo-counterpart, and he is able to persuade the creature to do his bidding. So if you run across a chimera up there, it’s probably under Kullervo’s sway and I’d advise you to steer clear.

  And here’s something else that might interest you. I’ve just read the note made by the translator, one Edward Alleyne. He notes that Guy de Chauliac had made a special study of the conjoined creatures as a way to combat Kullervo, so you were on the right track there. He notes that both he and de Chauliac were fellow-universals. There were apparently ten identified ones in Europe alone in the 1340s! Can you imagine that! At the moment there’s only poor old me and Miguel in Argentina, and you know that I can’t speak a word of Spanish, nor he a word of English, so we’re not much company for each other even when we do meet.

  De Chauliac, Alleyne, and their fellow universals had worked out that Kullervo was spreading the Black Death through rats. Over a third of the population in the known world had died by the time they figured this out, and they knew that they had to act quickly. De Chauliac did do something—Alleyne said he “passyd oute of thys world by the mark.” So you were right: Kullervo does have to be challenged at the mark, but I think it is something only a universal can do, so I advise you to

  Here the letter ended. So it had never been delivered to George Brewer, whoever he was. Connie supposed another bombing raid had sent Reginald scurrying to the basement, and he had not returned to collect his letter. What had he been about to advise his friend to do? She leafed through the book to the note he referred to, wondering whether with his guidance she could make anything of it.

  Guy passyd oute of thys world by the mark and there was wepyng and dolour out of mesure. Our counsels are grievously lessened. But he defeated Kullervo for thys time.

  Well, that was clear enough. Whatever Guy de Chauliac had done—“challenged at the mark”—it had worked. She had the vivid image of a medieval Guy on horseback like some knight-errant of old, riding to face his opponent on the jousting field. But the challenge had cost him his life.