The Keeper (5 page)

Caoimhe saw the look of confusion on Oisín's face.

‘
Eachtra
is a magical ship. Its name means adventure –'

And every summer it goes on a different adventure,' Tom interrupted her. ‘The druids on board take on kids to help run the ship.'

‘
If you
pass the test,' Caoimhe added. ‘It's hard work but it's the best chance to practise the different kinds of magic.'

‘Or have some fun,' Tom said. ‘If you're on
Eachtra
you get to meet the magic horses and go to the coolest parts of the island. You know, last summer one of the kids rode on the Great Elk in the Enchanted Forest!'

‘I heard two druids were eaten by dragons,' Antimony added in awe, as if being eaten by a dragon was the highest honour a druid could hope for.

Caoimhe raised her eyebrows.

‘Of course this will be the first year for all of us, so none of us really knows what it's like. And it'll only be if we make the cut: it's very competitive. Though
some
of us
have
been practising all year.'

Oisín thought about helping to steer a magic ship and fighting dragons. It sounded a lot more exciting than a summer sorting Granny Keane's books. When he broke out of his daydream, Tom was complaining about Madame Q again.

‘I don't like the way she looks at you. Like she can see right through you. I swear she's got eyes in the back of her head.'

‘Thomas Houlihan, I assure you that my eyes are firmly in the front of my head. You, however, might wish to invest in an extra pair: it might help you avoid offence.'

Everybody turned around to see an imperious older lady standing behind them. From the way Tom gulped and slowly turned green, Oisín knew that this must be the famous Madame Q. She was at least as old as Granny Keane, but much taller and thinner, with her silver hair towering towards the ceiling in a tight beehive hairstyle. She wore a long indigo cloak, the colour of the night sky, with silver stitching so fine that it almost looked invisible. Oisín wondered if he should stand up when she entered the room.

He wasn't the only one. Jimmy Houlihan bent his knees uncertainly, stooped somewhere between sitting and standing.

‘Thank you for coming, Madame Q,' he said reverentially.

Madame Q batted him down with an impatient flap of her hand. ‘It's always a pleasure to visit your … house.' Madame Q looked uncertainly around the Houlihans' tree, as if she were unsure whether or not it could really be called a house. ‘Especially when you have such distinguished guests.'

Her eyes turned to Oisín. He saw at once why Tom found them creepy. Her irises were the same shade as the stitching on her robes: gleaming silver that pulsed with each flicker of the light.

‘You must be the Milesian,' she said, looking at Oisín as if Stephen and Sorcha weren't there.

Oisín nodded uncertainly. He had the same uncomfortable feeling that Tom had mentioned, as if Madame Q was looking right through him.

‘Please, Madame, we were hoping that you could help us get home,' Stephen said, standing.

All in good time,' Madame Q said briskly. ‘But first I have to talk to your brother.'

She made another hand motion, as if swatting a fly, and Stephen found himself back on his stool, his cheeks burning. Oisín looked at Madame Q uncertainly.

‘So you're the Keeper of the Book of Magic,' she said finally.

Her nose crinkled slightly, as if she might have expected somebody better.

‘I guess so,' Oisín mumbled.

‘Very well. Do you think I could see the Book?'

Oisín could see Tom and his parents share a glance, and he wished that he had told them about the Book. He reached into his hoodie pocket to pull out the Book of Magic. Everybody leant forward eagerly. Oisín paused.

‘Well?' Madame Q said with an impatient twinkle.

‘I can't,' Oisín said, feeling his stomach lurch horribly.

He reached into his pocket again to make sure. His hands grasped at the folds of his hoodie: the Book of Magic was definitely gone.

Chapter 6

The Great Queen

O
ISÍN's heart thumped against his chest. Even though he'd only found the Book a few hours ago, he felt its absence keenly, as if he was missing a limb.

‘It's gone,' he said, struggling to keep his voice level. ‘The Book of Magic is gone.'

‘It can't be,' Madame Q said sharply. ‘I can feel its energy. It's in this room.'

Oisín stood up and looked around wildly. How could the Book be in the room? He hadn't told any of the Houlihans about it. He caught Antimony's eye.

‘She has it,' Antimony said slowly.

Oisín turned around. It wasn't Madame Q that Antimony was looking at, though.

‘Sorcha?' he said.

Sorcha had her hands behind her back and a guilty expression on her small face.

‘Sorcha, did you take the Book of Magic?' Oisín asked.

Red rose to her cheeks. Oisín felt his own cheeks burn in anger and had to stop himself from jumping over the table and grabbing it.

‘It's not a toy, Sorcha.'

‘I know that!' Sorcha's face was even redder. ‘But it's not fair that you get to have it. I want to do magic too.'

‘It's mine!' Oisín cried.

It was the second time Oisín had said those words about the Book of Magic, and again the force in his tone surprised him. The Book of Magic jumped out of Sorcha's hands and skidded across the table. Oisín snatched it quickly, feeling a rush of happiness as he held the little book again. Sorcha looked miserable.

‘Do you want a chocolate bee-sting?' Tom asked.

Jimmy was breeding magic bees that produced edible stings the way that hens laid eggs. Tom eased the sting from a large bee and collected cubes of different flavours from a jar beside it, as if it was a kebab stick.

‘Dark chocolate, honey and horseradish,' Tom said, bringing it over to Sorcha.

‘I don't want any!' Sorcha shouted, pushing his arm away roughly.

‘Sorcha!' Stephen said in a voice that their mother might have used.

Sorcha ignored him and scratched her ankle instead. The raven's bite had spread and a thin circle of black radiated out like a cobweb.

‘Is your ankle OK?' Caoimhe asked, suddenly interested. ‘I could mix up a remedy. Dock-leaves are good for bites and I have a few drops of lavender oil.'

‘I want to go home!' Sorcha screamed.

Madame Q clapped her hands with an air of impatience. ‘Why don't you go outside and play, child?'

‘Come on, I'll show you the jelly trees,' Tom said.

And you can be my apprentice druid-doctor,' Caoimhe said, bundling up her books. ‘I need some help squeezing out the lemon jelly.'

Sorcha didn't seem thrilled about this, but went anyway, dragging each foot slowly to show how unfair the world was. Stephen stood up, unsure whether or not to go.

‘She's not usually like that,' he said to Madame Q. ‘She's just rattled because of everything that's happened. We need to get her home.'

He said the last word slowly, picturing the solid bricks of their Raheny home and the firm ground of Dublin, and wondering if the word itself was enough to charm them back. Madame Q ignored him and turned to Oisín.

‘Now we can begin,' she said, flexing her fingertips.

Oisín put the Book of Magic on the table, feeling a small tingle as he pulled his hand away.

‘What is that thing?' Stephen asked as Madame Q picked up the Book.

‘One of the most extraordinary and dangerous books in our world,' she said, caressing the Book's leather spine as if it were an old friend.

Madame Q held the Book very respectfully and opened it slowly. For a second, Oisín was sure her eyes changed colour, flashing to a bright green. But when she returned her gaze, her eyes were as silver as ever.

‘It's the real thing,' she said finally.

Oisín couldn't quite read her expression. She was definitely impressed by the Book, but there was something else there – fear or excitement, he wasn't sure which.

‘So what is this Book of Magic? Can it get them home or not?' Cathleen Houlihan said irritably. She didn't seem to have much time for books in general.

‘Of course it can,' Madame Q said.

‘I'm its Keeper,' Oisín said. ‘Does that mean I can control it?'

‘If it wants you to.' Madame Q gave a strange smile, pleased by her answer.

‘Is that thing good or evil?' Stephen asked.

Madame Q looked at him as if he were a particularly unimaginative student. ‘That isn't the question at all! The Book of Magic is powerful, that's what matters. It's like magic itself. It isn't good or evil – it's both.'

‘Where did it come from?' Oisín asked.

A small snort flared from Madame Q's nostrils as if she wasn't used to storytelling and found all these questions rather tiresome.

‘You've heard of the Dagda?' she began.

‘He's like the god of the Tuatha Dé Danann, right?' Oisín said, scratching at the back of his brain for what he could remember.

Madame Q gave another snort.

‘Thinks he's a god!' she said. ‘More like a large, fat old man with too much time on his hands.'Jimmy Houlihan looked a little shocked, so Madame Q quickly moved on. ‘A long time ago, the Dagda made a huge cauldron in which he placed the great gifts of Ireland. The Stone of the High King. The Harp of the Four Seasons. An Freagarach, the sword that can never be beaten.' Madame Q reeled through these amazing items as if they were of little importance to her. ‘There were also six books in the cauldron, governing the five different kinds of magic of the Tuatha Dé Danann.'

‘What are the five kinds of magic?' Oisín asked.

Madame Q looked as if her patience for storytelling was stretching.

Jimmy Houlihan answered for her. ‘Earth, air, fire, water and Quintessence,' he began. Seeing Oisín's blank expression, he started to sing in a lilting voice:

The first child is born of air

Of atoms and inventions, of clouds and consequences
.

The next child comes of water

From music and memory, drops and prophecies
.

A third child twists from earth

All soil and toil, all feeling and healing
.

Another is forged of fire

Made of spark and swift, of force and fury
.

The last child tilts from the worlds' edge

A Quint quite unlike the others

Of moons and mysteries, of blanks and histories
.

‘What a delightful performance,' Madame Q said with some asperity. ‘I haven't heard the Song of Magic since my youth.'

Oisín was torn between imagining a young Madame Q and trying to decipher the strange song when Cathleen interrupted.

‘It doesn't have to be too cryptic,' she said brusquely, picking up her invention that was turning rainwater into washing-up liquid. ‘Air Magic is about the mind, for example. It governs magical mathematics and shape-shifting. Earth Magic is what looks after this house. And our farm. And Caoimhe's healing. It's all about the body.'

‘Water Magic draws on the seas,' Jimmy said. ‘It's about using your emotions and reading the future and –'

‘Fire Magic is the best,' Antimony said suddenly. ‘It's using your spirit to be a warrior and avenge your enemies.'

Oisín had forgotten that she was still sitting there. She was no longer staring at him, but looking at Madame Q with a strange expression. If Madame Q minded, she didn't show it, taking over the story in her own grand fashion.

‘And Quintessence is the most important kind,' she said, pronouncing the strange word slowly, as if it held mysteries too delicate for any tongue to fully unravel.

‘Er, what is
Quintessence?
' Oisín asked.

‘The fifth element,' Madame Q said with an elegant smile. ‘The study of everything and nothing, of the swirl of the stars across our sky, of the design at work in the smallest snowflake. Only the most advanced druids study it.'

Oisín didn't really understand what she was saying but found himself captivated nonetheless. He had a sudden, ridiculous vision of becoming a druid, learning all about Quintessence, using the Book of Magic to uncover the mysteries of the universe.

‘And what does this Book of Magic do, then?' Stephen said, bringing them all back to earth. From the irritated look on her face, it didn't seem that Madame Q thought Stephen was of the right calibre to practise Quintessence.

‘The Book of Magic was the sixth book in the Dagda's cauldron,' Madame Q said briskly. ‘It has sections on each of the five types of magic.'

Madame Q flicked through the Book slowly and Oisín started to understand. There was a section full of pale blue fish and tear stains which Madame Q announced was the Water Magic section. The pages with dirt and green writing had to be Earth Magic, and the section with gleaming orange words and tiny dragons was Fire Magic. The pages towards the back, which Oisín assumed had been empty, turned out to have very fine silver writing: Quintessence.

‘So if the Book of Magic can do everything, why would you need the other books?' Oisín asked.

‘Because they are full of deep magic that this book only scratches,' Madame Q said. ‘On its own, the Book of Magic can do some strong magic, very powerful magic. But its real purpose is to unlock the other books. None of them can work without the Book of Magic as well.'

‘They're all lost, though, aren't they?' Antimony said, suddenly quite interested.

‘Everything from the Dagda's cauldron has been lost,' Madame Q said. ‘The Dagda was in a relationship.' Madame Q said the word ‘relationship' as if it were a head-cold – she clearly didn't approve. ‘He was in one with a grasping woman who wanted the contents for herself. They fought and the Dagda mustered a great wind, scattering the contents across Ireland. Over the years, some of the items have cropped up. Every warrior in Ireland claimed to have An Freagarach at some stage. There have been rumours about the books, but none has been found. Until now.'

Oisín felt the air in the room getting heavier, the way it did when it was about to rain. How could the strange little book he had found in Granny Keane's study be so important?

‘Why am I its Keeper?' he asked, feeling responsibility creep over him like clothes he wasn't sure he could fit into.

‘The Dagda was the original Keeper of the Books,' Madame Q said. ‘The Keeper of a magical book is the one responsible for it. Unless dark dealings are involved, the Keeper is the only one who can use it to its full capacity. The Keeper also has the power to sign the book over to another owner. Whoever had this book last signed it over to you.'

‘But why him? What does he know?'

Oisín glared at Stephen, but the question was one he wanted answered himself.

‘That I don't know,' Madame Q said, continuing to fix her silvery eyes on Oisín. ‘But I'm sure we'll find out. It's not everybody who has a book for their
croíacht
.

Oisín had to ask. ‘What's a cray-och-thingy?'

‘Cree-ocht,' Jimmy said gently when Madame Q ignored the question. ‘It's related to
croí
, the Irish word for heart. Which is sort of what it is: your magical heart.'

Jimmy pulled out a small wooden spoon from his apron.

‘Every druid has one special item that helps them do magic,' he continued. ‘Once you've found your
croíacht
, it starts to become part of you. It means you can do all sorts of different magic.'

Jimmy stirred the spoon in his soup. Slowly, the yellow liquid started to change, growing roots and stretching upwards. Jimmy continued to stir until a small tree popped out of the bowl, sporting bright yellow cabbage flowers. Jimmy picked one off and bit into it happily. Oisín thought about the feeling he'd had when he had picked up the Book of Magic, as if his body was suddenly whole.

‘So anything can be a
croíacht?
' he asked.

‘Pretty much,'Jimmy said. ‘Usually it's an ordinary object that's been waiting for the right owner. Sometimes it takes a while for a druid to find the right fit. Tom hasn't found his yet, but he will soon enough.'

A look passed between Cathleen and Jimmy, as if this was something they worried about.

‘Usually your
croíacht
relates to the kind of magic you want to do,'Jimmy continued. ‘So Caoimhe has a pen that she uses to heal. Cathleen has a wrench for her inventions. Antimony has a slingshot. And … er … Madame Q has –'

‘Had quite enough of this chatter,' Madame Q said quickly.

‘Can't we just use this thing to get back home?' Stephen said, impatient with all the talk.

‘Yes, that is possible,' Madame Q said after a pause. ‘Though I'm not sure it wants to go back yet.'

‘Well, he can just sign it over to you and we'll head back to Dublin and leave you to it,' Stephen said, standing up as if he'd solved the problem.

Oisín glared at him again and wished he'd got the DART on his own. He couldn't part with the Book yet. Thankfully, Madame Q didn't want him to either.

‘That wouldn't quite work,' she said, pushing the Book back towards Oisín. ‘The Book must stay with its Keeper for the moment. It can only be transferred on a day of special magic, during one of our festivals. We've just celebrated Bealtaine in May so the next will be Lughnasa.'

‘Is that in August?' Oisín asked, remembering a Celtic calendar from school.

‘We're not waiting over a month!' Stephen said when Cathleen nodded. ‘You'll have to find another way to get us back.'

‘Getting you back is easy,' Madame Q said, waving her hand through the air. ‘Protecting the Book is another matter. The Morrígan will already be looking for it.'

‘The Morrígan wants the Book?' Oisín asked, remembering the chilling story Granny Keane had told about the Great Queen of Shadows.