The Keeper (6 page)

‘Of course,' Madame Q said. ‘She was the one who tried to steal it in the first place. All those years ago, when she was in a relationship with the Dagda.'

Oisín wondered if Madame Q had been alive then, but remembered that it wasn't polite to ask how old a lady was. Granny Keane always laughed when he did, saying she was old enough that she didn't want to remember.

‘But why would the Morrígan want the Book?' Oisín asked. ‘I thought she could already do whatever magic she wanted.'

‘The Book is the key to unlocking all the others,' Madame Q said. ‘If the Morrígan managed to get hold of it, she could find the other lost books. If she could become Keeper of all six books, she'd be able to control all the magic in the world.'

Oisín felt the air in the room grow cooler as they all imagined that kind of power and what would happen if it fell into the wrong hands. Madame Q looked at him with a shrewd expression.

‘What do you know of the Morrígan?'

‘Nothing,' Stephen answered quickly, but Oisín ignored him. He had the uncomfortable feeling that Madame Q could find out what happened anyway, so he told her about the green-eyed ravens.

Madame Q stood very still, considering her thoughts as if they were a fine wine to be savoured. ‘So one of the ravens pecked at your sister. That could be useful. Perhaps we could talk to her.'

Stephen was about to protest when Tom and Caoimhe came rushing in. Words barrelled out of them.

‘It happened so fast. I thought it would be funny to surprise Caoimhe –'

‘You were going to squeeze lemon jelly all over me.'

‘Because you kept going on about it, as if you're an expert –'

‘I
am
an expert! And you were –'

‘What happened?' Cathleen's voice cut in.

Tom looked as if he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

‘It's your sister,' he said turning to Stephen and Oisín. ‘She's disappeared.'

Sorcha was feeling very grumpy. Oisín had a magic book and she'd been fed cabbage soup instead of Maltesers. Her ankle was still itchy and her mother wasn't anywhere to be seen.

She slumped down beside a tree. She could hear them all calling for her, but she wasn't going to come out yet. They'd have to be really nice to her and not send her off like a stupid baby. She'd teach them a lesson.

‘Are you a princess?'

Sorcha looked up in surprise to find a beautiful young lady in front of her. The most beautiful lady she'd ever seen.

I'm Sorcha,' she said slowly.

‘What a beautiful name that is. You must be a ballerina, look at those long legs you have. You'd like to be a ballerina princess, wouldn't you?'

Sorcha nodded her head. She thought she'd never seen such beautiful sleek black hair and hoped hers might be as long as the lady's one day.

‘You know, Sorcha, I've been waiting to meet a little girl just like you so I can find my next princess.'

The lady's voice was soft like melted chocolate. She was much better than Cathleen Houlihan with her messy hair and man's shirt.

‘I've been waiting to meet a princess because I have a very special gift for you.'

‘Is it Maltesers?'

‘It's much better than that.'

‘Can I see?'

‘I keep it in my kingdom. Do you want to come and get it?'

‘Is it far?'

‘Oh, no,' the lady said, smiling. ‘All you have to do is climb onto my back and we'll be there in seconds.'

Sorcha could hear Oisín calling for her in the distance. She'd teach him to keep the Book all for himself.

‘You don't want to stay the night in a smelly tree, do you? Not when I have a nice big bed that can be all yours. And a very special gift that's all for Sorcha. One that you won't have to share with anybody else.'

Sorcha hesitated. She really wasn't supposed to go off with strangers. But then again, they probably weren't supposed to go on underwater trains either, and wasn't this nice lady much less strange than people who lived in a tree and ate lemon cabbage?

Sorcha heard Stephen calling her name. Probably trying to steal my present, she thought, scratching her ankle and holding her hand out to the beautiful lady.

‘Are you a real queen?' Sorcha asked as she climbed up onto the lady's back.

The lady gave a little smile as she flashed her emerald eyes and the ground swirled below.

‘Of course I am, my dear. I'm the Great Queen.'

Chapter 7

The Plan

O
ISÍN thought he was going to be sick.

‘Drink some tea,' Caoimhe said, placing another mug of hot nettle tea on the table. There didn't seem to be any herbal remedy for an evil witch kidnapping your sister, so Caoimhe kept on making tea. It was what her parents always did in a crisis. Several mugs of tea sat in front of them on the table, cold and strangely sad.

Oisín pushed the latest mug away from him and went over to the sink for what felt like the hundredth time. Instead of two taps, several thin pipes hovered over the sink, reminding Oisín of a church organ. Each pipe dropped a different liquid into a jar below. Caoimhe explained that druids communicated by Water Magic, so each pipe transported messages. The one that dribbled drops of rain told the weather. Another, dropping chunks of ice, told news from Caoimhe's friend in New Zealand. A bright orange stream filled one jar with a recipe for orange juice curry from Jimmy's mother. There was only one jar that Oisín was looking at, though: one filled with thick black liquid. Oisín tapped his finger against the jar. A sickly sharp woman's voice came out.

‘Bring me the Book of Magic by Lughnasa, or never see your sister again.'

‘We know what it says,' Stephen snapped.

Stephen continued to pace around the kitchen. The adults had all gone upstairs, but no matter how hard he twisted his neck, Stephen couldn't hear what they were saying.

Oisín was still staring at the thick black liquid. Every now and then it shifted shape so that it showed the face of a beautiful woman, who was smiling in triumph. Beside her, a small girl was sleeping.

‘At least she's safe,' Caoimhe said.

Stephen glared at her. ‘Why don't you swap with her then?'

Caoimhe turned pink and went over to make another cup of tea. Oisín hoped she was right, that at least Sorcha was safe. Madame Q had explained that Sorcha was in an enchanted sleep, deep in Cnoc na gCnámh, the Hill of Bones far to the north of the island, where the Morrígan lived. Nothing bad would happen to her. As long as they gave over the Book.

‘Why didn't she just take the Book?' Oisín said. ‘Or just take me?'

‘That's not how she works,' Tom said grimly. ‘She wants to cause the most pain possible.'

Oisín could tell that both Tom and Caoimhe felt horribly guilty. They all did. Even Antimony looked uncomfortable, though it could hardly have been her fault at all. He turned away from the sink and looked down at his little book with a mixture of dread and disgust. He hated the Book for causing all this trouble. He'd give it over to the Morrígan in a second if it saved Sorcha. Yet it wasn't the Book's fault, was it? And if he gave up the Book, what would the Morrígan do with it? And what would he do without it?

‘Give me that thing, Dirtface.'

‘It's not yours,' Oisín said, standing up to Stephen.

‘I'm taking it up north. Hand it over!'

Stephen lunged for the Book but Oisín had been ducking from him long enough to know how he worked and dived under the table. Stephen jumped on top of him, trying to wrestle the Book out of his hand. Oisín heard a mug smash, saw nettle tea pool across the floor. And then Stephen screamed.

Oisín pulled himself up and saw Caoimhe quickly dipping her pen in the nettle tea and shooting a stream towards Stephen's jeans. They had been on fire. For a second, Oisín had a terrible feeling that the Book of Magic had caused it. Then he saw Antimony's slingshot.

‘I told you it would be real next time. Leave the Book alone.'

‘Stay still,' Caoimhe said, before Stephen could respond.

A small pair of scissors had emerged from the tip of her pen and she was cutting the frayed bottom of his jeans so that they were even. Oisín hadn't noticed how unusual her pen was until now. It was made of thick bark, with circles inside like the rings of a tree trunk. Each circle had a different kind of material, which Caoimhe could shoot out and retract with a swish of her hand. One moment she was dabbing Stephen's ankle with dock-leaf, the next, grass had emerged from the tip and she was dusting ash from his runners. He didn't seem to be hurt, which Oisín had to be thankful for. Whatever he felt about Stephen, with Sorcha missing, he needed all the siblings he could get.

Stephen was still staring at Antimony, who kept her slingshot in the air. Before either of them could do anything, the adults clambered down the ladder. Jimmy Houlihan swept his eyes over the spilled tea and charred table leg but decided not to say anything. He placed his hand on Oisín's shoulder, the way people did at funerals. Oisín sat down, feeling even sicker than before.

‘Chin up, boy, chin up. Help is at hand!'

Oisín looked up at the stout elderly lady who had come in behind Jimmy and Cathleen.

‘Mrs Fitzfeather,' said the woman, bustling over and shaking Oisín's hand vigorously. ‘Captain of
Eachtra
. We'll sort it all out for you.'

Mrs Fitzfeather was short, with an eyepatch, lots of bright shawls around her and a variety of facial hair that matched her white curls. Madame Q stood beside her with a grimace, which made Oisín suspect that she was too delicate for Mrs Fitzfeather's booming voice.

‘Keep up the courage, boy!' Mrs Fitzfeather shouted, pumping Oisín's hand as though this might make him feel better.

‘Perhaps we can get to the plan, Mrs Fitzfeather?' Madame Q said in a crisp tone.

‘Of course, of course,' Mrs Fitzfeather said, pulling her shawls around her and moving her hand away from Oisín's. It paused in mid-air, hovering slightly above the table.

‘This is the Book, is it?' she asked.

‘Yes.' Oisín nodded.

‘Such a troubling thing,' she said, her fingers drifting towards the Book's cover. ‘So powerful and so dreadful.'

Her stubby fingers rested inches from the cover and Oisín had to restrain himself from pulling it away.

‘Mrs Fitzfeather?'

Madame Q's voice broke Mrs Fitzfeather's concentration. She jerked her hand away from the Book.

‘Yes, yes, looks like the real thing,' she said finally. ‘That does make things more difficult. I wonder if we shouldn't destroy it.'

‘We can't destroy it,' Madame Q said quickly. ‘At least not until Lughnasa.' She turned to Oisín with a curious expression. ‘Then you could transfer it to somebody more suitable.' She weighed each word slowly, as if imagining herself as Keeper of the Book of Magic.

‘You know that's not what we agreed,' Mrs Fitzfeather snapped. ‘Transferring the Book is not part of the plan.'

‘What
is
this plan? What are you going to do to save my sister?' Stephen asked, pounding his fist down on the table in frustration.

‘Don't worry, boy,' Mrs Fitzfeather said gruffly. ‘We have it under control. As some of you know,
Eachtra
travels north every year. While we don't normally like to travel so close to the Morrígan's territory, we could do it this year.'

‘What?' Oisín asked. Are we going with you on
Eachtra?
'

‘Not a bit of it, boy, that's far too dangerous!' Mrs Fitzfeather said, laughing at the idea of such an enterprise. ‘You're both Milesians, you'd be sizzled in a volcano or strangled by an octopus in no time.'

‘But won't the Morrígan want to see me?' Oisín asked. ‘I'm the only one who can give away the Book.'

‘He has a point,' Madame Q started.

‘We agreed on this!' Mrs Fitzfeather said in a sharp tone, which suggested that they hadn't agreed about much at all. Her one green eye flashed with fury. She turned back to Oisín and attempted another smile. ‘Far too dangerous for you to face the Morrígan, boy. But
Eachtra
has a shipshape crew. Our Keeper of Books will guard it in our library.'

‘What about Sorcha?' Stephen almost shouted.

‘Do sit down, young man,' Madame Q said. ‘The finest druids in the world travel aboard
Eachtra
. I can assure you that we are more than a match for the Morrígan. We'll find a way to release your sister without giving up the Book.'

Or a way to just keep the Book
, Oisín thought. When it came to it, he knew that Madame Q wouldn't give up the most powerful book in the world for a seven-year-old girl. Frustration boiled up through his body.

‘And what are we supposed to do? Just wait here?'

The last hour of waiting had been agonising. He didn't think he could face a whole summer watching tea grow cold while Sorcha was trapped in the Morrígan's chamber.

‘That's exactly it, boy. You will just wait here.' Mrs Fitzfeather said, as if Oisín had solved a particularly difficult sum. ‘We'll have to convince your parents that you're all away at the Gaeltacht, but a little magic dust on the envelope should persuade them that this is perfectly normal. And the Houlihans have agreed to look after you, just don't be clogging up their kitchen.'

‘It's the best option,' Jimmy said, avoiding Cathleen's gaze.

‘I don't need to be babysat,' Stephen said. ‘Just show me which direction the Morrígan's mountain is in, and I'll be off.'

‘Technically, Cnoc na gCnámh is a hill, not a mountain,' Madame Q said, supremely unconcerned with Stephen's frustration. ‘Although, certainly, it is as impressive as any mountain and often referred to as such.'

‘I don't care if it's a hill, a mountain or a mongoose,' Stephen shouted, his clenched knuckles turning white. ‘Just show me which direction it's in. I don't need any book: I'll kill her with my bare hands.'

‘You'll have to stay put,' Madame Q said firmly. ‘There's no way you can make it up north by Lughnasa on your own.'

‘If it's that far, how can Sorcha already be asleep up there? I knew you were lying to us!'

‘I did no such thing,' Madame Q said icily. She clapped her hands together and produced a cloud of silvery smoke. A map of the island appeared instantly.

‘We are here,' Madame Q said, gesturing to the bottom of the map. ‘Cnoc na gCnámh, the Morrígan's Hill of Bones, is up here.' Madame Q stretched her arm to the tip of the map, where a large mound of bone loomed. ‘Cnoc na gCnámh is protected by the Morrígan's dark magic –only she can whisk there in seconds. Unless you are a far superior druid to myself, which I somehow doubt, it will take you weeks to travel that far north.'

Madame Q's finger traced the path from the Houlihans' beach up to the north of the island. ‘Then there are the obstacles that
Eachtra
faces. There's Sliabh na Gaoithe, the Mountain of Wind; Linn an Bhróin, the Pool of Sadness; the Forest of Shadows; and, of course, the fire-fields in the north.'

Oisín looked at the silvery map with awe. Madame Q's fingers moved slowly over huge mountains, across deep rivers, through dark forests and finally across a series of flames to the bare mound of bone where the Morrígan lived. He couldn't believe Sorcha was so far away. Madame Q clapped her hands and the map dissolved.

‘We'll come on your boat, then,' Stephen said.

‘
Eachtra
is a magical vessel, not a
boat!
' Mrs Fitzfeather said with a touch of wounded pride. ‘We don't have room for any Mileseans who can't do magic. You'll be much safer here. Think of it as a summer holiday.'

Stephen clenched his fists, as if he was considering whether it was ever appropriate to fight with elderly ladies. He seemed to decide against this course, storming out of the room and into the forest instead.

‘It's understandable,' Cathleen said. ‘He just wants to do something.'

‘We agreed, it's safest for them to stay here,' Jimmy said in a calm voice.

‘Sometimes you can't afford to be safe,' Cathleen said, looking out into the forest.

Jimmy placed his hand on her shoulder but Cathleen shrugged it off.

‘Ah, leave me, Jimmy. I know what the plan is.'

She shot a dark glance at Madame Q and Mrs Fitzfeather and stalked off into the forest. Jimmy's shoulders dropped, as if he'd been punched.

It was already causing divisions, Oisín thought. He'd only had it for a day and already everybody was fighting over the Book of Magic. Could it be that great if it caused so much trouble?

‘Best get this thing aboard
Eachtra
,' Mrs Fitzfeather said, standing by the edge of the table.

‘Maybe I should look after it,' Madame Q said, stepping forward.

For a second, Oisín saw the desire in both their eyes, the strange hold the Book of Magic had over people. Mrs Fitzfeather caught his gaze and started as if she had been surprised by a mouse. She pulled her hand back from the Book.

‘Maybe neither of us should take it,' she said. ‘It isn't something that a powerful druid should get too close to.'

‘I can mind it for the moment,' Antimony said, a little too quickly.

‘That won't be necessary,' Madame Q said. ‘Jimmy, you will look after it. It should have no effect on a druid of your level. You can bring it when you drop off your children tomorrow.'

‘Sure,'Jimmy said, too distracted to be offended that Madame Q didn't think him a good enough druid to be tempted by the Book.

He winced apologetically at Oisín as he picked up the little book and put it in his pocket. His green eyes flashed for a second, but he seemed mostly immune from the Book's power.

Oisín gripped the table. He felt a tug at the Book being taken from him, but he didn't have enough energy to resist. How did he think he could ever be its Keeper or have a
croíacht?
He didn't know anything at all about magic and now his little sister was in trouble because he couldn't just leave the Book on the floor. It was all his fault.

‘I'm going to bed,' he said.

‘Don't worry, boy, we'll get your sister back,' Mrs Fitzfeather said, slapping his back as he walked towards the ladder.