The Keeper (9 page)

The only problem was that he couldn't move his leg.

Oisín looked down and saw his fears confirmed: a thin snow-snake was winding its way around his leg. He tried to wrench it free, but the snow-snake was locked firm. While he was trying to free his right leg, another snow-snake had latched onto his left one.

Oisín gasped as he was tugged down to the ground. He felt his arms being pulled to the side, as two more icy snakes wreathed around them. The Book of Magic dropped to the ground. Oisín willed it to open, but it sat there quite happily, as if it didn't mind at all if its Keeper was eaten by snow-snakes. It wouldn't take them long. Oisín was already sinking into the snow. He tried to call for help but a small snow-snake had slithered across his mouth, binding it shut. He shook his limbs desperately, but that only seemed to make the situation worse, helping the snakes as they dragged him under. Soon only his head was above ground, the Book of Magic resting serenely on the snow, as if it was happy to mark his grave. Oisín looked around but everybody else was busy fighting the other snow-snakes. He was all alone.

The snow-snakes tugged hard. Oisín had one last glimpse of bright blue sky before his head was pulled under the snow. It was a horrible feeling. Cold snow shot up his nose and into his ears. He tried to struggle but kept on being pulled further and further into a world of white, until he wasn't even sure which way was up any more.

Liathróidí tine
.

The muffled words seemed to come from very far away. The fire was very real, though. Oisín gasped as searing balls of fire scorched into the snow. The snow-snakes scattered in seconds. Oisín felt a hand yank him onto the surface and saw the last person he had expected to save him standing over him: Antimony, her slingshot in her hand and a scowl on her face.

‘Where's the Book?' she said quickly.

‘Here,' Oisín said, pulling it up from the snow.

It had stopped moving. The snow had too. It lay perfectly still, like a child in a deep sleep. Oisín stared at it, wondering why the ground had attacked them. Was it all because of his Book? Why hadn't the Book helped him when he had needed it?

‘Let's go, Pipsqueak,' Lysander said, fixing his tie. ‘Perhaps you can all work on not dying before you set foot on
Eachtra
. I have a bet on how many of you will get eaten by the Enormous Octopus and I'd hate to spoil my odds.'

Nobody said anything for the rest of the journey down the mountain. Everybody seemed to feel shaken until they reached
Eachtra
. It was hard to feel anything other than wonder the first time you arrived at
Eachtra
, even if you'd just been attacked by snow-snakes. Oisín couldn't decide where to look first. There were the crimson and gold horses that pulled
Eachtra
and looked like they belonged in a fairground. There were the strange portholes made up of scraps of coloured glass and plastic. The rooms inside looked even more interesting: Oisín glimpsed a room full of pipes which looked like the mail room. Another room seemed to be the kitchen and had several druids stirring mistletoe berries into large cauldrons. One porthole was filled up with a giant eye, belonging to a creature that Oisín suspected he didn't want to meet.

‘Come along now, we're already late,' Cassandra said, pulling Tom away from the horses and ferrying the rest of them up the sock ladders. Oisín had to climb several rungs at a time to keep up with the Quicksilvers and was out of breath by the time they reached
Eachtra
's deck. They had climbed up by the stern, where a twisting silver tower curled elegantly towards the sky. Lysander slipped inside it and Oisín spotted him talking to Madame Q.

Up at the front of the ship, Mrs Fitzfeather and Angus Óg were addressing the other groups. A large wooden statue of a bird was at the prow of the ship, looking out towards adventure. Oisín noticed tiny statues of birds beside it, stretching around
Eachtra
's rim, like gargoyles in a cathedral.

‘So, again, congratulations,' Mrs Fitzfeather said. ‘It takes a lot of courage to climb Sliabh na Gaoithe. You'll be needing much more over the next few weeks, though. We have a serious quest on our hands this year. You're not children any more: for the next four weeks, you're Wrens.'

‘What's a Wren?' Oisín whispered to Tom.

‘It's just what they call the young druids on
Eachtra
,' Tom said.

‘So it's like being a cub or a scout or something?'

‘Er, maybe,' Tom shrugged, confused. He was distracted by what was happening in front of them. Angus Óg had made a complicated hand motion and some of the tiny statues of birds came to life, fluttering from
Eachtra's
side and flying over to the children. Each statue had an old shoelace attached to it, so it could loop around the children's necks like a pendant.

‘Nice,' a girl named Graciela Gambaro said as a tiny wren announced her name and fastened itself around her neck.

The wrens flew over to each of the children, chirping their names ceremonially. Oisín worried that he might not have a wren: he wasn't supposed to be on board
Eachtra
, after all. Would it mean he couldn't stay?

‘Any chance we could get a cooler bird?' asked Dimitri Moran, the boy with the magic football. ‘Maybe a hawk or something?'

‘Wrens are the coolest,' Orion Jones, an American boy with a flute
croíacht
said. ‘They've got one of the sweetest songs in the sky.'

‘They're a bit small, though,' Dimitri's friend Pádraig said.

‘While other birds might be more powerful, wrens are the official king of the birds,' Angus Óg said, ruffling his swan feathers with some irritation.

‘You should never underestimate small things,' Mrs Fitzfeather said. ‘Many's the time wrens have come to
Eachtra's
aid. And besides, it's part of the tradition here.'

Mrs Fitzfeather said ‘tradition' as if it were a word not to be argued with. Not everybody was convinced.

‘Do I have to wear this ugly thing? I don't think it matches my torc,' Medb Gaultney complained.

Mrs Fitzfeather's face turned red. She bustled over towards Medb, pulling her shawls around her. Then she caught sight of the two people behind Medb and her face somehow turned even redder.

‘Never in my life! What a business: Milesians sneaking up the mountain like stowaways! Jimmy Houlihan sent me a message and I can't believe the cheek of the lot of you! You'll have to go back!'

‘I'm not going back until I find my sister,' Oisín said, hoping his voice sounded more confident than he felt.

‘I am the Captain of
Eachtra
and I say who comes aboard.'

‘Actually, you don't,' Madame Q said coolly, emerging from the silver tower behind them. ‘The Captain serves
Eachtra
. And
Eachtra
is bound by the
geasa
, the old customs of the Tuatha Dé Danann, to never refuse a child that has made it up Sliabh na Gaoithe in the given time.'

‘Yes, but in this case –'

‘There are limits to power, even ours. We can no more break the
geasa
than split the sky.'

Madame Q turned to Oisín with the sliver of a smile.

‘So it seems that I was right after all. We cannot have the Book without the boy.'

Oisín felt a different kind of cold rush over him, one unrelated to the snow wedged between his socks.

Mrs Fitzfeather looked as if she wanted to protest. Just then, two wooden wrens flew over to Oisín and Stephen and announced the two newest members of
Eachtra
's crew. Warmth rushed over Oisín as the pendant settled against his chest.

‘I don't want to be a wren-boy,' Stephen said, attempting to wriggle away from his wren.

‘Being a Wren is nothing to do with that Milesian nonsense,' Mrs Fitzfeather said grumpily. ‘On
Eachtra
we don't hunt birds, we look after them.'

She rearranged her shawls and glared at Madame Q.

‘Well, I suppose there's nothing I can do. You'll both have to pull your weight, though. A bunch of the horses need delousing, as it happens.'

‘No,' Madame Q said. ‘There's something else we must do first.'

She turned to face her Quints.

‘Lysander, you know what to do.'

Chapter 10

The Keeper of Books

W
E'RE going to a library?' Oisín asked as he read the sign on the tiny oak door in front of him.

‘What did you think I was going to do, Pip? Sacrifice you?' Lysander said.

Lysander had escorted Oisín through
Eachtra's
winding corridors at a pace that suggested he had far better things to do with his time. He opened a door and half-crawled through.

Even Oisín had to stoop a little to enter, so he was surprised to find himself standing in the largest room he had seen on board
Eachtra
. He was reminded of the trip his class had made to the Long Room in Trinity College, though this library was even bigger than that, with large stained-glass windows and books stretching up for what seemed like miles.

It was the most incredible room that Oisín had ever seen. Pools held waterproof Water Magic books, which older Wrens pored over with sticks, as if they were stirring soup. The Fire section had books that belched fire and turned into ash. Earth Magic books were housed in a lovely grassy mound in the west corner, where Wrens lay on leaf hammocks and thumbed through the leafy books. The Air Magic books floated near the ceiling and Oisín could just make out Wrens lying on clouds as they read about the secrets of magical flight and inventions. He looked at the rows and rows of beautiful books and thought that he could stay there for ever and be happy.

‘Come on, Alice, we'll never make it through Wonderland at this rate.'

‘Is this magical mathematics?' Oisín asked, trying to understand how the giant room fitted behind the little door.

‘Suppose so,' Lysander said with a bored shrug, as if magical mathematics was far too basic to be of interest to Lysander Quicksilver.

‘Hurry up, Pip, we've got to get that book of yours taken care of.'

‘It's Oisín.'

‘Whatever.'

Lysander removed a silver key from his blazer and waited as a glass lift descended slowly from the ceiling. Before the lift arrived, a boy came skateboarding down one of the banisters along the stairs and nearly knocked them both over.

‘Sorry, dudes,' he said, picking up his skateboard. ‘Hey, I'm Brad,' he said, starting a complicated handshake that Oisín failed to follow.

He was another Quint, one of the rich American twins that Tom had pointed out. Oisín suspected that Brad's position as a Quint might have been due more to his parents' money than his magical abilities.

‘Awesome work changing into the wind,' Brad said, flashing a smile at a couple of older female Wrens as they walked past. ‘I can show you round
Eachtra
if you want. The library's the most boring part. There are some wicked rooms near the bottom.'

‘We're on a mission,' Lysander said drily.

‘Need a hand?' Brad said as the lift arrived.

‘I think we'll survive without your expertise,' Lysander said, stepping inside.

‘Later, little bro,' Brad said, leaning in to give Oisín a complicated hand salute goodbye. He whispered something else as he did so, in a voice that sounded serious.

‘
Be careful.
'

Oisín wasn't sure if he'd imagined it. Brad waved goofily as the lift took off, adjusting his balance on his skateboard. For a second, Oisín thought he saw a dark expression pass across his face, but again he couldn't be sure.

Lysander dug into his trouser pockets and took out a pale silver apple.

‘Hungry, Pip?'

Oisín shook his head. A strange silence settled around them. Oisín thought of the way his mother would chat about the weather to strangers in the lift in Dunnes or, with a pang, how Sorcha always liked to count the seconds it took. This lift was very slow. Oisín was sure that Sorcha would have reached double digits.

‘Have you always been able to turn your tie into a weapon?' he asked finally.

‘It's elementary magic,' Lysander said.

He looked through the glass at the other floors below and Oisín felt like a small kid that Lysander had the misfortune of babysitting.

‘Did you really turn into the wind to get up the mountain?' Lysander said after a moment and, though his voice stayed casual, Oisín could feel something beneath it.

‘Yeah, kind of,' Oisín said. ‘It was –'

‘The Book of Magic?' Lysander said quickly, and this time his voice wasn't at all casual.

‘Yeah.'

‘It must be pretty amazing,' Lysander said, looking over at the spot where the Book was in Oisín's hoodie.

‘I guess so,' Oisín said, wrapping his hoodie around him. It was getting colder as the lift climbed higher.

‘Do you think I could have a look?'

Oisín tried to focus on the books floating by the window or the book about dragons that fizzed and sparked as a girl looked at it.

‘I'm not sure,' he said, feeling the Book twist in his pocket, as if it might actually want to be held by somebody else.

‘Just a little peek,' Lysander said very softly.

Oisín turned to look at him and saw that he had his most persuasive smile on.

‘Come on, Pip, what are friends for?' he said, holding out his hand confidently.

Oisín wasn't sure they were friends at all. Still, it couldn't hurt to let him have a look.

Lysander reached over and gently took the Book from Oisín's hand. Oisín felt a sharp pain, as if he had just got an electric shock. Lysander's blue eyes turned silver. The whole elevator seemed to twist upside down as if gravity was taking a couple of seconds off.

As quickly as it happened, things returned to normal: Lysander was looking at the Book and the lift was slowly ascending. Lysander was so absorbed in the Book that he didn't seem to notice anything else. He didn't seem to be finding what he expected either, though, and his pale forehead crinkled into a frown as he turned the pages. Oisín had a sudden urge to grab the Book back.

Luckily, the lift stopped at that moment. Lysander looked up as if from a daze and handed the Book to Oisín, as if he wasn't sure what it was any more.

‘The Keeper of Books should be on this floor,' he said vaguely.

Aren't you coming with me?' Oisín asked, stepping out of the lift.

‘No, I'm very busy,' Lysander said, seeming a little confused and suddenly eager to get away from the Book. ‘I've got to go to the Quintessence section.'

Oisín followed his gaze upwards, but there didn't seem to be any more floors, only a thick layer of clouds.

‘Maybe you'll be able to go up there some day,' Lysander said with a twinkle, his confidence returning.

The lift disappeared into the clouds and Oisín was left on the almost empty floor. Towers of very old books were stacked all around the walls and several centuries of dust hung in the air. Oisín started to walk down a corridor of tall bookshelves, unsure what to do. He could feel the magic in the air, like a thick layer of summer heat.

‘Now, you must be Oisín Keane.'

Oisín turned around to find a very old lady pottering through the bookshelves. She hadn't bothered to turn to address him.

‘Er, yes,' Oisín answered, craning his neck to get a better view of her. She was very small, with thick glasses and a frayed woollen cardigan wrapped around her.

‘Are you the Keeper of Books?'

‘Of course,' she said, her eyes focused on the shelves. ‘My
History of Magic Rebellions
keeps on running away, but I suppose it is true to form.' She laughed and waddled towards Oisín. ‘Would you like a cup of nettle tea? You look like you could use some warmth. I keep telling Mrs Fitzfeather that we need some more heating up here, but of course it would interfere with the books. They need to be kept at the right temperature, you know.'

She stroked her books as she said this, as if she were tending a flock of sheep. Oisín was surprised to see that some of their spines rippled as she did this.

She poured Oisín a steaming mug of nettle tea. Oisín took a sip and hoped that the lady was better at looking after books than she was at making tea.

‘Now, you must be looking for a home for the Book of Magic,' the Keeper said, peering at Oisín uncertainly through her giant glasses.

‘I guess so,' Oisín said, holding the Book in his pocket and not at all sure that he wanted to leave it behind.

‘
Muise
, I was wondering when you'd get here,' she said.

Of all the old ladies he had met, the Keeper of Books seemed the most similar to Granny Keane. She even said the same country word,
muise
, that Granny Keane sometimes said to herself and which meant nothing, as far as Oisín could tell.

‘That book needs to have its magical protection,' the Keeper continued. ‘Who knows where it's been all these years and not even at the right temperature?' The Keeper of Books wrung her hands at the horrors that might face books, before turning to Oisín sharply. ‘Where is old Fitzfeather, anyway? Is she still avoiding me because she hasn't returned the copy of
Magic with Mead?
If she thinks she can get away with not paying library fines because she's the Captain, she has another think coming.'

The Keeper of Books crinkled her nose to show that, for her, overdue library books were as severe a crime as you could find.

‘She said she'd rather stay outside in the air,' Oisín answered, and went on to explain how he had found her.

‘Really?' the Keeper said, opening her eyes wide when she heard that Lysander had escorted him. ‘Well, well, that is interesting,' she murmured to herself and started to fuss at the shelves.

‘So the Book of Magic has a shelf here?' Oisín asked, wondering if the bursting shelves could fit even something as small as the Book of Magic. As if on cue, a book dived off the shelves and fell to the floor a few rows back.

‘
The Kamikaze Guide to Magic
,' the Keeper of Books said with an affectionate sigh. She poured herself a cup of tea and tried to focus on Oisín. ‘I can't believe Mrs Fitzfeather didn't tell you this! Or Madame Q. Every great book has a shelf here or, in this case, a drawer. The six from the Dadga's cauldron have been long lost, but their drawers remain. The books can leave, but they need to come back, otherwise their magic won't work properly. Outside influences could get hold of them.'

The Keeper of Books pursed her lips and Oisín wondered what or whom she meant by outside influences.

‘So it's like having a mobile phone plugged into a charger?' Oisín asked, trying to figure it out before he realised that the Keeper of Books probably didn't even know what a phone was, let alone a charger.

‘Oh, yes,
Modern Wonders of the Milesian World
does mention that device,' the Keeper said as she scanned her brain for what the book said. ‘
Muise
, we must get your book to its home.' She stood up very quickly and started to follow a thread of her cardigan through the winding corridors.

Oisín struggled to keep up. For an old lady, she was quite fast.

‘Do you always stay up on this floor?' he asked.

‘I try to avoid downstairs,' the Keeper replied with a shudder, as if downstairs was a dangerous foreign country. ‘Now, where are we? Yes, the Book of Magic is in the exclusive section of course, next to all the most dangerous books, including
The Book of Love
. What I wouldn't have given to have my own copy of that when I met Lir Mac Fois!'

The Keeper gave a deep sigh. Oisín had seen Granny Keane give similar sighs, and hoped that it wouldn't take all day for the Keeper to come back to earth. Thankfully, it seemed that books were a lot more important to the Keeper now than whoever Lir Mac Fois was and she recovered herself until she had reached a special section full of miniature books in drawers. She pulled out a dark chestnut drawer which was labelled ‘The Book of Magic'.

Oisín felt the Book tremble in his hoodie, as if it didn't want to be imprisoned in a drawer. Oisín thought he understood what it meant: he was its Keeper, not this old lady, so shouldn't he keep it?

‘You don't want to give it up,' the Keeper of Books said with a knowing smile. ‘Yes, that's often the way with other Keepers. But the Book needs a library to work properly. It's the only way you'll be able to find your sister.'

Oisín held out the Book with a pang of guilt. How could he think of keeping the Book when he had Sorcha to save?

‘Do you want to put it in?' he asked, holding the Book out to the Keeper.

For a second, a shadow passed across the Keeper's face and her green eyes bulged through her glasses at the sight of the Book of Magic so close. It was an expression that Oisín had seen on many people the first time they had laid eyes on the Book: Stephen, Sorcha, Madame Q, Lysander.

‘No, no. You put it in,' the Keeper said quickly, her face flushing slightly. ‘Some books are too dangerous for me to handle.
Fitzwater's Fireworks
was a disaster – that was when I was still a junior librarian here and I thought they'd
fire
me after all the damage.' She gave a little laugh at her joke and seemed to return to her normal self.

Oisín couldn't help noticing that she caught her breath when he placed the Book of Magic in the drawer and closed it. He felt his stomach tighten as the drawer closed.

‘Will I still be able to use it?' he asked. He felt a bit silly asking if it would still be his
croíacht
, but he'd need all the help he could get if he was going to face the Morrígan.

‘Of course,' the Keeper said. ‘In fact, you must come and visit. It's very important that you keep your connection with the Book.'

She gave a glance around the shelves to see if anyone else was there and moved closer to Oisín.

And I must tell you, it's very important that you don't let anybody else visit the Book either. You are the Book's individual Keeper. Nobody else can open that drawer, not even me.'