A Witch Alone Read online

  ‘I don’t know . . .’ Should she mention the bursting grippet?

  ‘Not everyone would have rushed in to help like that.’

  ‘She’s always doing stuff like that,’ Salle said proudly.

  Arianwyn felt her cheeks warm. It felt as though everyone was looking right at her.

  The elder witch smiled. ‘Well, it was nice to meet you. I can see you have picked up your grandmother’s talents.’

  A car drew up a few metres away and the horn sounded twice quickly. ‘I’m sorry, I have to go – we’re recalling the council to discuss where the winged grippets came from. It looks as though there may have been a rift open in the park.’

  Arianwyn felt a spike of fear jab at her.

  ‘But don’t worry, we managed to catch all the grippets, we think, thanks to you as well.’

  The elder smiled and turned to walk back to the car. Arianwyn watched her go. As the car door opened she caught a glimpse of someone in the back, a flash of white robe and midnight blue talma, a broad lined face half hidden in the shadow.

  It couldn’t be, could it?

  There was a hurried exchange and something was passed to the tall elder who turned and walked quickly back to Arianwyn and Salle, her hand extended. She held a small white card.

  ‘For you, Miss Gribble. From the High Elder.’

  Arianwyn swallowed and suddenly felt entirely conspicuous standing there in the middle of the street.

  ‘She was very impressed to hear about your assistance.’ The tall elder gestured back to the car. Photographs of the High Elder were rare, appearances in public like snow in July – but there she was. Arianwyn could now see the large gold and silver star glinting in the shadows of the car.

  The High Elder nodded once, a small smile on her lips.

  Arianwyn flipped the card over and on it in straight bold letters was written:

  TOMORROW MORNING, 11 O’CLOCK

  Arianwyn had been summoned by the High Elder.

  Chapter 4

  LETTERS

  ore hot chocolate, girls?’ Grandmother asked, crossing back through the bookshop carrying a tray with three steaming mugs and a plate piled high with scones. The delicious smell of chocolate and baking mingled with the smell of the books. It was Arianwyn’s idea of heaven.

  Beyond the windows the sky was darkening and people hurried home for the evening.

  ‘That’ll be my third mug!’ Arianwyn giggled.

  ‘Well, it’s good for shock, I think.’ Grandmother smiled as she placed the tray down on her desk in between towering stacks of books. ‘What are you doing there?’

  ‘Writing to Dad,’ Arianwyn replied, glancing down at the start of her letter. Her father was still off with the army fighting against the Urisians in the North of Veersland. Arianwyn’s letter was long overdue.

  Dear Dad,

  I’m worried that you’ve not written for a while but I know how difficult it must be to find time so I thought I’d write to you instead.

  Salle and I are in Kingsport, staying with Grandma. I thought I’d feel at home again coming back to the city but it doesn’t feel like that really and I sort of miss Lull. I certainly miss the space, the meadows and river and the trees. I might even miss Mayor Belcher!!! (In a roundabout way!)

  Scrap that – I DO miss Lull. I can’t wait to show you, though I’m sure you’ll think it’s just a tiny little place in the middle of nowhere – not as exciting as Kingsport – well, not exciting in the same way as Kingsport!

  I met the king today – sort of! It was the oddest afternoon . . . But well, I’ll save all that for another letter.

  Salle has been busy going to lots of auditions to various theatres in the city. She’s so excited and I really hope she does get one of the parts, but . . . Well, I’d miss her so much if she wasn’t in Lull, she’s the truest friend I think I’ve ever had. We’ve got another week in the city and then I have to get back to Lull. We’ve still got lots of the museums and galleries to visit and Salle is desperate to go and look around Leighton & Dennison’s to find a present for Aunt Grace . . .

  ‘Don’t forget to tell him about meeting the king!’ Salle beamed, and then sipped from her mug.

  ‘I’m not sure sliming the king is the same as meeting him,’ Arianwyn said, the shame hitting her again in a wave that made her clammy. She shook the thought away.

  ‘Stop worrying. You didn’t do anything wrong,’ Grandmother said gently. ‘And who knows what might have happened if you hadn’t been there. Oh, Salle, I forgot: the postman brought you these.’ Grandma reached forward with a small pile of letters. ‘Hopefully some good news from your auditions!’

  Salle took them eagerly. ‘Do you mind if I go and read these now?’ she asked, unable to hide the excitement or anxiety from her voice.

  ‘Go for it!’ Arianwyn smiled.

  Salle grabbed her mug of hot chocolate and the letters. With a scone held in between her teeth she disappeared into a nearby alcove of bookcases.

  ‘So, I suppose you don’t get to spend much time down here in the bookshop these days,’ Arianwyn asked, desperate to change the subject from the parade, the king and the slime.

  Grandmother sat in the armchair Salle had vacated and flicked through the first book that caught her eye. ‘Well, Mr Lomax keeps most things in order and I have my council duties to attend to as well now. I hadn’t thought returning to the council would result in quite so much work. But it seems there’s lots going on in the world that involves us these days. The war, the increase in dark spirits. Miss Alverston’s mishap with the rift in the Great Wood was just the tip of the iceberg, it would seem . . . and then the winged grippets appearing in the midst of the royal parade like that—’

  ‘Oh, don’t mention it,’ Arianwyn groaned, burying her face in her hands again.

  Grandmother reached out and took Arianwyn’s hand. ‘I told you, it was fine. They’re more concerned with how the rift was opened in the first place in the park and why no one spotted it. Besides, everyone agreed you did wonderfully!’ She raised her chin, pride flashing in her eyes.

  Arianwyn felt bolstered by her grandmother’s words. But then another nagging worry replaced the first. ‘But why does the High Elder want to see me then?’ she asked. ‘Is it about the night ghast in Lull? About Gimma? She was acting strangely this afternoon.’

  ‘You saw Gimma today?’ Grandmother asked.

  ‘Just briefly. Did you know she was being sent back to Lull?’

  ‘Yes. Actually, I thought it might be a good idea.’

  ‘What? You didn’t really, Grandma?’

  ‘Oh, calm down now. You’ve overcome so much over this last year.’ Grandmother fixed Arianwyn with a level gaze. She still held Arianwyn’s hand, her grip warm and gentle but strong. ‘You’ve faced more than most witches face in their whole lives. Gimma should be lucky to have you and Miss Delafield supporting her. Jucasta is one of the finest district supervisors we have! She’s been offered countless other postings, you know, but always refuses them. And now it’s not like you not to want to help.’ Grandma peered hard at her.

  She was right, of course. Had she written Gimma off too soon? Arianwyn wondered. Maybe she did deserve a second chance. Or was it a third chance?

  ‘She was just so weird though, ask Salle—’ She stopped talking as her grandmother flashed her a look, a look she knew too well.

  ‘Well, that’s as may be. Now, remember it is a huge honour to be asked to see the High Elder, but don’t go agreeing to anything foolish. I know what you’re like.’

  ‘Yes, all right,’ Arianwyn said, and then sipped noisily on her hot chocolate, which she knew annoyed her grandmother more than anything.

  Grandmother silently studied the spine of a book. ‘Ah-ha! I was looking for this for you.’ She handed a blue cloth-bound book to Arianwyn:

  A WITCH ALONE: A MANUAL FOR THE NEWLY QUALIFIED WITCH

  BY AGNES BRACKETT 4TH EDITION

  ‘I thought you might find it useful or
interesting!’ Grandmother smiled. ‘Another of my old books.’

  Arianwyn flipped through it, her eyes skimming the pages. She saw chapters entitled ‘Setting up the Spellorium’, ‘Magic and local politics’ and ‘Magical plagues: what to do when one strikes’.

  ‘I’m certain you’ll know most of this already, of course,’ Grandmother said, ‘but perhaps it will reassure you just how much you do know now, my clever girl!’

  ‘Thank you.’ Arianwyn smiled back at Grandmother. She felt suddenly bad for giving her a hard time. She squashed into the armchair beside her and allowed herself to be folded into a tight hug. She could smell her grandmother’s favourite perfume, a scent like roses and cool summer evenings. Sitting there, the day dissolved away: Gimma, the king, the slime! If only every problem could be so easily fixed.

  Everything was quiet now except for the ticktock of the shop clock and the occasional sound from the street of a passing car or someone calling across the evening traffic. The calm was fractured by the sudden sound of hurried feet across the floorboards and rugs of the bookshop. The front door rattled open and the bell charm sang out.

  ‘Salle?’ Arianwyn sat up and called into the bookcases. ‘Salle, are you there?’

  She got out of the chair and went quickly to the front of the shop. Strewn across the floor were the letters Grandmother had given Salle just fifteen minutes before. But now Salle was nowhere to be seen.

  A cool breeze blew through the open door. Arianwyn bent, scooped up the discarded mail and dashed out on to the street.

  Chapter 5

  THE ALHAMBRA

  t was raining, and the air was full of that delicious smell of rain after a warm day – fresh and cool and green. The pavements were already shiny and wet. People hurried past, finding cover and glancing every few seconds at the ominous grey sky above. Thunder rumbled somewhere far away, beyond the city.

  Salle stood at the edge of the pavement, staring over at the buildings opposite, but something made Arianwyn think that her friend wasn’t really looking at them: her mind was elsewhere. ‘Salle!’ she said softly, placing her hand on Salle’s already damp arm. ‘What’s the matter? Is everything OK?’

  Salle turned and saw the letters Arianwyn held in her hand. She looked quickly away again. ‘I didn’t get the part,’ she said sadly, still not turning to look at Arianwyn. A car that was just a little too close to the pavement splashed them as it drove past. Arianwyn leapt back, but Salle stayed put.

  ‘Which part?’ Arianwyn asked.

  Salle said nothing for the longest moment as the rain carried on falling. She was going to be soaked through very soon, Arianwyn thought. ‘I didn’t get any of the parts. Not one,’ she said. Her voice wasn’t angry, or hurt. She sounded lost, confused, like someone who had been speaking in a different language all their life and had only just discovered that nobody understood them.

  For Arianwyn it felt a bit like a blow to the stomach. How could it be that Salle hadn’t managed to get one single part? She was so talented! She knew every line for every part in Consequence and Courage, possibly the most boring play Arianwyn had been forced to read at school. And she could replicate just about any accent from across the Four Kingdoms.

  ‘Surely it’s a mistake?’ Arianwyn said, lifting the now damp letters as though they might reveal something of use.

  ‘No mistake, Wyn. I’m obviously just not good enough.’

  ‘No. That’s not true – you’re amazing, Salle.’

  ‘Thank you. But you’re my friend and so you have to say things like that.’ Salle turned and smiled a little, though Arianwyn could see tears on her face. ‘All those auditions, Wyn . . . and not one bit of interest. Not even for a part that didn’t even have any blasted lines.’

  ‘Oh, Salle!’ Arianwyn reached out a hand. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Girls, you’re going to get soaked out there.’ Grandma hurried towards them carrying a large black umbrella which she handed to Arianwyn. ‘Is everything OK? Won’t you come back inside?’

  Salle didn’t move, but carried on staring at nothing in particular.

  ‘I think we’ll wait here for just a bit,’ Arianwyn replied, raising her eyebrows at Grandmother. Thankfully she took the hint and went back inside the bookshop, where she watched the girls from the large window.

  After a few minutes Salle spoke, her voice quiet, difficult to hear over the traffic. ‘All I’ve ever wanted to do, Wyn, and now it turns out I’m not really any good at it.’ She sniffed.

  ‘That’s not true. Don’t say that, Salle. You’re a great actress. So, these parts weren’t the right ones for you. There’ll be other parts, other chances.’ Arianwyn felt certain of this but she knew it would just sound like friendly hot air to Salle.

  ‘Perhaps I’m just wasting my time. I should be doing something useful . . . like you.’

  ‘But all you’ve ever wanted to do was act. You can’t just give up on your dreams like that.’

  ‘Can’t I?’ Salle asked sadly, before falling silent again.

  Arianwyn looked along the street waiting for her friend to say something more. If she decided to stand there all night long, Arianwyn would stand right beside her.

  But perhaps she wouldn’t need to. Further along the street from the bookshop Arianwyn saw the bright lights from the Alhambra cinema. A plan blossomed in her mind. ‘Shall we walk a little way along the street, Salle?’ she asked, and she was rewarded with Salle taking her arm and allowing herself to be led slowly away from the side of the road.

  The rain started to fall more heavily, a huge gust of wind driving it faster. The umbrella shook and wobbled.

  ‘Let’s take cover in here,’ Arianwyn suggested, leading Salle through the doors of the cinema. They skidded a little on the wet marble floor. As Arianwyn lowered the umbrella Salle took in the sights around her: the huge movie posters, the sweeping staircase, the uniformed staff waiting by doors or handing out tickets or boxes of sweet-smelling popcorn.

  ‘Fancy seeing the new Pearl Perkins film? I know you’re a huge fan.’ Arianwyn gestured up at the poster high above the gleaming glass counter. Salle’s eyes were already fixed on Pearl Perkins, swathed in exotic clothes and veils and staring out of the poster with a look of determination. ‘Desert Queen’ was written in huge sloping letters across the top. Salle turned and, finally, smiled.

  ‘Two tickets please,’ Arianwyn asked the young man behind the counter.

  Salle and Arianwyn sat in their seats, wrapped in darkness and companionable silence.

  The pictures on the screen wobbled and blurred a few times. A crisp Kingsport accent boomed out through the cinema: ‘The latest news across the Four Kingdoms, brought to you by the Hylund News Broadcasting Service.’

  The flickering light of the screen illuminated the faces of the people around them. They were all expectant, their eyes wide and fixed ahead, waiting for the magic to unfurl before them.

  Arianwyn glanced quickly at Salle. Her face was relaxed, a small smile on her lips.

  The screen flickered again and showed the familiar view of the royal palace in Kingsport. Arianwyn felt a lurch in her stomach, thinking they might be about to show footage of today’s disastrous parade. But thankfully it was a series of sleek black motorcars that passed through the gates. Not carriages!

  Elegant, uniformed men clambered out and were greeted by the King of Hylund. The newsreader continued: ‘The Prime Minister of Dannis arrives in Kingsport for the latest in a round of talks about the ongoing Urisian attacks with the king and the Grunnean ambassador. Key members of the Royal Senate are also part of the conference.’

  The scene changed and a procession of robed figures marched towards the doors of the palace. Then the screen flickered and displayed the heading of the next news item:

  A Fine Example of a Witch!

  ‘Oh, snotlings!’ Arianwyn moaned and sank a little lower in her seat.

  The announcer started again, his voice full of enthusiasm. ‘Out across the cou
ntry our wondrous witches are doing their bit. Just watch them go!’

  A witch zoomed past the camera on her broom, waving and smiling like a maniac.

  The announcer continued, ‘Lord Cowley recently paid tribute to the eleven thousand qualified witches of Hylund and the vital work they are doing in service to the country and the crown. As well as to the Civil Witchcraft Authority who have been allocating the recently qualified witches to their new posts throughout Hylund, as sightings of dark spirit creatures see an unprecedented fifteen per cent increase.’

  The screen flickered again, and this time they saw a battlefield, all churned-up earth and twisted metal. The announcer’s voice took on a grave tone. ‘In the North of Veersland the combined forces of the Four Kingdoms have seen small successes pushing the Urisian attackers back across the border for the first time in nine months. But even with the fighting temporarily on hold there is still work to do.’

  ‘Isn’t that where your dad is?’ Salle whispered to Arianwyn.

  Across the screen ran several medical staff, displaying the green cross on their sleeves. Two bore a wounded soldier on a stretcher between them. Arianwyn felt a flutter of fear in her chest. The war always felt so far away but recently it had started to feel frighteningly close. Wherever you went these days there seemed to be soldiers about.

  The next shot was of a young woman, a medic judging from her uniform, ripping in half a piece of bandage quickly and calmly and applying it to someone out of shot. She tucked her hair behind her ears, holding a syringe in her teeth as she carried on attending to her patient.

  Salle gazed up at the screen in awe. ‘That’s the sort of useful thing I should be doing, don’t you think, Wyn?’

  Arianwyn glanced at Salle as she continued to watch the screen. Would her friend make a good nurse or medic? She couldn’t picture it, somehow, but the thought made her feel spiteful and mean. ‘I think you can be whatever you put your mind to, Salle,’ she offered quietly.