Of course they trust you—they’d throw you out of the country, otherwise.”
“They tolerate us because they need our skill. But what with all the trouble on the Continent, they watch us all the time, in case we’re in league with spies. There’s a permanent search sphere operating in Dad’s factory, for instance; and Karel and Robert are always being followed. We’ve had four police raids in the last two years. The last time, they turned the house upside down. Grandmama was taking a bath; they dumped her out in the street in her old tin tub.”
“How awful.” Kitty threw the cricket ball high into the air and caught it in an outstretched palm.
“Well. That’s magicians for you. We hate them, but what can you do? What’s the matter? You’re twisting your lip. That means something’s bothering you.”
Kitty untwisted her lip hurriedly. “I was just thinking. You hate the magicians, but your whole family supports them: your dad, your brothers working in his workshop. Everything you make goes to them, one way or another. And yet they treat you so badly. It doesn’t seem right. Why doesn’t your family do something else?”
Jakob grinned ruefully. “My dad’s got a saying: ‘The safest place to swim is right behind the shark.’We make the magicians beautiful things and that makes them happy. It means they keep off our backs—just about. If we didn’t do that, what would happen? They’d be on us in a flash. You’re frowning again.”
Kitty was not sure she approved. “But if you don’t like the magicians, you shouldn’t cooperate with them,” she persisted. “It’s morally wrong.”
“What?” Jakob kicked out at her leg with genuine irritation. “Don’t give me that! Your parents cooperate with them. Everyone does. There’s no alternative, is there? If you don’t, the police—or something worse—pays a visit in the night and spirits you away. There’s no alternative to cooperation—is there? I s there?”
“S’pose not.”
“No, there isn’t. Not unless you want to end up dead.”
5
T he tragedy had occurred when Kitty was thirteen years old.
It was high summer. There was no school. The sun shone on the terrace tops; birds trilled, light spilled into the house. Her father hummed as he stood before the mirror, adjusting his tie. Her mother left her an iced bun for her breakfast, waiting in the fridge.
Jakob had called on Kitty early. She opened the door to find him flourishing his bat.
“Cricket,” he said. “It’s perfect for it. We can go to the posh park. Everyone will be at work, so there’ll be no one there to clear us out.”
“All right,” Kitty said. “But I’m batting. Wait till I get my shoes.”
The park stretched to the west of Balham, away from the factories and shops. It began as a rough area of waste ground, covered with bricks, thistles, and old rusted sections of barbed wire. Jakob and Kitty, and many other children, played there regularly. But if you followed the ground west, and clambered over an old metal bridge above a railway, you found the park becoming increasingly pleasant, with spreading beech trees, shady walks and lakes where wild ducks swam, all dotted across a great sward of smooth green grass. Beyond was a wide road, where a row of large houses, hidden by high walls, marked the presence of magicians.
Commoners were not encouraged to enter the pleasant side of the park; stories were told in the playgrounds of children who had gone there for a dare, and never come back. Kitty did not exactly believe these tales, and she and Jakob had once or twice crossed the metal bridge and ventured out as far as the lakes. On one occasion a well-dressed gentleman with a long black beard had shouted at them across the water, to which Jakob responded with an eloquent gesture. The gentleman himself did not appear to respond, but his companion, whom they had not previously observed—a person very short and indistinct—had set off running around the
“They tolerate us because they need our skill. But what with all the trouble on the Continent, they watch us all the time, in case we’re in league with spies. There’s a permanent search sphere operating in Dad’s factory, for instance; and Karel and Robert are always being followed. We’ve had four police raids in the last two years. The last time, they turned the house upside down. Grandmama was taking a bath; they dumped her out in the street in her old tin tub.”
“How awful.” Kitty threw the cricket ball high into the air and caught it in an outstretched palm.
“Well. That’s magicians for you. We hate them, but what can you do? What’s the matter? You’re twisting your lip. That means something’s bothering you.”
Kitty untwisted her lip hurriedly. “I was just thinking. You hate the magicians, but your whole family supports them: your dad, your brothers working in his workshop. Everything you make goes to them, one way or another. And yet they treat you so badly. It doesn’t seem right. Why doesn’t your family do something else?”
Jakob grinned ruefully. “My dad’s got a saying: ‘The safest place to swim is right behind the shark.’We make the magicians beautiful things and that makes them happy. It means they keep off our backs—just about. If we didn’t do that, what would happen? They’d be on us in a flash. You’re frowning again.”
Kitty was not sure she approved. “But if you don’t like the magicians, you shouldn’t cooperate with them,” she persisted. “It’s morally wrong.”
“What?” Jakob kicked out at her leg with genuine irritation. “Don’t give me that! Your parents cooperate with them. Everyone does. There’s no alternative, is there? If you don’t, the police—or something worse—pays a visit in the night and spirits you away. There’s no alternative to cooperation—is there? I s there?”
“S’pose not.”
“No, there isn’t. Not unless you want to end up dead.”
5
T he tragedy had occurred when Kitty was thirteen years old.
It was high summer. There was no school. The sun shone on the terrace tops; birds trilled, light spilled into the house. Her father hummed as he stood before the mirror, adjusting his tie. Her mother left her an iced bun for her breakfast, waiting in the fridge.
Jakob had called on Kitty early. She opened the door to find him flourishing his bat.
“Cricket,” he said. “It’s perfect for it. We can go to the posh park. Everyone will be at work, so there’ll be no one there to clear us out.”
“All right,” Kitty said. “But I’m batting. Wait till I get my shoes.”
The park stretched to the west of Balham, away from the factories and shops. It began as a rough area of waste ground, covered with bricks, thistles, and old rusted sections of barbed wire. Jakob and Kitty, and many other children, played there regularly. But if you followed the ground west, and clambered over an old metal bridge above a railway, you found the park becoming increasingly pleasant, with spreading beech trees, shady walks and lakes where wild ducks swam, all dotted across a great sward of smooth green grass. Beyond was a wide road, where a row of large houses, hidden by high walls, marked the presence of magicians.
Commoners were not encouraged to enter the pleasant side of the park; stories were told in the playgrounds of children who had gone there for a dare, and never come back. Kitty did not exactly believe these tales, and she and Jakob had once or twice crossed the metal bridge and ventured out as far as the lakes. On one occasion a well-dressed gentleman with a long black beard had shouted at them across the water, to which Jakob responded with an eloquent gesture. The gentleman himself did not appear to respond, but his companion, whom they had not previously observed—a person very short and indistinct—had set off running around the
Similar Books
