or more recently, Izachel – think of the mysterious part Magicians have played in our lives over hundreds of years. A Magician is a treasure to a King, and any Magician automatically belongs to Hoad the King, so your boy will come to Diamond and make his fortune. Because of course, as even you may have heard, even Magicians age and Izachel is no longer reliable. Our King really needs a Magician and your boy may very well do.’
It was at that moment Heriot truly understood he was going to be taken away from the Tarbas farm, from the kitchen courtyard and garden and from the unfolding fields of the farm. It was then he truly understood that his own wishes would not be consulted. At that very moment Lord Glass said, ‘After all it isn’t for you to decide, is it, Jenny? Just suppose you were to beg me to leave him be, and just suppose I gave in, not that I would, for I’m not nearly as benevolent as I try to make myself appear, all that would happen would be that someone less talkative but very much more unpleasant would wait on you. You would suffer, the boy would suffer, and I would suffer, too, for my hesitation. There is no decision to be made beyond Feo’s and his decision has been made.’
Heriot looked up, his hands clenched together before him. ‘Don’t I get asked?’ he cried abruptly, and Lord Glass turned to him, surprised and shaking his head.
‘My dear boy – certainly not!’
Heriot turned, not to his mother, but to his Great-Great-Aunt Jen.
‘Don’t let them take me,’ he cried.
‘I have to,’ she answered.
‘Why?’ Heriot asked her, and felt something gathering thunderously in him. Once again a storm was on the way. Once again he thought he might be about to crack in two. ‘I don’t want to go with that Cloud,’ he exclaimed furiously. ‘I’m frightened.Frightened sick!’ He sounded angry rather than frightened, but all the same, within himself he was terrified. Same old fear, said a voice somewhere in his head. Drive it out! Get rid of it!
‘Don’t shout, Heriot,’ Great-Great-Aunt Jen was saying sternly. ‘Be brave. Face up to it. I can’t help you.’
‘Do I have to help myself then?’ demanded Heriot.
Something moved behind his eyes as he turned to look at Lord Glass. Something in a private space in his head looked out of him. But to use the talents of whatever it was that lay on the other side of the fracture, he had to acknowledge it.
‘You’re all changing me,’ he cried desperately. ‘You’re making me change.’ And he began to tremble … nor was he the only thing that shook, for the glasses on the tray shuddered along with him, softly at first and then with an added clamour. The wine spiralled up the sides of the goblet and the goblet itself danced and spun on its round foot flashing sparkles of light across the walls and ceiling. The slender jug danced on its tray, the windows hummed, each one on a separate note, but in disturbing harmony rising higher and higher, until Heriot’s teeth ached with the sound. Great-Great-Aunt Jen looked around wildly, his mother raised her head and stared at him incredulously, but both Dr Feo and Lord Glass now seemed to recognise him beyond all doubt. The glasses chattered on in shrill voices, the goblet sang and signalled, the jug burned, the windows hummed higher and higher, until they were screaming, pitched on the very edge of possible hearing, and then suddenly everything in the room that was made out of glass burst into clear splinters. Heriot felt his eyes turn back in his head, and his eyelids close over them, like curtains drawn over windows through which too much might be seen.
Dr Feo caught him and held him tightly, even patting him as if he were a good dog who had done well.
‘Just see how radiant Feo looks,’ said Lord Glass in a voice that contrived to be shaken, querulous and somehow entertained as well. ‘Now I would be very annoyed with anyone who treated my treasures like that, but Feo has it in his
It was at that moment Heriot truly understood he was going to be taken away from the Tarbas farm, from the kitchen courtyard and garden and from the unfolding fields of the farm. It was then he truly understood that his own wishes would not be consulted. At that very moment Lord Glass said, ‘After all it isn’t for you to decide, is it, Jenny? Just suppose you were to beg me to leave him be, and just suppose I gave in, not that I would, for I’m not nearly as benevolent as I try to make myself appear, all that would happen would be that someone less talkative but very much more unpleasant would wait on you. You would suffer, the boy would suffer, and I would suffer, too, for my hesitation. There is no decision to be made beyond Feo’s and his decision has been made.’
Heriot looked up, his hands clenched together before him. ‘Don’t I get asked?’ he cried abruptly, and Lord Glass turned to him, surprised and shaking his head.
‘My dear boy – certainly not!’
Heriot turned, not to his mother, but to his Great-Great-Aunt Jen.
‘Don’t let them take me,’ he cried.
‘I have to,’ she answered.
‘Why?’ Heriot asked her, and felt something gathering thunderously in him. Once again a storm was on the way. Once again he thought he might be about to crack in two. ‘I don’t want to go with that Cloud,’ he exclaimed furiously. ‘I’m frightened.Frightened sick!’ He sounded angry rather than frightened, but all the same, within himself he was terrified. Same old fear, said a voice somewhere in his head. Drive it out! Get rid of it!
‘Don’t shout, Heriot,’ Great-Great-Aunt Jen was saying sternly. ‘Be brave. Face up to it. I can’t help you.’
‘Do I have to help myself then?’ demanded Heriot.
Something moved behind his eyes as he turned to look at Lord Glass. Something in a private space in his head looked out of him. But to use the talents of whatever it was that lay on the other side of the fracture, he had to acknowledge it.
‘You’re all changing me,’ he cried desperately. ‘You’re making me change.’ And he began to tremble … nor was he the only thing that shook, for the glasses on the tray shuddered along with him, softly at first and then with an added clamour. The wine spiralled up the sides of the goblet and the goblet itself danced and spun on its round foot flashing sparkles of light across the walls and ceiling. The slender jug danced on its tray, the windows hummed, each one on a separate note, but in disturbing harmony rising higher and higher, until Heriot’s teeth ached with the sound. Great-Great-Aunt Jen looked around wildly, his mother raised her head and stared at him incredulously, but both Dr Feo and Lord Glass now seemed to recognise him beyond all doubt. The glasses chattered on in shrill voices, the goblet sang and signalled, the jug burned, the windows hummed higher and higher, until they were screaming, pitched on the very edge of possible hearing, and then suddenly everything in the room that was made out of glass burst into clear splinters. Heriot felt his eyes turn back in his head, and his eyelids close over them, like curtains drawn over windows through which too much might be seen.
Dr Feo caught him and held him tightly, even patting him as if he were a good dog who had done well.
‘Just see how radiant Feo looks,’ said Lord Glass in a voice that contrived to be shaken, querulous and somehow entertained as well. ‘Now I would be very annoyed with anyone who treated my treasures like that, but Feo has it in his
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