A Life Less Ordinary - Sample

(Dizzy Spells – Book One)

(This comes from the pre-edited copy, so I apologise for any mistakes in the sample text.)

Christopher_g_nuttall@REMOVEhotmail.com

Prologue

Magic didn't go out of this world.  It just went sideways.  You don’t see it, but we are there, hidden in the corner of your eye.  If you have the gift, or you believe in us, you will find us.  You will enter a world of magic, of witches and wizards, sorcerers and necromancers, dragons and demons, elves and fairies.  You will enter a world where the powerless of the dull mundane world take on new forms, where an ugly duckling can become a swan, where the great powers of Heaven and Hell – and all the many realms in-between – interact with frail humans and their world.

If you search for us, you will find us.  Just don’t blame us if you don’t like what you find.

My name is my own, a secret shared only with my nearest and dearest.  You can call me Dizzy.  Names have power, even in the dull mundane world.  In the magical world, to know a person’s name is to have power over them.  Never ask a magician what his name is; ever.  Always ask what a person would like to be called.

This is my story. 

Chapter One

Where to begin, I wonder?

Where to begin?

I still remember my first meeting with Master Revels, even now, so many years after the fact.  Even as an old woman, that day – the day that my life changed forever – continues to haunt me.  If I hadn’t followed him, my life would have been very different; happy and distant and small.  Or perhaps I am just fooling myself.

I was eighteen when I left school in Edinburgh, many years ago.  I hadn't paid enough attention while I had the chance, so I left my formal education with only a handful of awards, hardly enough to get into a good university.  My mother – my father, of whom I prefer not to speak, had left us while I was a baby – looked at me, saw the waste I had made of my life, and ordered me to get out of hers.  I moved in with a boyfriend and thought that I would never look back.

It turned out that there were few positions for unqualified teens in Edinburgh.  I signed on at the dole and was pushed towards a series of positions that were, in effect, menial work.  I scrubbed dishes and changed beds at old folks homes, I cooked and cleaned at a simple cafe and spent far too much time living hand to mouth.  My first boyfriend finally got tired of me and ordered me out of his flat, leaving me out on the streets.  Three of my girlfriends, who had set up a communal flat, allowed me to stay with them in exchange for paying a share of the rent.  My second boyfriend – a drug addict I should have known better then to allow anywhere near me – wanted me to go into prostitution to pay the bills.  I got out of that one quick and, with some help from a friend, managed to find an entry-level position at a famous shopping centre.  It was dull, with absolutely no hope of promotion, but I thought that it would be permanent.  The economic crash came along and suddenly I found my position threatened.  The manager, a tight-fisted bastard, cut salaries all round, apart from himself, of course.  He was being paid enough to keep us all working, while leaving the rest of us to suffer.  I didn't quit, because I had no choice.  I had to keep working for the slave driver.

Edinburgh is a remarkable city, for those of you unlucky enough never to have visited.  My first memory was seeing blue lights surrounding Edinburgh Castle, although my mother used to tell me that I was just imagining it.  It was always hard to tell my memories from my imagination as I grew older, something that I never fully understood until I met Master Revels.  The only relaxation I had – I couldn't afford to do anything like going to the pictures or anything else that cost money – was walking through the city.  One day, my sole day off in the entire week, I was walking through the Royal Mile when I saw Master Revels for the first time.  I didn't know who he was at the time, of course.

You may not have seen one of his posters, so I will describe him for you.  He was a tall man, handsome in a bland sort of way, with a strong chin.  He always wore a black suit, a white shirt and a top hat, something that he used to distract attention from his face.  Even after I got to know him, I always found it hard to imagine him without his outfit; it was, in many ways, a case of clothes making the man.  His face was pale, although never as inhumanly pale as his posters suggested, and his eyes were bright blue.  His black hair – so black that people suspected that it came out of a bottle – seemed to glimmer in the sunlight.

It wasn't his face or his outfit that attracted my attention, however; it was the creature resting on his shoulder.  It was riding like a parrot would ride on a pirate’s shoulder, yet it was larger and stranger than any parrot, rather like a cross between a lizard and a peacock.  I turned as he walked past, unaware of my scrutiny, and just stared at him.  The creature should have been drawing attention from everyone, yet no one seemed to notice.  No one apart from me.

For a moment, I thought that it was a puppet of some kind, just before it moved and turned to look at me.  It wasn’t just convincing, it was so real that I found myself believing in it completely.  Almost unaware of what I was doing, heedless of my surroundings or of any manners my mother might have drummed into me over the years, I turned to follow the strange man and his remarkable beast.  He was walking upwards, towards the castle, when he turned into a side alley I couldn't recall ever seeing before.  I was still following him, almost in a daze, when I walked right into him.  The shock of the collision brought me back to my senses.

“Good afternoon, my dear,” the man said.  He had a voice that sounded almost aristocratic, although without the underlying assumption of servility on my part.  He didn't sound angry, much to my relief, just curious.  “Do you have some reason to be following me?”

It honestly didn't occur to me to try to lie to him.  “Sir,” I said, “what is that creature on your shoulder?”

His eyes widened with genuine surprise.  “You can see her?”

The creature, as if it was aware that we were speaking about her, seemed to turn to look at me again.  Up close, it was easy to see how weird it truly was.  She had the strangest golden eyes, so bright and understanding, as if she had looked upon all the sin of the world and forgave one and all.  Her scales, a strange shade of green, seemed to flicker as she stood up on his shoulder and – I found myself transfixed, unable to move – spread her wings.  I hadn't realised until then, but I was looking at a scale model of a tiny green dragon.

“Yes,” I said.  He hadn't taken his eyes off my face.  It was a scrutiny that seemed to look deep into my very soul.  “What is she?”

He ignored my question.  “How often do you see creatures that are not supposed to exist?”

I looked up at him, puzzled.  “I thought I saw a unicorn once, when I was a child,” I said.  The memory of the visit to the safari park, one of the few good memories from my childhood, still resounded within my head.  “Why...?”

“I think that you had better come with me,” the man said.  He turned and led the way down the alleyway.  “Coming?”

Prudence suggested that I should run, that I should try to get away from the weirdo and his strange pet dragon, but I had never been one for listening to prudence.  Besides, the dragon seemed to convince me that, whatever happened, I would be safe.  I gathered myself and followed him through a maze of tiny alleys that I had never known existed, before we stopped outside a stone door.  It looked so old that I wondered if we were going into the castle itself, before he pushed it open and waved me inside.  The room we entered was large enough to be a ballroom, covered with endless heaps of trinkets and junk.  I found myself staring as we passed a mountain of older books, many written in languages I didn't recognise, and found a tiny kitchen at one end of the room.  The man pushed the dragon impatiently and she flew into the air, flapping over towards me.  Before I could react, she settled on my shoulder and winked at me.

Whatever doubts I had kept, I lost them when I felt the dragon’s skin.  It was hot, yet not hot enough to be uncomfortable, moving with a strange beating motion.  It felt almost like holding a scaly hamster, with the same rapidly beating heart and twitching eyes, although none of my pet hamsters had ever looked so wise.  I stroked her gently and she crooned in pleasure, a deep sound that seemed to hum in my ear.

“I'm sorry about the mess,” the man said, sounding unconcerned.  He passed me a cup of tea and I sipped gratefully, surprised to discover that he’d made it exactly how I liked it.  The dragon emitted a sharp nose and he flushed, almost embarrassed.  “I am called Revels, Master Revels to my adoring public.”

I smiled.  “My name is...”

He held up a hand before I could complete the sentence.  “If you’re going to be involved in my world, and it seems that you are, you need to keep one thing in mind,” he said.  “Do not give anyone your real name, for names have power.  Pick a name for yourself, something you can be called, and stick to it.”

I thought about it.  “Be careful what you choose,” Revels added.  “The name you choose is going to have its own effect on you.”

“My friends used to call me Dizzy,” I said.  It felt right, somehow.  “Will that do?”

Revels gave me a very vague look.  “The choice, my dear, is yours,” he said, affecting a bored tone.  “If it feels good, use it; if not, choose a different one.”

I cleared my throat.  “And now we’re on assumed names terms,” I said, “just what is going on?”

Revels smiled.  “It is really quite simple,” he said.  “You have a gift, just like me and a handful of other people around the world, the gift of magic.  Welcome to the magical world.”

I stared at him.  Somehow, it was impossible to disbelieve him.  “Are you saying that there’s a magical world out there, like Harry Potter?”

“Don’t get me started on those books,” Revels said, annoyed.  “It doesn't work anything like that.”

I wanted to ask more questions, but somehow I refrained.  “Those of us who have real magic tend to stay out of sight,” Revels continued, taking my silence for an invitation to continue.  Most of the world is simply unable to see magic or anything touched by magic, such as Fiona there.”  He waved a hand at the dragon, still perched on my shoulder.  “A horde of dragons could fly over Edinburgh and all the mundane population of the world would see would be dark clouds covering the sky.  Everyone is so busy looking for mundane explanations for everything that they miss the magic.”

He grinned up at me, his eyes glittering with light.  “But you saw the magic,” he said.  He waved a hand through the air and a rainbow appeared out of nowhere, shimmering in the air before it faded away into nothingness.  “Welcome to the world.”

I felt strange, almost...dizzy.  I had never felt as if I really belonged anywhere, but now, sitting with this strange older man and his pet dragon, I felt as if I were home.  We relaxed together, sipping our tea, and somehow it felt perfect.  The dragon flew off my shoulder and somewhere into the distance, suddenly calling my attention to the fact that the room was impossibly big.  How could anyone have shaved out so much space in Edinburgh?  The room seemed to be larger than the castle itself.

“So,” I said, tearing my eyes away from the piles of items on the floor.  Some looked like junk still; others looked as if they were interesting and perhaps even valuable.  “What do we do now?”

Revels grinned at me, removing his hat and reaching inside.  Somehow, I wasn't surprised to see his arm go right in, right up to the shoulder.  He reached around inside the hat and eventually pulled out a smaller hat, which opened up at his touch.  It was another black top hat.  He passed it to me and started digging around again, producing a silver ring and a tiny knife made out of diamond.  I took them in some bemusement, feeling a tingle running down my spine as I touched the wing.

“Does this mean we’re engaged now?”

He didn't smile at my weak sally.  “There are no coincidences in the world of magic,” he said, seriously.  “I need a new apprentice; you need a master to train you in the art of magic.  I think that we were intended to meet and become acquainted.”  His voice darkened.  “Will you do me the honour of becoming my apprentice?”

I stared down at the ring, feeling it tingling.  The knife didn't feel so...magical, yet there was a curious deadness around it, something that felt weird to my touch.  The top hat fitted perfectly.  Why, I wondered, was I not surprised?

“I don’t know,” I admitted, finally.  “What happens if I say no?”

Revels looked surprised, but answered the question.  “You walk out of that door and never see me again,” he said.  “Your magic may fade away without proper direction, or you may grow and develop on your own, or you may find yourself a victim of...darker magicians.  Later, once you develop your powers, you may decide to leave me and strike out alone.”

He smiled at my expression.  “Go take a look at yourself in the mirror over there,” he said, pointing to a mirror that was large enough to show my entire body.  “You might be pleasantly surprised.”

I did as I was bid and looked into the mirror.  I saw myself; tall, brown-haired, with pale skin and dark brown eyes.  My breasts were smaller than I would have preferred – my second boyfriend had seriously proposed a boob job, which I could hardly have paid for without his help – but on the whole I was rather pleased with my appearance.  An observer would hardly guess that I spent six days out of seven slaving for one of those soulless corporations raping the planet, pretending to smile at a boss who made normal assholes seem bland by comparison.  My shirt and skirt were worn to make me seem carefree...

My appearance changed, suddenly.  I saw myself naked and yelped aloud, looking down to check that I was still wearing clothes.  When I looked up again, I saw myself wearing the same suit and top hat that Revels was wearing, which rapidly shifted to a traditional witch’s outfit, complete with broom and bubbling caldron.  My appearance shifted again and again, some interesting, some absurd and some downright slutty.  I looked away from the mirror and back towards him.  He was smiling, clearly in no doubt as to what I would choose.

And he was right.  I had wasted my life in the mundane world.  I didn't have a hope of finding a proper job, not one that would allow me to grow and develop into someone important.  Perhaps, as a magician, I could be something remarkable; even if there were dangers, surely it was worthwhile.  I touched the top hat and smiled at the feel of the felt against my fingertips.  Even if there was a price to be paid, I would gladly pay it, just for the chance to be something else.  If I was being honest with myself, I hated my life in the mundane world.

“As my apprentice, I will teach you how to master the powers you have,” Revels said, answering my unspoken question.  “In exchange, you will help me carry out the more complex spells and do other duties for me.  Cooking and cleaning, mainly; I just don’t have the time and aptitude to actually do the work and wasting magic on cleaning is a bad idea.  And, as my lovely assistant, you will get a share in the proceeds from every show.”

I didn't understand until a few days later just what he had meant.  Most of the magical community, those who weren't powerful enough to maintain a permanent separation from the mundane world, tended to hide in plain sight.  They were stage magicians, performing their arts in public, showing the general public real magic and getting paid for it.  The mundane world never truly realised that they were seeing actual magic, for they all knew that magic didn't exist.  The next time you go watch a stage magician at work, wonder how the trick is really done.  You might be looking at a real magician.  

“That sounds wonderful,” I said, sincerely.  “What should I tell my employer?”

“You don’t have to tell them anything,” Revels assured me.  “If you agree to learn from me, I will see to it that no one questions your absence.  Your employer will take on a new person without ever quite knowing what has happened to you.  Your flatmates will find someone else to take your place.”  I shrugged.  I’d been sleeping on the sofa for the last couple of months, an uncomfortable position at the best of times.  “You will just blur out of the mundane world, part of it yet never truly involved.”

The dragon flew back towards me and landed neatly on my shoulder.  I reached up absently and stroked the back of her neck, almost as one would stroke a cat.  The dragon hummed and pushed closer to me, a long snake-like tongue flickering out to lick at my ear.  I didn't flinch.  Somehow, I was sure that the dragon wouldn't harm me.  In fact, I was sure that it was more intelligent than it seemed.

Revels smiled at my expression.  “It's your choice,” he said, gently.  He wasn't trying to pressure me into anything.  “A life of magic, of wonders and terrors you can barely begin to imagine, or a return to the mundane world of boredom, where you were sleepwalking through life.  What do you choose?”

“I accept,” I said, holding out my hand.  He took it in a surprisingly gentle grip and shook it firmly.  “This looks like the start of a beautiful friendship.”

Chapter Two

I’d had the idea that I’d be learning magic from dawn till dusk.  How wrong I was.

“You know, you could help with this,” I grumbled to Fiona.  The tiny dragon was perched, parrot-like, on top of a massive pile of books.  “How am I meant to sort all of them out by myself?”

“You start at the beginning and go on to the end, where you stop,” Fiona said.  One red eye winked at me.  “See?  It’s easy when you know how.”

I glared at the dragon and stared down at the books.  There were thousands of them – perhaps millions – in a room that was large enough to hold a football field.  Most of the books looked old, yet there was very little damage, suggesting the presence of a magical preservation spell.  Fiona had explained when we’d been left alone to get on with it that the owners of the magical apartment had been gathering books for hundreds of years.  Looking down at them, I was prepared to believe that they’d just scooped up everything they could, dumped them in the chamber and never come back to read them.  It was easy to believe.  

Some of the books were written in English, with titles that ran from Dangerous Potions to Demon Summoning for Women.  Others were written in French, or Latin, or what looked like a strange combination of Chinese and Arabic writing.  I couldn’t even begin to divine what they might contain; hell, I wasn't even sure how to catalogue them, let alone put them into something reassembling a proper order.  I had never realised just how much hard work went on behind the scenes in a library.

“Tell me something,” I said.  “What would the Master say if we went back to him and told him that it was hopeless?”

Fiona pretended to consider.  “It isn't hopeless,” she said, finally.  “You might take most of a year sorting the books – longer, as you wouldn't be here all the time – but you could do it.  I don’t think the Master would like that very much.”

“Oh,” I said, bleakly.  “And what would he do?”

“Well...he could shout at you a bit,” Fiona said.  That didn’t sound too bad.  “That’s magical shouting, of course; what he called you might become real.  Or he could turn you into a frog and leave you that way for a while, or perhaps settle for punishing you in a more traditional style, or...”

“I get the message,” I said.  I bent down and picked up a handful of English books.  I had pretty much decided to separate out the English books – which I could read, if not very well – from the remainder of the collection.  I could at least put them in order before I went to Master Revels and explained that I couldn't sort the remainder of the collection.  Holding the books, I looked around for somewhere to put them, but there was nowhere apart from back on the floor.  The few tables in the room were covered in books.  It looked like a library that had been torn apart by a hurricane, scattering the books everywhere.  “Where am I supposed to shelve them?”

Fiona snickered.  “It’s only a vague suggestion, but what about on the shelf?”

I counted to ten under my breath.  “There are nowhere near enough shelves in this room to hold all of these books,” I said, in what I hoped was a calm and composed voice.  I didn't want my frustration leaking out into the atmosphere.  “Where am I supposed to get more?”

The little dragon fluttered through the air towards the shelves.  “These are magical shelves,” Fiona said, in tones that suggested that she thought I was stupid.  “All you have to do is put the books on them and allow them to extend to the size required.”

“Oh,” I said.  I walked over to one of the shelves – it was barely larger than I – and pulled some of the books off it.  A moment later, I found myself on the floor as dozens of books spilled off the shelves, knocking me down as they fell.  There was a sound rather like a snap and I looked up to see that one of the shelves had completely vanished.  My chest hurt after the books had landed on me.  I crawled out from under the pile of books and swore.  “Now what do I do?”

“I don’t think that that is how you do it,” Fiona said, dryly.  The dragon peered down at the pile of books.  “You just broke the spell holding the shelf together.”

I glared at the dragon, who – for once – decided to explain.  “The original magician crafted a spell that created a pocket dimension for his books,” Fiona said.  “You could put an entire library onto a single shelf if you knew the key.  Instead, you collapsed the spell and every book held within the pocket dimension was unceremoniously tossed out – onto you.”

“I had noticed,” I said, as I rubbed myself.  I was going to be covered in bruises tomorrow.  It was funny how I’d never realised that a book could be used as a deadly weapon before.  “Now what do we do?”

Fiona pretended to consider.  “Well,” she said, “you could go see the Master and explain what happened and ask him to help...but perhaps he might turn you into something for a few hours, just to make the point about tampering with something you don’t understand.  Just don’t let him turn you into a rabbit.  I love eating rabbits.”

I shuddered.  “What will happen if I touch the next shelf?”

Fiona took to the air and floated over towards a safer perch.  “I’ll watch from a safe distance as you try,” she said, dryly.  “This is a magical library.  Sometimes the books read you.”

Something went click in my mind.  “This is a magical library,” I repeated.  “Does that mean that, somewhere in here, there is a spell to create those...pocket dimensions?”

“Of course,” Fiona said.  “Do you know a magician who would willingly give up a book once it had fallen into his hands?”

I only knew one magician - Master Revels – but I could see her point.  There were thousands of books just lying around in the library, suggesting that no one had ever cleaned it out and removed any of the older and less useful books from the collection.  Actually, it made a great deal of sense.  Knowledge is power, after all, and I could see magicians gathering hundreds of books to themselves, rather than filing them away in a public library.

“All right,” I said.  Part of my mind was saying that I shouldn't even be thinking about it, but it was drowned out by the thought of having to spend months sorting the books.  “How do I find the spell?”

Fiona gave a hint of a shrug.  For a dragon, her body language was very human.   “You could start with the open spell book,” she suggested, waving one wing towards the table near the door.  “Or you could just pick up a spell book at random and see what you find.”

I walked over towards the table, limping slightly, and looked down at the book.  It had a palatable sense of age – it looked like a volume produced by a monk in a monastery, rather than a mass-produced modern book – and felt oddly warm to the touch.  I found out later that it was impossible to actually mass produce modern books.  The strange rules binding magic made it impossible, although a considerable amount of common knowledge could be stored in more modern books or computers.  I didn't know that at the time, of course.  If someone should happen to write down a magical spell, they are writing down a magical spell.  The implications are nastier than they sound.

The book opened at my touch and I started to read through the pages.  There was a spell promising beauty untold to the woman who chanted it at full moon.  It was tempting, but I had no idea how long it would be until full moon.  There was a spell for cursing your enemies and giving them bad luck for a year and a day.  I was thinking about my ex for several minutes before I hastily turned the page and moved on to the next spell.  It talked about summoning invisible servants who would work for you, in exchange for a tiny drop of blood.  The ritual involved in summoning them made me blush.

“Try the rear of the book,” Fiona advised.  “The more complex spells won’t be held at the front of the book.  They’ll be weighed down by the less dangerous spells.”

I flicked through the book and finally located a spell for creating pocket dimensions that could be spelled to me, or spelled to anyone who happened to be in the area.  I could see a use for the former right away.  I could create my own private dimension and not have to worry about carrying a bag or anything else ever again.  Or – and I smiled at the thought, even though I would never put it into practice – I could use it to steal from shops and they would never have the slightest idea of what had happened.

The spell didn't look that complex, not even compared to some of the others in the earlier part of the book.  I picked up the spellbook – in my hands, it felt light and yet surprisingly warm – and walked back over to the shelves.  The pile of fallen books had shifted slightly, but they seemed disinclined to jump back onto the shelves.  I wasn’t too surprised.  There was little room for the books to fit.

“Be careful,” Fiona said, as I studied the words of the spell.  They were written out phonically, allowing me to pronounce them correctly – or so I hoped.  I had no idea what would happen if I mispronounced even one of the words.  “You have to keep an image of what you want to happen in your mind at all times.”

That wasn't quite as easy as it sounded.  I started the spell and then was distracted as a thought burst into my mind, making it hard to concentrate.  She’d told me not to think of anything else, so I naturally did think of something else, anything else.  I felt a rising wave of frustration and forced it down, taking deep breaths to calm myself.  There was no hurry.  Even if it worked, I would still have to start shelving the books and that would take days, perhaps weeks.  My breathing slowed to a crawl – I could hear my heartbeat pounding away – and I focused, concentrating on precisely what I wanted to happen.  I wanted a pocket dimension, one anyone could use, one that wouldn't break when I removed a book...slowly, the image grew and settled in my mind.  I opened my mouth and chanted the spell aloud.

I felt a sudden tingle running up my spine, which grew rapidly into a thunderstorm.  Energy seemed to be crawling all over me, like the touch of an unwelcome or unwanted lover.  I could barely move as the forces played over me – I was suddenly aware of just how vulnerable I was – and I almost panicked.  Only the thought of losing control now, with so much magic in the air, kept me focused.  The forces I had unleashed could tear me apart like paper if I lost my concentration.  And then it was over.  I kneeled over and collapsed on the ground.

“You seem to have succeeded,” Fiona commented, archly.  The tiny dragon fluttered down to my side and rubbed her scaly head against my cheek.  She felt hot to the touch.  I pulled myself up into a sitting position and looked up at the shelves.  Where the shelves had been there was now a faint blur, as if many different images were fighting for supremacy.  I looked closer and understood.  Hundreds of thousands of shelves were positioned within the pocket dimension, awaiting my touch.  “It wasn't too bad for a first effort.”

I frowned.  The original shelves had been neater than mine.  “How long will it last?”

Fiona snorted, producing an impressive gout of flame from her snout.  “How long do you want them to last?”

“Forever,” I said.  I paused.  I had been thinking of forever, hadn't I?  “Will they last forever?”

“Well, I’m only a mere sorcerer’s familiar, but I’m fairly sure that they will last a good long time,” Fiona said.  “You ought to be proud of yourself.”

I couldn't help myself.  I burst out laughing.  I had been so scared and yet...I had succeeded.  It had worked beautifully.  I was so proud of myself.  

“Thank you,” I said, and meant it.  “Now what do I do?”

A thought struck me and I walked back to the table, carrying the spellbook under my arm.  I flicked through the pages again until I located the one I wanted, the one advising how to summon invisible servants.  As I read through the spell again, it occurred to me that Master Revels might have given me the task as a test, one to see if I could learn to use the magic in the library to get the job done quicker and more efficiently.  Fiona looked doubtful as I explained my brainwave to her, but I ignored her doubts.  I was sure that I was right.

The spell was clearly written out and actually seemed to be less complex than the pocket dimension spell.  I had to strip down to bare skin, squat on the floor and recite the spell aloud, with no room for error.  I didn't understand the nakedness at the time, although I learned later that such rituals were often more about preparing the magician rather than part of the spell itself.  The trick lay in separating what was truly vital from what wasn’t – and research into the subject rarely led to a long and happy life.  I cast a doubtful look at Fiona – reminded myself that she wasn’t human and was female anyway – and started to undress.  Halfway through, it struck me to wonder what Master Revels would think if he walked in on me, but I told myself that he would understand.  It was necessary for the ritual, after all.

Fiona fluttered down to the table, her unblinking red eyes fixed on me.  “Are you sure about this?”

I nodded, positioned the spellbook on my bare knees, and began.

This time, the tingle came quicker, followed rapidly by a wave of power that rapidly took on shape and form.  I saw enough to understand why the servants were normally invisible to human eyes; looking at what I saw out of the corner of my eye, it was clear that prolonged contact would be bad for my sanity.  I squeezed my eyes closed, yet I could feel them, a burning presence all around me.

It was hard, suddenly, to speak, but I forced out the words.  “I bind and command you by a drop of my blood,” I said.  I held out my thumb, inviting them to suck on it.  The spellbook had assured me that they could only take what they were permitted to take.  “I order you to sort the books and shelve them into my pocket dimension.”

There was a dull rumble, like distant thunder, but nothing else.

“I command you,” I said.  They hadn’t taken anything from my thumb.  A cold presentiment of disaster started to make its way down my spine.  “I offer you my...”

It all happened very quickly.  Suddenly, tiny fingers were running all over me, pinching and slapping at my body.  I felt them reaching for my hairs and pulling at them, one by one, as others slapped at my private parts or my face.  I screamed in pain as hands started to form around my neck and started to squeeze...

“Enough,” a voice snapped.  A blast of power shone, just for a second, though the air and the pinching stopped.  “Get thee gone from this place.”

There was a second blast of power and I opened my eyes.  Master Revels was standing there, staring down at me.  He didn't seem aware of my nakedness, but I didn't like the look in his eye.  He looked angry.  Somehow, I didn't blame him.  I closed my eyes and awaited the worst.

“Stand up,” he said, calmly.  I opened my eyes and stood up.  My body was covered in tiny scratches, some dripping blood onto the floor.  I was surprised that there wasn't more pain.  “What did you learn from that?”

It was hard to think and focus, but somehow I managed.  “I learned that I shouldn't play with fire,” I croaked.  It hurt to speak.  I touched my throat and my hand came away bloody.  “What went wrong?”

Master Revels didn't seem to notice my discomfort.  “There are spells that cannot be written down safely,” he said, calmly.  Fiona fluttered down to land on his shoulder.  “When they are written down, there are always sections left unwritten, or rewritten to make the spell less dangerous.  Never – ever – take anything for granted in the magical world.”

He snorted.  “Go have a shower” – he’d shown me where the showers were the first day I’d spent with him – “and look at yourself in the mirror.  The scars will fade slowly, so don’t forget.”

“I won’t,” I promised, and meant it.  It could have been a great deal worse.

***
The mirror was magical.  It showed me almost as a holographic image, rotating me around so I could inspect myself from all angles.  I was covered in bumps and bruises, with scars running down from my hairline to my knees.  The little creatures had left me marked for a very long time.  I washed, wincing as the water fell into my scratches, and swore never to try that again.  I had come far too close to death.

On the other hand, I told myself, one spell had succeeded perfectly.

Perhaps I had a future as a magician after all.  

Chapter Three

“So tell me,” Master Revels said.  “What do you think of your costume?”

“I think they will all be looking at me,” I groused.  If I had seen the costume before agreeing to serve as his assistant, I might have had second thoughts.  “No one will be looking at you at all.”

“That’s the point,” Master Revels said, evilly.  “I wouldn't want them looking closely enough to realise that the puppet has no strings.”

I scowled as I examined myself in the mirror.  The outfit gave new meanings to the word revealing.  I looked rather like a demented cheerleader.  My breasts were covered by a sequined tunic that drew attention to them, while my shorts – also sequined – were so tight that anyone watching would be convinced that they were painted on.  They didn’t feel uncomfortable, but they were so tight that I was half-convinced that I wasn't wearing anything to cover my rear.  The tiny glamour that Master Revels had given me would obscure my features, yet also give me an air of beauty that would ensure that all eyes were turned to me.  And I was barefooted.  It didn't seem fair somehow.

Master Revels himself wore a black suit with a white shirt and a top hat.  He looked far more like a typical stage magician, even down to the silver-topped cane he carried in one hand.  I knew that his cane was, at least in part, a magic wand and he could produce anything he wanted from his top hat, but anyone else looking at him would only see a stage magician.  I never understood why he wanted to show off on stage – I like to think that it was a uniquely male attribute – even though few would realise that there was real magic being displayed.

“Come on,” he said, holding out a hand.  I pulled on a pair of sandals and took it, reluctantly.  A moment later, we were standing outside his house, near the castle.  As he had promised, we were surrounded by hundreds of people wearing their own strange costumes; even I, wearing so little that I was almost naked, passed unnoticed.  I saw a dozen men wearing kilts and carrying claymores, several men dressed up as famous cartoon characters and a woman wearing what looked like the world’s largest hat, covered in fruit.  There were small donkeys, a horse and even a giant dog, all carrying small children up and down the Royal Mile.

I had to smile.  The Edinburgh Festival Fringe is the world’s largest performing arts festival and it is held right here in Edinburgh.  Hundreds of thousands of people from all over the world come to see the shows, even though it isn't quite as spectacular as Mardi gras or some of the other festivals held around the world.  Master Revels had been quite right.  We could walk down the roads wearing only top hats to cover our privates and no one would actually notice, even without the glamour covering our presence.  The entire magical world could walk out in the night and few would realise that they were in the presence of something unearthly.  I watched a team of flamingo dancers from Latin America go dancing past and concealed a smile.  We were definitely dressed conservatively for the area.

It was strange, but Edinburgh itself seemed to have taken on a new appearance after the time I’d spent in the magical chambers.  The entire city seemed to shine with a strange blue glow, with certain areas marked out more clearly than others.  The castle seemed to shine the brightest, but I could see a dozen others within the Royal Mile and another down towards the Grassmarket.  It was weird, yet I was starting to understand that there were actually two cities, with a magical Edinburgh co-existing with the dull mundane city.  The more I looked, the more I saw, from strange creatures jumping from shadow to shadow to a glowing statue that seemed to dominate part of the city.

“That man volunteered to remain on guard for the rest of his life,” Master Revels commented, when I asked him.  “The magical community leant him some of their strength and placed him there on guard.  No one can invade Edinburgh while he remains there, a silent sentinel in the night.”

I shivered as we walked past the statue.  I could make out, now, the fine traces of magic that had turned a man into a statue.  I wondered, suddenly, just how he was feeling.  Was he aware of time passing while he remained frozen, or was he in a form of suspended animation?  If I had been frozen like that for so long – the plaque at the base of the statue claimed that it had been there since the 1700s – I would have gone mad.  

Master Revels had hired a medium-sized hall for his performance.  He might not have been numbered among the greatest of the stage magicians – if only they knew – but he had a solid reputation and the crowds were already flocking into the hall.  We slipped unnoticed through the crowds and into the hall, where Master Revels checked the equipment and reminded me of my role.  We’d spent part of the last week – or so I thought; it was hard to measure time inside a magical house – rehearsing.  I peeked out onto the stage and saw several boxes, a set of mirrors and even a tiny cage, with a rather bemused hamster squatting inside it.  Beyond that, there was a large dog that seemed to wink at me.  I had always wanted a pet dog, but my mother had refused, believing that I couldn't be trusted to take care of a large animal.

I could hear the sound of the crowd as they filed into the hall and took their seats.  They sounded happy and good-natured, but I couldn't help feeling sheer terror at the thought of performing in front of them.  I wasn't even going to do much and yet I was still terrified!  Master Revels seemed to take it all in stride.  He checked his appearance, winked at me, and strode out onto the stage.  I hesitated, realised that the certain hadn't risen, and followed him, taking the place I’d been promised.  I struck an absurd pose and he waved a finger at me.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a voice proclaimed.  It took me a second to realise that Master Revels was speaking into a hidden microphone.  “I present to you the world’s greatest magician - Master Revels!”

The curtain rose and a single spotlight shone down on his position, so bright that no one would be able to see me against the darkness.  It was a neat bit of misdirection.  Hardly anyone would know that I was there, even though I was wearing a silly outfit and standing right in front of them.  There was a roar of approval from the crowd, including a group of drunken teenagers who waved glasses of beer in the air.  I blanched, glad that no one could see me, and then swallowed hard.  I knew what was coming.

“Welcome, one and all,” Master Revels said.  His voice seemed to boom out, effortlessly drowning out the noise of the crowd.  “And, if you please, a big round of applause for my lovely assistant, the fair Dizzy!”

A spotlight shone down on me.  The crowd roared its approval, the drunken young men loudest of all.  I would have blushed, but instead I managed to smile.  My costume suddenly made a great deal more sense.  With the spotlight burning down, there were flashes of lights illuminating my body, drawing attention from all over the room.

“And now...we will begin,” Master Revels proclaimed.  He took off his top hat, bowed to the audience, and placed it down on the table.  “Take a look at the table.  There is nothing underneath; there is nothing on top, apart from the hat!  And yet...”

He paused, dramatically.  “Wait...I bet you don’t trust me,” he added.  “I bet you think I have a trick up my sleeve.”  The crowd burst into laughter.  “I need a victim...I’m sorry, I meant volunteer.  I need a volunteer from the audience to prove that I have nothing up my sleeves.”

There was a long pause, and then a young girl – barely older than twelve – was pushed onto the stage by her mother.  There was a round of applause as I took her hand and escorted her over to the table, where she knelt and walked under the table, before picking up the hat and reaching deep into it.  There was nothing there.

“It's empty,” she said, disappointed.

“So it is,” Master Revels said.  He looked up at the watching audience.  “A big hand for Charlotte, if you please!”

There was another round of applause as the girl was helped back into the audience.  “And now,” Master Revels added, “we will begin.”

He clicked his fingers together, holding them over the hat.  The crowd grew silent as they watched.  He pressed his fingertips together, allowing a tiny trickle of glitter to fall into the hat, before he reached in...and in...and in.  His entire arm seemed to go into the hat.  There were some gasps, but most of the audience was still watching silently.  Master Revels struggled, as if he were trying to hang onto something that didn't want to be caught, and then he pulled his hand out in one convulsive motion.  A large green snake poured out of the hat and coiled itself on the stage, hissing nastily.

“Oh dear,” Master Revels announced, dramatically.  He pointed to a bulge in the snake’s skin.  “Slither has eaten my rabbit!”

The crowd roared with laughter, although a few nervous eyes were watching the snake.  Slither’s head was moving from side to side, as if he was deciding which of us would make the next meal.  I hated snakes on general principles, but Slither looked truly unpleasant.  His golden eyes were too knowing to belong to just a mere animal.

“I think I’d better rescue Mr Fluffy before he is eating,” Master Revels continued.  He snapped his fingers and there was a flash of light.  Slither reared back, hissing angrily, just before the rabbit burst out of his mouth and onto the table.  The crowd cheered, some with relief.  The rabbit peered at them all disdainfully and jumped back into the hat.  “And he’s gone.  I guess he doesn't like being eaten.”

He lowered his voice, aiming it towards the youngest children in the room.  “It’s a jungle in there,” he said.  Slither, in the meantime, had sighted the hamster and reared up, clearly intending to have the small rodent for dinner instead.  Master Revels stood up, reached into the hamster cage and rescued the cowering creature.  “Shall we teach Slither a lesson, children?”

There was a general shout of approval.  “All right,” Master Revels said.  He placed the hamster down on the stage and waved to the snake.  Slither turned and started to advance towards the hamster, just before Master Revels clicked his fingers.  The hamster suddenly grew until it was the size of a large dog.  Hamsters are cute and cuddly when they’re small, but when they’re large they look alarming.  Those teeth are very sharp.  The hamster started to advance on the snake, which turned and headed back to the top hat, rearing up and throwing itself into the hat.  The hamster followed and, a moment later, the hat started to shake as if the two were fighting.  To the astonishment of the crowd, Master Revels picked up the hat and put it back on his head as if he didn't have a care in the world.

The next few tricks were simpler, but the crowd ate them up and bayed for me.  He used magic to read minds and predict the future.  He used his wand to send me flying through the air with the greatest of ease.  He created vast illusions to order, allowing the younger members of the audience to choose the illusions, just to show them that it was no trick.  One audience member even wanted an image of a naked girl, so Master Revels created it – with her private parts neatly covered with black CENSORED signs.  The audience nearly wet themselves laughing.

I was starting to understand the subtle magic he was weaving at the same time.  The crowd were seeing real magic, yet his magic was convincing them that there was a mundane explanation, no matter how far-fetched.  A small boy stood up while I was flying and proclaimed that it was all done with wires.  His mother pulled him down, but not quickly enough to save him from the laughter of the crowd.  They all believed him and yet they didn't believe.

“So,” Master Revels said, finally.  “For my second to last trick...I need a volunteer.”  He looked over at the boy who had shouted out.  “How would you like to be sawn in half?”

“You bet,” the boy said, scrambling to his feet.  “It’s a trick and I will expose you as soon as I see it.”

I took the boy’s hand as he climbed onto the stage.  He was about twelve years old, although I guessed that he hadn't been through puberty yet as he paid no attention to my costume.  He was slightly overweight, with big glasses and a spotty face.  I guessed that he was picked on at school, probably for being able to count to eleven without having to take off his shoes.  His hand felt greasy and sweaty to the touch and I realised that, despite his brave appearance, the boy was a little nervous.

“If you will climb into the box, my dear George,” Master Revels said cheerfully, “we can start sawing you in half.”

The box itself looked rather like a coffin, although it was covered in stars and magical symbols.  The boy looked surprised at how Master Revels had known his name, although he looked down at the badge he was wearing and relaxed.  I held his hand as the lid came down, for it was clear that he was growing more than a little nervous.  It had been obvious, the moment he opened the box, that there was no hidden compartment, nor was there room for him to pull up his legs.

“As you can see,” Master Revels continued, “this is a real saw.  I normally use it for cutting down trees.  Tonight, we are going to use it to cut a boy in half!”

There was a roar of applause as he started to saw into the box.  It looked impressive, even though I knew the trick.  The saw went through into the open area – George held my hand tightly as it seemed to go through his body – and then down through the bottom end.  Master Revels opened the box and George fell out, seemingly intact.

“I told you it was a trick,” George thundered.  He jumped in the air with delight.  “I didn't feel a thing and...”

The crowd burst out laughing.  George hadn't realised it, but every time he jumped into the air, his torso literally parted in two.  He had been cut in half.  The only thing keeping him alive was Master Revels and his magic.  George didn't realise it at all and kept jumping in the air, utterly unable to understand why everyone was laughing at him.  He kept screaming that it was a trick and every time he jumped, he put the lie to his own words.

“Look down,” Master Revels suggested.  George did and saw the cut.  Before he could scream, Master Revels tapped him on the head and nodded to me.  “My lovely assistant will heal him with a kiss!”

I leaned down and kissed George on the forehead, cancelling the spell that had cut him in two.  George, much to his relief, was allowed to go back into the audience, no longer parted at the middle.  I had to keep the laughter off my own face.  It was so absurd.  The audience loved it.

“And now, the final trick,” Master Revels concluded.  “I will make my own assistant disappear from this box!”

As before, he invited a couple of people from the audience to inspect the box.  One of them was a teenage boy more interested in staring at me than at the box, but the other was an older man who tapped away at it before finally concluding that there was no way out.  Master Revels waved to me and I stepped inside a box no larger than the Doctor’s TARDIS, at least on the outside.  There was a feeling of disorientation and I found myself stepping out of the box’s twin, backstage.

“She’s gone,” Master Revels declared, in mock horror.  His voice became remarkably melodramatic.  “She’s gone and she’s stealing all my money!”

I smiled as the audience’s roar grew louder and the curtain started to come down.  Master Revels had explained that there would be two or three curtain calls, but I wouldn't have to be there for any of them.  I found a seat and sat down, suddenly feeling inhumanly tired.  I had never wanted a life on the stage.

“Well, hello,” a voice said, from behind me.  I jumped up and spun around.  “The Black Rod has found himself a new assistant.”

The figure was, at first, hidden in the gloom.  As she stepped forward, I felt my eyes widening in disbelief.  Even at the Fringe, she was unusual.  She was tall, with long dark hair and eyes so dark that they sent a chill down my spine.  She wore a long white dress, cut in a Grecian style that seemed almost to be a part of her.  Her skin was inhumanly pale.

“You may call me Circe,” she said.  I was frozen, unable to move, as she advanced towards me.  One long finger reached out and touched me on the forehead.  Her touch was cold, as if her fingers were made of ice.  “Woman to frog.”

Chapter Four

Before I could react, I felt a hammer blow at the back of my neck.  My vision seemed to twist and fade, even as my entire body shifted.  I felt, just for a second, as if I was melting and falling...and then my sense of perspective changed.  The backroom seemed suddenly so much larger.  The woman – Circe, she had called herself – was a walking giant.  I could see right up her dress.  It would have been hilarious under other circumstances, yet I had no idea what had happened to me.  Something warm and soft landed on my head and I jumped.  I jumped halfway across the room.

I caught sight of myself in a mirror and recoiled in horror.  I was a frog!  Or maybe I was a toad; I didn't know the difference between the two.  I was small, green and warty, with eerie eyes.  I opened my mouth, intending to scream, but all that came out was a frog-like noise.  My ears seemed to have changed as well – I could suddenly hear so much better than before – yet everything sounded odd in the room.  I had an overwhelming urge to seek fresh water an swim away from the terrifying surroundings...

Sheer panic brought me back to myself.  One of the books I had glanced at while sorting out the piles of books had talked about animal transformations.  The thinking mind might remain the same, even if a person had been transformed into a worm or a slug, but the unthinking mind would change along with the body.  A transfigured person might lose themselves and end up becoming whatever they’d been transformed into in truth.  If I failed to keep hold of myself, I realised, I might end up falling into the frog’s mind and dying.  All that would be left would be a frog that couldn't remember being a woman.

I hopped across the room back towards Circe, who laughed at me as I came closer.  If there was one consolation to being a frog, it was that the frog was far more athletic than I had ever been in my entire life.  One jump took me halfway across the room.  Circe’s laughter grew darker and she held up a hand, somehow effortlessly deflecting me and sending me spinning across the room.  Somehow, the shock helped me to focus my mind, rather than pushing my mind to collapse into the frog and vanish.  It dawned on me that I could still hear cheers from the stage and that Master Revels was still working the crowd.  I could go ask him for help, yet...would he recognise me as a frog?  Circe had vanished somehow, leaving me alone.  Would he realise that I was his apprentice or would he think I was just a pest who had somehow gotten into the building.  Edinburgh was infested with wild creatures that somehow eked out an existence in the shadow of man.  Only three weeks ago, I’d seen a fox sniffing through a litter bin...

My thoughts were treacherous.  Every time I accepted – or came close to accepting – that I was a frog, I took one more step towards becoming a frog permanently.  I tried to concentrate on being human, yet it was hard.  There was no sense that I was crippled, or even in the wrong body.  I imagined that men and women who wanted to change sex felt crippled in their original bodies, but the frog’s body felt natural and right.  I hopped again, hoping to catch sight of Circe, but she had vanished.  I wondered if I should follow her out onto the streets – if she had gone out onto the streets – before realising that no one in the mundane world would know that I was human.  I’d probably end up getting eaten by a cat or squashed by a bus.

An overwhelming feeling of despair washed over me.  I couldn't escape; I might as well seek out a pond and spend the rest of my days croaking on a lily pad.  Sheer anger blew the despair away – how could someone do that to me – yet it seemed impossible to focus on returning to human form.  I had no idea how to cast a counter-spell or even how to attract Master Revels backstage so he could help me.  I wished that Fiona was there, someone who could bridge the gap between animal and human, or...

I stopped, thinking hard.  I hadn't paid close attention to the book on animal transformations, but it had talked about mirrors reflecting the true state of the soul.  I hopped across the room – the body still felt natural, damn it – and towards the mirrors Master Revels had left there from one of his earlier acts.  Or maybe they weren't his.  I didn't know and didn't care.  All I cared about was looking in them and seeing whatever I saw.  I saw a small green frog, staring nervously into the mirror, and felt the despair washing up again.  I was trapped.

Or was I?  The magical world is never in plain sight.  Master Revels had been clear on that point.  A person without any magical talent – a mundane, in other words – would never be able to see magic properly, even if it was right in front of him.  His mind would explain it away as a trick, just as George had done back on stage, or his eyes would simply miss it completely.  I looked back into the mirror and saw the frog looking back at me...and something snapped inside my mind.  I closed my eyes, feeling anger washing over me, and concentrated on my human form.  I was human, I told myself, time and time again; I was human.  

I opened my eyes.  I was staring into a misty image of a naked human female.  The image grew sharper and clearer until I saw my own face looking back at me.  I recoiled in astonishment and fell over backwards, landing on my bare bottom.  I was naked, but I was human again.  Cool rationality asserted itself and I realised that when I’d been transformed for the first time, my clothes, designed for a human, would have simply fallen off.  I yelped in delight and astonishment.  I had broken the curse!

“I didn't realise that you hated your outfit that much,” Master Revels said, from behind me.  I yelped again and brought up my hands to cover my private parts.  He looked away politely and flicked his cane, sending my clothes flying through the air towards me.  I picked them up and slowly put them on.  “I wondered what had happened to you.”

I started to shake, now that it was over.  “She turned me into a frog,” I said, between gasps.  I had never panicked before, yet now I was on the verge of breaking down.  “I was a frog!”

Master Revels gave me a vague look.  “I see,” he said, calmly.  I got the feeling that very little would ever bother him.  I later learned that he had faced down a thousand devils and demons and after that mundane human problems could hardly bother him.  “Who transformed you into a frog?”

“She said she was called Circe,” I said, and blurted out the rest of the explanation.  Master Revels listened politely, showing few signs of interest.  I was starting to wonder if such transformations were more common than they seemed.  How many people went missing every year, dropping out of the mundane world and vanishing completely?  “Who is she?”

“She claims to be the goddess herself,” Master Revels said, dispassionately.  “If you believe her story, long ago she was confined on an island and allowed to prey on any settlers who landed on her territory.  The Gods themselves had confined her because she was too dangerous for them to tolerate.  Every time someone landed on the island, they would be wined and dined by her, before she turned them into an animal and added them to her flock of pets.  Eventually, she was able to escape the island and start wandering through the magical world.”

I remembered watching a TV show about her now.  “She turned...I can’t remember his name, but he was played by Homer Simpson...she turned his men into pigs and he ate them all before she could stop him.”

Master Revels snorted.  “The original version of the story has her turning a sailor’s crew into pigs, but their leader – Odysseus  - was aided by one of the Greek Gods, who gave him advice that allowed him to beat her and convince Circe to join his side,” he said.  “I don’t think he ate his crewmen, seeing as they were able to leave the island safely once her power was broken.”

“Oh,” I said.  I wasn't about to admit that I’d had very little time to read about the Greek Gods.  “And now she walks the world turning people into frogs.”

“Among other things,” Master Revels said.  He picked up his hat and turned to the door.  “We’d better start heading home.  Fiona will be worried.”

“Wait,” I said.  “Tell me...is there nothing that can be done about her?”

Master Revels looked back at me.  “What do you mean?”

“The next person she targets might not be able to break the spell,” I insisted, as I stood up.  It felt colder now, somehow, although that might have been just because I had been naked for a while.  I didn't appear to have suffered any permanent damage, but I resolved to wait and see if I felt an impulse to start grabbing at flies with my tongue.  “Can’t we stop her?”

“Think about it,” Master Revels said.  “She may or may not be a goddess, but she is extremely powerful.  Who would want to get on her bad side by trying to curb her activities?”

I closed my eyes.  “Besides,” he added, “normally she goes after people who thoroughly deserve it.  She gains some of her power that way.  You were just the exception that proves the rule.”

He opened the door and swept out, inviting me to follow.  I hesitated, still shaking inwardly, before I somehow managed to start walking through the door and out into the streets.  Darkness had fallen, but the city was still illuminated by both magical and mundane lighting, casting an eerie sheen over the buildings.  I looked up towards the castle and blinked in surprise; if anything, the magical haze surrounding it, utterly invisible to most of the city’s residents, had grown brighter.

“Come on,” Master Revels said, firmly.  He strode away, back towards his house, not looking back to see if I was following him.  I shook my head and walked after him, feeling the cool air blowing against my exposed midriff and legs.  I was aware of glances, of men looking at me, yet somehow it was easy to ignore them.  Being turned into a frog, if only for a few minutes, had put the world in perspective.

As I walked, I became even more aware of how many people cast long shadows into the magical world.  They seemed to be out in force now that the sun had set, from a man I was convinced was a vampire to a very strange man with long legs and a tiny body.  He looked like a daddy-long-legs given human form, I decided, after reminding myself that it was rude to stare.  A stream of ghosts walked down past the castle, following a ghostly tour group that was showing foreigners around Edinburgh.  I wondered if any of the tourists could see the real ghosts before deciding that it was unlikely.  They would have run all the way down the Royal Mile if they could see the headless woman pulling faces at them.  I was so distracted that I didn't notice the more mundane danger behind me until a hand fell on my shoulder.

I recognised them instantly.  They were the drunken men from the stage show, now even drunker and clearly intent on some action.  One of them pawed at me and I slapped him away, but another was trying to grab hold of me somewhere delicate.  I reached inside me for the magic and pushed it at them, trying to push them away, yet it was unfocused and unprepared.  They blinked, but clearly dismissed it as the wind.

“Now,” one of the drunkards said.  His breath smelt of alcohol, yet he seemed to be marginally less drunk than his companions.  “You’re going to dance for us and then...”

He broke off.  I saw his skin melt and jumped back sharply, wondering if I’d somehow killed him – killed them all – with magic.  He opened his mouth to scream, but his body melted away before any sound could come out, leaving him falling forward onto all fours.  His clothes tore and fell off his body, falling to the ground, revealing a man transforming into a pig.  I looked up, already sure of what I would see.  Circe was standing there, lowering her arms to her side.  Just by smiling, she made me feel frumpy and ugly.  All of the drunkards were becoming pigs.

I found my voice.  “Why?”

“They were pigs inside,” Circe said.  Now I knew more about her, I could hear an eerie timeless note in her voice.  Her shadow didn't seem to correspond to her human form.  “And now their outside matches their inside.”

She clicked her fingers and the pigs trouped up behind her.  I wondered if they knew what had happened to them, or if they intended to try to fight.  It seemed otherwise; they lined themselves up like good little pigs, waiting to walk away with their new mistress.  Circe bowed to me, waved her hand and turned and walked away, leaving me staring after her in disbelief.  It was a miracle that none of the mundane humans could see her or what she’d just done to the would-be muggers.  How could they not see her?

“Give my regards to your Master,” Circe called, and walked off into the shadows.  They came alive and swallowed her and the pigs up, leaving me alone.  I turned and fled, running blindly through the streets back towards where Master Revels and Fiona were waiting for me.  As I ran, heads turned and eyes followed me, but no one reached out to bar my way.  I ran into the house and closed the door behind me, still shaking.  How many people survived two encounters with Circe in one day?

I caught at Master Revels as he peered down at me.  “Teach me how to fight,” I said.  “I need to know.”

“Yes,” Master Revels agreed.  “You certainly do.”

***
After the encounter with Circe, my training took on a more focused nature, although Master Revels insisted on grounding me in all forms of magic.  I learned how to cast small spells that used tiny amount of magic, although the more powerful spells remained beyond me for the moment.  Master Revels explained that all new magicians were poor at casting powerful spells at first, although the more talented could sometimes cast them in times of desperate need.  I needed to work on development my reserves and using them to power my magic.  It was like a muscle, Fiona added; the more I used it, the more I could do with it.

As the days passed, I also learned how to study and use a spellbook safely.  Master Revels, after reminding me about what happened when I had used a spell without checking it first, helped me to learn how to work out what was missing and how to fill it in without accidentally causing a disaster, or killing myself.  Magic tended to work by natural selection, he warned; stupid magicians rarely remained alive very long.  I was taught to always ward myself against anything getting out of control, just to limit how badly I could be hurt by an accident or my own stupidity.

“Respect magic or you will end up burned,” Master Revels said, at the end of every session.  I nodded in understanding.  I’d been studying some of the more complex charms and all of them had at least some danger for the unwary user.  A charm to gain the seeming of another person – one that would be far more convincing than a simple glamour – could become permanent if due care was not observed.

Fiona had her own pithy comment.  “It is like playing with fire,” the dragon observed, “except you can get burned before you light the match.”

A month after I started studying in earnest, Master Revels led me through the corridors and down into a small room.  It looked alarmingly like a cell, although there were no chains or barred windows.  Light seemed to flicker out of nowhere, casting eerie shadows over the stone walls.  There was, naturally, a big wooden door blocking all escape.

“All you have to do,” Master Revels said, “is escape from this room and get out of here before lunchtime.”

Without further ado, he pushed me into the chamber and locked the door behind me.  I looked around, but I didn't see anything to worry about, apart from the fact the light was failing.  I muttered a spell under my breath and generated a globe of light that lit up the entire room.  A moment later, it started failing too.  I reached out, opening my senses in the manner I’d been taught, and realised that the walls were literally sucking all of the magic out of the air.  They might not be able to drain me, yet...I cast every spell I could think of, only to see them all fade away.  Desperately, I looked down at the door.  It had remained resolutely solid...

“Oh,” I said, in dawning realisation.  The lock was exposed and I could pick it!  I pulled a pen from my pocket and used it to twist the knob, finally opening the bolt and allowing me to leave the room.  Laughing, I ran back up the stairs and into the dining room.  “I made it!”

“The moral of that story,” Master Revels observed, “is that magic isn't the answer to everything.”

He chuckled as he waved a hand and my plate filled up with bacon and eggs.  “Eat up,” he urged.  “I thought you would like to go on a trip this afternoon.”

Chapter Five

When I’d been a student, I had practically haunted the West Port and the bookshops hidden away there.  They brought back images of a bygone age, before the internet and massive chains of bookstores had taken their trade away.  I loved them dearly, for they were cheap, comprehensive and their owners actually knew something about books.  And now, not entirely to my surprise, they were glowing with magical light.  I wanted to go look into them and see what new wonders had been revealed, but Master Revels was keen to walk onwards towards the Grassmarket.  Reluctantly, I followed.

The Grassmarket is set within a hollow and is actually lower than most of the surrounding area of Edinburgh.  Once, long ago, it was a market in truth, but now the modern world has passed it by.  There are a handful of shops and cafes that had spilled out onto the pavement, yet most of the area’s charm is long gone.  I watched as the tourists stared up towards the castle – which dominated the skyline – and took hundreds of photographs.  I wondered if any of them saw the magical field surrounding the castle.  Even in daytime, I could see the haze glowing against the sun.

“So,” Master Revels said.  He touched my cheek, gently, but firmly pointing me down towards the bridge at the end.  “What do you see?”

I scowled, realising that it was another test.  The Grassmarket didn't look very busy, apart from the tourists and a single piper droning away, massacring The Flower of Scotland.  I looked from one end to the other and then realised that I was wasting my time.  I should be looking beyond.  It was hard to focus with the piper blaring away in the background, but somehow I managed to peer into the magical world.  A moment later, the market opened up before us.

“My god,” I said, in awe.  I’d seen how magic could be used to fit an entire castle into a small house before, but this was fantastic.  “This is the real market?”

Master Revels nodded.  “We stand here between the worlds,” he said, seriously.  He gave my hand a squeeze as I stumbled back against him.  “Many of the other worlds have points that intersect this location in space and time.  This is neutral ground.  No one, not even the most powerful and dangerous of the Great Powers, would dare to pick a fight here.  The market itself would rise up against them.”

He took my hand and led me into the market.  There were stalls and people everywhere.  Here, where the mundane world couldn't see them, most of them had dropped their glamour-spells and walked uncovered, allowing everyone with the right eyes to see them.  I saw goblins, elves, fairies and a strange creature that looked like an eyeball floating without any visible means of support.  Even more surprising, when I had finished staring at the creature, was the small goblin lady walking beside it, as if they were a married pair.  A massive humanoid wolf walked past them and I lost sight of the odd couple in the crowd.  I looked up as a shadow fell over the market, only to see a dragon flying overhead.  Fiona was tiny, but this one was larger than a train.  Its bright red eyes glazed down on the humans and humanoids below as if it were considering dinner.  Master Revels seemed unconcerned by the possibility and so I tried to force myself to ignore it.  It wasn't easy.

I saw, standing in a private circle, a couple dancing to the beat of an inaudible tune.  The man was the darkest man I had ever seen, wearing a white suit and a dignified expression that seemed to contrast oddly with the joy of his partner.  The woman was as pale as a ghost, with a long dark dress and very dark hair.  Her face was suffused with joy.  They were dancing together, completely unaware of the outside world.  I felt a twinge of envy.  They were happy in their own way.

“No one knows who they are,” Master Revels said, when I asked.  He looked oddly pensive at the thought.  “They have been dancing for far longer than I have been alive.  The magic around them won’t let anyone interfere with the revels.”

He shrugged, dispassionately.  “There are three basic rules to remember here,” he added, as we reached another strange statue.  It was of an angel, with stone wings and a sad expression, from what little of it I could see.  The angel’s hands were permanently covering its face.  “Be extremely polite to everyone you meet here, don’t steal anything and don’t start any fights.”  He smiled as he passed me a pouch of gold.  “If you want to buy something, you can – but make sure you bargain first.”

I looked up at him, surprised.  “You’re not going to stay with me?”

“I have other business to see to,” Master Revels explained.  “Don’t worry; remember the rules and you will be safe here.  This is neutral ground.”

He turned and walked off towards the castle, leaving me standing on my own.  I was tempted to follow him, but I had to admit that the idea of an afternoon spent exploring the market was rather more tempting.  Besides, it had been months since I’d had any money to spend on myself and I wanted to enjoy it.  It was impossible to tell just how large the market actually was, yet I was sure I’d find something I wanted.  I grinned to myself and started to explore, heading towards the animal sounds in the distance.  I just hoped that I wouldn't bump into Circe again.

There were thousands of animals in a number of stalls, ranging from common pets to more exotic creatures, some of which I only vaguely recognised.  One store was selling gnomes, basilisks and even a handful of talking animals, which had apparently travelled to our world to escape some great catastrophe in their own world.  An oversized mouse caught sight of me and started to explain that they’d been enslaved and needed to buy themselves free.  I was horrified, but what could I do?  The storeowner was demanding a vast sum of money for even one talking mouse.

“I’m sorry,” I said, and walked on to the next section.  At first sight, it was a butcher’s market, but they were offering eye of newt and tongue of frog, along with hundreds of other ingredients I recognised were needed for spells of one kind or another.  One sealed jar claimed to contain Gorgon eyes, harvested at great personal risk.  A young buyer opened the jar without goggles and was instantly turned to stone.  I recoiled, turned my back and walked away.  There was nothing I could do for him.

The book stalls seemed more promising at first, although it didn't take long to realise that they weren't selling anything I hadn't already seen in the library back home.  Most of the books were fairly basic spellbooks, copied out by hand; anything really interesting or unique would probably be offered privately to the people with the money or power to pay for it.  I picked one of the rarer books up and examined it, but shook my head when I saw the price.  I had nowhere near that much money.

A hand caught at my dress, catching my attention.  “Can I have some of your blood, lady?”

I stared down in astonishment and horror.  The speaker was a young boy – he couldn't be more than seven years old – with fangs growing out of his mouth.  His pale skin and red eyes told the full story.  Somehow, he’d been bitten by a vampire and survived the experience, making the transition from human to vampire without problems.  I had no idea why he was begging at first and then I remembered what Master Revels had said.  The market was neutral ground and no one, not even a starving vampire, would willingly take the risk of breaking that truce.  And if he was a vampire, no matter how old he looked, it was a fair bet that he was a great deal older.

“No,” I said, firmly.  The vampire gazed up into my eyes and I felt my resolve starting to weaken.  One of the books I had read had talked about vampires.  A vampire had considerable powers to influence a human mind, even if the vampire in question hadn't drawn on the person’s blood.  Once they had sucked some of their blood, the person would become a slave, to all intents and purposes.  I shook my head angrily, pushing away the compulsion that threatened to overwhelm my mind.  “No!”

The vampire turned and walked off.  I resisted the urge to stick a stake through its back and walked in the other direction, heading towards the sound of a man calling out for bids.  There was a large tent, marked with a sign promising auctions today, so I entered.  I saw, to my horror, a family standing on the stage, wearing nothing apart from iron collars around their necks.  Their eyes were bleak and hopeless.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen,” the barker was saying, “we have a family enslaved for a lucky winner!  One man, a proven hard worker; one woman, a proven cook; one son, a promising worker in the future...and last, but not least, a daughter with many promising charms, if you know what I mean!”  There was a roar of laughter from the crowd.  I looked up at the daughter – she couldn't have been much younger than me – and stared in dismay.  The iron collar around her neck kept her rooted to the spot and would force her to obey orders, whatever the orders were.  I felt sick.  Whatever they had done, if they had done anything to deserve punishment, they didn't deserve to be enslaved.

I turned and fled out of the tent as the bids started to rise higher and higher.  I wondered if I should try to bid myself, just so I could free them, but I doubted I had anything like enough money to bid on even one of them.  Master Revels might have the sort of money needed to buy slaves, yet I had no idea where to find him.  I tried to push the image of the girl’s helpless face out of my mind and walked over to one of the eateries.  I needed something to eat, if only to take my mind off the slaves.  The cook – a humanoid creature with six arms and four legs – waved at me.  I wandered over to the counter and sat down, examining the menu.  There was very little that was familiar, so I found myself ordering a burger and chips.  It was in front of me almost before I sat down at the table, a great steaming burger and a massive pile of chips.  It tasted far better than anything I’d had in the mundane world.

“Hi,” a voice said.  I didn't look up from my burger.  I hadn't realised how hungry I was until I’d taken the first bite.  “Can I join you?”

I looked up in some surprise.  There were only a handful of customers in the store and there were plenty of other seats.  The man in front of me was...I stared.  He was tall, and patrician, with long blond hair and very fine cheekbones.  I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was something about him that was overwhelmingly sexy.  I swallowed hard.  Whatever it was, however he did it, I wanted to roll over and spread my legs for him.  And he knew it.  I could have drowned in those eyes forever.  If there was such a thing as love at first sight, this was it; no, maybe not love, but certainly lust at first sight.  I had never felt such feelings before...

And they might not be natural.

“Of course,” I said, swallowing again.  “What is your...ah, what would you like to be called?”

“It always gets the newcomers that way,” the man said, as he sat down in front of me and helped himself to a chip.  I couldn't find the urge to argue.  “You may call me Cardonel.”

I frowned as I took another bite of my burger.  It helped to keep my mind off him and his body and the two of us...I pushed that thought aside, angrily.  If he was using magic to manipulate me, I wasn't going to fall for it.  Besides, he was too handsome to be true; the more I looked at him, the more I was sure that he was covered by a glamour-spell of some kind.  There was something about his ears that didn't seem quite right.

“You may call me Dizzy,” I said, slowly.  The lust wasn't diminishing even though I was sure that it was a spell.  If anything, it was growing stronger.  His smile – oh god, those cheekbones – was overpowering.  “I...”

“You’re the one who escaped one of her spells,” Cardonel said, flatly.  His smile seemed to grow more powerful as I finished my burger and gave serious thought to ordering another one.  “Do you think that that would go unnoticed?”

“Circe?”  I asked, surprised.  Who was this man...if he was a man?  Maybe what was he would be a better question.  “It wasn't exactly easy.”

Cardonel’s eyes widened.  “There are very few human magicians who could have broken one of her curses,” he said.  “And you’re not even afraid to say her name!”

He leaned forward.  “Do you have any idea just how...interesting that makes you?”

I caught myself before I could lean forward and kiss his lips.  His voice just sent shivers of lust down my spine.  I was certain now that I was being manipulated, yet that didn't make resisting it any easier.  And if he was scared to say her name out loud...if she was who she claimed to be, she would be able to hear her name spoken, wherever she was.  Someone so powerful had to daunt the entire magical community.

“And your Master is one of the most famous magicians in the world,” Cardonel continued.  “You’re going to be something remarkable if you don't kill yourself first.  You’re going to be something really special.”

He was still leaning forward until I leaned back, angrily.  Whatever I was feeling, whatever the cause of it, I wasn't going to allow those feelings to push me into doing something that I would regret.  I still wanted to start panting for him, or worse, yet now I understood it better I could control it.  Or so I told myself.

“But you need to ask yourself a question,” Cardonel said, apparently unbothered by my unspoken refusal to get hot and sweaty with him.  “What is your master, really?”

I looked up, sharply.  “Why are you talking to me?”

“Let's just say that I have your best interests at heart,” Cardonel said, sincerely.  At least he sounded sincere, but I had to remind myself that he could be using a glamour-spell to project whatever feelings he wanted to project into the air.  “You’re a newcomer to a very dangerous world, one with more potential than actual training.  You have to understand just where you stand.”

“Oh,” I said.  My head was a mess.  I wanted to leave, now, yet something kept me in my seat.  It might have been a spell of some kind, or it might just have been my curiosity.   Even if I couldn’t trust Cardonel any further than I could throw him, I wanted to hear what he had to say.  Or perhaps he was making me want to hear what he had to say.  “And where, may I ask, do I stand?”

“In the middle,” Cardonel said.  He looked down at me.  “You need to ask your master just what he is and where he stands.  It won’t be long before everyone has to choose a side.  I hope you choose wisely.”

“Thank you,” I said, sourly.  “And what are you going to do now?”

He leaned forward, so close that his lips were almost brushing mine.  “We could go out together,” he whispered.  His voice was touching off all the glands in my body.  I knew he was bad news and yet I couldn't help a sudden surge of arousal.  “I could show you strange pleasures and wonders that you would never find for yourself.  We could have an evening to remember and then do it all again, and again, and again.”

“Doubtless,” a new voice said.  “However, Dizzy has her own obligations at the moment.”

I looked up, breaking free of the near-kiss.  Master Revels was standing there, leaning on his cane.  His eyes were very cold as they stared at Cardonel, who flinched before he could help himself.  I realised that Cardonel had been right, at least to some extent.  I was caught in the middle.

“I suggest that you find someone else to bother,” Master Revels said, calmly.  “Dizzy and I have other work to do.”

Cardonel bowed and pressed my hand, just for a moment.  “I will see you for our date,” he said, and headed off into the market.  He turned when he was at a safe distance and waved.  “Somewhere nice and new for us both, I think.”

Master Revels watched him stride away.  “You should know better than to talk to strangers, even in the mundane world,” he said.  “Here...it can be very dangerous.”

I stared at him.  There was something in his expression that I didn't like.  “Why...?”

“Your new friend isn't human,” Master Revels said.  “Well...not completely human.  Didn't you see the ears?  Your friend is a half-elf.  They’re dangerous.”

He shrugged and turned back to me.  “Come on,” he said, before I could ask any more questions.  “We have a job to do.”

With that, he led the way out of the market and I followed him.

Chapter Six

“So,” I said, as we returned to the mundane world.  “What is a half-elf when it is at home?”

Master Revels ignored my question.  As soon as the market faded away into whatever pocket dimension it occupied, he started to walk towards the Mound as fast as he could.  I followed him like a lost sheep, wondering just what had gotten into his head.  We were crossing the Royal Mile by the time he slowed down and started to walk towards the New Town.  I was somehow unsurprised to realised that the glow of magic was dimmer towards the newer regions of Edinburgh, while the Old Town glowed brightly even in daylight.

“All right,” I said, as we reached Princes Street.  “Why didn't you like me talking to that man?”

“He isn't a man,” Master Revels answered.  “He’s a half-elf.  You cannot – ever – trust an elf.”

I frowned, puzzled.  Now I was away from his presence, my thoughts were a confused jumble.  I had felt attracted to him, yet...there had been a real person under that glamour, one that had been impressed with me and had tried to warn me about my teacher.  How much of that, I asked myself, had been the glamour-spell surrounding him?  There was no way to know.  Glamour-spells were subtle magic, so subtle that plenty of people in the mundane world had some ability to use them, without knowing what they were doing.

He turned to face me.  “Listen to me,” he said, sharply.  “Elves are dangerous.  They’re a society so different from ours that the only reason we imagine that we have things in common is because of the fact they look humanoid.  They do things that make no sense to us because their culture is so different from ours.  You cannot trust one to act with anything you consider a sense of morality.  And they are composed of raw magic, not flesh and blood.  You cannot trust them, ever!”

“So you keep saying,” I said, slowly.  It sounded racist to me, yet...I knew almost nothing about the elves.  “If they’re that bad, where do half-elves come from?”

Master Revels snorted.  “I hope I don’t have to tell you about the birds and the bees,” he said, dryly.  I flushed and he laughed.  “Somewhere in the past, an elf thought it would be funny to seduce a human maiden and get her pregnant.  There was probably pain or trickery involved, because elves think that that is hilarious.  Perhaps his father posed as the woman’s husband or perhaps he used magic to rape her.  She would have died in childbirth so there is no way to know for sure.”

I stared.  “She would have died?”

“Elves are composed of raw magic,” Master Revels reminded me, patiently.  “A human body isn't built to contain that kind of magic.  Even the most powerful witch in the world couldn't have warded herself to ensure her survival.  The child would be safe because the magic and flesh would have bound themselves together in the womb, but the mother...the mother would wind up dead, leaving a child behind.”

“And the father doesn't take care of the child?”

“The elves would not accept the spawn of any interracial mating,” Master Revels said, flatly.  “Your new friend isn't a pureblood elf and so he would not be accepted by the elves in their homeland.  I guess that he spends most of his time on the fringes of the magical world and rarely has anything to do with pureblood elves.  They’d walk all over him if they knew he existed.”

He snorted.  “When they discover what they are – because the elves don’t try to hide it from their half-breed children – most of them walk completely into the mundane world and abandon their other halves,” he added.  “There’s more magic in humanity’s bloodline than you might expect.  There’s even a school of thought that suggests that humanity’s magicians are descended from half-breeds.  No one knows for sure.”

“And no one takes care of them?”  I asked, astonished.  “Why are they just abandoned?”

“Like I said, most people don’t trust elves,” Master Revels said.  “You cannot trust them, ever.”

“But why can’t you trust them?”  I asked.  I knew that I was pushing it, but I wanted to know why elves were so untrustworthy, even half-elves.  “What is wrong with them?”

Master Revels sighed.  “Have you ever felt the urge to murder someone, or to do something you really shouldn't do?”

“Yes,” I said, puzzled.  A long time ago, I had fought the temptation to push one of my playmates off a wall after we’d been arguing over whose turn it was to have the CD we’d bought by combining our funds.  I couldn't even remember the band’s name now.  “Why...?”

“Elves are creatures of pure impulse,” Master Revels explained.  “If an elf thought that it would be funny to tear you into a thousand bloody chunks he would do it – instantly.  Think about how many times humans have powerful impulses – to kill, to rape, to steal – and multiply it a million times over.  That is an elf and your half-blood friend will have inherited those impulses and the power from his father.  You might go out on a date with him and halfway through he decides that turning you into a statue would be hilarious, or worse.”

“Oh,” I said.  “And is there no way to stop them?”

“If you want to stop them from doing something, you have to make them swear by their names not to do it,” Master Revels said, reluctantly.  I got the feeling that he knew I was considering accepting the offer of a date.  “And you have to be careful.  They’re very good at spotting loopholes and jumping right through them.  Their names are the only thing they regard as sacred.”

I said nothing for the remainder of the walk, thinking hard.  It hadn't really dawned on me that magical creatures would have their own rules and laws.  I’d known people from many different cultural backgrounds in school and I’d had problems understanding them...and they had been human.  We had shared the same biology.  How different might an elf be to a human, or a dragon, or a werewolf, or...who knew how many childish monsters truly existed in the magical world?  There could be everything from ghosts and demons to monsters under the bed.

“Here we are,” Master Revels said, finally.  I looked up in surprise.  We were standing in front of a police station.  I’d only ever been in a police station once and that had been after I had been arrested for underage drinking, along with several of my friends.  There had been no charges, thankfully, but it had still been an alarming experience.  “Just keep your mouth shut and follow me.”

He waved a hand, casting a glamour-spell of his own, and then he pushed the door open, walking right into the station.  I followed him, and then stopped dead.  The police station was populated by ghosts.  I saw a man holding a chainsaw, his hands dripping with blood, leering towards a policewoman at the desk.  There was a girl with Asian features, her hands cuffed in front of her, staring down at the floor as if she were trapped in a nightmare she couldn't escape.  There was an older man who cast a very long and dark shadow.  I shuddered as the ghosts turned to look at me, their cold eyes seeming to dig into my very soul, before I managed to start walking again.  Three policemen nodded to me as they emerged from the rear of the building and headed out onto the streets, one of them followed by four ghosts who seemed to be constantly attacking him.  I didn't want to know what that meant.

“Detective-Inspector John Smith,” Master Revels was saying, as I came up behind him.  “This is my assistant, Penelope Creighton-Ward.  I believe that you have a set of files reserved for us?”

The policewoman didn't look surprised by the request.  Perhaps she’d seen it all before, or perhaps it was the fact that she was clearly tired and nearing the end of her shift.  She would have been pretty, were it not for the ghostly scars I could see covering her face.  I looked into her eyes as she glanced up at me and knew part of her story.  Her family had abused her and she’d set out to join the police to ensure that no one else was abused in quite the same manner.

“You’re booked into room seven,” she said, finally.  Her voice was tired and worn.  She sounded as if she were reciting from rote.  “The files will be brought to you.  Do not attempt to take any of them from the station.  You will be searched upon departure.”

I opened my mouth to complain, but Master Revels gave me a sharp look and I shut it again.  Another policeman appeared and led us into the rear of the station, past a long line of holding cells – populated by ghosts, as far as I could tell – and into a small office.  I took the seat he pointed to and watched as he left, clearly heading off to pick up the files.  Master Revels touched his lips and I stayed quiet, waiting impatiently for the moment when I could speak again.  Finally, after the files had been delivered and placed on the table, Master Revels cast another spell into the air and smiled at me.

“What did you think of the ghosts?”

I shuddered.  “How many ghosts are there in this place?”

“I have no idea,” Master Revels said.  “Some ghosts are little more than psychic imprints on the surrounding area, created when a person is stressed or terrified or dying.  Others are the remains of a mortal soul, trapped on the earthly plain.  No one knows why.”

He shifted into lecture mode as he opened the files.  “Some believe that the ghosts have business left on Earth and refuse to leave until it is done,” he said.  “I saw a wife’s ghost remaining with her husband until he died a few years later and then they both vanished.  Others think that the ghosts are terrified of what they will meet in the world beyond and choose to cling to our world rather than face the unknown country. Pick whichever theory you like.”

I shrugged.  “All right,” I said.  “Why are we here?”

Master Revels passed me one of the files.  I opened it and read through it quickly, struggling to decipher the jargon and legalese that seemed to take up more pages than were strictly necessary.  It seemed that Jenny Dover, the twelve-year-old child of Mark and Rose Dover, had vanished two weeks ago after a field trip to the National Art Museum.  She had had a happy life, according to her friends and family, and there had been no reason for her to run off and hide.  There had been no abuse, no fights with her family or friends, no bullies at school...it looked as if Jenny had had pretty much the perfect life.  That suggested that someone had abducted her, perhaps with very dark intentions, but the police had been unable to turn up any leads.  I assumed that they’d already searched the houses of every known paedophile in the vicinity.  A photo fell out of the file and I picked it up, scowling.  Jenny was blonde, with an enchanting smile; a girl right on the edge of blossoming into womanhood.  She looked innocent and harmless.

“Summarise it for me,” Master Revels ordered.  I did as he asked, condensing the entire file into two lines.  “You may be amused to discover that all of these files hold a similar story.”

I picked up the next file and skimmed through it.  Aisha Patel had vanished a week before Jenny, after another trip to the museum.  She was eleven, with the same sense of childlike innocence on the verge of bursting into flower.  There were fourteen other girls, with ages ranging from ten to fifteen, who had vanished...after taking a trip to the museum.  They had little else in common.  Five of them attended schools with one of the other vanished children, seven of them came from Christian families, three came from Muslim families, one came from a Jewish family...the only things they had in common was that they were all female and had all gone to the museum nearly a week before they vanished.  I had some difficulty imagining a paedophile being interested in both sexes, which might mean that his victims would always be female.  Or perhaps I just wasn't vile enough to comprehend their line of thought.

“I’m sure the police would have noticed that after the third or fourth abduction,” I said, finally.  I had never been too impressed with the police, yet anyone could have noticed that pattern.  “Didn't they think to search the place?”

Master Revels shrugged and passed me another file.  The police had noticed the pattern and requested – and received – warrants to investigate everyone who was even remotely connected to the museum.  They’d searched the place from top to bottom, interrogated everyone who worked there and found nothing.  Nothing relating to the investigation, that was; they’d found several stolen artworks, a missing handbag that had been reported lost in 1967 and discovered that one of the cleaners was supplementing his salary by selling drugs to local teenagers.  They’d thought that they’d found their man until they discovered that he had an airtight alibi for most of the abductions.  And, worst of all, they’d found no trace of the girls.

“I see,” I said, finally.  I felt a shiver running down my spine as I contemplated the girls and their possible fates.  I knew that there were plenty of mundane horrors in the world, yet...this was something worse than a vampire or a werewolf.  “I assume that we’re going to do something about it?”

“You assume correctly,” Master Revels said, dryly.  He finished skimming through the files, allowed me to read through the summaries quickly, and then stood up.  “The police found nothing and there are signs that suggest that magic was somehow involved.  The girls may have blundered into the magical world, but the pattern suggests otherwise; they have almost certainly been abducted.  I think we’d better take a field trip to the museum.”

I looked up, surprised.  “There are people who abduct children from the mundane world?”  I asked.  “Why the hell would they want to do that?”

“You don’t want to know,” Master Revels said, flatly.  I stared at him until he nodded ruefully.  “You can use humans as sacrificial offerings; the younger the better.  There’s an entire world that is fond of abducting young women as slaves, although normally they prefer to take someone older and sexually mature.  And then the elves have a habit of abducting children and leaving behind a Changeling in the nest.”

He stood up.  “Come on,” he said.  “We’re off on a field trip.”

Leaving the police station, it seemed, was harder than getting into it.  A grim-looking policewoman searched me quickly and efficiently, before pushing me out to wait for Master Revels.  The ghosts seemed to have realised that I could see them and started to cluster around me, leering into my face and dripping translucent blood on my clothes.  I found myself stumbling backwards and I nearly fell over, just before the ghosts fled.  Master Revels had emerged from his inspection, doing up his coat.  I guessed the policeman had taken longer to search him.

He said nothing as we walked back towards the Mound, leaving me to my thoughts.  If the girls had been abducted, how could we help them?  Could we not use magic to find them?  Who would have taken them or why?  I remembered the family of slaves I’d seen in the market and shuddered.  Somehow, the thought of seeing Jenny, or Aisha, or any of the others being sold as slaves was inconceivable.  Who would do such a thing?  I remembered Master Revels and his warnings about elves; surely, even they wouldn't take humans as slaves?

I shook my head.  Humanity’s long history is one of man being inhuman to man.  If humans didn't treat their fellow humans very well, how could we complain if other creatures treated themselves badly?  How could we justify ourselves when we had so much of our own blood on our collective hands?  I was still musing when we finally reached the museum and entered through the side door.  Not entirely to my surprise, parts of the building were glowing with magic.

“It's been a long time since I was here,” Master Revels said, softly.  I nodded.  I hadn't been to the building in ages, ever since I had been a child.  It wasn't a comforting thought.  Had someone looked at me and decided not to abduct me?  “Let’s see what we can find, shall we?”

We wandered through the building without a real plan.  I found myself enjoying it more than I had expected, even though some of the displays were boring.  Eventually, we found ourselves on the top floor, wandering through a very different exhibition.  The Scottish Arts Council had been giving out grants to young and talented artists and the results of their work lay in front of us.  There were a surprising number of visitors, much to my surprise; I thought the artists should have spent a few more years learning their trade.

And then I saw it.

One of the collections was of tiny statues, barely larger than my hand.  Something about them caught my eye and I leaned over, picking one of them up.  It was heavier than I expected and I had to use both hands, yet as I peered down at it something seemed to shimmer away.  The statue had been protected by a glamour-spell and the new face...

I swore.  I was holding Jenny Dover – or the statue she had become – in my hands.

Chapter Seven

“Excuse me,” Master Revels said, as soon as he saw Jenny, “who made this status?”

“That would be...ah, we don't have a name for him,” the assistant said.  “He calls himself Mr Pygmalion, sir.  It’s a stage name.”

“Why am I not surprised?”  Master Revels asked, dryly.  If nothing else, it was proof that a magician was involved somewhere, for I was sure that the institution would have insisted on proper proof of identity if magic wasn't involved.  “How often do you get a new statue?”

The assistant, it seemed, was a groupie when it came to artists, for she was happy to answer all of his questions.  It seemed that the elusive statue-maker only came in when the crowds were all gone, where he would produce a new statue and sometimes take away one of the older statues to be sold.  I felt a chill running down my spine as I realised that some of the girls might already have been sold and were adorning someone’s mantelpiece or garden, with their new owners having no idea that they had once been human.  I looked down at Jenny’s statue and shuddered.  Did she know that she was trapped, or had her mind been lost within the stone?  I wanted to try a restoration spell at once, but Master Revels was still chatting to the assistant.  She seemed to like him and I found myself wondering if he was going to ask for her number afterwards.

I shook my head and turned back to the statues.  There were nine on the table, all surrounded by a protective glamour.  I could guess why.  The police would probably ask a few questions if they discovered statues shaped like the missing girls, although they would probably be unable to imagine the truth.  Just for a moment, I wondered what would happen if the statue maker was to be taken to court.  The law doesn't recognise the existence of magic, so the police would have a hard job proving that he abducted and transformed the girls.  The bastard might walk free.

And some of the statues were already missing.  We were looking for sixteen girls, which meant that seven of them had gone onwards to new owners.  I looked down at Jenny again and silently promised her that we would get her out of it, although I had no idea how we could do that.  A restoration spell might not work properly outside the magical world.

“And he’s due to come in tonight,” Master Revels said.  The assistant nodded.  “Would it be possible for us to meet with him?”

“He doesn't see guests, sir,” the assistant said.  “He only sees some of the staff and...”

“I intend to offer him a long-term contract,” Master Revels said, smoothly.  He held up a card in front of her face.  It was charmed to support his story.  “We feel that his work has considerable promise and that we could offer him funds to continue creating remarkable statues.  They are certainly the most remarkable things in this building and...”

“I can take your number and pass it on to him,” the assistant said, regretfully.  “Or you could wait in the cafe and I can ask him if he would like to speak to you, but I could not allow you to remain here once the building is closed to visitors.”

Master Revels shrugged, passed her a card with his number and beckoned me away from the statues.  I came reluctantly, unwilling to leave Jenny behind, but I had no choice.  He led me into an alcove and pulled a spell around us, making it impossible for anyone to see or hear us, whatever happened.

“I had a look at the spell binding them,” he said, before I could say anything.  “I might be able to break it, but that would mean that the person behind all this would get away, along with the remaining victims.  We need to wait for him.”

I stared at him.  “Can’t we free them now and put illusions in their place?”

“He’s got a ward wrapped around the statues,” Master Revels explained, flatly.  “If the spell breaks, he’ll know about it at once and vanish.  We’d never be able to catch him.  If the girls are still alive in there, we will be able to free them once we catch him and find out where the others have gone. If not...it won’t matter how long we wait.”

“Ok,” I said, reluctantly.  I remembered being a frog and how easy it would have been to lose myself into the frog’s mind.  I guessed that it was even worse as a statue, because there would be no movement and perhaps not even any other senses as well.  “I don’t understand; why did the bastard do that to them?”

“I have no idea,” Master Revels admitted.  He leaned back in the alcove and started to relax, checking his pocket watch thoughtfully.  “Maybe he just wants the power of warping a person, body and soul.  Maybe he thinks the girls need to be preserved rather than allowing them to grow up into adults.  Or maybe he’s just a sick bastard.”

I frowned.  “Could he be an elf?”

“I doubt it,” Master Revels admitted.  “The magic didn't feel as if it had come from an elf.  It felt more human.  No, whoever we’re dealing with is human.  I’d bet good money on it.”

He twiddled his watch and time went funny for a long moment.  I discovered later that it was possible to speed up time in a small area, allowing us to pass through several hours in a handful of minutes.  When he took his hand off his watch, darkness was falling outside and the building was lit up...and nearly deserted.  The tourists, and schoolchildren, and whoever else came to look at old train engines and artworks were gone.  The assistant had closed the doors and let her hair down, literally.  I knew that she couldn't see us watching her, but I still felt ashamed of myself, as if I was spying on her undressing herself.

“Stay here,” Master Revels muttered in my ear.  The sound seemed so loud that I almost jumped.  “We’ll watch and see what happens.”

The door opened, revealing a short fat man with a big smile and a taller figure, wearing a top hat not unlike the one Master Revels wore.  I couldn't make out his face, no matter how much I stared, but the assistant clearly recognised him.  She was definitely a groupie, I decided, just from the way she fawned on him.  It wasn't uncommon, I was told later, for someone who was good at something to be followed by people who recognised genius when they saw it.

“Ah, Polly,” the fat man said.  “I’ll leave Mr Pygmalion in your capable hands, shall I?”

“Yes, sir,” the assistant said.  She did look a Polly.  “If you’ll come right this way...?”

She led Mr Pygmalion over to the table and watched as he uncovered his latest creation.  Either he was using magic to help him lift it or he was stronger than he appeared, for he didn't seem to have any trouble carrying the statue and placing it on the table.  It was yet another girl, her features hidden behind another glamour-spell.  Polly cooed over it, congratulating him on his latest masterwork.  I had to remind myself that she had no idea that magic existed, let alone that it had been used to make the statues.  Her flattery would have been disquieting otherwise.

“There was a couple in asking about you and your work,” Polly said, once she had finished admiring the statue.  “They were offering to pay you to produce...”

“I am not interested,” Mr Pygmalion said.  His voice was soft and whispery, as if he was older than he seemed or was using a charm to disguise his voice.  “I care only for my art.”

Polly practically swooned.  “Of course, of course,” she said.  “I told them that you would contact them if you were interested and...”

Master Revels stood up and strode into the room, holding his cane ahead out him.  “I’m afraid that we cannot wait for your call,” he said.  His voice echoed in the room, firm and resolute.  “This has gone quite far enough.”

Mr Pygmalion swung around.  “The Thirteen have finally decided to take a stand?”

“They have ordered me to stop you,” Master Revels said, holding up his cane as if it were a sword.  “You can come with me peacefully or I will bring you by force.”

Polly, of course, had no idea of what was going on.  I was almost as ignorant myself, even though I hated to admit it.  Who were the Thirteen and why had they ordered Master Revels to do anything – coming to think of it, why was Mr Pygmalion concerned about them?  Who were they to order my master to do anything?

“This is an outrage,” Polly said, finally.  Both magicians ignored her.  “You can get out of here right now or I will call the police.”

“I am the police,” Master Revels said, calmly.  He pushed some Compulsion into his tone.  “Polly; walk over to the seat by the window, sit down and remain silent.  You will stay there until given further orders.”

I shuddered.  Compulsion was an unpleasant trick and part of my training had consisted of teaching me how to resist it, not an easy task at the best of times.  Polly had no defences at all and so she walked, robotically, over to the seat and sat down.  I saw the horror in her eyes as her body refused to obey her and shuddered again.  At least she might be out of the way when the fighting began, if the fighting began.

“How many girls have you taken from their parents?”  Master Revels demanded, calmly.  “How many lives have you ruined for the sake of your art?”

Mr Pygmalion glared at him.  “Who cares about a mundane girl or two when their lives are nothing?”  He demanded, angrily.  “You will allow me to leave this building and walk free.”

“The Thirteen want you,” Master Revels countered.  I couldn't help, but notice the terrified expression on Mr Pygmalion’s face.  The Thirteen, whoever they were, had to be something dangerous and daunting even to a powerful magician.  “If you don't come peacefully, I will have to use force.”

The two men stared at one another.  “You wouldn't risk a battle here,” Mr Pygmalion sneered, finally.  “You couldn't...”

Master Revels snapped his cane hard down and threw a spell.  Mr Pygmalion deflected it with his own wand – which he had somehow hidden up his sleeve – and counterattacked with his own spell.  The two combatants went at it, their powers clashing in a dozen different ways, leaving me standing on the sidelines watching helplessly.  Polly was far worse off, I realised suddenly; she couldn't even move.  I swore as a burst of magic struck one of the lights and brought it down right on top of the statues, shattering and sending glass flying everywhere.  The two fighters hadn't realised, but they were damaging the room and what would happen to the girls if their statues shattered?  It could kill them outright!

I scrambled forward, keeping my head low, and reached the table.  Ignoring the glass scattered on the floor, I reached out for the first statue and picked it up.  I almost dropped it on the floor as a bolt of green light shot out over my head, but somehow I managed to carry it back towards the corner.  I muttered what reassurance I could to the statue – just in case the girl could hear me – and went back for the next statue.  The two fighters were still going at it, curses and spells flying everywhere.  I kept my head down as I recovered the next statue and then the one after that, trying to keep them out of the fight.  I turned, about to head back to the table, when a curse blasted it into a hail of sawdust.  The statues went flying everywhere.

The shock somehow unlocked some of the magic in me.  I reached out, using powers I hadn't known I had, to snatch the statues out of the air and bring them over to me.  One of them landed hard, shaking the floor, but it had survived intact.  I was tempted to try to restore them, yet I knew better than to bring them out into a battlefield.  Mr Pygmalion and Master Revels were still fighting and there was no sign of a winner, not yet.  I erected wards over the statues to protect them and stood up.  I knew some spells and I could help Master Revels.  I threw a curse at Mr Pygmalion, but his wards deflected it back towards me.  I ducked sharply as bits of broken stonework cascaded down onto the statues.

Mr Pygmalion paused for a moment and threw a second spell at me.  This one struck me directly, burning through my wards and reaching into my mind.  I stumbled forward, my head a jumble of thoughts and feelings that seemed to contradict themselves, as if I wanted to attack my master in the back.  You’ve been hexed, you fool, a voice said in the back of my mind.  Do something about it!  My hand was lining up to toss a spell when I finally fought off the compulsion and relaxed.  Mr Pygmalion couldn't catch me that easily.

He looked astonished as I stood up and threw a second curse and then a third, trying hard to break through his defences.  With two of us to fight, his position was weakening; if he turned his attention to me for longer than a second, Master Revels would break through his wards and get him.  If he kept his attention focused on Master Revels, one of my curses – weaker through they might be – would break through and hurt him.  It wasn’t a good position to be in and he clearly recognised it.  Using a word that sounded like broken glass, he disintegrated the floor below his feet and plunged down into the next level.  Before we could follow him, he was running past a whole array of adult statues.  I found myself hoping that they were not magical as Master Revels lowered us down and gave chase.

It was a nightmare.  The statues were coming alive and lashing out at us, stone hands reaching out to crush our skulls.  Master Revels blasted each of the living statues – I hoped that that meant that they were not living humans – as we passed, wrecking statues that had cost the building millions of powers.  Mr Pygmalion was still ahead of us, but unless I missed my guess we had blocked him from reaching the exit.  I realised, almost too late, that as an artist he would probably know about the backrooms used by the staff, including the emergency exits.  I ran forward and blocked his escape, gasping in pain as one of his curses sank red hot needles into my body.  The pain was excruciating, yet somehow I managed to stay aware.  I couldn't afford to collapse now.

Mr Pygmalion stopped, pressing his back to the wall.  I could feel powerful magic shimmering through the air, but I couldn't understand what he was doing until I felt the building itself began to shake.  His power seemed focused around stone and the entire building was made from stone!  Master Revels stepped forward, holding up his cane.  There seemed to be no way to prevent him from bringing the entire building down on us.

“It's over,” he said, quietly.  Mr Pygmalion snorted.  “Your time is up.”

Master Revels threw a blistering series of curses, one after the other.  I watched in horror as Mr Pygmalion struggled to counter him, shifting his wards to provide protection...and uncovering his back.  I saw the opportunity opened and threw a reflecting curse of my own, backed with all the power I could muster.  It reflected off the wall and struck Mr Pygmalion’s back.  He screamed as his wards collapsed and failed and, a second later, collapsed to the ground.  Master Revels was on him at once, casting binding spells to hold him in place before transporting him into his jacket.

“We’d better get the statues as well,” he said, heading back towards the stairs.  I followed him, wondering if anyone would notice the changes in the building.  How badly had Mr Pygmalion damaged the foundations before we’d stopped him?  “And then we have to get out of here before all hell breaks loose.”

I laughed.  “And what are you going to say to the building’s owners?”

“Nothing,” Master Revels said.  He grinned.  “The whole thing will be blamed on a gas explosion, or maybe terrorists; terrorists are popular these days.  The insurance will pay for the damage.  Polly will be the lucky girl who escaped being killed, which will explain her blurred memories of the incident. She’ll get paid a few hundred thousand pounds worth of compensation.  The girls will be found somewhere safe and well and our statue-loving friend will be explaining himself to the most suspicious and paranoid minds in the magical world.  They won’t be too pleased that it got so messy, but they’ll be glad of the conclusion.  This guy could have caused a lot of trouble.”

“The Thirteen,” I said, thoughtfully.  It was an unanswered question and I hate those.  “Who are the Thirteen?”

“Don’t say their name out loud,” Master Revels said.  He cast his eyes heavenward.  “They’ll hear you.”

I glared at him until he relented, slightly.  “I’ll explain once we’ve finished clearing up this mess,” he said, finally.  I wasn't sure I believed him, but given how much care magical folk took with their names, maybe they could hear if someone spoke their name out loud.  “It's a very long story.”

Chapter Eight

The house was an ordinary suburban one in Morningside, towards the edge of Edinburgh.  There was a small garden – complete with garden gnome – a pair of cars parked outside and an atmosphere that suggested that the owner of the house was very fond of housework.  I walked up the path, checked the gnome to make sure that it wasn't one of the transformed girls and then rang the doorbell.  A moment later, a sour-faced woman peeked out.  Somehow, I had no difficulty in guessing who wore the pants in that family.  Her expression was unpleasant enough to curdle milk.

I held up my spelled ID card and smiled.  “Mrs Evens?”  I asked.  “I am Sergeant Dorothy Woolworth of the Stolen Arts Department.”  The magic in the card would take care of any doubts she might have, although I had no idea if there even was a Stolen Arts Department.  “I understand that you recently purchased a small stone statue of a young girl-child?”

Mrs Evens stared at me and then beckoned me into the house.  I wasn't too surprised.  She struck me as the kind of woman who spent most of her time spying on the neighbours and gossiping about them to her circle of friends and she wouldn't want to give the neighbours something about her to chatter about to their friends.  The interior of the house tended to confirm my first impression.  It was filled with china knickknacks and decorations and they had all been carefully placed exactly where she wanted them to go.  I doubted that a dust speck would have a long lifespan in her house.

I caught sight of two young boys and smiled at them, suspecting I saw a pair of teenage delinquents in the making.  They reminded me of boys I’d known at school, whose parents had been so strict and confining that they’d rebelled against them as soon as they grew old enough to understand what that meant.  I wondered, absently, what the two boys would do; drugs, smoking, girls, rock and roll...there was no way to know.  And besides, it was hardly my problem.

“Now, Mrs Evens said, as she invited me into the kitchen and closed the door firmly, “what is all this about?”

“The artwork you purchased was stolen from its rightful owner,” I explained, patiently.  It was even true, in a sense; the girl’s childhood had been stolen to produce the little statue.  “I am here to recover it on behalf of the original owner.”

Mrs Evens stared at me for a long moment.  I watched various emotions battling it out over her pinched face.  Anger won.  “We paid good money for that statue,” she said, sharply.  “We have original documents and everything proving that the status belongs to us...”

“Forged,” I said, calmly.  I held out a sheet of paper that had also been spelled.  It would be very convincing to anyone who was reading it, without any little errors that might cause embarrassment later down the line.  “I’m afraid that I will have to take it with me now.”

Mrs Evens stood up.  “I have never heard such nonsense in my life,” she said, clinging desperately to false hope.  “If you want to remove the statue, you can pay for it and...”

“The statue does not belong to you,” I said, firmly.  I held her eyes, willing her to believe me.  “If you refuse to hand it over now, I will have to go to the local police station, round up a team of policemen and return to search your house for the statue.  Should we fail to find it, you will be held on a charge of receiving stolen goods until the statue is produced.  There is still time to avoid dragging the police and the media into this.”

She stared at me for a long moment.  I kept my expression blank.  She didn't know it, but if she refused to hand over the statue, I would have to use magic to take it by force.  It would be difficult and it would risk her remembering something that might be dangerous later.  On the other hand, we couldn't bring the mundane world’s police into the affair.  I willed her to believe me.  

I could have used Compulsion, but judging from her appearance, she would be very resistant to it unless I applied it heavily, which would be impossible for her to forget.  Even if she never worked out the truth, it would risk drawing attention towards the magical world and we couldn't allow that to happen.  Master Revels had been very insistent that the statues were to be recovered peacefully, if possible.  Towards that end, I had a final incentive to offer.

“I understand that you paid two thousand pounds for the statue,” I added.  It struck me as proof that some people will buy anything if they thought it was exclusive enough.  “We recovered the funds from the person who sold it to you and we are happy to recompense you now, in full, once you hand over the statue.”

“It's in the living room,” Mrs Evens said, finally.  She stood up and strode through the door.  I heard sounds that suggested that the kids had been trying to listen in before hearing their mother’s footsteps and running for cover.  She led the way into the living room – it was so fancy that I couldn't understand how anyone thought it was suitable for kids – and nodded to a small table.  The statue – one of the missing girls – sat there, right in plain sight.  I could see the magic surrounding it; Mrs Evens clearly could not.  I had never met a more unmagical person.  “Is that the one you meant?”

I pretended to compare it to the documents in my hand, but the truth was that I’d known it the moment I saw it.  “Yes,” I said, flatly.  I picked it up, wincing at the weight, before putting it down on the larger table.  It was covered in framed photographs and one of them, a beefy man with a florid moustache, leapt out at me.  He had to be Mr Evens.  He looked thoroughly unpleasant, but at least he didn't look as if his wife could walk all over him.  “Do you want the money now?”

Mrs Evens nodded firmly.  I reached into the briefcase and produced a bunch of notes.  I had suggested giving them a cheque, but Master Revels had insisted on giving them the money in cash, pointing out that it would be harder for them to make a fuss later.  They’d also have to explain where they got two thousand points in used banknotes.  The mundane police kept an eye on such transactions on the grounds that most of them were used for drugs or terrorism.  Mrs Evens stared at the pile of banknotes in astonishment, before her eyes lit up with greed and she started to count them.  I had to smile watching her.  It took her several minutes to count them all, partly because the kids stuck their heads into the room and she had to scream at them to get out.

I did the maths in my head.  I’d given her two thousand pounds in ten pound banknotes.  There were two hundred notes in all, but she lost count twice and then tried to argue over the results.  I looked at her patiently and eventually she accepted the money, not very reluctantly.  I passed her a sheet to sign, in which she acknowledged the receipt of two thousand pounds and gave up all claim to the statue, and then picked up the statue again.

“Thank you for your assistance,” I said, piously.  Mrs Evens glowered at me, although I was sure that with a little creative editing, she could turn the story into one she could be proud of.  If she was like some of the other folks from the suburbs, she might be proud of her brush with a criminal, even though some people would probably call her a fool for accepting stolen goods.  It hardly mattered, one way or the other.  “I hope I will not have to call again.”

Mrs Evens started to wring her hands together.  “And what do we do if we want to buy a replacement piece of artwork from the original producer?”

I sighed, inwardly.  “I’m sure that he will be happy to contact you if I give him your details,” I said, truthfully.  I had no intention of doing anything of the sort.  “The statues are modelled on a particular child and cost upwards of a million pounds each.”

Her mouth fell open.  She had had no idea that the statue was worth that much.  I left her and walked out the door, staggering slightly under the weight of the statue.  The van was parked several meters away – parking had been a headache – and carrying the statue all the way was difficult.  I bent down and whispered what reassurance I could into the statue’s ear.  I didn't know if the girl was aware in there, or if she could hear me or not, but I hoped that she could.  Her ordeal was nearly over.

I put the statue in the back of the van and then climbed into the front seat, beside Master Revels.  “Success,” I said, with a grin.  We’d spent the last two days going from house to house, recovering statues.  The bastard who had transformed the girls had finally talked, giving us a list of names and addresses.  Even so, it was a hard task.  At least one of the purchasers had given him a false address, leaving us with an impossible mission.  How could we recover the lost girl if she’d been taken into the mundane world and far from Edinburgh?  “How many more do we have to find?”

“One more,” Master Revels said, as he started the engine and guided the van away from the kerb.  “And then we will have to free the girls and return them to their families.”

I’d been wondering about that.  “How are we going to do that without attracting attention?”

Master Revels grinned, unpleasantly.  “There is a genuine paedophile in Livingstone, not that far from Edinburgh,” he said.  “It’s actually outside the police borders for Edinburgh, so when the police searched the houses of the usual suspects, they didn't search his house.  The girls will be taken there and restored, after which the police will get a phone call reporting that they’re there.  The paedophile will be arrested and charged with kidnapping them, although he won’t have touched them.  The girls will have been drugged, which will explain their blurred memories and loss of any time sense.  They go back to their parents, the paedophile goes to jail and the magical world remains undiscovered.  A handful of spells will see to that.”

I looked up sharply.  “You’re talking about sending an innocent man to jail,” I said.  “You can't...”

Master Revels shrugged.  “The man we’re talking about kidnapped and raped a little girl seventeen years ago,” he said, flatly.  “He is not innocent.  He deserves far worse than the ten years in prison he was given – which turned out to be seven for good behaviour.  Does that make you feel any better about it?”

I honestly didn't know.  I had never been molested as a child.  My parents had been boring folks and I had often complained about them, never really understanding how lucky I had been.  I understood the sexual impulse – I’d wanted sex myself once I matured and I knew that boys felt the same way – but to involve children?  My lip twisted in disgust.  I couldn't imagine using a child for sexual purposes.  It was the most disgusting thing I had ever heard, even including the slaves and how elves treated their half-bloods.

“Yes,” I admitted, finally.  Some would say that the paedophile had paid his debt to society.  The more I thought about it, the more I agreed that he hadn't done anything of the sort.  Still...it bothered me.  For all I knew, he hadn't touched another child since being released from prison.  “And what are you going to do with the real kidnapper?”

“We have a place for him to go,” Master Revels assured me.  “He won’t be threatening anyone again, ever.”

I hoped he was right.

“How often does it happen?”  I asked, finally.  “How often does someone from the magical world start preying on people in the mundane world?”

“More often than you would think,” Master Revels admitted.  “There are people who exist in both worlds and try to maintain links between them, using magic in the mundane world to improve their lives.  There are people who regard the mundane folk as barbarians, as somehow less than human, and consider that they have the right to do whatever they like to them.  And then there are the people who learn to use magic by accident and cause problems...”

He shrugged.  “Luckily for us, most mundane folk are willing to swallow any explanation that doesn't include magic,” he added.  I nodded, remembering glancing at a paper reporting a gas explosion at the museum.  The reporter had been quite insistent that nothing untoward had taken place.  “Even if the girls do remember what happened to them, no one will actually believe them and they will insist that they were drugged and hallucinating at the time.”  He snorted.  “They can read all kinds of things into anything, if they try.  Can you believe that they believe that a boy who doesn't wash is actually the victim of child abuse?”

I remembered the small boys I’d known at primary school and snorted.  If any of them had washed outside a swimming pool, it was involuntary.  I had always thought that boys hated to be clean and preferred to ignore their personal hygiene, at least until they discovered that clean boys got more dates that boys who stank of unwashed hair and filthy clothes.  

“Anyway, forget that for now,” Master Revels said, as we pulled up in front of another house.  “You can go fetch the last statue and then we will deliver them to their destination.”

***
Night was falling as we reached the home of the paedophile.  I had been expecting a monstrous house, perhaps decorated with the skulls of unborn children, but it was surprisingly normal.  It was also in a very poor neighbourhood, perhaps because few people would want a paedophile living near them.  I found myself wondering if his neighbours knew who and what he was, before deciding that it was unlikely.  No father worthy of the name would allow a paedophile to live near his kids, even if it meant going to jail for murder.

Master Revels cast a series of spells into the air, centring them on the bastard’s house.  One of them would ensure that no one would see us at work, or call the police before we were done; the others would keep him asleep and neutralise any burglar alarms he happened to have in his house.  A quick tap of his cane to the door opened it for us, allowing us to slip into the house and search it quickly.  The paedophile himself, an astonishingly fat man with an unpleasant face – or perhaps I was imagining that because I knew what he was – lay on his couch, having drunk himself into an uneasy sleep.  I hoped that that was his sins catching up with him.

“Down here,” Master Revels said.  He’d found the doorway to the basement.  It was a small unpleasant room, perfect for holding small prisoners.  I could believe that the paedophile had been continuing his work even before I saw the ghosts.  There was a young girl, staring up hopelessly into a nightmare given shape and form.  There were two small boys clinging to each other...I guessed that all three of them were long dead.  I wanted to go upstairs and kill their kidnapper myself, or perhaps feed him to Circe...who knew; perhaps being a pig or a sheep was too merciful for him.  I could have turned him into a worm and stepped on him without the slightest shred of remorse.  “Get the girls down here and we’ll finish the work.”

It took several trips to bring all the girls down into the basement, but once they were gathered it was easy to restore them to human form.  Caught within the spells Master Revels had cast, they fell quickly into sleep, allowing him to drug them with a small needle he’d produced out of his hat.  I watched their faces and shivered at the terror they’d felt in their last seconds as humans, even though their kidnapper had clearly used glamour-spells to make the statues more attractive.  They deserved so much better than to be treated like that.

“Don’t worry,” Master Revels said, flatly.  “They won’t wake up until the police arrive and nor will the bastard.  I wonder how he will explain their presence to the police.”

We headed back outside, careful to lock the door behind us, and made a phone call from the nearest call box.  The police had to have been on alert, for the moment we mentioned the address they told us to wait for them to arrive.  We ignored that, put the phone down and hid under an invisibility spell as three police cars arrived and parked right in front of the bastard’s house.  Ten minutes later, the paedophile was under arrest and the girls were on the way to hospital, where they would be reunited with their parents.  

“That should be all the loose ends tied up,” Master Revels said, with an evil grin.  The handcuffed paedophile was being marched away into a police van, watched by several reporters who had turned up to film the event.  “That was a very good day’s work.”

“Excellent,” I agreed.  Seeing the ghosts had dispelled all of my doubts.  “And now...”

I looked up at him, firmly.  “Explanations,” I said.

“As soon as we get home and have a good night’s sleep,” Master Revels said.  “All right?”

Chapter Nine

I didn't sleep comfortably that night.

Tossing and turning in the bed, slipping in and out of sleep, I dreamed of Mr Pygmalion and the paedophile and many other horrors, all blurring together into one terrifying nightmare.  When I awoke, the bed was soaked in sweat and I felt tired, as if I hadn't slept at all.  I tried to use a meditation trick I’d been taught to fall asleep again, yet nothing seemed to work.  I just couldn't focus my mind.  I kept thinking of the girls and how they could have remained statues for the rest of eternity – how one of them might well remain a statue, unless we found her before her mind blurred into the stone and was gone.  Mr Pygmalion had told us that he’d transformed thirty-seven girls in all and despite our best efforts one of them seemed to be missing for good.  

Around eight o’clock in the morning, I finally gave up on sleep and stumbled into the shower, cursing my ex-boyfriend under my breath.  I could have done with someone holding me as I cried myself to sleep, someone who would have listened and held me as I screamed and never let go of me.  I had even considered looking for Master Revels and inviting him to share my bed, before dismissing the idea as a thoroughly stupid and idiotic concept.  He was my tutor and I was his apprentice.  It wouldn't be right for us to share a bed.  Somehow, I found myself thinking of Cardonel.  Perhaps he could take me out for a night on the town after all.

The warm water from the shower helped to awaken me and I found myself feeling much better as I towelled off and found my dressing gown.  I couldn’t be bothered dressing properly, not before breakfast, for eating something always made me feel better.  I tied up my hair, pulled the dressing gown tightly around me and walked downstairs to the kitchen.  A flutter of wings announced Fiona’s presence as she flew down and landed on my shoulder.  I wrapped her up in a hug and held her for a long moment, feeling her heartbeat pounding against my cheek.

“You had a long night,” the tiny dragon said, when I let her go.  “You could probably sleep in for a few more hours if you want.”

“I can’t sleep,” I admitted.  I knew that there were spells and potions to ensure a proper night’s sleep, but Master Revels had warned me that it was easy to become dependent on them to the point where I literally couldn't sleep without chemical help.  I had no wish to spend the rest of my days as an addict.  What I needed was a chance to relax and blow off some steam and I wasn’t going to get that from potions.  “I had bad dreams.”

“That’s never a good sign,” Fiona said, gravely.  “I hope that they were not precognitive dreams.”

I looked up at her scaly face, with the uneasy sense that I was being mocked.  “I don't know,” I said, finally.  “What’s going to happen to Mr Pygmalion?”

Fiona twitched.  “That’s up to his judges,” she said, “but unless I miss my guess, he will be pushed through the Dimensional Gate into the Dark Continent, where he will spend the rest of his days trying to avoid the Shadow Wraiths that will tear him limb from limb, before eating his soul.”

I blinked.  “What on Earth is the Dark Continent?”

“It isn't on Earth,” Fiona said.  “A few hundred years ago, some idiot of a sorcerer managed to open a Gate to a world that had become infested with a creature of living shadow.  The shadows tried to get into our world, but luckily for us they cannot survive here for long, not without a human host.  It was decided that anyone who broke the law and was too powerful or dangerous to contain in any other way would be pushed through the Gate and into the Dark Continent, from where they would be unable to return.”

“Oh,” I said.  It seemed a pretty dire punishment after all.  “Who’s going to be judging him?”

“Leave that for the moment,” Master Revels called.  I’d had a ghastly night, but he looked as if he’d slept well.  He wore his suit and top hat while drinking a large cup of tea.  “Come in and have something to eat, then we’ll talk.”

I knew better than to think that he would answer any of my questions before we’d both had something to eat, so I sat down and allowed his magic to fill my plate.  At one time, I would have worried about putting on weight and refused to eat bacon, eggs, sausages and toast, but now I knew better.  Besides, he made me sweat it all off during the day.  I had never liked to drink tea at all – I had drunk coffee to wake me up in the mornings – but now I was quite used to it.  It was, as always, an excellent breakfast.  Master Revels had had years to learn his craft.  My own magically-produced foods either looked good and tasted funny, or looked awful and tasted good.  I hadn't yet worked out how to balance looks and taste.

“You might want to read the paper this morning.” Master Revels said, as I munched my way through a piece of toast.  He opened a mundane newspaper and read from the top.  “Police in Livingstone yesterday evening arrested a paedophile and recovered thirty-six girls from his basement.  The girls, who had been kidnapped over a period of weeks, were apparently not molested by their captor, although they were drugged in order to prevent them crying out or trying to escape.  It is believed that their captor had links to an international ring of child slavers who would have eventually have taken the girls out of the country.  Further investigations are ongoing, but a police spokesperson said that preliminary examinations of the house confirmed the suspicion that three other children met their dooms within its dark walls.”

He looked up at me.  “I told you that they’d come up with an explanation for it somehow,” he said, with a grin.  “An international ring of child slavers.  What total nonsense.”

I shrugged.  “You don’t think that people will think that it is possible?”

“Of course it’s possible,” Master Revels agreed.  “It just happens to be very unlikely.”

He waved his hand at his mug of tea and it refilled itself at once.  “Still, all of the loose ends will be tied up soon enough,” he added.  “The bastard, who was certainly guilty of murdering at least three other children, will pay the price for his real and imagined crimes.  The girls will go back to their homes, none the worse the wear for their experience...and you and I have the satisfaction of knowing that we did a good job and that we get the credit.”

“That paper says that the police are getting the credit,” I said, wryly.

“You know what I mean,” Master Revels added.  He stood up, still carrying his cup of tea.  “Finish your breakfast and wash up, and then meet me in the study.  If you still want explanations, I’ll be happy to give them to you.”

I ate up as quickly as I could, before starting on the washing up.  I had asked him, some weeks ago, why he insisted that I do it when he could use magic to do it, but he’d explained that it helped to teach me discipline and patience.  Fiona fluttered overhead, stealing the remains of my bacon and chewing on it while I washed, leaving me to wonder what dragons normally ate in the wild.  I remembered the far larger dragon I’d seen at the market and shivered.  I had a nasty suspicion that the answer was human beings.  I finished drying the last of the plates and headed into the study.  Master Revels was sitting in his armchair, reading one of the books we’d recovered from the library.

“Take a seat,” he said, absently.  He peered down at a piece of text with a magnifying glass.  “Do you think that this is meant to be a...”

Fiona cleared her throat.  “I think you promised some explanations,” she said, firmly.  I blinked in surprise.  I had never seen Fiona be so assertive before.  “You can try to decipher the book later.”

Master Revels scowled at her, but nodded, closing the book gently and putting it on the table.  I couldn't help, but notice that someone had carefully engraved a devil’s head onto the book’s cover, leaving me wondering if it was a threat or a promise.  Some magical books had their own defences, from spells that made it impossible for one to see them to spells that cursed anyone who tried to touch them without taking the proper precautions.  Master Revels had trained me to watch for the latter, after telling me a series of horror stories about people who had opened one, only to find themselves trapped within a curse.

“I suppose I do owe you an explanation or two,” Master Revels conceded.  I got the impression that he wasn't keen to talk about it to anyone, even to me.  “Where would you like me to begin?”

I hesitated.  “You mentioned a number,” I said, slowly.  He’d warned me not to mention their name out loud.  “What are they and what do they do?”

“You can speak freely here,” Master Revels said.  “The Thirteen...well, as much as anyone is, they're the rulers of the magical world.”

I looked up, surprised.  “I always had the impression that there weren't any rulers,” I said, puzzled.  “You certainly implied as much.”

Master Revels sighed heavily.  “The Thirteen are the most powerful human magic-users in the world,” he said.  “I should add that they’re the most powerful known magic users in the world.  They...they generally act to maintain the status quo.”

He didn't sound as if he wanted to continue, but he seemed to feel that he had no choice.  “The magical world has too many Beings of Power and suchlike – like Circe – for anyone to control them properly.  If the Thirteen sought to assert real control, they would find themselves destroyed in short order.  As powerful as they are, they are still outgunned by the combined power of every other human mage in existence...and that doesn't even count the elves, or the Walking Gods, or the hundreds of others who are so much more than human.  The Thirteen’s main task is preventing the magical world from bleeding too heavily into the mundane world, hence our assignment to stop Mr Pygmalion.”

I frowned.  “How did they know that a magician was involved?”

“Trade secret,” Master Revels said.  “Let’s just say that a very powerful entity laid down the ground rules over one thousand and five hundred years ago and very few people dare to disobey.  The mundane world is to remain...well, mundane.  We are not allowed to operate openly in their world.”

“Oh,” I said.  I remembered the slaves and shuddered.  “Why don’t they stop the slave trade then?”

Master Revels winced.  “They are limited in what they can do because the last thing they want is their enemies banding together to destroy them,” he admitted.  “If Mr Pygmalion had been kidnapping girls into the magical world and leaving them there, or sending them out on the Fairy Roads of Happenstance with no hope of a return to Earth, the Thirteen would probably not have been able to do anything about – if they cared enough to think that they should do something about it.  Controlling humans is quite hard enough; controlling elves or goblins or demons is much harder.  A year or so before you met me, I had to hunt down a vampire that had gotten loose into the mundane world and started to prey on ordinary humans.  He could have caused a disaster.”

I stared down at my hands.  “But why would that cause a disaster?”

Master Revels considered it for a long moment.  “There is a fundamental issue when it comes to magic, one laid down in the laws of the universe,” he said, finally.  “If you are born in the mundane world, you have to have a willingness to accept magic if you want to use it.  You cannot just tell yourself that you believe in magic; you have to actually believe in magic.  The mundane world doesn't birth many people who are capable of truly accepting magic into their lives.”

“But that leaves them helpless against magic,” I protested, remembering Circe and Mr Pygmalion.  “They have no defence.”

“Quite so,” Master Revels agreed.  “You can be harmed by magic even if you don’t believe in it.  Yet...what would happen if magical events became so common that the mundane world started to accept, in mass, the possibility of magic actually existing?  It would completely destroy mundane society and probably ruin ours as well.  The Thirteen’s task is to prevent that from happening.  Mr Pygmalion’s actions risked exposure.”

“If one of the girls had somehow escaped from her spell, or if the spell had simply worn off,” I guessed.  Master Revels nodded.  “What would have happened then?”

“Like I said, the mundane world is very good at averting its collective eyes from any suggestion of magic,” Master Revels said, “but the results could still have been very bad.  A few years ago, there was a reporter who actually managed to deduce most of the story behind a series of unfortunate events in Pendle, down near the Lake District.  There have been witches there for generations.  If he hadn't been...handled carefully, he might have exposed part of the magical world to mundane scrutiny and who knows what could happen then?

“And even if there was a successful integration between magical and mundane humans, what would happen when the mundane encountered the elves?  Or demons or Giants; all the other creatures who regard humanity as their rightful prey, to be hunted and toyed with and abused as they see fit?  The law separating the mundane world from the magical world might collapse, or the being behind it might intervene directly.  Either one would lead to disaster.”

He shook his head.  “No, we’re better off maintaining the barriers between the two worlds,” he concluded.  “And that is what the Thirteen does.”

I nodded slowly.  “And what do you do?”

Master Revels smiled.  “I work for them as one of their...let’s just call me a policeman, for the moment,” he said.  “When someone breaks the rules, they send me to deal with it.”

“He’s a little more than just a policeman,” Fiona put in, mischievously.  By now, I was sure I could recognise a scaly dragon grin.  “He is responsible for so much more.”  She fluttered her wings.  “And all of this, one day, will be yours.”

I stared at Master Revels, who nodded.  “The reason I need an apprentice is because I cannot do this job forever,” he explained.  “I cast spells in the hope that I would get a perfect apprentice walking up to my door.  You came.”

“Oh,” I said.  I wasn't sure I liked the sound of that.  Living in the magical world was so much better than the dull mundane world – I never wanted to go back – yet I didn't like the thought of someone casting a spell to summon me.  “Why did you choose me?”

“The magic choose you,” Master Revels corrected.  “It is rarely wrong.”

“Oh,” I said, again.

“You have a sense of justice, you think quickly on your feet, you learn rapidly and you have a remarkable talent for unfocused magic,” Master Revels added.  “Do you think that just anyone could have thrown off Circe’s spell so easily?  You gained fame and renown for that throughout the magical world.”

“It wasn't that easy,” I protested, weakly.  I didn't want to pass up on the praise, but I thought I should be honest, if nothing else.  “I had to struggle.”

“It should not have been possible at all,” Master Revels said, firmly.  “Even the Thirteen themselves are a little nervous whenever her name is mentioned, because they view her as powerful, dangerous and unpredictable.  You broke her spell and walked away free and clear.”

“And naked,” I said, sourly.  I hadn't forgotten that, yet.  “I need to think.”

“I understand,” Master Revels said.  He hesitated.  “If it’s any consolation, I felt the same way when my master taught me what I needed to know.  I didn't understand that the job needed doing and that I was the best person for the job, perhaps the only person who could lift his burden from his shoulders.  It took me time to learn and he was always patient with me.  I owe you no less.”

“Thank you,” I said.  I paused.  I didn't want to ask him, but the question had to be asked.  “What would you say if I went on a date with Cardonel?”

“I’d say that that has nothing to do with what we are discussing,” Master Revels said, crossly.  He smiled, humourlessly.  “If you are planning to go on a date with him, make sure he swears by his name to leave you unharmed and safe.  You cannot trust an elf, ever.  Keep that in mind.”

I swallowed, hard.  “I will, sir,” I said.  I wasn't sure if I wanted to go on a date with him or not, yet I didn't want Master Revels thinking that I would do everything he told me to do.  “And thank you.  Thank you for this opportunity.”

“You don't know the half of it yet,” Master Revels said grimly.  There was a note in his voice that suggested trouble and strife.  It struck me, then, that I had no idea how old he actually was.  “Don’t be so quick to thank me for anything.”