Part 10 (2/2)

”The really difficult point,” he boomed, leaning forward with his eyebrows working up and down hisforehead, ”is how such people fit in with a series of other worlds.”

And, to Cat's dismay, the talk turned to other worlds. He might have been interested at any other time.

Now he dared not look at Janet, and could only wish that everyone would stop. But they talked eagerly, all of them, particularly Bernard and Mr. Saunders. Cat learned that a lot was known about other worlds.

Numbers had been visited. Those which were best known had been divided into sets, called series, according to the events in History which were the same in them. It was very uncommon for people not to have at least one exact double in a world of the same series-usually people had a whole string of doubles, all along the set.

”But what about doubles outside a series?” Mr. Saunders said. ”I have at least one double in Series Three, and I suspect the existence of another in-”

Janet sat up sharply, gasping. ”Cat, help! It's like sitting on pins!”

Cat looked at Julia. He saw the little smile on her face, and the tail end of her handkerchief above the table. ”Change places,” he whispered, feeling rather tired. He stood up. Everyone stared.

”All of which makes me feel that a satisfactory cla.s.sification has not yet been found,” Mr. Saunders said, as he turned Cat's way.

”Do you think,” said Cat, ”that I could change places with J-Gwendolen, please? She can't quite hear what Mr. Saunders is saying from there.”

”Yes, and it's rivetingly interesting,” Janet gasped, shooting from her chair.

”If you find it essential,” Chrestomanci said, a little annoyed.

Cat sat in Janet's chair. He could feel nothing wrong with it. Julia put her head down and gave him a long, unpleasant look, and her elbows worked as she crossly untied her handkerchief. Cat saw that she was going to hate him too, now. He sighed. It was one thing after another.

Nevertheless, when Cat fell asleep that night, he was not feeling hopeless. He could not believe things could get any worse-so they had to get better. Perhaps Miss Bessemer would give them something very valuable, and they could sell it. Or, better still, perhaps Gwendolen would be back when he woke up, and already solving all his problems.

But when he went to Gwendolen's room in the morning, it was still Janet, struggling to tie her garters and saying over her shoulder, ”These things are probably very bad for people. Do you wear them too? Or are they a female torture? And one useful thing magic could do would be to hold one's stockings up. It makes you think that witches can't be very practical.”

She did talk a lot, Cat thought. But it was better than having no one in Gwendolen's place.

At breakfast, neither Mary nor Euphemia were at all friendly and, as soon as they left the room, one of the curtains wrapped itself around Janet's neck and tried to strangle her. Cat took it away. It fought him like a live thing because Julia was holding both ends of her handkerchief and pulling hard on the knot.

”Oh, do stop it, Julia!” he begged her.

”Yes, do,” Roger agreed. ”It's silly and it's boring. I need to enjoy my food in peace.”

”I'm quite willing to be friends,” Janet offered. ”That makes one of us,” said Julia. ”No.”

”Then be enemies!” Janet snapped, almost in Gwendolen's manner. ”I thought at first that you might be nice, but I can see now that you're just a tedious, pigheaded, cold-hearted, h.o.r.n.y-handed, cross-eyed hag!”

That, of course, was calculated to make Julia adore her.

Luckily, Mr. Saunders appeared earlier than usual. There had only been time for Janet's marmalade to turn to orange worms, and change back again when Cat gave her his instead, and for Janet's coffee to become rich brown gravy, and turn to coffee again when Cat drank it, before Mr. Saunders stuck his head around the door. At least, Cat thought it was lucky, until Mr. Saunders said, ”Eric, Chrestomanci wants to see you now, in his study.”

Cat stood up. His stomach, full of charmed marmalade as it was, made an unusually rapid descent to the Castle cellars. Chrestomanci's found out, he thought. He knows about the dragons' blood and about Janet, and he's going to look at me politely and- Oh, I do hope he isn't an enchanter!

”Where-where do I go?” he managed to say.

”Take him, Roger,” said Mr. Saunders.

”And-and why?” Cat asked.

Mr. Saunders smiled. ”You'll find out. Off you go.”

12.

Chrestomanci's study was a large, sun-filled room with books in shelves all around it. There was a desk, but Chrestomanci was not sitting at it. He was sprawled on a sofa in the sun, reading a newspaper and wearing a green dressing gown with golden dragons on it. The gold embroidery of the dragons winked and glittered in the sun. Cat could not take his eyes off them. He stood just inside the door, not daring to go any farther, and he thought: He has found out about the dragons' blood.

Chrestomanci looked up and smiled. ”Don't look so frightened,” he said, laying down his newspaper.

”Come and sit down.”

He pointed to a large leather armchair. It was all in his friendliest way but, these days, Cat was sure this meant precisely nothing. He was sure that the friendlier Chrestomanci seemed, the angrier this meant he was. He stole over to the armchair and sat in it. It proved to be one of those deep, sloping kind of chairs.

Cat slid backwards down the slippery leather slope of its seat until he found he was having to look at Chrestomanci from between his knees. He felt quite defenseless. He thought he ought to say something, so he whispered, ”Good morning.”

”You don't look as if you thought so,” observed Chrestomanci. ”No doubt you have your reasons. But don't worry. This isn't exactly about the frog again. You see, I've been thinking about you-”

”Oh, you needn't!” Cat said from his half-lying position. He felt that if Chrestomanci were to fix his thoughts on something on the other side of the universe, it would hardly be too far away.

”It didn't hurt much,” said Chrestomanci. ”Thank you all the same. As I was saying, the frog affair set me thinking. And though I fear you probably have as little moral sense as your wretched sister, I wondered if I could trust you. Do you think I can trust you?” Cat had no idea where this could be leading, except that from the way Chrestomanci put it, he did not seem to trust Cat very much. ”n.o.body's ever trusted me before,” Cat said cautiously- except Janet, he thought, and only because she had no choice.

”But it might be worth trying, don't you think?” suggested Chrestomanci. ”I ask because I'm going to start you on witchcraft lessons.”

Cat had simply not expected this. He was horrified. His legs waved about in the chair with the shock. He managed to stop them, but he was still horrified. The moment Mr. Saunders started trying to teach him magic, it would be obvious that Cat had no witchcraft at all. Then Chrestomanci would start to think about the frog all over again. Cat cursed the chance that had made Janet draw in her breath and caused him to confess. ”Oh, you mustn't do that!” he said. ”It would be quite fatal. I mean, you can't trust me at all. I'm black-hearted. I'm evil. It was living with Mrs. Sharp that did it. If I learned witchcraft, there's no knowing what I'd do. Look what I did to Euphemia.”

”That,” said Chrestomanci, ”is just the kind of accident I'm anxious to prevent. If you learn how and what to do, you're far less likely to make that kind of mistake again.”

”Yes, but I'd probably do it on purpose,” Cat a.s.sured him. ”You'll be putting the means in my hands.”

”You have it there anyway,” Chrestomanci said. ”And witchcraft will out, you know. No one who has it can resist using it forever. What exactly makes you think you're so wicked?”

That question rather stumped Cat. ”I steal apples,” he said. ”And,” he suggested, ”I was quite keen on some of the things Gwendolen did.”

”Oh, me too,” Chrestomanci agreed. ”One wondered what she would think of next. How about her procession of nasties? Or those four apparitions?”

Cat s.h.i.+vered. He felt sick to think of them.

”Precisely,” said Chrestomanci, and to Cat's dismay, he smiled warmly at him. ”Right. We'll let Michael start you on Elementary Witchcraft on Monday.”

”Oh, please don't!” Cat struggled out of the slippery chair in order to plead better. ”I'll bring a plague of locusts. I'll be worse than Moses and Aaron.”

Chrestomanci said musingly, ”It might be quite useful if you parted the waters of the English Channel.

Think of all the seasickness you'd save. Don't be so alarmed. We've no intention of teaching you to do things the way Gwendolen did.”

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