Chapter Six - The Beginning of Aunt Andrea's Troubles
"Let go! Let go!" screamed Paul.
"I'm not touching you!" said Digma.
Then their heads came out of the pool and, once more, the sunny quietness of the Wood between the Worlds was all about them, and it seemed richer and warmer and more peaceful than ever after the cold staleness and ruin of the place they had just left.
If they had been given the chance, they would again have forgotten who they were and where they came from and would have lain down and enjoyed themselves, half asleep, listening to the growing of the trees. But this time there was something that kept them as wide-awake as possible: for as soon as they had got out on to the grass, they found that they were not alone. The king had come up with them, holding on fast to Paul's hair. That was why Paul had been shouting out "Let go!"
The rings would take a person to another world merely by touching someone who was touching a ring. .
King Jador looked different in the wood. He was now so pale that hardly any of his beauty was left. And he was stooped and seemed to be finding it hard to breathe, as if the air of that place stifled him. Neither of the children felt in the least afraid of him now.
"Let go! Let go of my hair," said Paul. "What do you mean by it?"
"Here! Let go of his hair. At once," said Digma.
They both turned and struggled with him. They were stronger than he and in a few seconds they had forced him to let go. He reeled back, panting, and there was a look of terror in his eyes.
"Quick, Digma!" said Paul. "Change rings and into the home pool."
"Help! Help! Mercy!" cried the warlock in a faint voice, staggering after them. "Take me with you. You cannot mean to leave me in this horrible place. It is killing me."
"It's a reason of state," said Paul spitefully. "Just like when you killed all those people in your own world. Do be quick, Digma."
They put on their green rings, but Digma said, "Oh dear! What are we to do?" She couldn't help feeling a little sorry for the king.
"Oh don't be such an idiot," said Paul. "Ten to one he's only shamming. Do come on."
And then both children plunged into the home pool. "It's a good thing we made that mark," thought Paul.
But as they jumped, Digma felt a large cold finger and thumb catch her by the ear. And as they sank down and the confused shapes of their own world began to appear, the grip of that finger and thumb grew stronger. The warlock was apparently recovering his strength. Digma struggled and kicked, but it was not of the least use. In a moment they were in Aunt Andrea's study; and Aunt Andrea stood there, staring at the wonderful creature that Digma had brought back from beyond the world.
And well she might stare. Digma and Paul stared too. There was no doubt that the warlock had got over his faintness; and now that they saw him in their own world, with ordinary things around him, he clear took their breath away. In Sharn he had been alarming enough: in London, he was terrifying.
For one thing, they had not realized till now how very big he was. He was nearly seven feet tall. But even his height was nothing compared with his beauty, his fierceness, and his wildness. He looked ten times more alive than most of the people one meets in London.
Aunt Andrea was bowing and rubbing her hands and looking, to tell the truth, extremely scared. She seemed a little shrimp of a creature beside the warlock. And yet, as Paul said afterwards, there was a sort of likeness between her face and his, something in the expression. It was the look that all wicked sorcerors have, the "Mark" which Jador had said he could not find in Digma's face. One good thing about seeing the two together was that they would never again be afraid of Aunt Andrea, any more than they'd be afraid of a worm after they had met a rattlesnake.
"Pooh!" thought Digma to herself. "Her a sorceress! Not much. Now he's the real thing."
Aunt Andrea kept on rubbing her hands and bowing. She was trying to say something very polite, but her mouth had gone all dry so that she could not speak. Her "experiment" with the rings, as she called it, was turning out more successful than she liked: for though she had dabbled in magic for years she had always left all the dangers to other people. Nothing at all like this had ever happened to her before.
Then Jador spoke; not very loud, but there was something in his voice that made the whole room quiver.
"Where is the sorceress who has called me into this world?"
"Ah - ah -Sir," gasped Aunt Andrea, "I am most honoured - highly gratified - a most unexpected, pleasure - if only I had had the opportunity of making any preparations - I - I -"
"Where is the Sorceress, Fool?" said Jador.
"I - I am, Sir. I hope you will excuse any - er -. liberty these naughty children may have taken. I assure you, there was no intention -"
"You?" said the king in a still more terrible voice. Then, in one stride, he crossed the room, seized a great handful of Aunt Andrea's grey hair and pulled her head back so that her face looked up into his. Then he studied her face as he had studied Digma's face in the palace of Sharn. She blinked and licked her lips nervously all the time. At last he let her go: so suddenly that she reeled back against the wall.
"I see," he said scornfully, "you are a sorceress - of a sort. Stand up, cur, and don't sprawl there as if you were speaking to your equals. How do you come to know magic? You are not of royal blood, I'll swear."
"Well - ah -only a little," stammered Aunt Andrea. "I believe we are descended from King Edward the Third. The Ketterleys are, however, a very old family. Sir."
"Peace," said the warlock. "I see what you are. You are a little, peddling sorceress who works by rules and books. There is no real magic in your blood and heart. Your kind was made an end of in my world a thousand years ago. But here I shall allow you to be my servant."
"I should be most happy - delighted to be of any service - a p-pleasure, I assure you."
"Quiet! You talk far too much. Listen to your first task. I see we are in a large city. Procure for me at once a chariot or a flying carpet or a well-trained dragon, or whatever is usual for royal and noble persons in your land. Then bring me to places where I can get clothes and jewels and slaves fit for my rank. Tomorrow I will begin the conquest of the world."
"I - I - I'll go and order a cab at once," gasped Aunt Andrea.
"Stop," said the warlock, just as she reached the door. "Do not dream of treachery. My eyes can see through walls and into the minds of men. They will be on you wherever you go. At the first sign of disobedience I will lay such spells on you that anything you sit down on will feel like red hot iron and whenever you lie in a bed there will be invisible blocks of ice at your feet. Now go."
The old woman went out, looking like a dog with its tail between its legs.
The children were now afraid that Jador would have something to say to them about what had happened in the wood. As it turned out, however, he never mentioned it either then or afterwards.
His mind was of a sort which could not remember that quiet place at all. Now that he was left alone with the children, he took no notice of either of them. And that was like him too. In Sharn he had taken no notice of Paul (till the very end) because Digma was the one he wanted to make use of. Now that he had Aunt Andrea, he took no notice of Digma. So there was silence in the room for a minute or two. But you could tell by the way Jador tapped his foot on the floor that he was growing impatient.
Presently he said, as if to himself, "What is the old fool doing? I should have brought a whip."
He stalked out of the room in pursuit of Aunt Andrea without one glance at the children.
"Whew!" said Paul, letting out a long breath of relief. "And now I must get home. It's frightfully late. I shall catch it."
"Well do, do come back as soon as you can," said Digma. "This is simply ghastly, having him here. We must make some sort of plan."
"That's up to your aunt now," said Paul. "It was she who started all this messing about with magic."
"All the same, you will come back, won't you? Hang it all, you can't leave me alone in a scrape like this."
"I shall go home by the tunnel," said Paul rather coldly. "That'll be the quickest way. And if you want me to come back, hadn't you better say you're sorry?"
"Sorry?" exclaimed Digma. "Well now, if that isn't just like a boy! What have I done?"
"Oh nothing of course," said Paul sarcastically. "Only nearly screwed my wrist off in that room with all the waxworks, like a cowardly bully. Only struck the bell with the hammer, like a silly idiot. Only turned back in the wood so that he had time to catch hold of you before we jumped into our own pool, like a sissy. That's all."
"Oh," said Digma, very surprised. "Well, alright, I'll say I'm sorry. And I really am sorry about what happened in the waxworks room. And I shouldn't have hesitated in the wood. There, I've said I'm sorry. And now, do be decent and come back. I shall be in a frightful hole if you don't."
"I don't see what's going to happen to you. It's Miss Ketterley who's going to sit on red hot chairs and have ice in her bed, isn't it?"
"It isn't that," said Digma. "What I'm bothered about is Father. Suppose that creature went into his room. He might scare him to death."
"Oh, I see," said Paul in rather a different voice. "Alright. We'll call it Pax. I'll come back - if I can. But I must go now." And he crawled through the little door into the tunnel; and that dark place among the rafters which had seemed so exciting and adventurous a few hours ago, seemed quite tame and homely now.
Aunt Andrea's poor old heart went pit-a-pat as she staggered down the attic stairs and she kept on dabbing at her forehead with a patterned cotton handkerchief. When she reached her bedroom, which was the floor below, she locked herself in. And the very first thing she did was to grope in her wardrobe for a bottle of brandy and a wine-glass which she always kept hidden there where Uncle Len could not find them. She poured herself out a glassful and drank it off at one gulp. Then she drew a deep breath.
"Upon my word," she said to herself. "I'm dreadfully shaken. Most upsetting! And at my time of life!"
Aunt Andrea poured out a second glass and drank it too; then she began to change her clothes. She put on a very high, shiny, stiff collar of the sort that made her hold her chin up all the time. She put on a white waistcoat patterned with purple violets and arranged her gold watch chain across the front. She put on her best frock-coat, the one she kept for weddings and funerals. She got out her best tall hat and buffed it up. There was a vase of flowers (put there by a houseboy) on her dressing table; she took a pink carnation and put it in her buttonhole.
Aunt Andrea took a clean white handkerchief out of the little left-hand drawer and put a few drops of scent on it. She took her eye-glass, with the thick black ribbon, and screwed it into her eye. She put her top hat on then she looked at herself in the mirror.
Now that the warlock was no longer in the same room with her, she was quickly forgetting how he had frightened her and thinking more and more of his wonderful beauty. She kept on saying to herself, "A dem fine man, marm, a dem fine man. A superb creature." She had also somehow managed to forget that it was the children who had got hold of this "superb creature": she felt as if she herself by her magic had called him out of unknown worlds.
"Andrea, my girl," she said to herself as she looked in the glass, "you're a devilish well preserved woman for your age. A distinguished-looking woman, marm."
You see, the foolish old woman was actually beginning to imagine the warlock would fall in love with her. The two drinks probably had something to do with it, and so had her best clothes. But she was, in any case, as vain as a peacock; that was why she had become a sorceress.
She unlocked the door, went downstairs, sent the houseboy out to fetch a hansom (everyone had lots of servants in those days) and looked into the drawing room. There, as she expected, she found Uncle Len. He was busily mending a mattress. It lay on the floor near the window and he was kneeling on it.
"Ah, Len my dear," said Aunt Andrea, "I - ah have to go out. Just lend me five pounds or so, there's a good boy."
"No, Andrea dear," said Uncle Len in his firm, quiet voice, without looking up from his work. "I've told you times without number that I will not lend you money."
"Now pray don't be troublesome, my dear boy," said Aunt Andrea. "It's most important. You will put me in a deucedly awkward position if you don't."
"Andrea," said Uncle Len, looking up, "I wonder you are not ashamed to ask me for money."
Aunt Andrea, what with "managing dear Len's business matters for him", and never doing any work, and running up large bills for brandy and cigars (which Uncle Len had paid again and again) had made him a good deal poorer than he had been thirty years ago.
"My dear boy," said Aunt Andrea, "you don't understand. I shall have some quite unexpected expenses today. I have to do a little entertaining for a most distinguished visitor. Come now, don't be tiresome."
"Distinguished fiddlestick!" said Uncle Len. "There hasn't been a ring at the bell for the last hour."
At that moment the door was suddenly flung open. Uncle Len looked round and saw with amazement that an enormous man, splendidly dressed in strange rich garments, with bare arms and flashing eyes, stood in the doorway. It was the warlock.