Charmed Life - Diana Wynne Jones [82]
“But I don’t,” said Cat.
And Janet, who was becoming thoroughly cheerful now she was being allowed to ask questions, said, “I think you were quite wrong. We both got so frightened that we came into this garden and nearly got you and Cat killed. You should have said.”
“Perhaps,” agreed Chrestomanci, and peeled a banana in a thoughtful way. He was still turned towards Cat. “Normally we’re more than a match here for people like the Nostrums. I knew they were planning something through Gwendolen, and I thought Cat knew it too—my apologies, Cat. I wouldn’t have had Gwendolen here for a minute, except that we had to have Cat. Chrestomanci has to be a nine-lived enchanter. No one else is strong enough for the post.”
“Post?” said Janet. “Isn’t it a hereditary title then?”
Mr. Saunders laughed, and threw his bone to the dragon too. “Heavens no! We’re all Government employees here. The job Chrestomanci has is to make sure this world isn’t run entirely by witches. Ordinary people have rights too. And he has to make sure witches don’t get out into worlds where there isn’t so much magic and play havoc there. It’s a big job. And we’re the staff that helps him.”
“And he needs us like he needs two left legs,” Bernard remarked, jerking about in the hammock as he tried to eat ice cream.
“Oh, come now!” said Chrestomanci. “I’d have been sunk without you today.”
“I was thinking of the way you found the next Chrestomanci,” Bernard said, spooning ice cream off his waistcoat. “You did it when we were just going around in circles.”
“Nine-lived enchanters are not easy to find,” Chrestomanci explained to Janet. “In the first place, they’re very rare, and in the second, they have to use their magic before they can be found. And Cat didn’t. We were actually thinking of bringing someone in from another world, when Cat happened to fall into the hands of a clairvoyant. Even then, we only knew where he was, not who. I’d no idea he was Eric Chant, or any relation of mine at all—though I suppose I might have remembered that his parents were cousins, which doubled the chance of their children being witches. And I must confess that Frank Chant wrote to me to say his daughter was a witch and seemed to be using her younger brother in some way. Forgive me, Cat. I ignored that letter because your father had been so very rude when I offered to make sure his children would be born without witchcraft.”
“Just as well he was rude, you know,” Bernard said.
“Was that what the letters were about?” said Cat.
“I don’t understand,” said Janet, “why you didn’t say anything at all to Cat. Why couldn’t you?”
Chrestomanci was still looking vaguely in Cat’s direction. Cat could tell he was very wary indeed. “Like this,” he said. “Remember we hadn’t known one another very long. Cat appears to have no magic at all. Yet his sister works magic far beyond her own abilities, and goes on doing it even when her witchcraft is taken away. What am I to think? Does Cat know what he’s doing? If he doesn’t, why doesn’t he? And if he does know, what is he up to? When Gwendolen removed herself, and nobody mentioned the fact, I hoped some of the answers might emerge. And Cat still does nothing—”
“What do you mean, nothing?” said Janet. “There were some fabulous horse chestnuts, and he kept stopping Julia.”
“Yes, and I couldn’t think what was happening,” Julia said, rather ashamed.
Cat felt hurt and uncomfortable. “Leave me alone!” he said, and he stood up. Everyone, even Chrestomanci, went tense. The only