The Well of Lost Plots

'It's just her little way,' replied the Gryphon. 'She never actually executes anyone. I was just worried for a moment that they might try to hold you on remand until the sentencing, but fortunately the King isn't very up on legal terminology.'

'What do you think I'll get?'

'Do you know,' replied the Gryphon, 'I have absolutely no idea. Time will tell. I'll see you around, Next!'

I made my way slowly back to the Jurisfiction offices, where I found Miss Havisham.

'How did it go?' she asked.

'Guilty as charged.'

'Bad luck. When's the sentencing?'

'Not a clue.'

'Might not be for years, Thursday. I've got something for you.'

She passed me across the report I had written for her regarding Shadow the Sheepdog. I read the mark on the cover, then read it again, then looked at Havisham.

'A++ Hons?' I echoed, incredulously.

'Think I'm being over-generous?' she asked.

'Well, yes,' I said, feeling confused. 'I was forcibly married and then nearly murdered!'

'Marriage by force is not recognised, Next. But bear this in mind: We've given that particular assignment to every new Jurisfiction apprentice for the past thirty-two years and every single one has failed.'

I gaped at her.

'Even Harris Tweed.'

'Tweed was married to Mr Townsperson?'

'Apart from that bit. He didn't even manage to buy the pigs — let alone fool the vet. You did well, Next. Your cause-and-effect technique is good. Needs work, but good.'

'Oh!' I said, kind of relieved, then added after a moment's reflection: 'But I could have been killed!'

'You wouldn't have been killed,' she assured me. 'Jurisfiction has eyes and ears everywhere — we're not that reckless with our apprentices. Your multiple-choice mark was ninety-three per cent. Congratulations. Pending final submissions to the Council of Genres, you're made.'

I thought about this and felt some pride in it, despite knowing in my heart of hearts that this would not be a long appointment — as soon as I could return to the Outland, I would.

'Did you find out anything about Perkins?'

'Nothing,' I replied. 'Any news of Vernham Deane?'

'Vanished without trace. The Bellman's going to talk to us about it.'

'Could the two be related?'

'Perhaps,' she said, slightly mysteriously. 'I'll have to make further enquiries. Ask me again tomorrow.'

22 Crimean nightmares

'Echolocator: An artisan who will enter a book close to publication and locate echoed words and destroy echoed words in the publication. As a general rule, identical words (with exceptions such as names, small words and modified repetitions) cannot be repeated within fifteen words as it interrupts the smooth transfer of images into the reader's mind. (See ImaginoTransference Device User’s Manual, page 782.) Although echoes can be jarring to the eye they are more jarring when read out loud, which belies their origin from the first OralTrad Operating System. (See also OralTradPlus, Operating Systems, History of.)

UA OF W CAT— The Jurisfiction Guide to the Great Library (glossary)

'Ah!' said Gran as I walked through the door. 'There you are! How were things at work today?'

'Good and bad,' I told her, sitting on the sofa and undoing the top button of my trousers. 'The good news is I passed the Jurisfiction practical; the bad news is that I was found guilty of my fiction infraction.'

'What was the sentence?'

'I'll have to wait for that.'

'Waiting's the worst part,' she murmured. 'I was up for murder once and the worst part of it all was waiting for the jury to come back with their verdict. Longest eight hours of my life.'

'I believe you. Did you go home today?'

She nodded. 'I brought you a few bits and bobs. I notice there is no chocolate here in the WOLP — nothing worth eating, anyway.'

'Did you find anything out about Yorrick Kaine?'

'Not much,' replied Gran, eating the chocolate she had brought for me, 'but he's not in hiding or anything. He's bought another publishing house and at the same time trying to rebuild his political career after that Cardenio debacle.'

'Ah. Where are Lola and Randolph?'

'At a party, I think. You look all done in — why don't you get an early night?'

'And have what's-her-name pester me?'

She looked at me seriously through her large-framed spectacles. 'Aornis. It's Aornis. Remember?'

'Yes. Who was my husband again?'

'Landen. He was eradicated by the Chronoguard, yes?'

I remembered and my heart sank.

'Yes,' I said in a quiet voice. I had been happy in my non-remembering state but now I could feel the anger rising again.

'Sometimes I think it would be better if I just forgot, Gran.'

'Never say that, Thursday!' said Gran so sharply I jumped and she had to rest for a moment to get her breath back and eat a few more chocolates. 'Aornis has no right to take that which does not belong to her and you must be strong with her, and yourself— retake your memories!'

'Easier said than done, Gran,' I said, trying to grab a chocolate as they were pulled out of my reach. 'I want to dream about—'

'Landen.'

'Landen, yes — I want to dream about him again. He's there but we don't talk like we used to.'

The door banged open and Randolph walked in. He ignored us both and hung up his coat.

'Randolph?' I said. 'You okay?'

'Me?' he said, not looking at either of us. 'I'm fine. It's that tarty little bitchlet who's going to come to a sticky end — she can't talk to a man without wanting to add him to her collection!'

And he walked out.

'Is she all right?' I called after him, but all we heard was the door to their bedroom slam shut. We looked at one another and shrugged.

'Where were we?'

'I was telling you how I never dream about Landen the way I used to. We used to go to the really great memories we shared. We never got to — you know — but it was wonderful. At least I had some control of where I went when the "Sable Goddess" laid down her cloak.'

Gran looked at me and patted my hand reassuringly.

'You need to make her feel she's winning, Thursday. Lull her into a trap. She might think she is in command but she's only in your mind and you are the one who controls what you think. Our memories are precious and should never be sullied by an outside agent.'

'Of course — but how?'

'Well,' said Gran, passing me a chocolate she didn't like, 'it isn't Aornis up there, my dear, it's only your memory of her. She's alone and afraid too. Without the real Aornis here in the BookWorld she doesn't have so much power; all she can do is try and—'

The door burst open again. This time it was Lola. She looked as though she had been crying. She stopped dead when she saw us.

'Ah!' she said. 'Is rat-face shit-for-brains in?'

'Do you mean Randolph?'

'Who else?'

'Then yes, he is.'

'Right!' she announced. 'I'll go and sleep over at Nemo's.'

She started to leave.

'Wait!' I said. 'What's going on?'

She stopped and put her hands on her hips. Her bag slid down and hung off her elbow, which spoiled the illusion, but Lola was past caring.

'I went to meet him for coffee after college and blow me if he's not talking to that little D-2 runt — you know, the one with the silly eyes and the stupid snorty laugh?'

'Lola,' I said quietly, 'they were probably just talking.'

She looked at her hands for a moment.

'You're right,' she announced, 'and what do I care anyway? They clearly deserve one another!'

'I heard that!' said a voice from the back of the flying boat. Randolph strode into the kitchen and waved a finger at Lola, who glared back angrily.