‘Teacher and guardian.’
‘There weren’t many applicants, I guess.’ I’m finishing off her mouth now, but the downward curve of the original has softened.
She turns to me, disturbing the position she’s been holding.
‘I believe I was their first choice for the post.’
‘Their only choice, you mean.’
I wait, but she’s giving nothing away.
‘And your life is so empty that sitting in the middle of nowhere, acting as jailer for an innocent child must seem pretty rewarding.’
She’s actually beginning to smile at this.
‘And I bet the pay isn’t that great.’
She nods a little.
‘Imprisoning, beating, physically and mentally scarring a boy who isn’t yet sixteen years old … a boy who has never done anything wrong … they’re all the plus points of the job.’
‘Yes,’ she says. ‘They are all plus points.’
The smile has gone but the sneer hasn’t returned. She resumes her previous pose and doesn’t look at me as she says, ‘Marcus killed my sister.’
Her sister must be on the list. I don’t know Celia’s surname. I’ve asked before but apparently it’s not relevant.
‘What Gift did she have?’
‘Potion-making.’
I nod. ‘Can Marcus do your thing … your Gift … with the noise?’
‘Is it on the list?’
‘You should watch out. I’d bet he’d like it to be.’
We are silent again.
I had sort of guessed that Celia had an issue with me, or rather with me being the son of you-know-who. It wasn’t a wild guess. Let’s face it, she was bound to know or be related to someone on the list.
I say, ‘I’m not Marcus.’
‘I know.’
‘I didn’t kill your sister.’
‘It’s unfair, isn’t it? But I think that there is a chance, admittedly a small one, that he does care about you and that it irks him that his son is here.’
‘Does he know I’m here?’
‘No, I don’t mean here. This place is well hidden, even from his abilities.’ She stretches her neck and arms. ‘I mean that he will know that we have you. And will assume you aren’t in any state of luxury. I’d hate to disappoint on that level.’
‘Why not leave me in the cage all day, then? You can’t seriously think I’d ever be able to kill him? This training is stupid.’
She gets up and walks around the room. This is usually a sign that she doesn’t want to answer the question.
‘Perhaps, but leaving you in a cage all day would be cruel.’
I’m so amazed that I don’t start laughing for a second or two. When I’ve managed to calm myself I say, ‘You beat me. I wear a choker that can kill me. You shackle me up at night in a cage.’
‘You’re well fed. You’re sitting here drawing.’
‘And I’m supposed to be grateful?’
‘No. You’re supposed to sit there with a full stomach and draw.’
‘I’ve finished it,’ I say, and push it across to her.
She picks the paper up and turns it round to study it. After a minute she rolls it up and puts it on to the fire.
I pick up the pencil again and begin another. This time I draw myself, my face as I saw it in the mirror but even older, how I imagine Marcus looks. I can tell Celia is watching closely. She is hardly breathing. I’ve never done this before. I do the depths of his eyes like mine, exactly like mine. I can’t imagine them blacker.
When I’m finished I’m not that pleased. He looks too handsome, too nice. ‘Burn it,’ I say. ‘It’s not right.’
Celia reaches over to take it and studies it longer than she studied her own portrait. Then she takes it out of the room.
‘It doesn’t mean he looks like that,’ I call after her.
She doesn’t reply.
I pack up the pencils, rubber and sharpener in the old tin. The lid pushes on and that’s that. Celia comes back to sit opposite me again.
‘Has anyone ever come close to catching him?’ I ask.
‘Who knows how close they get? No one succeeds. He’s very good. Very careful.’
‘Do you think they will get him one day?’
‘He’ll make a mistake, it only takes one, and he’ll get caught or killed.’
‘Are they using me as bait to get him?’
She sounds pleased as she says, ‘I should imagine they are.’
‘But you don’t know how? In what way, I mean?’
‘My job is to act as your guardian and teacher. That’s all.’
‘Until when?’
‘Until they tell me to stop.’
‘What will happen to me if they catch him?’
She sticks her lower lip out. It’s huge and flat. Slowly she draws it back in, but she doesn’t say anything.
‘Will they kill me?’
The lip goes out again but comes in quickly this time and she says, ‘Maybe.’
‘Even though I’ve done nothing wrong.’
She shrugs.
‘Better safe than sorry, hey?’
She doesn’t respond.