The Golem's Eye

him. He had acted in self-defense there and then, striking them down before they had a chance to attack. He considered his response a restrained one, given the circumstances.
    "Well, he's obviously lying," Kitty said. "We were nowhere near the road to start with—and if he acted in self-defense at the roadside, how does he explain our being found up at the bridge? Did you arrest him?"
    The policewoman looked surprised. "He's a magician. It isn't that simple. He denies your charges. The case will be heard at the Courts of Justice next month. If you wish to take the matter further, you must attend and speak against Mr. Tallow then."
    "Good," Kitty said. "I can't wait."
    "She won't be attending," her father said. "She's done enough damage already."
    Kitty snorted, but said nothing. Her parents abhorred the idea of confrontation with the magicians and strongly disapproved of her act of trespass in the park. On her safe return from hospital, they had seemed almost angrier with her than with Tallow—a state of affairs that had awoken her strong resentment.
    "Well, it's up to you," the policewoman said. "I'll send the details anyway."
     
    For a week or more there was little word on Jakob's condition in the hospital. Visits were forbidden. In an effort to get news, Kitty finally plucked up the courage to trudge down the road to the Hyrnek house for the first time since the incident. She walked up the familiar pathway diffidently, unsure of her reception; guilt weighed heavily on her mind.
    But Mrs. Hyrnek was polite enough; indeed, she clasped Kitty to her ample bosom and hugged her tightly before ushering her indoors. She led her into the kitchen, over which, as always, the smell of cooking hung strong and pungent. Bowls of half-chopped vegetables sat in the center of the trestle table; across the wall stretched the great oak dresser, laden with gaudily decorated plates. Odd utensils of every description hung from the dark walls. Jakob's grandmama sat in her high chair beside the great black stove, stirring a saucepan of soup with a longhandled spoon. All was as normal, down to the last familiar crack in the ceiling.
    Except that Jakob was not there.
    Kitty sat at the table and accepted a mug of strongly scented tea. With a heavy sigh and a creak of protesting wood, Mrs. Hyrnek sat opposite her. For some minutes, she did not speak—in itself a unique occurrence. Kitty, for her part, did not feel she could start the conversation. Up by the stove, Jakob's grandmama continued stirring the steaming soup.
    At last, Mrs. Hyrnek took a loud slurp of tea, swallowed, spoke abruptly. "He woke up today," she said.
    "Oh! Is he—?"
    "He's as well as could be expected. Which isn't well."
    "No. But if he's woken, that's good, isn't it? He'll be okay?"
    Mrs. Hyrnek made an expressive face. "Hah! It was the Black Tumbler. His face will not recover."
    Kitty felt the tears welling. "Not at all?"
    "The scorching is too fierce. You should know this. You have seen it."
    "But why should he—?" Kitty furrowed her brows. "I mean—I'm all right, and I was hit, too. We were both—"
    "You? You were not hit!" Mrs. Hyrnek tapped her fingers against her face and looked at Kitty with such ferocious condemnation that Kitty shrank back against the kitchen wall and did not dare continue. Mrs. Hyrnek eyed her for a long moment with a basilisk's gaze, then resumed sipping her tea.
    Kitty spoke in a small voice. "I—I'm so sorry, Mrs. Hyrnek."
    "Do not be sorry. You did not hurt my son."
    "But is there no way of changing it back?" Kitty said. "I mean, surely if the doctors don't have treatments, the magicians could do something?"
    A shake of the head. "The effects are permanent. Even if they weren't, they would not choose to help us."
    Kitty scowled. "They must help us! How can they not? What we did was an accident. What Mr. Tallow did was a calculated crime." Her anger rose within her. "He wanted to kill us, Mrs. Hyrnek! The Courts must see that. Jakob and I can tell them, next month at the hearing—he'll be better by then, won't he? We'll shoot Tallow's story full of holes and they can take him to the Tower. Then they'll find some way of helping Jakob's face, Mrs. Hyrnek, you'll see."
    Even amid the passion of her speech, she was aware of how hollow her words sounded. But Mrs. Hyrnek's next words were unexpected, nevertheless.
    "Jakob will not be going to the hearing, dear. And neither should you. Your parents do not want you to, and they are quite