Effie shook her head.
‘You read each statement and tick box 1, 2, 3, 4 or 5, depending on how strongly you agree with what it says. I’m Nurse Shallowgrave. Let me know if you need anything else. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll be back in ten minutes to collect the test.’
Shallowgrave? That was even worse than Foulscrape. Effie suddenly had a terrible feeling about this. The test in front of her looked like a bad photocopy and smelled slightly of fried onions. There was something wrong in this chamber too, although Effie couldn’t work out what it was. Underneath the comforting lighting and lavender was . . . She wasn’t quite sure. Anyway, it was too late now. She could hardly just leave. And besides, if Effie didn’t do this now, she’d have to wait three whole years. Effie remembered how happy the young man had been with his consultation. And all those people who paid extra. And she was very lucky that this Daniella Bounty had not shown up. Fate obviously wanted her to do this.
Effie started filling in the test. It was actually quite interesting and she became so absorbed in answering the questions that her worries soon faded. Some of the statements were definite 5s. For example ‘I find it easy to learn other languages’ and ‘I am more fearless than my friends’. Others were definite 1s, for example ‘I make a lot of diagrams’ and ‘I am an excellent cook’. Soon Effie found herself longing to know what all this meant. She finished the test and waited.
A few more minutes passed and then Nurse Shallowgrave strode back into the small chamber. The smell of fried onions intensified. Her large diamond earrings glittered. She took the test from Effie and disappeared back beyond the curtain. More minutes passed. Then Nurse Shallowgrave emerged again and gestured to Effie that she should follow her.
There was a thin dark passageway and then a black velvet curtain. Nurse Shallowgrave held the curtain aside and showed Effie into the small, dark chamber.
‘Eugenie Halfhound,’ she announced. Then she left.
‘Actually, it’s Euphemia True—’
‘Sit,’ came a silky, smooth voice. ‘Make yourself comfortable.’
Effie sat on the only chair, which was wooden, and very, very hard. The chamber was far too hot and the only light came from a single flickering candle-lamp on Dr Foulscrape’s desk. The desk was quite untidy. There were matchboxes, notebooks, bottles of ink, tissues, sweet-wrappers and huge piles of paperwork. In the corner of the chamber was a large cauldron. Various crystals hung from the low fabric ceiling by thin pieces of thread. The small amount of light from the candle-lamp danced slowly around the gloomy chamber, changing from red to yellow to green to blue, depending on what crystal it had last travelled through.
‘Well,’ said Dr Foulscrape. ‘Greetings and blessings.’
Her voice was like thick honey. Very sweet and dense, and with a slight European accent that Effie couldn’t place. She was wearing a crumpled black linen jacket and a white silk shirt. Her hair was dyed bright pink. She looked both very old and very young, and extremely wise. Effie immediately wanted to tell her all her secrets. How odd. She didn’t usually trust people so immediately.
‘Greetings and blessings returned,’ said Effie.
‘Well,’ said Dr Foulscrape. ‘Well, well.’
‘Do you have my results?’ asked Effie.
‘I do.’ Dr Foulscrape pressed her fingers together. ‘But I wonder. What do you think you are? Do you already have some idea?’
‘Yes,’ said Effie. ‘I know my kharakter already. I know I’m a true hero. But—’
‘A true hero? Whoever gave you that idea?’
‘Oh, um . . .’
‘You haven’t been speaking to one of those ghastly fortune tellers out there, have you? They’ll tell you you’re a wizard already and then charge you hundreds of krubles. A true hero. My my.’ She laughed and shook her head. ‘I haven’t heard that one for a very long time. A true hero – if it even existed – would be a positively AWFUL thing to be. All that traipsing around after monsters and dragons and great criminal masterminds!’ She laughed again. ‘Most people who come in here long to be alchemists, healers or guides. I have the occasional would-be hedgewitch or engineer. Do you know what people are worst at, Eugenie?’
‘It’s actually—’
‘I’ll tell you. At knowing themselves. People are EXTRAORDINARILY bad at it. Which is why we use the test. The test is never wrong. But of course the test needs something vitally important in order to function. Which is . . .?’ Dr Foulscrape raised her eyebrows. ‘I’ll tell you. It needs an interpreter. Not just anyone can read this test, you know. And do you know how long I’ve been doing this? I’ll tell you. Forty years. Impressive, no? And I am simply NEVER wrong about anyone. So . . . let’s see.’
Dr Foulscrape started shuffling papers on her desk. Surely, Effie thought, if Dr Foulscrape had just been looking at her test it should be near the top of her pile? While the doctor scrabbled around on her desk, a very old and decrepit-looking cat jumped up from the ground, scattering pieces of paper everywhere. They couldn’t be pages from Effie’s test, could they? But the pieces of paper didn’t look like a test. They looked like some kind of warning or penalty notice, similar to the parking tickets Effie’s stepmother Cait sometimes brought home.
Once a few more pieces of paper had been moved around it became clear that Dr Foulscrape had found the thing she’d been looking for. It was a bright yellow bowl full of slimy brown cat food. This was what Effie had been able to smell underneath the lavender.
Dr Foulscrape stroked the cat as it ate, and it began to purr loudly. She started again on the paperwork. Her red glasses were perched in an uncomfortable-looking position on her nose.
‘Halfhound, Halfhound . . .’
‘It’s Truelove,’ said Effie exasperatedly. ‘My name is Euphemia Truelove.’
‘Oh, why ever didn’t you say? Here we are. Oh, yes. An interesting case. What did you say you thought you were? A true hero? Nope. You’re a warrior. I could have told you that anyway because of your ring.’
‘But my ring is . . .’
‘A Ring of Strength. Did you really think it was the Ring of the True Hero?’ She laughed again. ‘Oh, bless. You thought you were going around the Edgelands Market wearing something the goblins would have off your finger in seconds if they saw it? Something worth hundreds of pieces of dragon’s gold? Whoever told you this was a true hero’s ring needs their head examined.’
Effie started to feel angry.
‘The person who told me about my ring was very wise,’ she said, remembering her beloved grandfather. Although . . . had he ever actually named the ring? Now that Effie came to think of it, the person who’d told her about her ring had not been a person at all, but a dragon.
‘This anger you show,’ said Dr Foulscrape, ‘is entirely characteristic of a warrior. You’ll want to be careful you don’t let it get you into trouble. Now, do you want to know the rest of your result?’
‘Yes,’ said Effie. ‘Sorry. Is it my art and shade next?’
‘Just your art. We do the shade together afterwards.’
‘OK.’
‘And the art comes after payment, of course.’
‘Payment?’ Effie suddenly realised that she hadn’t asked anything about payment before. Of course she’d meant to, but it had all been so distracting with Nurse Shallowgrave looking for Daniella Bounty and then giving Effie her appointment. But of course she’d have to pay. This was the Edgelands after all. Things were not free here.
‘How much is it?’ said Effie.