Diotima Starn's Book of Receipts

I got a note from home; it was left on my bed, it didn't come with the post. My real home, not Miss Dee's place. It was from Mum. She said she was proud of me and soon I'd see Eire again. That hurt my heart, because now I know that it's true that Eire has gone to the Jerries. Something is going to happen, something that's bad. I tried to take the note to Miss Pritchard because I want her to know that I'm loyal, but it burned up before I was even done reading it, and it was written in Shelta too.

I wish I knew what she meant. Everything feels so strange, like one of those dreams where you know it's a dream. I feel weak all over now, but...it's got to be because I'm so upset. I hate my Sire, but I hate the Jerries too. I heard what they done to Frankel's people. And they'd do the same to us as they do to the Romany; Jenny Popescu told us about it. But Mum is too much of a fool to believe it I guess. If something bad happens, no-one will ever believe that I didn't want it to be that way. All the girls here hate me, especially Claudia. Kat Pendry likes me, but she's in first year.

Anyhow what have I done for my stupid Mum to be proud of? Nothing but get myself into a college where hardly anyone likes me and everyone tries to fill my head with buffer nonsense. At least I'm not betrothed to anyone though. In the caravan I might be by now.

I hate my Sire and I think my Mum is an idiot. I'm afraid of what could happen in the caravan, and also here. I know what I hate; I just wish I knew what I like. Really I'm only happy when I'm compounding. I'm good at figuring, too, or thought I was. But I went with Callista and Mercuria and their brothers to that lecture, and maybe I'm not. I know it was for the older kids, but Callista and Mercuria understood some of it. I was as lost as Kat Pendry and Florrie Leffoy were. (Of course it made me feel better to see Florrie Leffoy lost, because everyone knows that he is smart. But maybe not smart with figures. And I thought I WAS.)

Two drills now and Walsingham still ain't learned that the Jerries don't care if your hair's curled or not. They're welcome to have her, honest, except that I don't want 'em here. Too bad we can't tie her up and leave her outside, like a bowl o' milk for the Fair Ones.

I am Irish an' Traveller and proud to be so, but these buffers are sayin' that Eire has hooked up t' the Jerries, which I can't rightly believe, yet that boy who was taken was taken by Irish gentry, no lie. Don't know what I think about that, 'cause I don't much care for the Jerries, and I don't much care for the English, but mostly I don't much care about buffers, except that I have to, now.

I'm glad they can't read Shelta.

No word from m'Sire, no word from Miss Dee. Should I be glad or should I worry? Reckon I'd rather be glad as long as I can.

This place ain't right. Been here less'n a fortnight an' already, there's so many dead. Three professors, three girls. Kat Loveday thinks she's tryin' to help me. I guess I should let her today but I don't want t'look like the others.

I guess that bein' a Starn means I'm English now and I ought to be glad of it, seeing as how bein' Irish does nobody good here. But I don't guess I'll ever be home again now. There's been no word from Sire, nor even Miss Starn, thank God. Wonder if they forgot about me. I could wish for it.

The demon was terrible. Never seen one before. I knew what it had to be when they started in with the Latin, and at least I got my rosary.

They're gonna whip Jeremy Wood and Anthony Stebbins tonight. We've got sodomy all over the place, and now we've got the lash, so when do we get the damn rum?

There's a Mira Dee in first year, but small blessings, she's in Caerleon. She's horrible just like Miss Dee was, like Parkinson and Walsingham rolled into one fat knot o'bitch. Her older sister's in my House but she don't talk to me.

Think I'll go down in the dungeons with Callie’n see what blows up.

Three days ago, my Sire come to the caravan to bring me to Londinium. We come back to this posh house and there is a German there and he tells me that I will be betrothed to him. I am 14 years old. Travellin' people, sometimes we get married young, but I am 14. Not 16 or 17 or even 15. And this is not a boy, this is a man. A German man. I don't want to marry a bleedin' German. Even if Miss Dee (my Sire's posh light-o-love) does say that my Mum is a dirty gipsy and so am I and I should be grateful to marry with anyone quality. As if I care about that!

Then yesterday my Sire just dumps me here at Miss Dee's house with hardly a neveryoumind and off he goes to bloody America. I don't want to go back to that damn school, cause Van Rensselaer is the only teacher worth beans and it took me a month to convince him I wasn't as dumb as a rock. But after two days with Miss Dee I am almost lookin' forward to it.

She cut my hair. She said it was a mess o'tangles and there was no point and she just CUT IT OFF. I made her burn it in front of me, but still! She just DID it, like I was a dog or a cat or that thing she's got doing her chores. And she burnt most my clothes and she made me buy everything new except for the dead people's clothes my half-sister left.

Sire knows where we are and the elders say I have to go back. They promised I wouldn't this year.

Martius is dead. And so is Ophelia. I'm the only child Sire has left, even if I ain't legit. I have a trunk full of Ophelia's old things and books. Some of them don't match up with what's in this letter but I guess it'll have to do.

Mum doesn't want me to go. Truth be, I don't much want to go either. But the rest of 'em'll suffer an I don't. I can do magic all on my own, and I'm as good at brewin' potions as anyone here. But I have Blood and I have a Name to go with it now, so I got to go to school like settled folks.

I was Dio Mary Eileen Duigan, an' that was fine. Now I'm Diotima Starn again, whether I like it or not. Reckon I don't.