13 Treasures (25 page)

SOME SAID THE GIRL HAD PERISHED, HAVING FALLEN TO HER DOOM,

LIKE OTHERS WHO HAD DIED BELOW IN THE WINDING, MURKY GLOOM.

SOME SAID THAT SHE HAD RUN AWAY TO SEEK A BETTER LIFE,

SOME THOUGHT SHE HAD BEEN KILLED BY HE WHO SOUGHT HER AS HIS WIFE.

AS TRUTH GOT LOST IN LEGEND, IT WAS CLEAR FOR ALL TO SEE

MORWENNA THE REVEREND’S DAUGHTER WAS A FADING MEMORY.

NOW MOST DO NOT REMEMBER—THOUGH THOSE WHO HAVE THE SIGHT

AVOID THE PATH THE DOOMED GIRL WALKED THAT WARM MIDSUMMER NIGHT.

FOR IN THE WOODS WHERE FOXGLOVES SWAY AND SHADOWS SOFTLY LOOM

IT’S SAID MORWENNA ROAMS STILL, DANCING TO THE FAERIES’ TUNE.

The poem was unsigned. Gut instinct told Tanya that there was truth in it. She hastily stuffed the piece of paper back into the envelope, and then tucked it into the red scarf beneath the loose floorboard, her head spinning with the sickening revelation.

Morwenna had been taken by the fairies.

For fifty years she had been trapped in their realm, unable to escape, or to tell anyone what had really happened to her.

That’s what she was trying to tell us,
Tanya thought helplessly.
And if Warwick hadn’t found us in the woods that day she would have succeeded.

For half a century Amos had lived under suspicion for a crime he had not committed, descending into madness.

Amos was innocent.

There were now two questions in Tanya’s mind that needed answers. Firstly, who had left the envelope in her room? And secondly, whom could she confide in? She gripped the edge of the bedclothes and twisted them in frustration. If only Red were still there. If only she had told her about Morwenna Bloom. Red would have known what to do. But “If only” was no use, and Tanya knew it.

As she went to replace the floorboard, the glint of the compass caught her eye. And that was when the thought came to her.

The forest was silent, but for the whispering of the breeze in the trees and the bubbling of the brook. Tanya stood on the edge of the woods, the compass in her hand, the iron nail in her pocket, and every item of clothing turned inside out. This time, she was taking no chances. Oberon stood beside her, looking up at her in a puzzled way as if he didn’t understand what they were waiting for.

She exhaled shakily. Less than an hour earlier she had felt certain that she never wanted to set foot in these woods again, but the poem had changed everything. She knew that it had come to her for one reason; she was the only person who could help Morwenna now. Gathering her courage, she stepped over the brook and into the trees and began to walk, with no idea where she was going. The only thing that was keeping her calm was the knowledge that the compass would lead her safely home.

“I won’t get lost,” she told herself, aware of how small her voice sounded. “
I won’t get lost
.”

She continued to walk farther into the woods. The twigs and moss crunched and rustled lightly under her feet, and once she had to sidestep to avoid treading on a decomposing mouse. A couple of times she stopped and looked around, unable to shake the eerie sensation that she was being followed. The second time she even called Fabian’s name, suspicious that he might be spying on her again, but no one answered. She continued, ears straining for any telltale sound, but there was nothing. She had just started to relax when the first catacomb came into view.

Tanya eyed the missing part of the railing, recalling the desperation she had experienced the day Oberon had disappeared. She averted her eyes and hurried past.

Soon they came to a small clearing, where there was a thick fallen tree trunk in the middle. Oberon snuffled in the long grass, sneezing repeatedly as he disturbed a dandelion clock. She decided to sit for a while, to try to get her bearings and take a mouthful of water from the bottle she had brought with her. When she checked the compass, it was a shock to see that the house was in a totally different direction to what she had thought it would be.

Eventually she got up. She knew that she did not have much time if she was going to get back before anyone missed her, but she had no idea which way to go. It was hopeless, and she knew it.

“Come on, boy,” she said to Oberon. “We’d better get back.”

She had barely taken a step when she saw a small movement ahead of her within the trees. A glimpse of a hand.

“Morwenna,” she called. “Morwenna Bloom… is that you?”

A grubby, rugged face peered out from behind a nearby tree. Its expression was one of terrible fear. Oberon crouched behind her, whimpering. Tanya took a slow step forward.

“Brunswick?”

The goblin edged out from his hiding place, his eyes wide. One finger was pressed to his lips, motioning for her to be silent.

“You mustn’t, you
mustn’t
!” he whispered, shaking his head fervently.

“Mustn’t what?’

Brunswick scurried up to her and took her hand in his, then began tugging her through the trees, his eyes darting nervously over his shoulder.

“You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t have come!”

“Why not?” Tanya asked. “Brunswick, you’re scaring me. Tell me what you mean!”

But the goblin would not tell. Instead he continued to pull her farther and farther into the woods at a maddening pace. The trees around them grew closer together now, their bark gnarled and ancient. It felt wrong to be there, as though they were intruding on a place undisturbed by time. Still Brunswick tugged her onward, even deeper into the woods. Between the greenery, Tanya caught a sudden glimpse of yellow. The goblin stopped and finally released her hand.

A beautiful old Romany caravan was almost completely consumed by the foliage. Brunswick had led her straight to the old gypsy woman.

“How did you know?” she whispered.

“You’ll be safe with her,” he said. “But I can help you no more.”

Tanya stared at him, as several realizations hit her at once. She searched Brunswick’s face for answers. Instead she found only more questions.

“Where are the other two goblins? And why… why aren’t you speaking in rhyme?”

Brunswick shook his head again sadly and began to back away, motioning for her to approach the caravan. She paused in front of the door, her hand raised to knock. Then she hesitated and looked back for Brunswick. He was gone.

Before she had the chance to hesitate any further, the door opened.

“Come in,” said the old gypsy woman, her birdlike eyes drinking Tanya in. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Inside, the caravan smelled of burning candles and herbs. There was a comfortable-looking armchair by the window, and next to a table sat a small dresser displaying all manner of curious bottles made of brightly colored glass, all with labels tied to their stoppers. A thick velvet curtain obscured the rear portion of the caravan, which, Tanya supposed, must be where the old woman slept. Curled up at the foot of a traditional broom was a smoke-gray cat. It eyed both her and Oberon suspiciously.

The strangest thing in the caravan by far was a thick book of puzzles that was propped open to reveal a partially completed crossword. Tanya gaped at it, momentarily thrown. Something so completely normal seemed out of place in the home of a so-called witch.

“What were you expecting?” the old woman snapped, making Tanya jump. “Toads and spell books? A collection of pointy hats? Eye of newt and wing of bat?”

“No,” Tanya began, embarrassed. “It’s just—” She broke off, unable to finish the sentence.

“I happen to
like
puzzle books,” said Morag, crossly. “I don’t know why everyone finds that so amusing. And for your information, I don’t keep spell books.” She lifted a bony finger and tapped the side of her head. “They’re all up here.”

Morag motioned to a seat at the table, and then set a bowl of water in front of Oberon. He lapped at it gratefully.

The old woman sat down, her wizened hands clasped together.

“I thought you would come sooner.”

Tanya removed the compass from her pocket. It was a moment before she found her voice.

“I… I’d like to know why you gave me this,” she said, finding it hard to meet the old woman’s unfaltering gaze. “And how you knew I’d need it.”

“Of course.” Morag seemed unfazed. “I expect you know its use by now?”

Tanya nodded.

“I saw you in a vision recently. And I saw your… ability.”

Tanya gaped, and Morag smiled.

“Do not be surprised. I too have abilities, although not quite like your own. Some call me a fortune-teller. Some call me a witch. Most know me as ‘Mad Morag.’ ” She paused and gave Tanya a hard look. “Yes, I know what people say about me, and a little of it is true. I have a gift, and sometimes I can use it to help people—people like you.”

“People like me?”

“Those who believe they have nobody else to turn to. And those who are not too afraid to accept my help.”

“What else did you see?” Tanya asked, her fear slowly giving way to curiosity.

The old woman seemed to be considering her answer. “I saw a child stolen from its crib, long ago. And later, I saw a boy of about your own age… with a grievance of a different kind. Somehow, it is connected to your ability, the fact that you have the second sight. Am I correct?”

Tanya nodded, thinking of the poem’s revelation of the true manner of Morwenna’s disappearance. “It is now.”

“This boy wants your help,” Morag continued. “But there will come a time when you will need his help more. Much more.”

Tanya frowned. The old woman seemed to be speaking in riddles.

Morag seemed to sense what she was thinking.

“I know you have many questions, but I’m afraid I am able to answer very few of them. I have a feeling that you mean to save somebody… and you will. But not in the way you would expect.”

Two people,
Tanya thought grimly.
Amos needs saving as well as Morwenna.

“May I ask what it is you are doing?” the old woman continued.

“I need to… to bring someone out of the fairy realm,” Tanya said. “But I don’t know how to do it.”

“I would advise against it,” said the old woman immediately. “To attempt it is not an easy task. You will be placing yourself—and the boy—in grave danger. You may even become trapped in the fairy realm yourself.”

“I’ve no choice.”

Morag studied her, and Tanya thought she saw fear in the old woman’s eyes.

“I thought you would say that.” She got up from the table and hobbled over to the dresser. “I can be of some assistance,” she said, reaching into the cabinet amongst the many objects inside. She began to remove several jars and bottles, mixing ingredients in a small bowl with a stone pestle.

Tanya felt her eyes drawn to the puzzle book once more. She simply couldn’t help herself. Its normality made it seem alien.

“It’s prejudice,” she murmured unthinkingly.

“Pardon?” said Morag.

“Nine down. ‘Preconceived opinion or judgment formed without facts.’ The answer is prejudice.”

Morag nodded toward a pencil on the table. Tanya hastily scribbled the answer into the grid. Afterward she stared at the compass in her hands.

“Where… where did you get this?”

Morag did not turn around.

“It was passed down to me by my mother. Many things are passed down through families that cannot be explained. It has helped a number of others before you find their way in times of need, and will continue to help others after you, so I would appreciate it if you could return it when you feel it is no longer of any use.”

“How will I know when I don’t need it anymore?”

“You will know,” Morag replied. “It will simply cease to work.” She closed the cabinet of the dresser, then sat back down and placed two objects on the table. One was a tiny pair of silver scissors. The other was a bottle, small enough to fit into the palm of her hand. Morag lifted the bowl of liquid she had been mixing and carefully emptied the murky, gray-green fluid into the clear glass.