Amethyst (9 page)

In the morning they saw how the snowstorm had changed the landscape. Snow had hidden rocks, bushes and trees beneath a thick white blanket. Half the house was enclosed behind a gigantic snowdrift. Everything looked fresh and clean.

‘It’s lucky that Mr Annigan is so light-footed,’ said Amber. She put porridge into the breakfast bowls. ‘If he was heavy he’d sink into these great snowdrifts and never be seen again!’

‘Ah, you are so right,’ said Shane Annigan, coming in at that moment. ‘I am as light as a mite of dust and will float over the crystals like a flake of snow myself. Is that porridge? Lovely. Do you know,’ he added, ‘that snow fairies freeze porridge and use it as missiles? I once had a fight with a giant yeti, sure, he was a brute of a creature, living up on a lonely mountain top. I flew round and round him, riding my dragon like a warplane,
bombarding him with frozen fairy porridge balls.’

‘Cool!’ breathed Questrid. ‘Oh, I wish I could!’

‘Questrid, don’t worry. It’ll all be there for you when the time is right,’ said Greenwood.

‘Well, I’ve had a lovely time here, and that’s the truth,’ said Shane. ‘But now, before I go, might I have a look at the Root Room you’ve told me about?’

The Root Room was where Greenwood, Cedar and Amber worked at wood carving. It was a big, natural room made beneath the fanned out roots of the spindle tree.

Amy and Copper followed Cedar and Shane down the narrow stairs. The strong, sweet smell of the wood and fresh wood shavings made Amy cough and her eyes water.

‘We’re making a mirror at the moment,’ Cedar said. ‘We have a buyer in the South. Someone who appreciates our work.’

The mirror stood two metres high. It was made from walnut and rosewood, and carved with animals and flowers. One side of the frame was patterned with filigree strands of gold and embedded with silver and precious stones, the other side was still to be decorated.

‘That’s mighty fine,’ said Shane. ‘Those strands of gold are so delicate.’

‘My wife does those intricate bits,’ said Cedar proudly.

‘And you’ve got plenty of gold, have you?’ asked Shane Annigan.

Cedar went so still that Amy knew he was shocked. Or angry. Something about Shane’s question disturbed
him. Did he wonder if Shane had heard the stories of Amber knitting gold too? Maybe he had? Maybe he was hoping to get some himself.

‘We’re trading with the Rockers again, now,’ Cedar said. ‘There’s plenty of gold coming out of the mountains.’

‘Do you enjoy making things, Amethyst?’ Shane asked. Amy shrugged. In her mind’s eye she saw the hunched forms of the grey clay gargoyles on the stone table at home. ‘I’m quite good at some things,’ she said. ‘But I—’

‘Yes?’

‘But, well, I’ve never tried to make anything
beautiful
.’

‘So what have you made? Just ugly things?’ Copper laughed.

It was on the tip of Amy’s tongue to say ‘yes’. How wonderful if she could fling herself into Amber’s arms and confess all. If only Shane Annigan wasn’t glaring at her with his cold, light eyes. Amy went red. She shook her head. ‘I’ve made nothing.’

They watched Amber’s long, nimble fingers wind the gold thread through minuscule holes in the wooden mirror frame. She bent it and plaited it and knotted it into flowers, birds and stars. Watching her made Amy’s insides shrink and tangle. How could anyone do such delicate, clever things? How did the birds and the flowers look so real? She studied Amber; it wasn’t hard to imagine her making gold.

‘See this flower here, Amethyst?’ Amber pointed to a blue stone with a darker centre. ‘That’s a Star
Amethyst. It’s a very special stone, an amethyst with a flaw in its centre. The flaw makes it more valuable. They’re rare.’

‘Oh,’ said Amy.

A vast wave of sadness washed over her, so violent was it, that she nearly fell over. I’m a spoiled amethyst, she thought. There’s no hope for me. Flawed. Ruined. She bit her bottom lip to stop it from trembling. She didn’t even hear the last words Amber had said about the Star Amethyst being the most valuable and rare.

Cedar was carving a rosebud from a knob of brown wood and they watched as it grew like a watered seed bursting into life before their eyes.

‘It’s truly wonderful, so it is,’ Shane said.

‘I wish I could do it,’ said Copper.

‘You’ll soon learn,’ said Amber.

‘You must spend more time learning the techniques, Copper,’ said Shane Annigan. ‘Making anything fine takes time. Will you work really hard this afternoon, just for me?’

‘Oh, all right. I’ll try.’

‘After all, she must be able to do it; it’s in her blood,’ said Cedar.

‘Maybe it isn’t,’ said Copper. ‘I can knit. Only I don’t any more,’ she added, glancing at her mother. She exchanged a look with Amy. There’d be no knitting without knitting needles, her look said.

At last Shane Annigan was ready to continue his journey. They accompanied him to the front door.

‘That’s a fine species of dragon you have there,’
Shane said. He was looking up at the dragon carved out of the lintel above the door.

‘A Marble Mountain Dragon,’ said Cedar. ‘A good luck charm.’

‘Splendid! I hope you always have good fortune. Goodbye to you all and many thanks!’ Shane stepped out across the snow, waving merrily to them.

He started off walking lightly on the white crust, his feet hardly marking its surface. Suddenly he broke into a run. His clothes flapped loosely round him. The faster he went, the higher off the ground he seemed to go, until he was almost flying and running at the same time. His white clothes seemed to mingle with the white of the snow until finally he became a blur and vanished into the distance.

‘Wow!’ said Copper. ‘Fantastic!’

‘I’m going to all those places he told us about one day,’ said Questrid. ‘You see if I don’t.’

‘Well, I’m not,’ said Copper. ‘I love it here. I’m never going. Amy, come down to the Root Room with me, will you? I promised Mr Annigan I’d work harder – though I’m really hopeless. Questrid’s got some lumps of stone down there that you could carve. We could be together.’

So they both went down to the Root Room.

‘Amy, would you like to try marble, granite, or basalt?’ said Cedar.

‘Marble,’ said Amy, without hesitating. Marble was cold and hard to work with. If there were faults in the stone, and there always were, it might chip and could
shatter. But that made it all the more challenging. The end results were smooth and sophisticated.

‘OK. Copper has an elm figure,’ said Cedar. ‘She’s only been working on it for three months, Amy,’ he joked, ‘that’s why it’s so good.’

Copper held up the piece of knobbly elm. It didn’t look like anything.

‘Hopeless!’ she said. ‘Let’s see who can produce the worst piece by the end of the afternoon!’

Amy looked up at the domed tangle of roots above their heads. How would she bear it down here? The roots cascaded down the sides, then disappeared into the earth walls. Built into the spaces between the roots were small cupboards, shelves and racks for hanging the tools on. Compared to the white walls, smooth floors of shiny rock and snow-reflected light which she’d had in Granite’s studio, she did not find it very inspiring.

She had to make do with Questrid’s spare tools, because the ones Uncle John had given her were back at Malachite Mountain. She stroked the chunk of marble. She turned it round and round. For the very first time she was going to carve something beautiful. She began to chisel and chip at the stone. She forgot everything else.

Alongside her, Copper worked on her wooden figure.

‘Wood’s so difficult,’ she whispered to Amy. ‘Not like knitting. I can knit every stitch there is, you know, and quickly, too.’

‘Not much good if your mum won’t let you,’ said Amy.

Copper shrugged. ‘Wish I knew why.’

For two hours Copper and Amy worked, chatting all the time. They gouged and cut, sanded and polished. Finally Copper threw down her figure in disgust.

‘It’s horrible! Look! I’ve just sliced off her nose and she looks like a pig. I can’t do it, Cedar, I can’t!’

‘Er, I’m not sure your mother is right about your carving talents being
hidden
.’ He studied the figure. ‘More like non-existent. What about you, Amy?’

‘I haven’t got very far,’ said Amy. She blew the dust off her sculpture and handed it to Cedar.

Copper grabbed it before Cedar could take it.

‘Oh, Amy, this is fantastic! It’s me, isn’t it? It’s brilliant!’

Amy hadn’t had any intention of sculpting Copper’s head, but every time she’d looked up, that had been what she saw. Even though it was nowhere near finished, it did have something of Copper about it.

‘It is lovely, Amy. You’re very talented,’ said Cedar.

‘Oh, Amy, it’s great! Can I have it when it’s done?

‘’Course you can.’

‘Thanks.’

Copper snatched off her apron, dusted the wood shavings from her clothes and gave her a hug. ‘Let’s get out of here!’

Amy stood for a moment. The feel of Copper’s hands pressed against her back, still there, as if indentations had been left in soft clay. Even the Woody smell of her lingered. It should have been disgusting, repulsive even. But it wasn’t. It was a good feeling. Amy had never been
hugged since her mother died. She didn’t know what she’d been missing. Her eyes were misty. She stumbled up the stairs.

‘Sometimes, I really wonder if I have any Wood blood in me,’ Copper said. ‘I’m so bad at so many Woody things. Mmm, smell that cake!’ She made a funny face, lifting her eyebrows and licking her lips. ‘Maybe I got more Rock blood from Amber’s side than Wood from Dad’s. I’m glad Questrid is half-Rock and half-Wood too. Nice to share our insides like that. Oh, sorry, Amy. I mean there’s nothing wrong with being
entirely
Rock. You are and you’re very nice.’

Oriole was sitting in the kitchen, reading
The Secret Life of a Blackbird.
Lots of small birds hopped about in her lap, pecking at a pile of seeds.

‘That cake smells great! Where’s Questrid?’ Copper asked. ‘He’s usually around when a cake’s been made. Where’s Ralick?’

‘Ralick? Isn’t he with you?’ said Oriole.

‘No. I’ve been in the Root Room. He waits in the kitchen usually. In his basket. I never thought … I was so busy … That’s odd!’ Copper went very still. The pink faded from her cheeks.

Amy pressed her hands over her stomach. Something which usually held it up, seemed to have let it go. She gulped. Poor Copper. Then, almost immediately, she corrected herself.
Poor Copper?
Never mind Copper, she told herself. You should have been watching out for that cub. Why weren’t you thinking about him? You’ve got so distracted by this
Wood family, you’ve forgotten what you’re doing here! Aunt Agnes’s unwelcome voice popped into her head:
‘Spoiler! You’ve spoiled your chance! You’d spoil anything, you would!’

‘Something’s wrong,’ said Copper. She chewed her lower lip. ‘Ralick never goes anywhere.’

‘Well, he hasn’t truly disappeared yet,’ said Amy. ‘May-be he’s locked in your room? Or in the stables? The garden?’

Copper was out of the room in a flash. She bounded up the spiral staircase to the upper floors. Amy checked all the rooms on the ground floor. Upstairs she heard Copper racing along the corridors, slamming the doors, shouting for Ralick.

‘Nothing!’ Copper called. She careered down the stairs. ‘I feel so bad. I’ve got this feeling. Oh, Amy … He’s gone!’

They hurried across the kitchen. Copper picked up her old Ralick, a moth-eaten cuddly toy and hugged him. She kissed his black thread nose.

‘Ralick, Ralick,’ she whispered. ‘Where are you?’

‘No sign of him?’ asked Oriole.

‘Nothing.’

Copper was already at the back door pulling on warmer clothes. Amy followed her, dragging on waterproof boots.

They ran out to the stables. Thunder and Lightning greeted Copper by tossing their great heads and pawing the ground. Copper patted them quickly then raced up the wooden steps to Questrid’s bedroom.

‘Questrid! Questrid! Ralick!’ she called. She flung
open the door. But the room was empty. ‘I knew it!’ she sobbed. ‘I knew they weren’t there!’

She spun round, nearly knocking Amy over and scooted back down the steps. She ran out into the garden and over the snow-covered lawns, calling all the time.

Amy ran after her. Someone’s taken him. I was supposed to do it! Oh, what will Granite say? What’ll happen now?

They ran all over the garden but there was no sign of either Questrid or Ralick.

‘Where could they be?’ Copper said. ‘Sometimes Questrid goes up to the Rock, but he never takes Ralick. What d’you think, Amy?’

‘I don’t know. I’m sure he’s OK, Copper. He’s probably asleep somewhere, all curled up and—’

‘No, no! I know he isn’t!’ Copper’s eyes shone.

The sun came out from behind the high thin cloud for a few minutes and bathed the garden in a weak, lemony yellow haze. Far up on the ridge behind Spindle House, a quick movement caught Amy’s eye.

She stared, shielding her eyes from the dazzle, but whatever had moved had gone now. She thought of Shane Annigan and the sense of foreboding hanging over her deepened.

‘Ralick, Ralick, Ralick,’ Copper chanted. As if that would make him appear. ‘Amy! I need him!’

‘I know,’ Amy said, although she didn’t. Not really. She’d never cared for anything.

‘If Ralick has gone with Questrid they’ll have left tracks,’ she said. ‘We must go and look.’

They trudged through the deep snow back to the front door. They examined the snow.

‘Those light marks and shallow indentations are Shane Annigan’s,’ said Amy. ‘But look there.’

She pointed at some deeper footsteps.

‘I recognise the pattern of the sole. Those were new boots,’ Copper said, softly. ‘
Questrid’s
boots! But he wouldn’t take Ralick!’

Copper began to run alongside the track of marks. Amy went too. They stopped when they reached the end of the garden where the great wooden wall marked the beginning of the outside. Questrid’s footsteps carried on through the gate, shadowing Shane’s footsteps. Disappearing into the distance.