The Doorway and the Deep (20 page)

Lottie had never before felt such weariness.

The arrival of the Barghest had restored her hope, and that was a precious thing, indeed. But Lottie learned soon enough that the presence of hope did not make for an absence of discomfort. She was so uncomfortable in so many places and for so many reasons that they all began to bleed into one all-consuming affliction, and that was
weariness
.

She was weary in her stomach, which had remained unfed for hours. She was weary in her arms, which had struggled against the river current and channeled her keen and now held Fife upright. More than anything, she was weary in her mind from worry. She was worried about Eliot, whom she could hear coughing in the dark. She was worried about Oliver and Adelaide, stranded somewhere on the opposite bank of
the Lissome. She was worried about Dorian and Reeve and even Nash, and she tried to beat back an ever-present whisper in her mind that told her they'd been taken down by the ice crawler and were beyond anyone's worry now.

And at every moment, she worried about Fife. Her hands had gone sticky with his blood. With her forehead bent against his neck, she could still feel the faint pulse beating through his veins, but she knew that Fife was in grave danger and that each minute the Barghest bounded on was a minute less in which to save him. Even now, with her hands pressed hard against his wound, she willed on a bad spell like the one she'd felt when she'd healed Nash. Her chest remained frustratingly at peace.

Why
, thought Lottie,
could I heal Nash, a kidnapper and a stranger, and not
Fife,
who's actually my friend, who's one of the greatest people I know? Even if he has been acting rotten the past few days
 . . .

Surely she felt more of Mr. Wilfer's “deep empathetic connection” to Fife than to Nash. So was it only that she was too tired? Had she worn herself out? Was her mind irreparably cluttered? What was the point of having a keen she couldn't use when she needed it most?

The heat in Lottie's body was fading. Fife had warned that the warming syrup he'd given her on the bank would wear off. In place of its warmth was nothing but damp cold,
made three times worse by the whipping wind. Lottie's eyes kept shutting, then snapping open. From somewhere in the back of her mind, she recalled what Adelaide had told her about wisp blood's effect on humans. She'd said that it made them sleepy. Fife was half wisp. Was his blood, now coating Lottie's hands, making her even more tired?

She had no way of knowing how much time had passed since the Barghest pack had first set out. It felt like they had been riding for hours, but Lottie wondered if she hadn't merely slipped into her troubled thoughts the way one does into a dream—where, on the inside of her mind, time passed much more slowly than on the outside.

Lottie's vision was constantly being jostled about by the gait of the Barghest, which made it impossible for her to see anything steadily. But now she could make out several lights bobbing up ahead, and this filled her with a new sense of urgency.

“Hurry!” she cried, unsure if the Barghest could hear. “Oh, please hurry!”

It had been difficult work, holding Fife upright. Now the sag of his weight gave Lottie the most dreadful thought, that this was what it would feel like to hold Fife dead, should they not arrive in time.

The lights grew closer. The trees the Barghest had been so deftly dodging thinned out, clearing the view ahead. They
were racing toward a wall made of sharply hewn logs, twice as tall as a grown wisp. The lights—torches atop the wall—shone upon an iron gate guarded by sprites, who held long spears toward the approaching Barghest.

One of the sprites gave a shout. The others raised their voices, too. Lottie couldn't tell if they were calling to the Barghest or to others, unseen, behind the gate.

The Barghest came to a halt before the guards. The shouting stopped, and the head Barghest stepped in front of the pack.

“We bring with us the Heir of Fiske,” it growled. “One of her companions is in mortal danger, in need of immediate healing.”

“That's
them
, then?” said a voice. “Not much to look at it, is they?”

Tired as Lottie was, those words ripped fresh rage from her.

“It's nothing to joke about!” she shouted, blinking against the torchlight and straining to keep both herself and Fife upright. “What're you all standing about for? My friend needs
help
.”

“Don't tell me that's 'er!” cried another guard. “This gangly ickle thing? Nothing but a girl. Did Gem even know what she looked like? Couldn't have.”

The head Barghest gave a bone-rattling howl that sent the guard stumbling back.

“Do as the Heir of Fiske commands!” it snarled. “Have you no deference, sprites of the Wolds? Have you no respect left in your bones? Had we arrived in Thistlebram, we would have had a proper greeting.”'

“Calm yourself, Captain Barghest!”

This was a new voice, wholly unlike the others.

A woman appeared amidst the guards, one hand raised in a peacemaking gesture. She wore a long green robe, and her face was hidden in shadow. The guards bowed as she passed. Then the Barghest, too, bent before the woman in green. Lottie nearly lost her balance at the shift of her Barghest's haunches. When she'd recovered, she saw that the woman was walking straight toward her and Fife.

“Do not worry,” the woman said, her voice sharp but soothing. “You've found a haven here. I will tend to him.”

“Please,” said Lottie. “You've got to. You've
got
to.”

Black fog bordered her vision.

I'm fainting
, Lottie thought.

And the world vanished.

LOTTIE WOKE
inside a cave.

Only this cave wasn't a spooky, dank place like the caves she'd seen on television shows about hiking and spelunking. Its walls were a clean ivory color and decorated in velvet drapings. Overhead, the ceiling arched high, bordered on all sides by stalactites—some thick as tree trunks, some thin as freshly formed icicles. They shimmered in the light of an iron chandelier.

Lottie found herself in a four-poster bed, big enough to accommodate four Lotties. She was swallowed in a sea of heavy blankets, and her clothes—periwinkle coat and green scarf and the blue dress she'd been wearing beneath—were
all gone. In their place was a nightshift that was blissfully soft on her skin.

For many minutes, Lottie blinked at her surroundings, trying to make sense of them and salvage memories that might tell her how she'd come to be in this place. When that proved unsuccessful, she focused her efforts on the present situation. Though the ceiling here was high, the room itself felt very small. Lottie spied an exit: a narrow opening carved into the wall, just between two tapestries.

“Hello?” she called. Her voice bounced around the room in an eerie trill. “Is anyone here?”

With difficulty, Lottie shoved the blankets off. She slipped out of bed, cautiously setting one foot down, then the other. The floor was uneven, made from slabs of rock, but the rock wasn't cold like Lottie had expected. In fact, it was almost too warm to walk comfortably upon.

“Hello?” she called again, poking her head out the doorway.

Any words she had left to say wilted on her tongue. Lottie was struck dumb by the sight before her. She had never seen a room so vast, so
cavernous
as this. It was ablaze with the roaring firelight of a half dozen fires and, on top of that, two-dozen more iron chandeliers. Stalactites shone overhead in a crowded chorus of sharp edges and sharper points. Some hung so low that they touched the cave floor,
forming majestic columns. The walls here, as in Lottie's bedroom, were covered in velvet drapes colored green, gold, and black. Massive bronze racks ran the length of one wall—some stacked with spears, others with swords.

There were people in the room, gathered near the fireplaces. They were dressed in leather vests and thick-furred dresses, and many of them were holding pewter tankards. Still other figures swept through the room carrying bundles of dishware, linens, and occasionally weapons. Lottie was about to call out to one of the sprites hurrying past, but she was stopped short by the sight of a green-hooded figure standing by her side.

“
Wha—!
” Lottie cried out, stumbling away. “How—how long have you been there?”

The hood cast the figure's face in shadow, but Lottie could make out a set of red lips. Those lips turned upward, amused.

“Are you rested now?”

It was a woman's voice. Lottie frowned at its familiarity, and then at last the memories returned to her. She remembered arriving at a gate, remembered the pack of Barghest and Fife's injury and—

“Fife!” she said. “My friend, Fife. I have to see him. I have to know if he's okay!”

“Fife is quite well,” said the woman. She placed a hand on Lottie's back that Lottie was too nervous to shake off.
“I've been tending to him myself. He lost much blood on your journey here, but the good thing about halfling blood is that it staunches well. Had he been a full-blooded sprite, and had he not been such a fighter, I'm not sure he would've survived. But as is, he's stable. Still frail, mind, and in need of recovery, but your friend is out of danger.”

Relief swept Lottie into a happy haze. She sighed, loud and long. She felt like hugging the woman in green, even though she still had no idea who she was. And then her happiness gave way to another panic.

“Ollie,” she whispered. “Adelaide—you've got to send out a search party! All along the Lissome, down southward. My friends, Oliver and Adelaide, and—and, oh, Dorian and those Northerlies—and they could be freezing or starving or—”

Memories of the River Lissome and the ice crawler attack came back to Lottie, crashing into her with stinging clarity.

“That's been taken care of,” the woman replied. “I sent out a troop of my best soldiers the moment you arrived and your friend Eliot told me the news. More than that, I've sent a half dozen more gengas, including my own, to scout the area. We're doing all we can to recover the others, and I have high hopes we'll find them alive and well.”

“Really?” Lottie asked.

“Really.” The woman sounded so confident, Lottie wanted to believe her. “And if Dorian Ingle survived that
attack, I've no doubt he's doing everything in his power to bring your friends here safely. He always fulfills his duty.”

Lottie's heart settled down—not nearly at ease, but a little reassured.

“And how are
you
faring, Lottie?” the woman asked. “You've been my patient, too, you know, these past two days. No girl your age should endure such troubled sleep as you have.”

“Two days? I've been asleep that long?”

“You had an extremely strenuous journey,” said the woman. “Not to mention, the halfling's blood put you in a deep sleep. Your body was hard at work trying to set things aright.”

“Please,” said Lottie, “you've got to take me to Fife and Eliot. Oh, and where's Trouble?”

“Trouble?” said the woman.

“My genga.”

“Of course! We found him while we were drying out your clothes. He's been flying about the court ever since. He spent many hours by your bedside, too, so there's no need to make that sad face. As to your friends, I can take you there directly. Though are you sure you wouldn't like something to eat first? I don't want to see you waste the strength you've replenished.”

“No one else has shown up, then?” Lottie asked, thinking of her Barghest. It had promised to meet them when they docked. Where was it now?

“Just you,” replied the woman. “Now, I really advise that we get you some hot foo—”

“No,” Lottie said. “I need to see Fife and Eliot first. Then I'll eat or rest or whatever else it is I'm supposed to do.”

The woman sighed. Under her breath, she muttered, “How very like a Fiske.”

With her hand still on Lottie's back, she guided her through the massive room and toward a hallway—a long stretch of cave free of stalactites, with narrow openings cut into both its walls.

“Where are we?” Lottie asked as they walked. “Who are you?”

“Many know me as the Healer of the Wolds,” said the woman, keeping her voice low.

“Wolds?” said Lottie. “You mean the Northerly Wolds? Is that what this place is?”

“No,” said the woman, who sounded like she was stifling a laugh. “Goodfellow's grace, Lottie, don't you know where you are?”

“If I knew, I wouldn't be asking you,” she said crossly.

It was then that Lottie became aware of an odd phenomenon occurring around her. As the woman in green led them
down the hall, those passing by reacted. They moved well out of her way, their heads bent. Some stopped what they were doing entirely to curtsy or bow.