The Doorway and the Deep (27 page)

“Don't take it personally,” said Rebel Gem, touching Lottie's shoulder for the briefest moment. It was then that Lottie felt,
really
felt the full effect of Rebel Gem's keen. Peace, cool and sure, flowed through Lottie. She felt instant reassurance. Why
had
she taken it personally?

“There are some exceptions to that rule, of course,” Rebel Gem continued as she and Lottie walked back into the caves.
“There are fanatics who live in the Wolds and the Wilders and believe a Fiske to be the answer to all their woes.
They'd
likely make a fuss over you. But as to the rest of us, we're a skeptical bunch. No one doubts you're a Fiske, but no one is under the impression that you're our great savior, either. Your name carries power with it in the rest of Albion Isle, and that's why I want you here. But you're just the same as any one of us, Lottie. Our heroes aren't determined based on blood but on merit.”

“And I guess I haven't got a lot of merit yet,” said Lottie.

“Not yet. But you're young. And despite what you think, you're a fast learner. I'd say there's hope for you yet.”

“Rebel Gem?”

“Hm?”

“Does this mean we're done with training for today?”

Rebel Gem nodded.

“Good,” said Lottie. “Because I've got a letter to send.”

Rebel Gem led the way to the apple tree, and Lottie was grateful she did, because she was sure she would've gotten lost otherwise, even with the most detailed instructions. Unlike the wisps' apple tree, which had grown in the wood where anyone might happen to pass it, the Northerlies' tree was hidden away. Lottie followed Rebel Gem back into the caverns and down a winding series of stone hallways.
Torchlight lit their path, but all else was wet, dark shadows and the sounds of distant scuttling.

“Watch your head,” Rebel Gem instructed as the roof grew lower—or was it the floor that had grown higher?—but the warning had not come in time; Lottie's forehead smacked into a slime-covered stalactite.

Rebel Gem made a sympathetic “ooh,” and came back a few steps to examine Lottie.

“No damage done,” she said after a moment, patting Lottie's head in a way that Lottie supposed should have offended her dignity but instead left her feeling much calmer than before.

From there on out, Lottie continued to duck often, crouching and scrambling, and wondering just how low the ceiling would get. Just when she'd begun to walk in a perpetual stoop, Rebel Gem led them into an adjoining hallway—this one far roomier and taller than before. And from the end of the hallways came a faint light that looked like—

“Sunlight?” Lottie shook her head. “But that can't be right. We've been heading downward for ages.”

“Come on then, Lottie,” said Rebel Gem. “Pick up the pace.”

The light grew nearer and brighter until, in one moment, it burst all around Lottie. She blinked against the force of it, shielding her eyes and, on instinct, grabbing at Rebel Gem's hand, for Lottie had a sudden petrifying thought that this
sunlight was not natural at all but something terribly magical that could very well blind her.

Rebel Gem gently shook off Lottie's grip, pointing ahead.

“Don't be scared,” she said. “Look.”

Lottie lowered her hand. Slowly, her vision adjusted, and she strained her eyes to see into the light. They were standing in a large, circular room, hewn from gray stone. The ceiling was unthinkably high. The walls rose above Lottie for foot after foot after foot and were covered in square, glittering mirrors, all tilted toward a wide circle in the far distant ceiling—the source of the light. Lottie got the distinct impression she was standing at the bottom of a glittering wishing well.

And at the very center of this well stood an apple tree, its leaves a lush green and its apples deep yellow. Lottie let out a long breath.

“My sentiments precisely,” said Rebel Gem. “It's rather magnificent, isn't it?”

“If Iolanthe ever visited
you
,” said Lottie, “she'd have a much harder time chopping your tree down.”

Rebel Gem's gaze darkened. “If Iolanthe ever visited us, we'd have a whole slew of other problems on our hands. Now, your letter.”

“Oh.
Oh!
” Lottie couldn't believe she'd nearly forgotten her whole reason for paying a visit to the apple tree. She dug Eliot's letter from her pocket and walked toward the tree. There were six guards positioned around its trunk
with drawn swords and stoic gazes. They carried shields, too, made of metal and engraved with black diamonds.

Lottie turned back to Rebel Gem. “The wisps only had one guard at theirs.”

“I'm well aware of the fact,” said Rebel Gem. “Upon receiving news of what happened to the wisp tree, I ordered this guard be doubled. Our tree is far less vulnerable than others, perhaps, but I won't take any chances.”

“Good,” said Lottie. She didn't want anything left to chance when it came to her and Eliot's one route home.

She took a few steps closer to the tree, gaze fixed on Eliot's letter, afraid to look any of the guards in the eye. Then she remembered something. She turned to Rebel Gem again. “I don't have a way to send it back. I used a copper box before, but Iolanthe and her soldiers stole it, or destroyed it, or—well, the point is, it's gone.”

“I've thought of that,” said Rebel Gem, motioning back to the tree.

One of the guards had set aside his shield and was holding a box, which he now offered to Lottie. She shrank with embarrassment, realizing that if she'd actually been brave enough to meet the gaze of the guards, she might have noticed the box sooner.

She took the box from the guard. It was far heavier than it looked; Lottie suspected it was made of pure silver. There was an engraving on its lid of a single apple, split in half so that its seeds—tiny inlaid rubies—were visible.

“Are you sure it's okay for me to use this?” Lottie asked.

Rebel Gem laughed. “I'm sure, Lottie. It's mine to give to whomever I'd like. And you have need of it. So
use
it.”

Lottie opened the box and placed Eliot's letter inside. Then she drew closer to the apple tree. The two guards nearest her stepped aside, and Lottie set the box at the tree's base.

“All right, Trouble,” she said, reaching into her pocket and finding, to her relief, that he was actually roosting there this time.

Trouble rustled in her hand, shivering out his wings with an annoyed squawk. A few moments later, once he found his bearings, he fluttered to a low branch and perched. Lottie walked up to the silver bough, jumped, and grabbed hold. Using all her weight, she tugged the branch down. Then came a deep groaning sound. The tree's bark splintered, and Lottie stepped back as a doorway formed in its trunk. With a satisfied nod, she retrieved the silver box from the ground. She walked straight up to the tree's threshold and placed the box inside. As she did, she felt certain she heard a faint hitch of breath behind her, from Rebel Gem.

“Mr. Walsch's house, Kemble Isle,” she whispered into the tree.

Then she released the box, stepped back, and watched as the apple tree's bark whorled back in on itself, sealing up the doorway.

“There,” Lottie said, holding up her hand for Trouble to return to. Though of course, Trouble did not wish to return
immediately. He chirped obstinately and flew three wide circles around the tree, swooping quite close to some of the guards' heads. Lottie gave Trouble a look once he'd finally landed in her palm.

“Show-off,” she muttered, tucking him into her pocket.

“Um, thank you for your service, guards,” she said, hoping she sounded confident and mature. Then, she returned to Rebel Gem, who had remained at a distance from the apple tree and was watching Lottie with an apprehensive gaze Lottie had never seen on her before. As Lottie came closer, Rebel Gem shook off the strange look and smiled.

“All right?” she asked.

Lottie cast a glance back at the tree. It was strange to be so close to her route home and yet so very far away.

I could have gone back right then and there
, she thought.
I could have, and no one would've been able to stop me in time
.

She wondered if Rebel Gem had thought about this, too. She wondered if this was why she had gasped as Lottie stepped so close to the tree's threshold.

But, of course, Lottie would never have stepped into that tree. For one thing, Eliot was not with her, and for another, she had made a promise to Rebel Gem—and Rebel Gem certainly seemed to be holding up her end of the deal.

“Soon we'll go home, Eliot,” Lottie whispered on the long, dark journey back to the surface. “Soon.”

There were guests in Fife's room. Even before Lottie stepped through the doorway, she heard peppery laughs and a deep voice shouting, “No fair, that! Eh! No fair!”

Roote and Crag were paying a visit. They and Eliot sat on the giant canopied bed, while Fife floated above a mound of pillows. Scattered on the bed were colored stones and octagonal pieces of paper that resembled playing cards.

“Greetings, Lottie!” cried Fife, flapping an arm at her. “The boys and I were just playing a game of skipping stone.”

“Cheatin' is more like,” said Crag, throwing down his cards. “That boy ain't allowed to float like that. 'E can see everything in our 'ands!”

Fife laughed loudly. “It was just a joke. Tell them, Eliot.”

“It isn't funny,” said Eliot, who was very white in the face. “You shouldn't be floating. Rebel Gem said you haven't fully recov—”

“Oh, who cares what
she
says. She hasn't checked on me in a full day.”

Eliot broke into a cough and turned his face away.

“Eliot's right,” Lottie said angrily. “You're supposed to be resting, Fife. There's no way you'll be able to explore the Northerly Court if you split your stitches back open.”

“I'm
fine
.” But even as Fife said it, an undeniable wince flickered across his face. He lowered back to the bed but added, “I'm only doing it because I
want
to sit back down.”

The sound of a horn sang down the cave hall.

“Supping time,” said Roote, collecting the stones and cards from the bed. “But this isn't over, young Dulcet. We'll be back for another game.”

“Counting on it,” said Fife.

They left, and Lottie glared at Fife.

“
What?
” he said. “I'm bored. Don't begrudge this sprite a little gambling to stave off the doldrums.”

“You shouldn't be floating,” Lottie said.

“What are you, my mother?”

Lottie, who didn't appreciate being compared to Silvia Dulcet, decided not to press the issue further.

Later, after the white-haired boy had cleared their supper away—all the while casting Lottie the stink eye—Lottie insisted that she take over Eliot's watch.

“Just tonight,” she told Eliot in an appeasing way. “You should sleep on my bed. I want to stay up with Fife and talk.”

Eliot looked prepared to argue, but his eyelids were already drooping. He gave way only after he secured Lottie's promise that she wouldn't let Fife read ahead in their book. When he'd gone, Lottie turned the book over. The cover read
In a Time of Schisms
, by Ferdinand Ellard III.

“Quick,” said Fife. “Burn it. Burn it while you have the chance.”

“I heard it's a classic,” Lottie said.

“That doesn't mean anything up here. You could write the word ‘mud' on a piece of paper, and the Northerlies would call it a classic.”

“You're starting to sound like Adelaide.”

Fife's face went stony. “Take that back.”

“No,” Lottie said, grinning.

Silence fell, and finally Fife spoke again.

“Don't you dare ever tell her this,” he said, “but I miss her. A little.”