The Key to Starveldt (12 page)

With nothing to do but wait for Solace’s return, Evan decided that he might as well be comfortable. Keeping one eye on the remaining satyrs, he made a show of stretching and sat down on the flower-studded grass. Jess was swift to follow, edging close to him as she had done when they were children. The others followed suit more slowly. Predictably, Harper and Paige were side by side, while Electra moved to be with Manx. That left only Laine, who gathered the edge of her skirts and sat a little way from the others, not so far as to be out of earshot, but far enough that the distance made a statement. Evan couldn’t help but feel guilty about that. Things had been complicated enough already – had he really needed to make them worse, and all for the sake of a single night?

He might have brooded, but as Jess slipped her arm through his and leaned against his shoulder, he pushed his own worries aside.

‘What went wrong?’ she whispered. ‘Ev? Why couldn’t I do the casting?’

‘I don’t know,’ he replied. Their voices were so low, he wasn’t sure the others could hear what they were saying, let alone the satyrs, but part of him still felt vulnerable on Jess’s behalf. Her anxiety had a chemical taste, like bile or cheap mouthwash. ‘There’s nothing wrong with you.’

‘What if that satyr was right? I mean, that I just didn’t want to see, and so I couldn’t.’

‘Why wouldn’t you want to see?’

‘I don’t know.’ She rested her head on his shoulder. ‘Maybe I’m afraid for all of us. That prophecy of Solace’s doesn’t exactly sound like a barrel of laughs. What if I look in the future and see something awful? How could I say anything?’ She sighed. ‘I feel selfish for saying so, but maybe it’s better this way. I mean, if Solace sees something bad, it won’t be good, but I think she’s strong enough to carry it.’

Evan looked at her. ‘And you’re not?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t want to find out the hard way.’

‘Fair enough.’

Silence stretched between them. Evan closed his eyes and extended his senses, doing his level best not to intrude on Laine in the process. Naked, he had glimpsed her only as shades of grey, every curve and line of her smudged by shadows. He shivered at the memory, steering his mind elsewhere. Though even a day ago he would’ve had trouble discerning Harper’s thoughts, he now knew that his friend was torn and struggling not to show it. Half of him wanted to join Laine, coaxing her back into the group and breaking her isolation; the other half knew that Paige would resent him for it, and that was something he would not – could not – countenance. Harper owed her too deeply for that.

Evan frowned at this last, and pulled away. Harper’s emotions were loud and turbulent, shot through with a nagging unpleasantness that constantly drew his attention, like a chunk of food stuck between two teeth. Was his Trick strong enough to uncover the secret? He regretted the thought instantly, pinching the inside of his forearm by way of punishment.
Even if I could, I wouldn’t.
He let his gaze fall on Jess’s head.
Some things are secret for a reason.

As though he’d spoken aloud, his sister shifted her weight away from him, straightening a little.

‘Can you believe any of this?’ she asked. She sounded like herself again, less whispery and more full of colour. ‘I mean, we’re being guarded by satyrs! And the sky?’ They both tilted their heads, looking to where the white stars of the Rookery gleamed down through the blue-green foliage. ‘It’s like that poem. The one Mum had that print of in the lounge room, beside the coffee table.’

It took him a moment, but then, to his surprise, Evan realised he did remember. He supposed rationally that if you read the same words over and over again for long enough, they were bound to sink in, but goose bumps stood up across his arms as the lines came back to him.

‘It was Kipling,’ he said, softly. ‘
Under the stars beyond our stars, where the reinless meteors glow –
’

‘
Hotly we stormed Valhalla
,’ said Jess, ‘
a million years ago.
’

They grinned at each other, suddenly happy in a way that defied where they were and what they’d said. Evan felt his sister’s contentment as a wash of blue, like a watercolour of the ocean, and also as warmth, as though they were both basking in the sun. As the satyr with the microchip braids walked over to one of his companions, Evan lolled his head to one side and looked across at Laine.

‘Hey,’ he called, earning himself a raised eyebrow from Manx and a puzzled expression from the psychic.

‘What?’ she asked.

‘I know it might not be a popular opinion,’ he said, ‘but thanks for bringing us here. It was a good call. Wouldn’t have missed it.’

Laine’s lips parted with surprise. He felt her pleasure at the compliment. In subconscious response, she shifted herself closer to the group.

‘Thanks,’ she said, blushing faintly.

Evan waved a hand and tipped his chin up, staring back at the twilit sky.

‘Don’t mention it,’ he said.

They’d been walking for some minutes before Salesian held up a hand. His nails were thick and hard, more like claws than anything, made of the same opalescent substance as his horns.

‘We are here,’ he said.

Solace stared around her, unable to see what he was talking about.

‘The spring? Where?’

‘There.’ Quin pointed to an open space between some trees. ‘Look closely, blood-daughter. Do you see it now?’

Solace had just opened her mouth to say no, she didn’t, when her vision shifted. She stared, watching as a strange dome made from the branches of four living trees materialised into view. Winding outwards and upwards, the rough boughs were twined together in such a way that, like the reeds of a wicker basket, they formed a series of curved screens. Unlike reeds, they were far from smooth. The trees were massive, lumpen-rooted giants, covered in coarse bark and knobbly protrusions, quite distinct from the grove’s other flora. Sprouting from both the roof of the dome and the individual canopies comprising it were wide, dark-green leaves the size of hands and occasional yellow-white flowers.

Incongruous double doors, seemingly carved from ebony, were attached to the front of the structure. As Solace looked at them more closely, she saw that their surface was decorated with figures from Greek mythology. Rather than being rendered flat, the carvings stood half out of the wood, as though they’d been frozen in the act of escape. Recognising Pegasus, the centaur Chiron and Orpheus the bard, Solace stared blankly at Quin. Learning that satyrs were real was one thing; the idea that there might be more to myth than ancient storytelling was quite another. The bemused look on Quin’s face prevented her from asking the obvious question.

When Solace didn’t speak, the female satyr snorted. ‘Having second thoughts?’

‘No,’ lied Solace.

‘Go, then,’ said Feyez. ‘We will wait for you.’

Almost, Solace turned and looked back at the satyrs before entering, but stopped herself, instead drawing comfort from the texture of the carved doors beneath her palms. She hesitated for a moment more, then pushed. The doors swung inwards without so much as a squeak. Darkness swallowed her as she stepped through. Stars swam before her eyes.

When she could see again, Solace swore.

She was standing on a secluded hilltop at dusk, surrounded by scraggly olive trees and wild crocuses. Bubbling up from underground, a spring of clear water fed a small pool. Its rippling surface reflected both the sky above and, though they weren’t visible when she looked up, the pinprick of familiar stars. Though fading fast, the light was unmistakeably sunlight. The grass was green, not purple.

It was Earth. Or something much closer to it than the Rookery.

Only when Solace turned her head did the walls become visible. From the inside, they appeared as little more than shimmering lines in the naked air, faint as butterfly breath. One of the doors hung ajar behind her like a tear in reality. It hurt to look at it. In a way, it hurt to look at everything.

The only sound came from the spring, a soft gurgle on the edge of hearing. Solace breathed in, and felt her nostrils flood with the fresh, sharp scent of water, coldness underwritten by the aluminium tang of Rarity. The skin at the top of her spine tingled. Distantly, she was aware of Sylvia’s warnings, of the fear she’d felt when the rest of Salesian’s herd had shown themselves, but her body seemed to move of its own accord. Without conscious thought, she walked to the edge of the pool and stared into its depths, reminded suddenly of Sanguisidera’s eyes and the rumble of Duchess’s laughter.

‘Beautiful,’ she said, though it was difficult to speak. Whatever other magic this place possessed, it seemed to be imbued with a quality of silence. Even that one word felt hushed, as though each syllable had been strained through black velvet.

Solace found herself sinking to the ground, hypnotised by the water. The scent of it overwhelmed her. As she leaned over the pool, the reflections within churned. She reached out, fingertips skimming the surface before cupping a tiny mouthful in the hollow of her palm. The spring was cold as ice-melt, burning like blue fire. The clarity of it stung her nostrils.

Solace drank.

Her throat froze in a stream of liquid silver. Stars hammered into her eyes as every nerve in her body screamed. Ribbon-limp, she fell back onto the grass, all senses suspended.

Truth
, she thought muzzily,
show me the true path.

Visions claimed her.

From a distance that feels like no distance at all, Solace watches eight-year-old Luci, youngest of the girls with whom she shared the group home. Luci stands by the lounge room window, toying with the end of a neater-than-usual plait. Her eyes are fixed on a yellow taxi pulling out of the drive.

‘They’ve all gone,’ Luci says, and for a heartbeat, Solace thinks these words are – impossibly – meant for her. But then the floor creaks, and she becomes aware of Mrs Plummer standing to one side.

‘Daisy will be back soon,’ the housemother says, in a tone that tries for gentle reassurance. ‘She’s only gone on holiday, remember?’

‘She met someone.’ Luci nods. ‘I know.’

Through the distance of worlds, part of Solace cannot help but think, finally!

‘But the others are gone. You didn’t even look for Solace. And it was her birthday. We had cake.’

‘Well, yes.’ Mrs Plummer sighs. ‘But she was – well, Luci, I’m not sure she ever really belonged here. Frankly, it’s a miracle she stayed as long as she did.’ She bites her lip at these words, belatedly cognisant of her audience.

Luci looks at her with sharp brown eyes. Mrs Plummer continues, ‘But the others, now, surely you can be happy for them? Annamaria back with her father, Leonie talking again – they needed to move on from here.’ She hesitates. ‘Are you worried they won’t visit?’

‘No,’ says Luci. ‘I just don’t want to miss out.’

‘Miss out, dear? On what?’

Luci tilts her chin and blinks, surprised. ‘On the gift.’

‘What gift?’

‘The one that Solace left us,’ Luci says, with just a touch of impatience. ‘There was a curse on us like Sleeping Beauty, and she was the princess. Only she had to rescue herself, instead of waiting for some stupid prince. And we were the palacepeople, all caught up in the thorns and the sleeping magic, but now we’re starting to wake up. Only we didn’t even realise we were dreaming until it happened. So Annamaria went back, Leonie got better and found a new home, and Daisy’s gone on holidays. But I’m still here. You are, too,’ she adds, for sake of accuracy. ‘And I don’t want to miss out.’

Mrs Plummer closes her mouth, which had been hanging open. ‘That’s … that’s a very pretty way of putting it, Luci,’ she says finally. ‘But if you’re happy for everyone, then why do you wish we’d looked for Solace?’

‘To thank her,’ says Luci simply. ‘She set us free.’

Before Mrs Plummer can reply, the vision changes. With instinct born of magic, Solace recognises it as the future.

An unfamiliar man is chained to the dungeon wall, his skinny chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm. Blood trickles from beneath his closed eyelids, a series of tiny rivulets no wider than a hair. His cheeks are striped with these thin lines, though where they reach his jaw, the blood runs thick again, forming twin rivulets that meet at the tip of his chin.