The Last Stitch (The Chronicles of Eirie: 2) (12 page)

Chapter Nineteen.

Adelina stood listening to the chorus of birds, frogs and insects as they blended in quaint harmony. She envisaged a map in her head, the better to determine how far from Severine she was and savoured her freedom for less than a moment before running down the path calling to her horse, the leather satchel with the robe and a few sewing implements banging against her hip.

She entered a clearing surrounded by a circlet of leafy elms whose shadows were deep and protective on the outskirts, providing shelter for the needy. Close by, a freshet trickled with enough clear water to salve the driest thirst and in the sunny centre of the glade grew a patch of rich clover which could satisfy a hungry animal. A perfect place to rest and strengthen oneself. Which made it all the more poignant when Adelina skidded to a halt, to see an ailing horse lying on its side gasping, with dark patches of sweat on shoulder and flank.

‘Ajax,’ Adelina flung herself to the side of her beloved friend. Recognising the voice, the animal raised its head and nickered, then flopped back, the wet mane straggling in the grassy growth under the trees. ‘Ajax,’ she whispered as she knelt by the horse’s neck hugging and kissing, her hands running over his wet neck and nose. As she stroked, she found the suppurating wound on his shoulder. She knew by the size of the foul smelling injury that the poison had gone deeply inwards and threatened the horse with death and instantly she knew why the djinn had warned, perhaps not so ambiguously, that her three wishes had been clear and irredeemable. Because truth to tell, she would swap Lhiannon’s life with Ajax’s in a heartbeat. She grabbed her kerchief and bathed it in the cool water to sponge the great animal’s head and clean the wound. But she needed wadding, a knife to open the wound and drain it, fire and medics. She needed help.

She ripped off the satchel to find her scissors and then pulled a corner of the shrunken robe from the leathery confines. The crane’s head scissors opened with a cry that aroused a million memories as she slipped one blade under one side of the robe and brought pressure to bear on the handle, all the while thinking, another of my loved ones to die…

‘No, no,’ a high-pitched voice shattered the peace of the glade and the scissors fell from Adelina’s grasp, Ajax’s eyes flying open and then closing again as he rasped. The Traveller turned in fear, nerves on edge, emotions raw. Gallivant stood on the edge of the clearing. ‘No. Don’t cut the robe, Adelina. You mustn’t.’

‘I need wadding Gallivant, and I need a knife. Have you a knife?’ Her gaze sharpened as she looked at him. ‘How are
you
here?’

‘Later. I will tell you later. You need sphagnum moss, wads of it. It’s a great healing medicament, full of the enchantments of the Luned Forest.’

‘Of course,’ Adelina’s voice shook with frustration and alarm. ‘And look, I have it here in my hand. By the spirits, Gallivant, help me. Where do I find it?

Gallivant grabbed her and pulled her to the side of the freshet. ‘Here, see? Look, bunches of the stuff.’ He began to pull hanks of the moist moss. ‘As it dries we shall put a fresh load on and then more until the wound is clean.’

‘Will it work? He’s all I have...’

‘With respect, Adelina, you have no time for watery expressions of sentiment. Just tend to your horse. Hurry, use your scissors and ease the wound open. It will hurt but you must allow some of the pus to run if it is putrefied. Let it gush and then you must cram this stuff in.’

Adelina grabbed her scissors and with murmurings of endearment to Ajax, she slit the wound open. The horse reared his head as the blades entered, shrieking wildly, but Adelina spoke above his pain and as the foul infection dripped out, she packed some of the moss into the offensive wound. Gallivant wet the kerchief he had whipped from his pocket and wiped around the horse’s face and dripped moisture in between the huge teeth, onto the dry tongue.

The small glen echoed to the grating sound of the horse’s breath. Adelina sat with Ajax’s head on her lap, crooning sweet nothings as the tired ears flipped slowly back and forth. In time the sun had moved to the western side of the glade and Gallivant had continued wiping and squeezing water.

Close to dusk, the animal’s breathing changed. ‘Is it less laboured do you think?’

‘Yes.’ Gallivant sat back. ‘
It is. Cover him with something or he will chill as the sweat dries.’

Adelina could think of only one thing she had big enough to cover the horse’s back and with a gasp from the hob, she
pulled the robe from the satchel, enlarged it and laid it over the animal. For her it meant nothing more than a way to protect the only thing she had left to love. The robe? She would make another.

The two companions began to relax a little as they observed the sweat drying in crusty waves beneath the gloriously decorated stable-rug.

‘Amazing little mosses, are they not?’ Gallivant had washed his hands in the stream and resumed his seat by the embroiderer.

‘By Aine, an understatement.’ She looked down at her clenched fingers. She was so tired and offered up a private prayer to the Mother.
Please Aine, Mother of the World, allow my Ajax to live. I will reneg on my oath of revenge should you grant me such a wish. I promise.
She prayed with her eyes squeezed shut tightly, the plea heartfelt and desperate.

‘Ajax is just this far,’ Gallivant measured a tiny distance with his thumb and fore-finger, disturbing Adelina’s prayers, ‘on the right side of the death line. I believe the healing should work.’

‘But it is working, I’m sure. He has stopped sweating and his breathing has settled. I think it will be alright.’ She was quiet for a minute then turned back to the hob. ‘Don’t you?’

‘I think so, I do. But w
e must be patient.’

‘Mercy, Gallivant, it’s as well you came.’ Adelina’s hand smoothed ceaselessly over the neck and forelock of the horse.
‘How did you? Tell me.’

‘Rajeeb. He granted
me a wish because he said cleaning the charm had been at my instigation.’

‘And you did say you had a feeling, didn’t you?’

‘I did.’ The hob grinned. ‘I saw an odd script engraved into the charm and was sure it was Other but done in that angular Raji way. I just thought to myself, what if? I mean we had everything to gain, if only a clean charm. Anyway, I appropriated the paste and when you rubbed it in and then polished and nothing happened, well sink me I was almost defeated. My ‘
feelings’
aren’t often wrong, you know. But then I saw a little dusting of dried paste on the spout and I thought, just once more. You didn’t see but as you finished, a tiny thread of smoke eked out of the lamp and that’s when I started yelling for the wand. And then sink me if it didn’t all work.’ He splayed out his hands and shrugged his shoulders.

‘And s
o you wished to be brought here; to me.’

‘Indeed.’ He grinned, a self-satisfied,
‘aren’t you pleased’
look.

Adelina gave him a grateful but cautious glance. ‘Gallivant, it’s more than heartwarming that you wished to be with me and I’m unbelievably grateful for your help. Ajax would have died without doubt and I can never return the favour I owe you.’ She stopped and looked at the salty ripples over the horse’s coat. ‘Actually perhaps I can.’ She took a breath, ‘I must go on alone.’
She spoke with determination, indicating she was not to be convinced otherwise. ‘You must surely realise everybody who is close to me ends up dead or injured. I’m a kind of poison. No, don’t. It’s true.’ She laid a hand with firm fingers on the hob’s arm. ‘Think. Ana, Kholi, Elriade, Liam and Aine knows if Lhiannon is still alive. My parents. Even Ajax is not immune. Do you see? So I must forbid you to come any further with me. You must turn away now, soon, before you are tainted with whatever emanates from me.’

Gallivant stood up and walked to her satchel which lay spilled open and began dusting off the shrunken implements: needles, wooden spools of threads, packets of wired petals and insect wings, o
bserving the seeds of something dangerous sprouting leaves and tendrils in Adelina’s words. ‘Your parents died normal mortal deaths, Stitcher. It happens. Kholi was murdered. No, no, there, there.’ He touched her on the shoulder. ‘Ana had an accident, dreadfully sad but an accident nevertheless. Indeed so did Ajax. Elriade and Liam had something an insane woman wanted enough to kill them for and Lhiannon is alive until we hear otherwise. Yes, you are a common denominator but you stretch a very long and if I may say, somewhat self-indulgent bow to intimate you are the cause. And sink me, as to my accompanying you, it’s as well I am of an age and attitude to make up my own mind what I do. I will come.’

As he issued these last words an ear-splitting bellow came from outside the copse, as if an animal was being squeezed empty of all the air in its body, like the windpipes, thought Adelina, that some of the islanders play. Gallivant, who obviously loved windpipes, smiled and ducked behind the far tree to re-emerge pulling a rope with a recalcitrant donkey tugging firmly backward. The hob smiled beatifically. ‘Isn’t he beautiful?’ The ass roared back moodily. ‘He’s my ride.’

Speechless, Adelina couldn’t help grinning as Gallivant tried to turn the beast to the middle of the clearing with the animal swinging its haunches to the hob and lashing out with its hooves. Thereafter, every time Gallivant made a move the haunches would swing and the hooves would fly.

Adelina eased the head of her peacefully sleeping horse aside and walked over to the donkey. ‘What’s his name?’ She held out a hand and the animal paused in its circling and kicking to sniff and lo, to lick.

‘Ouch, don’t know. Oof, that was close.’

‘Well, I think you should call him Bottom, because patently that is all he wants to show you. Here Bottom, good man,’ she grasped his bridle and clicked her tongue, tugging gently. ‘Come up, good boy.’ The donkey lowered its big head and twitched the long loopy ears. Swishing a grey tail, he followed Adelina to the patch of clover in the centre of the glade. Adelina patted him as he chewed, his eyes blinking as he batted cow-like lashes at her.

‘Easy, you see.’

‘Huh!’ grumped the hob.

They built a fire and lit it with a flint from Gallivant’s vast pockets. Another such space provided bread and cheese and some dried figs. ‘Where do we go, Adelina?’ he asked as he passed a small water-filled flask to her.

She looked up in surprise. She had hardly thought that far. It had been enough to
escape Severine and to find Ajax. The horse was standing, resting a fetlock. When they had lifted the wad of moss, the wound had shrunk to the size of a scratch and was clean and clear. They re-attached the compress and were now heartened to see the two stallions - one large and handsome, one small, flea-bitten and with an overlarge head, grazing peaceably on the clover. She gave the question some serious attention. ‘We are close to the Marshes, I think.’ She rubbed her forehead. ‘We could leave the animals there and go on to Veniche.’ Her words began to gain momentum. ‘Yes, that is what we shall do. I am of a mind to see Lhiannon again. You shall use your Other friends to find her, yes? And then I will be happy. To know Liam’s soul is almost home and that Lhiannon is safe.’

‘What of Severine
?’

Adelina grimaced. S
he had given no thought to the woman now she was far from her prison. ‘I have no idea. I don’t know,’ she replied honestly.

‘Ah well, shall we cross that bridge when we come to it?
’ Gallivant yawned.

Can we sleep now? It’s been a mile long day.’
He burrowed down by the fire, wrapping himself in his capacious frieze-coat.

Adelina leaned back against the tree and warmed by the flames, stared into their jumping yellow flicker. Aine, Mother of the World, she thought, you have given me back my beloved Ajax and I promise to fulfill the bargain
I made.

***

Do you understand why I made that pledge to the Mother? Why my oath of revenge now hangs in the balance?

Imagine you have lost everyone you hold dear, everyone except a beloved pet; a dog or cat perhaps, that has been loyal, loving and by your side forever so that it knows every paltry idiosyncrasy you have and yet loves you unstintingly still. Imagine that this one living thing is all that separates you from a dark chasm of unmitigated loneliness, one that terrifies you with its unknown depths. Perhaps you think I exaggerate but ask anyone who has been in that position whether they would make a pact with the most unseelie of this world to keep their beloved friend alive. They would, I know - in a moment.

I asked Aine, the Mother of the World to help me. Whether she believes in my promise or whether she sees me as a weak-willed mortal, only time will tell. But I hope she takes pity on me anyway.

Chapter Twenty

Severine sipped at a glass of rich, garnet-coloured wine. The subject of her
thoughts was with her, a richly coloured shadow that lived perpetually in the corner of her mind - Adelina, she of the tawny hair and the luscious skin and body.

The atmosphere in the room filled with poison, like the invisible sulphur mist from the deadly swamps on the outskirts of the Marshes. Never had Severine been ignored, taunted, disobeyed and finally humiliated as much as by that whore, Adelina.

Time now to strike, to teach the woman a lesson. She must die. In truth it had always been intended anyway. The only difference now was the level of pain to inflict, for pain must be implicit. How else to show her who matters in this world?

Severine
sipped again, savouring the strong flavour. All trails led to Veniche, that cradle of civilisation on its watery canals and she was content for Veniche was her home. She knew every canal, every piazza, every small island and village in the laguna better than her protagonists.

Did
Adelina know the ins and outs of this place? It wasn’t often the Travellers visited Veniche as they disliked leaving their vans behind on the mainland. Would Adelina be as ignorant?

Severine ran her finger around the edge of the crystal goblet, round and round so that a screeching resonance
filled the room. Of course the stitcher wouldn’t know the city. This episode of inconvenience would be concluded with a calculated swiftness. It would be a matter of posting Luther at the Museo where he would trap the embroiderer as she delivered the robe. And as for the little soul-stealer… she was heading to Veniche to be sure, the ravens had deduced as much. She could be captured sneaking to the Gate. As to the Gate, Severine had no doubt the source of that red clay brick with its yellow paint would be simply solved conundrum. Why, she had architects and tradesmen by the dozens that she employed and could prevail upon for the answer.

She stood up and wandered to an inlaid card-table on which stood the pretty casket housing her incalculable treasure. She lifted the lid and began to unfold the papers, miniscule ribbons that whispered in her hands like pieces of delicate silk organza. Here lay four strips of Othe
r wisdom which could control a universe. One mesmer she now utilised, intrinsically tied as it was to the soul-syphon. But the others; they were yet to be put to their diabolical use.

Gertus had told her these old cantrips had been allowed to fade from memory in order for the world to survive intact and in peace. To all intents and purposes, he had said, memories had faded enough for the lore to be the stuff of legend.

Legend?
By the spirits, there was stuff here that could enable her to best the world in a heartbeat. How could erasing such empowerment be for the greater good? Such eminence was surely sacrosanct. She folded the papers. She had thought of how to hide the documents from none but her own eyes. There was a glassmaker...

She poured some more of the vintage drop into the beautiful goblet made by the self-same artisan. It was a smooth vessel with a finely etched design along the rim, like one of Adelina’s looping stemstitch grapevines. More relaxed after the disasters of the day now that she had regained
masterful control, the Contessa lay back on her chaise, musing that in actual fact to have all the major players in the one place at the one time could only be to her advantage. Luther had said the packing was complete and she had given instructions for the two of them to leave before dawn. She closed her eyes.

‘You know, Gallivant,’ Adelina murmured as they sat on the backs of their mounts the next day in the milky light of early dawn, ‘what it is like when you tip a jigsa
w from its box onto a table? Hundreds of fretted pieces of wood that must be cunningly, craftily joined to make a picture? Well that is how I see Severine. She is made up of hundreds of different interlocking pieces that make the whole.’

‘N
ot a pretty picture for sure. Sink me Adelina, jigsaw indeed.’ The hob eased his rear in the small saddle.

‘Oh, believe me. I’ll wager that she can be as charming as she can be a
viper. As erudite as she is poisonous, that she is elegant, a benefactor of the Arts, of the Opera, the Painters’ Guild, the Sculptors’ Guild, of the Museo. There’s one lot of fancy pieces. But there are more pieces - she lives under the total misapprehension she is a Faeran changeling - my fault of course.’ Adelina warmed to her theme. ‘And then there is the side of her that craves immortality, which is a conundrum in itself. Would not the very point of her being a changeling mean then that she is also already immortal and therefore not in need of the souls at all?’

Gallivant didn’t answer, allowing Adelina’s loquaciousness to continue.

‘It seems some part of her believes in the need for this quest for immortality, along with the confused belief she is a changeling. With the additional obsession of learning all she can about the Others, an obsession which shrinks neither from death nor maiming. I tell you, hob, it’s a quagmire, this delving into another’s mind. Better to think quite simply that she’s mad.’

Gallivant said nothing and the movement of Adelina’s horse rocked her gently. She mused silently that Severine’s insanity had pervaded her waking and sleeping dreams for too long. Now, with Ajax well and freedom a commodity to be cherished, she realized she needed less and less to think on the woman’s state of mind or to stoop to the woman’s level and kill.
It is what I wanted to do. I wanted revenge. But is that not a form of insanity?
She fidgeted on Ajax’s back.
I feel the weight of Others on my shoulders: the Swan Maid, Gallivant, Lhiannon if she still lives, Jasper... even Rajeeb. To avenge their losses. Aine knows I told them I would. And a word to an Other is a pledge. The only way to avoid it is death - one’s own
. She gave a heavy sigh.
I am sorry for Liam’s and Elriade’s demise but I am not Other and I cannot avenge Other deaths. I am mortal and can only think of avenging one death, a mortal loss - my Kholi, and even that makes me uneasy and ill. And perversely, as my freedom grows and time distances me from all those macabre happenings, I find I can reason again and I can rationalise.

Her cogitations were finally subsumed by the light and beauty of her surroundings and she surrendered to their charms.

***

The Travellers’ way filled my veins again. To be sure if I met Sev
erine and she goaded me, I wouldn’t find it hard to slit her throat for the death of Kholi. But I have another pledge I must keep in mind. As I wandered the trails of the Luned Forest with Ajax, his mane blowing in whatever little welkin wind chanced our way, I thanked the Lady that we walked together at all, remembering my promise to Her. And it is that pledge that I must adhere to, no matter what.

So, more booklets concluded and thus we must continue searching for the rest. You must follow the bees from the yellow dandelion flowers to another bee bothy. Remember how I told you it took me hours of weaving honey-coloured thread? Well, this one was exactly the same - tiresome weaving, under, over, over and under. Feel inside and pull out a thick little book and enlarge and read on.