Witch Fall (24 page)

Bethel’s voice dropped. “I won’t be able to say goodbye to my daughter—she won’t go if I do—and I fear I shall never see her again. Will you tell her for me? Tell her I know she’ll do her part.”

Lilette opened her mouth, then closed it again.

Bethel’s hand rested on her back. “Take Doranna and Harberd with you. You’ll need the protection.”

“Where is it you think we’re going?”

Bethel sighed. “The stone didn’t tell me that.”

Lilette searched the one sculpture whose meaning was not immediately apparent—the woman with three faces. “Is that supposed to be a metaphor for the keepers?”

Bethel’s hand fell away from Lilette’s back “Yes. The one facing out is our present, standing serene and calm in our power. The one looking back is our past, grieving for what we shall lose even as our future destroys itself.”

“Bethel . . .” Lilette whispered.

“When the time comes, you must act,” the older woman said calmly. “We all must. Save those you can.”

Lilette winced. Bethel had used almost the e
xact same words her mother had.

I needed Lilette, but I never stopped to consider that she might need me too. ~Jolin

“Lilette?”

A guardian stood a short distance away. Apart from the sailors who delivered supplies, men didn’t come onto the island.

Lilette scrambled to her feet, her stiff legs straining in protest. “Yes?”

The man approached them. He was a little older than Lilette, with a heart-stoppingly beautiful face and an adorable cowlick that made a patch of his hair stand at attention. “My name is Pescal. If you will please come with me.” His arm swept forward, indicating that she should go ahead of him.

Bethel looked up from her place on the hard rocks. She looked so small and lonely. “You’ll remember to tell Jolin?”

Lilette studied the older woman. How must it have been to know dark things were coming, to prepare for them alone, while your peers called you a fool? “I believe you. And I’ll tell her.”

Bethel closed her eyes, tipped her face up to the sky, and smiled.

Taking a deep breath to steel herself, Lilette moved ahead of the guardian. It wasn’t long before they were among the witches again and the path widened enough for Pescal to walk beside her. Remembering her training to become empress, she threw her shoulders back. “I’m waiting for an explanation.”

Pescal’s green eyes studied her. “The Heads have called you back to Grove City. You are to bring your personal effects.”

Was it beginning already? “What for?”

Pescal hesitated. “I don’t know.”

Lilette closed her eyes. Hadn’t some part of her known this was coming? She took in her surroundings. The shorter trees, the witchlings in dresses of green rushing to and from classes, their books clutched to their chests.

She had not been happy here. She’d been lonely and frightened and full of guilt for leaving her sister behind. And she’d drowned out those feelings with the tincture Bethel had given her. All her life, Lilette had dreamed of coming here. In less than two weeks, she was relieved to be leaving.

She stepped through the open door of her tree to find Jolin dumping a whole sack of amber pieces into a potion. Doranna was scrambling to pack books and notes into straw-filled crates.

Jolin glanced up. “There’s a scroll for you on the table.” She indicated it with a jerk of her head.

In a daze, Lilette went to the table and picked it up. On the thick, textured vellum was an embossed seal of a crescent moon in dark green wax. She broke the seal and unrolled the scroll. She’d been promoted from a witchling to an apprentice. “Did you know what this was?” she asked Jolin.

Her friend didn’t look up. “Since witchlings aren’t allowed to leave Haven unless they’re being kicked out, I imagine you’ve been advanced to an apprentice.”

Lilette glanced at Pescal, who stood just outside their door with his hands clasped behind him, and back to Jolin. “You’re coming with me?”

A grin broke out over Jolin’s face. “I sent a letter to the Heads informing them of my discovery. They’ve requested an immediate audience. I suspect they’ll want to show off my discovery at the chesli harvest.” That explained Jolin’s frantic making of more potion. “They’ll have to make me Head of Plants after this. My skill obviously exceeds Garen’s.”

When Lilette didn’t comment, Jolin made a shooing motion. “Pack your things. We’ll be ready for you to sing for this shortly.”

Lilette stared at the scroll, not really seeing it.

Jolin straightened and her gaze narrowed. “My mother went crazy again, didn’t she?”

Lilette hesitated before meeting Jolin’s gaze. 

“Did she start in on the end of the world or how we’re going to save everyone?”

“Both.”

“Well then,” Jolin said, “let’s get off this island before we’re stuck spending the rest of our very short lives with her.”

Lilette wet her lips. “Jolin, I believe her.”

Jolin froze, a book in one hand, a handful of straw in the other. “Sometimes I miss social cues, so I’ll just ask outright—are you being facetious?”

Instead of answering, Lilette moved toward the small room she’d shared with Jolin.

“Of course she was being facetious. Silly of me to think otherwise,” Jolin grumbled to herself.

Lilette’s gaze took in the books crammed on the shelves, the bed they’d brought in for her, even the lump in the middle of the floor that she’d stumbled over numerous times.

She pulled her bag of jewels out from behind the book, took her extra dress down from its peg, and she was packed.

She turned back into the main room in time to see Jolin hissing as she picked up a piece of hot amber. She blew on her fingers. “Oh! Creators’ mercy!”

Lilette couldn’t help but smile.

Jolin glanced around. “Doranna, tell Cori to care for my plants. I’ll need you with me for this.”

Doranna pursed her lips. “What if your mother needs me?”

“She’ll be fine. She always is, despite your fussing.”

Lilette hesitated. “Maybe she should stay.” If they all left, Bethel would be alone.

Jolin rolled her eyes. “Doranna was part of this. She deserves some of the credit.” She gingerly touched the amber. “It’s ready. Sing for it while I finish packing.”

“Must you really take all these books?” Lilette asked.

Jolin shot her a disbelieving look. “When I move into the Head of Earth’s tree, I’ll need my books. Everything will change after this.”

Lilette’s breath caught in her throat. “I hope not. I like things the way they are.” Of course, the exceptions included being separated from her sister and Han.

“Well,” Jolin huffed. “I do not.”

By midafternoon, they stood on the deck of the ship as it took them away from Haven. Lilette caught sight of a single figure standing atop the cliffs, one hand raised in goodbye.

“Jolin.” She nudged her friend, who tore her gaze away from checking the books in the crates to look up.

“Who’s that?”

“Your mother.”

Jolin shielded her eyes with her hands. “Can’t be. Mother never says goodbye.”

A deep foreboding washed over Lilette, with the distinct impression she’d never see these cliffs again.

Before midday, she stood in front of the Heads’ pavilion, watching Jolin and Doranna march ahead of her.  “Do you know a man named Han?” Lilette asked Pescal.

He hesitated. “The Harshen prince?”

“Yes. Can you find a way to bring him word that I am here?”

“I’ll see it done.”

She moved to follow the others, but Pescal stepped up beside her and cleared his throat. “Lilette?”

She turned to him. He smiled, and his teeth were straight and white and perfect. “At the celebration tonight, there will be dancing. Might I dance with you?”

She smiled uncertainly. “I don’t know . . .”

“Just one.” His smile grew even bigger, and Lilette noticed dimples on his cheeks. When she didn’t immediately say no, he bowed to her. “Don’t worry, I’ll find you.”

He turned to go before she could find the words to tell him no. He was certainly handsome, especially from behind, but she really wasn’t interested. For one thing, he was far too pretty. And for another, he wasn’t Han. She stepped inside the pavilion. Jolin was already demonstrating the amber, and Garen was glaring at her.

“Oh, that’s amazing,” Merlay said.

Tawny watched them, a suspicious look on her face. “Will it work over long distances? Does the effect wear out over time?”

Jolin rubbed her hands together in barely restrained glee. “All of that will have to be tested, but the technique itself can be easily replicated.” Though only by Jolin, for Lilette knew she always left out a key ingredient to all the recipes for her potions.

The group chattered on excitedly, but Lilette tuned them out. She was tired of feeling dull from the tinctures Bethel had given her. Tired of using them to deaden her emotions.

Lilette felt a hand on her arm. Jolin shook her head and gave her a queer look. “I said Lilette was the person who finally pushed us all onto the right path. She deserves a small share of the credit.”

Lilette shot Jolin an exasperated look.

“What? One moment of inspiration doesn’t make up for a lifetime of study.”

Lilette rolled her eyes.

Jolin straightened. “Fine. A slightly larger share of the credit. Will that do?”

Lilette didn’t care either way, but it was fun to watch her friend squirm. “I believe it will.”

“Very well.”

Merlay watched the exchange with an amused crook of an eyebrow. “With all the trouble with Harshen, Grove City has been tense. Jolin’s discovery is just the thing to boast morale. The chesli will begin to bloom tonight, and the inner courts will open to everyone for dancing and singing. Before the feast, we’ll announce Jolin’s discovery.” Merlay turned to the four wastrels waiting off to the side. “See that they’re properly dressed.

Lilette moved closer to Merlay. “I would like to speak to you about Sash, in private.”

Merlay sighed and came down. They moved off to one side. “We’re doing everything we can,” she told Lilette.

“I want to help.”

Merlay studied her. “That’s part of the reason we called you here. I have a proposal for you, but Garen has been holding out—refusing to agree. That won’t be a problem anymore.”

Lilette glanced at Jolin’s beaming face. “You’re going to make her Head of Plants?”

“We don’t have much of a choice. Even if she’s not a full keeper.” Merlay rested her hand on Lilette’s arm. “Give me a few more hours to have everything settled and I’ll tell you my plan. We’ll go from there.”

Lilette nodded, relieved to be doing something besides sitting back and watching everyone else bumble about.

Doranna stepped toward them. “I’ll take care of Lilette.”

Merlay handed her a money purse. “Very well.”

“Come with me.” Doranna turned away.

While Jolin and Harberd went with one of the other wastrels, Lilette followed Doranna from the inner courts into the city proper. Lilette paused in front of a tree with large windows featuring beautiful dresses, but the cuts and styles seemed wrong and foreign. She had a strong sense she was of two worlds and yet belonged to neither. “Not this.”

Doranna hadn’t even paused to consider the shop. “Of course not.”

They wove through throngs of people, their excited chatter about the night’s events making their voices louder and fuller than normal. Doranna stopped in front of a smaller tree.

At the familiar scent of incense, Lilette passed her and stepped inside. It was like coming home. Potted plants from the jungle, curved swords, jade combs . . . and linen sacks, the tops curled back to reveal a familiar grain. “Rice!” Lilette filled her hands with it.

A man came from the back of the shop. Seeing her, he called for his wife in Harshen. A woman emerged from behind a curtain. She wore the same style of cotton tunic and trousers that Lilette had worn most of her life.

Lilette mouth formed the familiar words of the Harshen language. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed rice.”

The woman’s face lit up. “You speak like one of us!”

Lilette smiled. “I am one of you.”

The woman’s studied her through slitted eyes, then her expression went wide. “Empress!” She dropped to her knees and pressed her forehead to the floor three times. A beat behind her, her husband did the same. Lilette watched them so freely offer her such an honor, knowing she didn’t deserve it.

They sat back on their heels, eyes downcast, and Lilette gestured for them to rise. “Please, I would like a tunic and trousers to wear to the celebration tonight.”

The man rose to his feet. “I’m not sure I have the quality you require, Empress. Our silk is plain.”

Lilette sighed. “But it is silk.”

The man motioned for her to step behind the curtain. Amid the bolts of dyed silk, already-made tunics and trousers were draped across forms. There were three women’s sets—one in yellow, one green, and one a deep turquoise the color of the sky at dusk. Lilette fingers slipped across the silk. She had no more calluses on her palms to catch the fabric. “This one.”