by Angie Sage
“Lie down, Jerra,” Oskar said gently. His brother seemed worryingly confused with his talk of a path hidden under the bell.
“I won’t lie down, Oskie,” Jerra said indignantly. “Dan knows all about The Path, don’t you, Dan?”
“Not really,” Dan said somewhat grumpily. “Your mother has custody of it.”
“Well, Tod, you should ask Mum to show you,” Jerra said.
“Show me a path?” asked Tod.
“What path?” Oskar and Ferdie demanded.
“Where does it go?” asked Tod.
Jerra closed his eyes. It seemed way too complicated to explain.
“You’re tiring Jerra,” Dan said.
“No, she’s not,” Jerra said. “Dan, I’m serious. Take Tod to Mum. Let her see The Path. I can easily do your Watch for you.”
“Jerra, you can’t,” Ferdie said. “You banged your head really hard. You need to rest. Me and Oskie will do your Watch.”
Jerra looked up at Ferdie and then had to do his best not to seem dizzy. “You will not,” he told her. “You are way too young.”
“Oskie and I are very nearly grown up,” Ferdie said. “We’ll be going to the MidSummer Circle soon.”
This was a MidSummer meeting where all PathFinders between the ages of twelve and sixteen learned the secrets of their history. The first attendance at the MidSummer Circle was the moment when a PathFinder was considered to come of age.
“But you’ve not been yet,” Jerra pointed out. He looked up at Dan. “I shall be fine here, despite my annoying little sister.”
Ferdie stuck her tongue out at Jerra.
Jerra laughed. “Not so grown-up now, Ferd,” he said. He turned to Tod. “The Path would make sense to you; go and have a look. Dan, take her. I’ll be fine.”
Tod caught a hint of urgency in Jerra’s words, which contrasted with the distinct lack of urgency on Dan’s part. “I’ll go right now,” she said. “You stay with Jerra, Dad.”
But Dan was not prepared to let his daughter go through the Far on her own. And Jerra, although very pale—apart from an angry red bruise on his forehead—was clearly well enough to joke with Ferdie. So Dan accepted Jerra’s offer to take his Watch, told Ferdie and Oskar to look after their brother and set off with Tod on the long walk home.
HOMEWARD BOUND
Dan and Tod followed the well-worn track that took them through the Far forest. The Far felt much less threatening than the Castle Forest; there were no lurking witches, and the only animals Tod saw were two elusive wood voles. But the light was dim, the trees clustered close, and Tod looked forward to being out in the sunlight and seeing the sand dunes of her home village and the sparkling sea beyond.
They set a fast pace, and as they went Tod told Dan all the things she had done since she last saw him. Dan listened happily, thinking how much she reminded him of his dear Cassi. Tod was careful not to mention the dangers of the last few months, but there was one thing that was playing on her mind, and it was not until they reached the outskirts of the forest where the shadows were lifting that Tod felt brave enough to mention it.
“I saw Aunt Mitza,” she said.
Dan stopped dead. “Mitza? Where?”
“Um. When I was in the desert, getting the Orm Egg.”
Dan frowned. “I hope you kept out of her way.”
“I did.” Tod twisted her gold-and-silver snake ring that had once belonged to her mother. “But she said something. About Mum.”
“Mum?” Dan was taken aback. “Mum” was not a word he and Tod often used. Cassi had been gone so long now.
“Mum,” Tod said again, claiming the word for her own. She told Dan how Aunt Mitza had implied that she had sent the sand fly that had killed Cassi TodHunter Draa. Dan stopped dead. He looked shaken. “She . . . she did that? To my Cassi? To your mother? She sent a lethal sand fly?”
Tod nodded. “In an envelope of sand.”
Dan felt sick. He remembered Mitza’s letter to Cassi—which had puzzled them both, for Mitza was no great writer of letters—and its envelope full of sand. How he and Cassi had laughed at it. Silly, clumsy Mitza, they had said, always so messy. The thought that if Cassi hadn’t opened the letter she might have been here with him and her daughter almost overwhelmed Dan.
“And then,” Tod said, “Aunt Mitza told me to be careful. As though . . . as though she . . . she was planning something. For me.”
Dan looked horrified.
“And the thing is, Dad, yesterday two travelers came through the Hub. They looked kind of weird, as though there was some Darke Magyk on them. One of them was Aunt Mitza. I’m sure of it. And she went through Way Seven. To the Castle.”
Now Dan understood. “To find you. Like she threatened. Thank goodness you are not there, Tod.” Dan shook his head. “I will not allow that woman to blight our lives any longer. I’m going to the Castle. I’m going to track her down and make sure she never tries to hurt you again. Ever.”
“But Dad,” Tod said. “We can’t get to the Castle, can we? Not anymore. Well, not through the Ways.”
“I’ll go by sea,” Dan said.
“By the time you get there, there might not be a Castle left,” Tod said sadly. As they neared the last trees of the Far, Tod said, “I don’t think Mitza can do me any harm while I’m an Apprentice and have the power of the Wizard Tower behind me. But if that all goes, Mitza has to find me eventually. I don’t think she will give up.”
Dan was silent. He suspected his daughter was right.
“Dad, I so wish . . .” Tod stopped. What she wished seemed impossible.
“What do you wish, Alice?” Dan asked, using his serious name for her.
“I wish I could help protect the Castle. And the Ancient Ways. And all those beautiful places like the SnowPlains that are crumbling to dust . . . I so wish I could stop it from happening.”
Dan and Tod walked out of the Far into the afternoon sun. They took the boarded track that wound through the sand dunes and headed toward the outlying houses of the village, standing tall on their four stilts, looking as though they were striding across the dunes. Tod smiled. Houses on stilts meant she was home.
They headed toward the center of the village where the houses, which still smelled of fresh timber and tar, were newly built after having been set on fire by Oraton-Marr’s men. People were still adding the final touches, hammering up shutters, finishing the thatch. As they walked toward the new central space, where the old PathFinder bell now hung, Tod said, “I’ll just stop by and see Rosie like Jerra said.”
“Ah, yes. The Path,” Dan said, still sounding unenthusiastic, Tod thought.
The path puzzled Tod. Why did it make her father so grumpy? And why was Rosie looking after it? Rosie was not someone you would ask to keep a path swept clean and tidy. She was one of the village’s cleverer, more bookish people. In fact, the old Sarn house had had a whole room full of Rosie’s books—before it burned down.
The Sarns’ house was a surprise to Tod. In her mind it was still the raggedy thatched, scruffy old house. This one was so new that the wood was pale and not yet painted with tar, the thatch was bright yellow and the windows sparkling clean. But some things did not change. At the top of the ladder, through the open door, Tod saw the familiar figure of Rosie Sarn sitting at the long kitchen table, reading.
The next moment, in response to Tod’s call, Rosie was at the doorway. She saw Dan and her hands went to her mouth in fear. “Dan, what’s happened? Why aren’t you on Watch? Where’s Jerra?”
“Jerra’s fine, Rosie. He’s resting, he had a bit of a bump to his head.”
“Oh no!”
“Really, Rosie, Jerra is absolutely okay, I would not have left him otherwise. And besides, Ferdie and Oskar have Come Through and they’re with him.”
Rosie broke into a smile. “Ferdie and Oskar! Oh, how wonderful.” Rosie now spotted Tod standing a little behind Dan. “And Tod too!” she said. “Goodness, you’ve grown. How lovely to see you. Come on u
p, both of you.”
And so Tod and Dan climbed the ladder up to the Sarns’ welcoming kitchen. At the top, Tod turned and gazed at the village spread out before her. The Castle felt a long, long way away.
SECRETS
Ten minutes later Tod was sitting at Rosie’s kitchen table looking at one of the most beautiful books she had ever seen. Bound in green leather with swirling silver patterns enclosing its gold-blocked title: The Path.
“Jerra found it when he was digging new foundations for the bell tower,” Rosie told her. “About six feet down one of the spades hit a metal box. You can imagine how excited he was. All those legends about buried treasure under the bell—they were true.”
“I wish I’d been there,” Tod said wistfully.
“You’d not have seen much, Tod. Word got around and soon the whole village was there, trying to get a glimpse. Anyway, Jerra pulled up the box, got some bolt cutters and we opened it. There were a few sighs of ‘Oh dear, it’s only a book,’ but I thought it was the best treasure we could wish for.” Rosie’s eyes were shining with excitement. “Because Jerra had found it, he was given the choice of where it should go for now. So he said I was good with books and should look after it for the village. Everyone agreed and we took it home. But late that night, three of the Inner Circle came knocking on the door demanding we hand it over to them. They got very unpleasant when we refused.”
“We wanted to keep it safe,” Dan said. “That was all.”
“Dad, were you one of those three people?” Tod asked, shocked.
“I was,” Dan admitted. “I was only doing my best for our village. But Rosie thought she knew better.”
“Our history belongs to us all, Dan. Despite what some people think,” Rosie retorted, looking accusingly at Dan.
Dan sighed. “Rosie, some things are too dangerous for us all to know.”
Rosie gave a snort of derision. “We are not children, Dan Moon,” she said.
Dan said nothing and there was an awkward silence. Eventually Tod ventured, “Er. Can I have a look at it? Please?”
“Tod, of course you may,” Rosie said. “I’ve been so looking forward to showing you.”
Tod was touched by Rosie’s words and she wanted to share something in return. She took the StarChaser from around her neck and held it out to show Rosie. “This is something to do with our village too,” she said. “What do you think it might be?”
But it wasn’t Rosie who answered; it was Dan. “Goodness,” he exclaimed. “A pod key! Where did you get that?”
“A pod key?” asked Tod. “It’s called a StarChaser. It’s a Charm. I got it from the Charm Library.”
“Ah, well, that’s what it is. Of course it is,” Dan said hurriedly. “A Charm.”
“So why did you call it a pod key?” Tod asked, puzzled.
“I, um, I shouldn’t have said that,” Dan said.
“Another of those Inner Circle enigmas, I suppose,” Rosie said scathingly.
Dan sighed. He had had this conversation with Rosie Sarn many times.
Tod didn’t understand. “But I thought we heard all the secrets at the Summer Circle,” she said.
“Well, you don’t,” Rosie said tersely. “The Inner Circle keeps some for itself.”
“What is the Inner Circle?” Tod asked.
“That is a question for your father,” Rosie said.
Dan looked uncomfortable. “It’s just some PathFinders, Tod, who are trusted to know all our secrets.”
“So do you know our secrets, Dad?” Tod persisted.
“Yes,” Dan admitted. “I do.”
“Does that mean you can read The Path?”
Dan shook his head. “No. No one understands the ancient texts anymore.”
“But I am sure you could make a pretty good guess about what is in it,” Rosie said.
“Could you, Dad?” asked Tod.
Dan shrugged. “I truly don’t know what is in The Path, Tod. What Rosie calls ‘our secrets’ are just myths and legends, no more than that. I really don’t know why Rosie makes such a fuss about it.”
Rosie let out an exasperated splutter. “Because they are secret. And secrets destroy a society, Dan. Secrets create two tribes of people: those who know and those who don’t. And eventually, two tribes living side by side will fight.”
“Rosie, I don’t want to fight,” Dan said wearily, “really, I don’t. Let’s go and sit in the garden and let Tod look at The Path. I’ll tell you all about Jerra. And Oskar and Ferdie too.”
That was a peace offering that Rosie could not refuse. She made a jug of Barley Cup and then she and Dan took it down to the newly planted garden and sat in the sun.
Meanwhile, at Rosie’s kitchen table, Tod embarked upon her solitary journey along The Path.
A DASH AND A SICKLE
One of Tod’s courses at the Wizard Tower was Palaeography and Ciphers—known by all who were required to attend as “Pale and Sick” due to the deathly pallor of the teacher, a pedantic elderly Wizard who spoke in a low, flat drone that made everything, however interesting, seem tedious. But now Tod saw the point of all those boring afternoons—to her delight, she recognized the script The Path was written in. It was EAV:B or, to give it its full name, Eastern Arcane Vernacular, version B. With its typical thick black script, its use only of symbols with double dots after each symbol, it was one of the easier scripts to identify.
Tod knew about twenty symbols from EAV:B. She knew colors, including lapis lazuli—a dash enclosed by a sickle curve—some numbers, and a few other random words. At once she set about trying to find the symbol for lapis. Methodically, Tod ran her index finger along each line, checking every symbol, but she could not find it. She had reached the very last block of text in the book and was feeling quite despondent when her finger stopped at a dash enclosed by a sickle curve. But it was the symbol right next to it that made her heart race. It was an ovoid with a large dot in the center: Egg.
Tod’s finger trembled as it traced its way through the dark forest of letters until, like a lantern shining in the shadows, she saw the two symbols side by side once more—and then again and again. Now Tod knew she was onto something. This was about a lapis egg, there was no doubt about it. Tod also noted the plus symbol that was combined with the ovoid, which she remembered made the symbol plural. This was about more than one egg.
With memories of the Pale and Sick Wizard droning: “Method, method, method, Apprentice,” Tod decided to write down in sequence every symbol she recognized. She went back to the top of the page and examined the title. It looked like a fish with big, solid fins and it put her in mind of something Oskar would make: a metal fish. She decided to name the symbol exactly that. And so, headed by Metal Fish, Tod began to write a list of words. By the time she got to the end of the block of text, this is what she had: Metal Fish. Lapis Eggs. Yellow. Three. Metal Fish. Lapis Eggs. Wurm. Zero. Sorrow. Metal Fish. Home. Sea. Sorrow.
Tod looked at her list and she knew she had found something very important. She jumped up, raced down to the garden and thrust the list at Dan. “Dad, look! There’s lapis here. And eggs. It must be Orm Eggs, it must be!”
Reluctantly, Dan took the list. He frowned.
“Dad,” Tod said, “if this looks like one of those secret legends, please tell us what it is. Because if there are Orm Eggs in the secret, then it might show us a way to save the Wizard Tower. And the Ancient Ways.”
Dan’s face remained studiedly blank; it seemed to Tod that he was shutting her out. For comfort—for it was very uncomfortable to see this unknown side of her father—Tod put her hand in her pocket and closed it around the PathFinder. A moment later she snatched her hand from her pocket. “No!” she yelled. “No!”
“Tod?” Dan asked anxiously.
Wordlessly, Tod held out her hand. Lying on her palm was her precious PathFinder. Its gold-and-silver filigree shone in the sunlight. But at its very center was an empty socket: the dome of lapis lazuli was gone, leaving only its e
nclosing silver ring.
Tod handed the blind PathFinder to Dan, then she put her hand back in her pocket, drew it out and sprinkled a fine stream of gray dust onto her list. “Dad,” Tod said. “This is the lapis from my PathFinder—our PathFinder, the one that belongs to our family. If you know something that might stop this from happening, you have to tell me. You have to.”
Dan traced his finger through the dust and looked up at Tod and Rosie. There was a story he had to tell and he would tell it. But it frightened him. Not the telling of the story, but what he knew Tod would insist on doing once she had heard it.
And so, with a feeling of dread, Dan began to speak.
THE METAL FISH
“Tod, the symbol you call the metal fish must be the symbol for the PathFinder. I don’t mean your guide to the Ancient Ways, but the PathFinder you heard about in MidSummer Circle last year: the starship that once took our people to the stars and back. Part of the mission was to find a new planet where we could create powerful Magyk. People then had the crazy idea that an abundance of lapis lazuli would give great Magykal powers.”
“But that’s not crazy, Dad, that’s true!” Tod said.
“Yes, so it seems. Anyway, the idea was to turn an entire planet into lapis lazuli and then set up a colony on it. There were a few people on board with Magykal power—you are descended from them, Tod. It is where your gift is from. These people, who were called shamans, would do great things on this planet. It would be, I suppose, a Magykal laboratory. So an important part of the PathFinder’s cargo was Orm Eggs.”
Tod listened, rapt.
“It took many generations to gather them, but at last the PathFinder left with twelve Orm Eggs on board. After countless measures of time, they found what seemed to be a suitable planet. It was the right size and consisted of a soft yellow rock, perfect for burrowing Orms. All three shamans decided to go down to check it out. They came back with good reports and so, one by one, they began to take the Orm Eggs down to the planet. Because a human hatching of an Orm is difficult, they tried it with one Egg first. It was successful. The larval Orm developed as it should and began to eat its way through the rock. One by one, the Orm Eggs were sent down, hatched and set to work. On board the orbiting ship the PathFinders watched enthralled while below the yellow planet turned slowly blue and the shamans began to build a tower—as shamans will.
