“It’d be safest to keep them here,” said Dad.
“You know what that would look like to their parents,” said Fírinne. “The first people to risk sending their children here, and we hold them captive in the castle?”
Mam groaned. “Could this have happened on a worse day?”
Dad looked gently at her. “You’re the most powerful weapon these people have, Stella.” He held up a hand to stop her objections. “I know you don’t want to be thought of as that. But there’s no avoiding it. Next to your mother, you’re the most powerful weapon there is. You should accompany those children home.”
Mam got to her feet. “I’m not leaving you and the kids, Daniel.”
“We’re as safe as houses here.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“We made a commitment to those children when we opened that school. We promised their parents we’d keep them safe. You need to fulfil that promise, otherwise…” Dad spread his hands. “Otherwise, it’s all just words.”
Mam sighed. “Why must you always talk sense?” She went and took Dad’s face in her hands. “You’ll stay right here?”
“I won’t budge an inch.”
Mam kissed him on the mouth.
She turned to Mup. “As for you, Mup Taylor! No more big magic. No more going it alone.”
Mup tiredly raised her hands in surrender. “I promise,” she whispered.
“And if that grey girl shows up again…?”
“I’ll spit in her eye.”
Mam knelt down by Tipper. “Give your mammy a kiss.” Tipper licked her nose. “A proper kiss, you chancer.” He turned into a little boy, plopped a kiss on her cheek, and flopped straight back down into a puppy again. Mam scrubbed his ears, stood, and looked at Crow. He glanced at her sideways from his position by the curtains. “I care about you, Crow,” she said.
His dark eyes shot to her face. He seemed shocked beyond words.
“Stay with the family, OK? I need to know you’re safe.”
Crow swallowed hard. Mup thought he might be on the verge of speaking. But the raven guard chose that moment to caw its presence, the sky outside darkened with the shiver of wings, and Crow retreated into silence.
“We’d best go,” said Mam.
Fírinne nodded grimly, shook herself, and transformed into a silver raven. With a flutter of wings, she hopped to the table, then out onto the windowsill.
There came a great sweep of movement beside Mup. She turned just in time to see a huge raven launch itself into the air. Mam, she thought, as the raven glided overhead. For a moment Mam’s wings filled the window, then she landed at Fírinne’s side. The setting sun gleamed on her noble beak, and glinted fire in her eyes as she scanned the courtyard below. Beside her, Fírinne threw back her head and called, harsh and loud, to the amassing birds.
There was a vast uprush of wings, a welter of shadow flickered the room, and Mam and Fírinne were gone.
Mup struggled from the sofa. She and Tipper crowded at the window to watch. Crow came quietly to their side. Down below, the children were gathered in the bruised shadows of the evening yard. They were very different to how they’d been this morning. Most of them laughed as they chatted together. Some linked arms, some sang. Many of them waved up to Mup in her distant sunlit window. “Hope you feel better, Mup! See you soon, Crow!”
Naomi and Emberly were with them, gazing skywards, anxiety clear on their luminous faces. Mam and Fírinne swooped down to join them. There was a brief exchange of words, and the children began making for the boat steps.
From her advantage high above everything, Mup could see Marsinda near the back of the yard, watching the activity with frowning intensity. Where the rest of the Marshlanders were, Mup did not know; somewhere in the castle, she supposed. Mam had asked them to stay, at least until she knew what threat Magda might pose.
The Marshlander leader couldn’t take her eyes from Naomi. She stared as the ghost gently ushered the children to the steps, stared as Naomi anxiously waved them off on their journey home.
Mup thought Marsinda seemed very different to the brash woman of that morning. It was obvious that Naomi’s presence stirred dreadful memories. Once again, Mup wished that her ghostly friend could change her appearance. Whatever Mup’s feelings about Marsinda, it couldn’t be pleasant for people like her – or Doctor Emberly for that matter – to be confronted with the walking symbol of all their past sufferings.
Unaware of the Marshlander’s presence, Naomi and Emberly crossed the yard together, heading for an inner door.
“You have no right,” yelled Marsinda suddenly.
The two ghosts came to a startled halt.
Marsinda pointed a shaking finger at Naomi. “You have no right to the company of our children. You have no right to respect and decency when every memory we have of you burns like fire.”
Mup saw Emberly step forward as if to speak. Naomi put her hand on his ghostly arm.
“What you say is true,” she told Marsinda. “I’m sorry.”
“If I were you I’d lock myself away where no one would have to suffer the sight of me.”
“As soon as there are enough teachers for the school, I will do just that.”
Marsinda didn’t seem to know what to do with that information. Naomi bowed to her. The gesture seemed to bring Marsinda only greater pain and upset. When Naomi left the courtyard, the Marshlander leader collapsed a little bit in on herself – shrank.
Emberly spoke in quiet sympathy. “Are you all right?”
His voice snapped Marsinda’s spine straight again. “Did you die by their hands?” she growled.
Emberly nodded. “Under torture.”
That seemed to take Marsinda back. She stared at Emberly, as if seeing him anew. “How have you not gone insane working with that creature every day? Having to look at it every day?”
“I try not to think of Naomi as a ‘creature’,” said Emberly softly. “I try to think of her as a child, wrapped in a uniform she deeply regrets, trying to atone for sins that are not entirely her own.” He hesitated. “But if I am honest … some days the sight of her is almost too much for me to bear.”
Dad placed his hands on Mup’s shoulders. She realized that, though Crow and Tipper had left the window as soon as the school children had disappeared from view, Dad had remained with her, listening to the conversation below. His dark eyes followed Emberly as the ghost left the courtyard.
Marsinda stayed by the memory wall, her arms folded tight as if to keep herself safe.
Dad squeezed Mup’s shoulders. “Come inside, Mup.”
“I don’t know who to feel sorry for,” whispered Mup. “Naomi or Marsinda. I don’t know whose side I’m on.”
Dad looked down at her with his kind smile. “You don’t have to take sides,” he said. “In a situation like this, maybe all you can do is listen, and try to understand … and give everyone room to figure out the answers for themselves.”
“Get some rest now,” said Dad, tucking Mup into bed. “Doctor Emberly says you’re still not well.”
Crow lurked at the door. Dad ruffled his hair as he left the room. “Don’t tire her out, fella.”
Dad went out to read Tipper a story. Crow came and sat cross-legged at the end of Mup’s bed. He listened as Dad’s voice and Tipper’s voice rose up in the sitting room. When it was clear that they were fully occupied with reading Tipper’s choo-choo book, Crow whispered:
“You look terrible, Mup.”
“Thanks a million.”
“All grey and limp.”
“I feel grey and limp to be honest.”
Crow fidgeted with the bed covers. “Was it my singing did that to you?”
“Don’t think so. Think it was the grey girl dragging me into the ghost place did this to me.”
This didn’t seem to comfort Crow much. He kept fidgeting with the bedclothes and glancing up at the ceiling as if there was something up there he was worried about.
“Are yo
u worried about your vardo, Crow?”
He stared at her, frozen and wary.
“Are you worried about what might be in the vardo?”
This was like releasing a spring inside her friend, and he immediately crawled to her end of the bed, his eyes wide, his expression filled with relief and urgency. “Oh, Mup,” he whispered. “I don’t know what to do. He just appeared and then he fell over and he seems so sad.”
Mup sat straighter, gripping her friend’s hands tight. “What is he?”
“I don’t know! He’s not a ghost. He’s certainly not a person!”
“When did he appear, Crow?”
“This morning! I went up to cook my middle-breakfast while class was at break.” Crow searched his memory, trying to get the whole fuddled morning into place. “I was cooking,” he whispered, “and…”
“And you were singing to yourself,” said Mup. “That’s what woke the grey girl. She told me.”
“My singing woke the girl?”
Mup nodded. “She was asleep until then, apparently.”
“I was singing to myself…” whispered Crow. “And I heard a noise behind me, and there he was, gurgling and staggering about. And then you called me, and I ran out and…” He shook his head, obviously not wanting to think about finding Mup lying there, dead on the ground. “I thought I’d killed you, Mup.”
She smiled. “Well … you hadn’t. Is your creature still there, do you think? Maybe he went away when you stopped singing?”
Crow shook his head, not knowing.
Mup slipped from bed, and staggered for the sitting room.
“I don’t want to go back there alone,” whispered Crow.
Surprised, Mup turned at the door. “Why would you go alone, Crow? You’re part of a family. You have people who care about you.” She held out her hand for him. “You don’t have to do anything alone.”
A Mother’s Return
“Your mother is going to kill me,” grunted Dad, pushing his broad shoulders through the attic window.
“Tipper will probably kill you first. He’s not at all happy we left him behind with Naomi.”
“We could hardly bring the little fellow with us,” observed Doctor Emberly, floating up through the roof tiles at Mup’s feet. “He’s still terribly young, you know – even in dog years.”
“Are you all right, Mup?” asked Dad. “You’re very grey about the gills.”
Mup was standing with Crow on the apex of the roof, patiently waiting for Dad to squeeze his way through the window. She sighed. “I’d quite like to never be dead again, thank you.”
Doctor Emberly seemed a bit offended at that. “Well,” he sniffed. “It takes a lot out of the living, I suppose.”
The raven guard wheeled protective circles overhead as Dad scrambled to the ridge of the roof. He frowned up at them, his shadow stretched far behind him, his face glowing in the setting sun. He nodded at Crow. “Right,” he said. “Guards or not, I don’t want any of us out here longer than necessary. Let’s go check on your creature.”
“He’s not my creature,” grumbled Crow, leading the way across the ridge tiles.
“I beg to differ,” interjected Doctor Emberly. “If – as you surmise – you conjured him with your voice, he’s very much your creature, and as such you have quite a responsibility for his well-being.”
“But I didn’t mean to conjure him, did I? I didn’t even know I was singing. I was just humming away to myself, cooking my middle-breakfast, and having a little think.”
The doctor faltered, as if something had just fallen into place for him. “Crow…” he ventured. “Crow, was there anyone in particular on your mind when you were, um … ‘humming away to yourself’ and ‘having a little think’?”
Crow came to an abrupt halt, causing the row of friends to bang into each other in a small series of “sorry”s and “do excuse me”s. He stood with his back to them all for a moment, the sunset haloing his tousled head, his arms out for balance. His vardo was in sight now. Crow ran a few steps towards it, and then – even though they’d agreed that Dad wouldn’t be left behind – he leapt into his raven form and flew the last bit of distance by himself.
“Oh dear,” whispered Emberly. “That poor child.”
“Why?” asked Mup. “Who is it you think was on his mind?”
“My dear princess,” said Emberly. “Whom does an orphan child always have on their mind? To whom does the orphan’s lonely heart turn at every quiet moment?”
“Oh, no,” whispered Dad, apparently understanding Doctor Emberly far better than Mup did.
Crow had already landed on his roof garden. Mup turned to see him rise into his boy form and run for the vardo. “Crow!” she shouted. “Wait for us! Don’t do this on your own.”
“Fly to him,” said Dad. “I’ll catch up.”
Mup launched and flew and landed at the bottom of the vardo steps just as Crow reached the porch. He hesitated with his hand on the door handle, panting. Mup was able to run up the steps and be at his side when he opened the door, and witnessed what lay within.
The little grey girl was there, and she turned to look at them as dying light streamed into the vardo. The creature was kneeling by her side, hunched and misshapen, its head bowed onto the grey girl’s chest. Its broad shoulders were almost half the width of the vardo. If it rose to its feet, it would be too tall to stand straight. The grey girl was stroking its matted hair with her ashy hand. She threw Crow such an accusing glare that Mup wanted to put her arm around him, to protect him from it.
You’ve no right to look at Crow that way! she thought. Not after all the things you’ve done.
The girl glanced at her, and maybe she saw something of this in Mup’s expression, because she dropped her gaze and went back to stroking the creature’s hair.
“Poor sad, hurting thing,” she rasped. “It doesn’t know what it is.”
“It’s my dad,” whispered Crow.
“What?” cried Mup.
Crow didn’t look at her. He stepped into the vardo, his eyes on the creature kneeling at the grey girl’s feet. “My dad didn’t look like that, though,” he whispered.
“You do not remember him as well as you think, maybe,” said the girl, some sympathy in her fierceness now. “Or you didn’t concentrate enough. So –” she gestured to the creature – “he is not complete.”
“But Crow’s singing called you up,” said Mup to the little girl. “You’re complete!”
“Boy’s song didn’t conjure me. Boy only woke me. I heard his music, because I’m always close, I’m always listening even when I sleep. But Boy wasn’t singing for me.”
“I wasn’t singing for anyone,” whispered Crow. “I was only singing for myself, and remembering Dad, and…” He went to touch the creature. “Oh, Dad, it really is you, isn’t it?”
The sky outside darkened. Urgent cawing filled the air. Mup turned to see the cloud of raven guard swoop low as Dad and Emberly frantically ran towards her. “We need to get back inside!” yelled Dad. “Hurry!” His eyes were on the sky. Emberly’s too, as if some great thing were advancing from the clouds.
The grey girl tilted her head, obviously hearing something beyond the tumult of the ravens. Whatever it was, the sound of it shrank her back. She cast a panicked glance at Mup, pressed herself into the shadows of the vardo, and was gone.
Mup stepped out onto the porch. Dad and Emberly were racing across the roof garden now, a chaos of ravens around them. Some of the guard landed. They immediately rose up as warriors, their hands spread and aimed at the sky.
Silence fell down like a thunderclap. All movement ceased.
The airborne ravens, the running warriors, Emberly and Dad, all froze in their places.
The wooden porch creaked as Crow stepped to Mup’s side.
Magda rose above the edge of the castle. There was ash in her hair, ash on her clothes, trailing her like a cloak. She stepped from the air into Crow’s little garden. She was fierce and directed
as a hawk, aiming straight for the two children who cowered like rabbits at the sight of her.
Mup went to summon lightning and realized, with horror, that none would come.
“You’re sick,” whispered Crow. “You’ve no energy left to use.”
Magda strode through the cloud of ravens which she had suspended with her magic, past the motionless warriors. She passed Emberly and Dad as if they were no more than statues, creaked up the vardo steps, pushed Mup aside and snatched Crow.
“NO!” cried Mup, terrified Crow would burst to ash in Magda’s hands.
Nothing happened.
Magda stared down at the boy dangling in her fist, as if astonished to see him still in one piece. She shook him. She grabbed his face between her hands.
“Leave him alone!” cried Mup.
Frustrated and confused, Magda tossed Crow from her.
He slammed into the bright wall of the porch and Mup grabbed him. “Are you OK, Crow?”
He nodded, rubbing his face where his mother’s cruel grip had left bruises and ash marks in the shape of fingers.
“Did you do this to me?” hissed Magda.
“Do what?” snarled Crow. “Summon you? If I did, it wasn’t what I meant to do. I was only thinking of you… I can’t help it. I think of Dad, and when I think of Dad I can’t help thinking of you and—”
“What are you babbling about? Summon me? No one summons me. I mean this!” She spread her ashy arms. “This!” She touched a budding blossom tree, it crumbled in her hands. “Why would you curse me like this?”
“I haven’t cursed you!”
Magda stared keenly at him. “No,” she said at last, “I don’t think you have.”
“Why did you touch him?” said Mup. “He could have turned to ash.”
She expected one of Magda’s clever, cutting answers. To her surprise the woman seemed to consider the question. “But he didn’t,” Magda muttered. “Why?” She paced for a moment, rubbing her hands together, then she shook off the topic. “Urgh, it doesn’t matter.” She pointed to Mup. “You’re the reason I’m here, girl. I want you to fulfil the promise you made the night I rescued you from your grandmother’s minions. I want you to help me.”
The Promise Witch Page 5
