by Jo Spurrier
Then, since there was nothing else to do and I was weary to the bone after the last few days, I lay down on my bed beside the fire and went to sleep.
I slept well to begin with, but after a time a creeping unease invaded my sleeping mind. I found myself rousing to listen intently to the soft crackle of the fire, and other small noises that I hoped came from my mistress in the workroom. I was weary enough to settle again each time, and eventually I fell to dreaming.
It wasn’t a pleasant dream. I dreamed of a spider crawling over me in arcane patterns, leaving a trail of sticky silk behind it that sank into my skin, leaving marks like tattoos. I wanted desperately to brush them away, to scour my skin clean, but I couldn’t move.
Then, startlingly close, I heard a door bang shut, and the noise freed me from the grasp of sleep. I sat bolt upright, gasping, to see Aleida hobbling into the kitchen. I think I startled her as much as she’d startled me, for she hurriedly grabbed for the doorframe as she staggered on her ungainly feet. ‘Dee?’ she said.
I pressed a hand to my chest, my heart beating hard. ‘Sorry, miss,’ I said. ‘I just . . . I had a bad dream. But you startled me out of it, I think.’
‘A dream? What kind?’
‘Spiders, crawling all over me,’ I said with a shudder.
‘Oh,’ she replied. ‘Well, I won’t apologise for waking you then.’ She looked around, as though searching for something to sit on, then gave up and settled onto the floor.
I was feeling rather strange myself — slow and sluggish, and faintly dizzy. Lack of sleep, I guessed, and tried to put it from my mind. ‘Is your potion finished?’ I said.
She nodded. ‘The hard part of it, anyway. It needs to sit for a few more hours before it’s ready.’ She looked very weary, I thought, and too thin, with her cheeks sunken and her skin sallow with a greyish tint beneath the golden hue. When I first saw her I thought she was sun-browned, like someone who spends all their time working outside, but I was starting to wonder if it was just the way her skin was. Given what she’d said of her mother, it was quite possible her father had come from some far-flung place. ‘Do you want something to eat?’ I asked. ‘I fixed you a plate.’
‘Mm,’ she said with a slight shake of her head. ‘I had a bit, earlier. But I can’t eat now. I have to do something about this warlock, and you can’t do magic on a full belly.’
I just blinked at that, drawing up my knees and hugging them to my chest. ‘The warlock? Now? You can’t, miss. You look like you’re dead on your feet.’
‘Better that than dead off them,’ she muttered.
‘But why now?’
She sighed and rolled her head from side to side, as though her neck pained her. ‘You heard him the other day, Dee. Three days.’
‘Yes, but that won’t be up until the day after tomorrow.’
‘Three days doesn’t mean three days. It means sometime before three days. And you stole the beast he’d turned and set up for the attack. He has to act, soon.’ She frowned down at the flagstones. ‘I should have moved on him as soon as the sun went down, but I need that potion. Well, maybe this is good. He’ll wonder what the hell I’m playing at. It’s always good to keep your enemy confused. Of course,’ she said with a grimace, ‘that only works if he hasn’t already figured out that I got clobbered in that fight with Gyssha.’
I slipped out of my blankets and, out of habit, put on my apron over my chemise. Then I fetched the kettle I’d set up ready for morning, hanging it on the chimney crane and swinging it over the fire. ‘Well, at least have a cup of tea to warm your belly.’
She looked up, seeming surprised. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘Yeah. That sounds good.’
I felt her eyes upon me as I prepared the teapot, and after a few moments I simply couldn’t take it. ‘What?’ I demanded, glancing across at her.
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Just wondering if I should take you with me.’
‘You have to,’ I said. ‘I doubt you’ll be in any shape to walk back here afterwards.’
‘Mm. But that’s my problem, not yours. It’ll be dangerous, Dee, after that trick you pulled earlier. He probably assumes you’re my apprentice, and he’ll figure you for an easy target. If he does beat me, he’ll come after you next. I think it’d be best to set you up with the horse and gear and a bit of coin. If it goes well I’ll send a bird for you, if you don’t hear from me you can just take off.’
She was so matter-of-fact about it that I felt a chill down my back. She was calmly preparing for her own death, making sure I’d be safe. ‘Do you have to stay and fight him? Why can’t you just walk away?’
She gave me a scornful look. ‘And what do you think a man like that would do if he had access to that blasted tree? In the wrong hands that demon-tainted monstrosity could wreak an impressive amount of havoc. I’m not about to walk away and let him have it.’
‘Oh, right,’ I said. ‘Fair point.’
When the tea was brewed, I poured two cups — or at least, that’s what I meant to do. At one point I found myself holding a glass bottle in my hand, but with a shake of my head I put it back where I’d found it and rubbed my eyes before finishing the task. I was so short on sleep that my mind was playing tricks on me.
I brought Aleida her tea, but she was gazing into the middle-distance, as though she couldn’t see me at all, so I set it down beside her. ‘Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?’
It took her a moment to respond, and then she shook her head firmly. ‘No. Look, Dee, this isn’t going to be a pitched battle. I’m not stupid, I know I can’t take him that way. It’ll be a sneak attack. There’s nothing you can do. I’m just making contingency plans, that’s all.’ She picked up the cup and cradled it between her hands, blowing on the steaming surface of the tea.
‘You can’t wait until the potion’s finished?’ I said.
‘Nope. Not enough time. It wouldn’t really help, anyway, it’s more of a recuperative than an amplifier. I’ve got a few other tricks up my sleeve, though.’ She looked around, then, taking in the barren room, and our paltry collection of cups, plates and trenchers on the mantelpiece. ‘Any sign of Bennett?’
I shook my head. ‘He must have moved on, after all. What did you call it? Through the veil?’
‘Mm. Maybe. Why, though? Why now and not before?’
I sipped my tea, puzzled. ‘Maybe he listened to you? You kept telling him to go, after all.’
She shook her head. ‘No. I’d been telling him that for days. He only stopped when you arrived.’ With a purse of her lips, she set her cup down and heaved herself to her feet. ‘Did you find any candles when you were cleaning up? There should have been a box of them somewhere.’
I nodded and went to fetch it.
When I returned, Aleida had moved her teacup aside and had her wand in her hand. ‘Set them out for me, please,’ she said. ‘There are marks in the flagstones to tell you where.’
I’d noticed the notches when I was cleaning, but hadn’t thought much of them. The candles were only little, but they were made of fine beeswax, and I set each one on a plate or in a cup to save scraping the wax off the floor afterwards. ‘Light them?’ I said.
‘Please.’
‘Uh, miss? Are you sure this is a good idea? You were going to fight the warlock, should you be wasting your strength?’
She looked at me with an icy gaze. No, I realised, not icy. Just detached. Indifferent. ‘Don’t ever ignore your intuition, Dee. It’s there for a reason.’
I wasn’t sure what that meant, and it in no way answered my question, but I figured it was all the answer I was going to get. ‘Yes, miss.’
I lit the candles with a splint, and then Aleida hobbled into the space they marked out on the floor. She stood there, leaning on the stick, and closed her eyes.
I’ll admit it, I was expecting something . . . more. But all she did was stand still with her eyes closed.
Then, I felt a creeping pressure seeping through the room, a prickling,
icy touch that rose up from the floor.
‘Bennett,’ Aleida said, her voice very soft. I flattened myself to the wall beside the fireplace, and from the corner of my eye I noticed the flames were stretching taller.
Aleida’s frown deepened, her hand clenching around the wand. ‘Bennett.’ Her voice was growing harder, more stern. The pressure grew with each moment that passed, like the air under a swift-coming storm. I could feel it now, a pull, like hunger, like thirst, a craving like cool water on a hot day. How strange, I could feel it, but I could tell that it wasn’t calling to me.
‘Bennett.’ Slowly, she lifted the wand. It wasn’t glowing, exactly, but it seemed to me that it glittered in the firelight, as though the crystal’s glassy facets caught and reflected more of the light.
‘Bennett.’ She called one last time, her voice throbbing with power, sounding as deep and dark as the ocean.
She waited then. We both did, perfectly still, listening, waiting.
Long moments passed. A dozen heartbeats. Two dozen. Then, she let her hand drop, and, sagging, she hobbled out of the ring of candles. ‘Blow them out, Dee. He’s not coming.’
I did as she asked, but I didn’t understand her worried, despondent air. It was good that he didn’t come, surely? It meant he had gone on through the veil, or whatever she had called it. ‘Miss? Didn’t you want him to move on?’
‘Want has nothing to do with it,’ she said as she leaned back against the wall. ‘It doesn’t make sense—’ She broke off then, as though something had just occurred to her. ‘Unless . . . unless it wasn’t Bennett?’
‘But who else would it be?’ I said. Then my eyes dropped to the cup near her feet. ‘Your tea’s getting cold, miss.’
She barely glanced at it, and I could see it would be no easy matter for her to stoop down to get it, so I fetched it for her.
‘Who else, indeed?’ she said as she took it from me. ‘And why did it stop when you turned up? Those are the real questions, Dee.’ With that, she drained the cup in one gulp — and immediately spluttered, doubling over with a cough.
In the blink of an eye I found myself standing over her, hands on her shoulders. Gulping for breath, she let the cup fall. It shattered on the flagstones. She reached for her walking stick, but my hand was already there, knocking it out of her grip and sending it clattering to the floor.
Inside my head, my mind seemed to shut down. It felt like closing a book. The world had suddenly become incomprehensible, and my mind was having none of it. All I could do was stare at my hands, mouth hanging open like the village idiot.
Off balance, Aleida stumbled forward, hands clutching at the neck of my chemise, her face just inches from mine; and I watched as her eyes went from bewildered to enraged to sudden clarity. ‘Dee,’ she said, and in my name I could smell something on her breath. The mint tea, of course, and spices — but also spirits, like the whisky Lem drank back at home. ‘Dee,’ she said again, her voice growing slurred. ‘What was in that tea? What did you give me?’
‘Nothing!’ I said. ‘It was just tea!’ Wasn’t it? But then I remembered the glass bottle in my hand. There was a weight in my apron pocket, something round and heavy that bounced against my leg with each step. Laudanum — tincture of poppy in strong spirits, usually flavoured with spices. Oh Lord and Lady. What happened? What have I done?
Aleida shook her head, eyes drooping closed before she fought to open them again. Her legs were giving way beneath her and she sagged against me.
Hands that were no longer mine pushed her down, and she was sinking too fast to fight it. She fumbled for the wand at her belt, and quickly my foot darted out to pin her hand to the floor. Then, no matter how I fought against it, no matter how I struggled to make it stop, my body shifted its weight onto that delicate hand, and I felt bone and tendon grind under the ball of my foot.
Lying on the flagstones, Aleida gasped, struggling to pull away but sinking too fast to manage it.
Then I felt something in my throat, something dry and dusty and tasting of death. It reached up and took a hold of my tongue. ‘Wretch,’ it said in a hoarse whisper. ‘Wretched traitor of a girl. You should have been a whore like the slut who birthed you; I should have let them cut off your faithless hand. Maybe then you’d know your place.’ Aleida could hear the words — I could see it in her face, even if she didn’t have the strength to respond.
‘You’re pathetic,’ my voice whispered. ‘Useless. You think that little scrap of a spider is enough to finish that warlock? You little simpleton! He’ll break you like a dry twig! Didn’t you learn a thing from me, you stupid girl? Well don’t you worry your little head — I’ll take care of the warlock. And then I’ll take care of you.’
I was certain Aleida could hear, and then, when the laudanum finally took her, I saw that too. Her face went slack, and the tension in her neck and jaw eased away, and the hand beneath my foot went limp as the laudanum stole her away — drugged into oblivion, and dead to the world.
CHAPTER 9
It felt like a bad dream, like a waking nightmare. I wished I could believe that’s all it was, as the body that had been mine got dressed, putting on stays and skirt, stockings and boots, but I knew better. This was a witch’s cottage, after all, and such easy explanations were for other people. I knew what was happening; the only way I could have been more certain was if Aleida told me herself. I was possessed, and there was only one name I could put to the thing inside me. Gyssha.
My apron was flung aside, and though I heard the chink of glass, I couldn’t turn my head to look around. It was only when the body sat to lace my boots that I saw it. The flask of laudanum had rolled out of my apron pocket, the cork absent, the bottle empty. No, I said to myself. No, no, no. People died of drinking too much laudanum. You heard tales of it — babies given too much by careless nursemaids, young lads stealing it if they couldn’t sneak out their father’s whisky, old folks with their insides eaten away by tumours. Thirty drops was the dose for a body full-grown, and twenty would be better for someone like my mistress, as scrawny as a newborn foal.
There had to have been an ounce in the bottle Melly had found in the garden.
There was nothing I could do for Aleida now, but I’d have stayed by her side if I could.
I had no choice in the matter, though. Once my boots were laced and my skirts tied about my middle, my body heaved itself up and stepped over my mistress’s crumpled form, and marched out into the night.
When I saw what awaited me — us, rather — I thought my heart would stop. Beasts. Huge and hulking in the starlight. The ghost within me didn’t falter, though, and marched down the meadow to join them, standing silent and still around the tree. There were half-a-dozen of them clustered on the green, and in the dim light I could make out more across the stream. A dozen? A score?
The tree knew we were there. The vines and tendrils hung down low, stretching towards the ground and swaying restlessly, like a barn-sour beast. I wanted to curl into a ball, to close my eyes and pull the covers over my head. I wished I could be one of my little sibs and crawl into bed with the big people when it thundered in the night.
But there was no refuge anymore.
‘Well?’ my voice said, sharp and whispery. ‘Go get it.’
The beasts all swung their massive heads my way. And then, they turned towards the tree.
It was a hard battle. So many of them were torn apart that reinforcements had to cross the stream and join the struggle. But at last a branch was torn from the demon tree, a branch so big it was the size of a small tree itself. The vines that hung from it twitched and writhed for a long while, thrashing with dying rage.
Once the worst of the twitching had stopped, my hand gestured to the nearest beast and commanded it to lay down upon the soil. Then, another construct — one with forelimbs like a bird’s feet, made for grasping — sank the branch into the creature’s earthy back, like a bizarre and ugly crest.
My body climbed onto the back of the bird-legge
d beast, and then the two of them, my mount and the branch-bearer, set out through the orchard. My hands gripped tight to the bulk of the beast beneath us — there was no smooth, sleek coat like a horse would have, just packed earth that crumbled if my fingers pressed in too hard. But the bird-beast’s back was studded with sticks and twigs and pine needles in a grotesque parody of hair, and on these my hands found a grip, of sorts, while the beast pitched and rolled beneath me like a wallowing boat.
I started to tremble as the dark closed around us — from the cold, from fear. I was in the grip of an evil witch, and the only one who could help me was behind us in the cottage, poisoned by my own hand.
She’s not dead, I told myself. She’s a witch, she can’t be dead. Besides, I’d heard what Gyssha had told her, before Aleida had slipped away from us: I’ll take care of you, voice dripping with venom. That means the old witch wants her alive. I hoped with all I had that I was right in that. If Aleida was dead then so was I.
For a moment my hands shook like shutters in a gale but then, a moment later, something dry and cold surged through my veins, and I felt Gyssha’s grip wrap around me like a strangling vine. My voice made a little growl of annoyance, and after that I couldn’t move an inch, while beneath me the earthbeast plodded through the night.
How long we walked I couldn’t say — it could have been hours, it could have been just a few minutes. It didn’t make any difference to me; once we left the road I was hopelessly lost, with all the stars hidden under the thick cover of the trees.
