“For various reasons things didn’t work out as planned, though, and the wealth of knowledge intended to save Leiyatel became lost to us forever, locked beyond the Gray Mountains.”
“But Leiyatel must have been saved,” Stella blurted out, opening Mirabel’s eyes. “After all, she helps me make stars every night.”
“Pure luck, my dear. Just before I was born, there was a fortuitous turn of events that was eventually taken advantage of by a secret instrument of the ancient engers.” She went pale, her hands tightly drawn to fists, then closed her eyes once more and breathed in deeply.
“My hereditary female line is...” but Mirabel shivered and swallowed hard. “My own line is that very instrument the ancient engers so presciently put in place all that time ago,” and she seemed to relax, a smile almost touching her lips. “They’d created a line of cuckoos, Stella. Cuckoos to seduce the hearts and therefore occupy the nests of those High Dicans down the years who had most influence, and through them, weaken High Dican control of Leiyatel.”
Mirabel’s eyes shot open. “There! It’s almost out now, and here I am, still in one piece.” She moved shakily from the chair and sat beside Stella.
“But what’s this got to do with weft and weave, Mirabel?”
“It’s what all Dicans have woven through their very fibre. It’s how Leiyatel gains access to everyone’s minds and wills. What she uses to control those within her embrace,” and again she stared out through the window.
“Control? That can’t be right.”
“Ah, the common belief that Leiyatel is our servant,” Mirabel said as she turned back to Stella. “No, my dear, a necessary untruth I’m afraid, but one that only the two of us now know.”
Stella’s eyes widened. “Then how have you been able to tell me? Surely Leiyatel would have stopped...”
“Because I purposely have no weft and weave at all. None of my line has. If we did, we could never have seduced any High Dicans.”
“I ... I don’t understand.”
“High Dican weft and weave differs from that of the Bazarran, as it differs from Galgaverrans and Dicans like you, Stella. They’re all different from one another.”
“I still don’t...”
“Those of unlike wefts and weaves find no sexual interest in each other. It’s just the way it is, Stella, or perhaps the way it was intended. Either way, the important thing is that for a Bazarran cuckoo like me to get a High Dican to fall madly in love with her...”
“So that’s why I’ve never had any interest in anyone. You said my weft and weave was unlike any other Dican, even my own kind.” She looked down at her hands. “And so why I’ve always felt like an outsider.”
“And why we two have so easily become ... become friends.” Mirabel’s eyes glistened, tears breaking free as she wrapped her arms around Stella. “I too have been so lonely, without really knowing it, not until I met you.”
She sniffed as she drew away, enough to look Stella in the eye. “My lack of a weft and weave may have let me seduce any in our realm but I never realised how apart it set me, how much loneliness it could bring. We may not be alike in our wefts and weaves, Stella, but we both suffer the same loneliness.”
Stella now knew she could trust this woman, this first and only friend. Without thinking, she hugged her tight, could do no other, all her years of uncertainty melting away in the heat of a freed love – a love for a true friend now found – and now wholly trusted.
“So,” Stella eventually breathed against Mirabel’s fragrant neck, “it was you who saved Leiyatel?”
“Not I, Stella. No. My mother, Lady Lambsplitter. She it was who sacrificed herself for Dica’s future.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“There’s no need for sorrow, Stella. She fulfilled the ultimate purpose of our line. I’m proud of what she did, yes, but it’s left me bereft now of any true purpose of my own.”
Mirabel slid her hands to Stella’s cheeks and smiled. “But then, perhaps I’ve found a new purpose to my life. A friend in need as they say,” and her kiss proved delicate, barely a breath upon Stella lips, a flutter of gossamer wings upon a warm summer’s day.
11 Of Skeletons in Cupboards
“You look as tired as I feel,” Mirabel said, leaning close to Stella, the press of students rushing to their first lectures filling the college’s small entrance hall with a familiar cacophony. “Are you sure...” but she raised her eyes and shook her head, then led Stella against the tide, out to the relative quiet of the yard.
“Are you sure you’re going to be alright getting back? It’s a long way if you’re not up to it.”
“I’ll be fine, Mirabel. Don’t worry. I’m used to longs nights, and the walk will do me good.”
“If you say so. You have remembered dad’s book I hope?” to which Stella patted her pocket.
In truth, she had had little useful sleep – a few short hours snatched whilst the sun roused itself from its own much longer slumber. Despite being newly laden, her mind had raced through what she’d learnt, and then kept her awake even longer by dragging on through what it could all possibly mean.
“There’s something I need to ask before I go,” and Stella thought of her parents, as she had umpteen times during the night. “Why does no one ever talk about the time when people lived beyond the walls?”
Mirabel glanced at the passing students. “I’ll walk you down to New Road, maybe a little way along.”
When Smiddles Lane had steepened towards its junction, and not a soul was about, Mirabel said, “You remember I told you that Leiyatel was far from being our servant.”
“You’re not going to tell me she controls folk enough to wipe out their memories, surely? I’d find that a bit hard to believe.”
“Not ‘wipe out’, Stella, no, not exactly. I don’t think it’s quite that simple. Naturally, I can’t be sure, but it seems to me that everyone’s put it out of mind, as though it’s somehow a shameful memory. Sort of a skeleton in the collective cupboard.”
Stella stopped and stared at her.
“Don’t look at me like that. It’s not as daft as it sounds. If Leiyatel has somehow played upon a deep-rooted reticence, tied everyone’s memories of it to some sort of taboo or other, then it’s quite feasible. The memories would still be there, just deeply buried.”
“But you don’t really know that, do you, Mirabel?”
“I can’t. No one can,” but she now narrowed her eyes and frowned.
“What?”
“Oh ... nothing. Well, it’s just struck me there might be someone else just as immune to it as we are.” She continued down the hill, leaving Stella to catch up.
She did so as Mirabel turned at the junction and began climbing the short ramp to the start of New Road. “You mean there might be someone else who has no weft and weave?” Stella said, but her eyes widened and she came to a halt. “Or with a ... with an alien one ... like mine. Eh, Mirabel?” she called after her.
Mirabel had stopped at the top of the ramp, her back to Stella. She seemed frozen to the spot.
“You alright, Mirabel?” Stella called.
No answer, but Mirabel’s head had tipped to one side, her hand absently grasping at thin air by her side. The clop of hooves and the creak of wheels now turned onto the ramp, “Gerr-on there,” coming from behind as Stella rushed to join Mirabel.
She looked distant.
“We can’t stand here, Mirabel. We’re in the way,” and she took her arm and led her to the side of the road.
The horse and cart began labouring past until its driver called, “Whoa, steady there, lass,” and brought them to a halt.
“Mistress Mudark? Tha’s alright, miss?”
Mirabel looked up into the driver’s gnarled face. “Good morning, Jaker. I’m fine, thank you. Are you going far?”
“Taking some o’ t’college scrap up to t’yard at Brough, miss.”
“Have you room for my friend Stella here?”
&nb
sp; “Aye, miss, plenty. She can jump up ‘ere beside me.”
“Can you spare us a few minutes first?”
Jaker could, so Mirabel took Stella aside. “Brough’s not far from where you’ll be turning off for the Esnadales. It’ll save you...”
“What’s wrong, Mirabel?” Stella whispered.
Mirabel glanced at Jaker but he seemed in no hurry, leisurely lighting his pipe.
“What you said made me remember something from a long time ago, ten years or so before people started drifting back within the walls,” then her cheeks reddened and she lowered her gaze.
“It was forty years ago, at the celebration of my majority– in a ballroom built on rafts in the harbour, believe it or not. I’d gone out to chat with someone, sitting not far from where we ourselves sat yesterday.” She turned Stella a haunted look. “I’ve not thought about that conversation in years. I always believed it to be a skeleton in my own cupboard, but now I’m not so sure.”
Mirabel drew Stella further away from the cart. “It was all part of that fortuitous turn of events I told you about last night. On that particular evening, I naïvely expected my allure to drop a promise straight into my lap, to finish what generations of cuckoos had long striven to achieve. I failed, though, without knowing it. Thank Leiyatel my mother eventually didn’t, despite someone’s best endeavours.”
“You’re not making much sense, Mirabel, and I really do need to get on.”
“Yes, you’re right,” but Mirabel paused, as though about to say something else, but shook her head and walked Stella back to the cart.
Once Stella had climbed aboard, Mirabel quietly told her, “We can talk more when you’re back to visit. I think I might have something more to tell you then, if Nephril’s still alive and I can find him.”
Before Stella could say a word, Mirabel nodded at Jaker and stepped back.
A crack of the whip and the cart moved off.
Stella now gazed behind her at Mirabel’s slowly receding figure. Her new friend remained in the middle of the road and waved until the cart rumbled over the next brow and she finally vanished from view.
Jaker turned out to be pleasant enough company but Stella needed to think and so was glad when they went their separate ways as they turned onto Nordgang Road. He was going east for Brough, she west a couple of miles to a lane that ran north towards Cleofandale.
She’d done this same walk many times during her college years but had never found it as hard before. The lower, flatter spread of the dale hadn’t been that bad, but as it narrowed and steepened, she was forced to rest more and more often. The last climb up the rock steps at its head almost proved too much. She had to sit on its edge for a long time, staring back down towards Bazarral.
She’d got a bit more of her strength back by the time she came through the low wall into the Upper Reaches, thankful the rest of the way would be mostly downhill.
Her walk over the mountain passed mainly in the shade, a chill edge to the wind cutting in from the north steadily numbing her face. Dark shadow kept her company when she eventually reached the Outer Courts until briefly giving way to a wash of oranges and reds as she turned west along Cambray Road.
***
Stella had insisted it was just the clear night’s chill air that had bleached her face when she finally stumbled into the warmth of the kitchen at Blisteraising. It didn’t fool her mother for an instant.
“You’re burning up,” she said, holding her hand against Stella’s brow. “Straight to bed, my girl. Now. I’ll bring you up a bottle.”
Stella would have objected had her ears not rung so loudly, louder still when Geran’s shocked face suddenly seemed swamped by dark clouds. Stella’s legs gave way beneath her and she thought she heard Grog, thought she smelt his homely odour and felt his strong arms about her. She couldn’t be sure, but now cared little as sickly warm waves of a deep, dark ocean closed in around her mind.
12 To Find Another
The villa could easily have been missed had it not been for the name on the gateposts. Separated by the axle-width of a good-sized cart, “Carr” and “Sceld” promised the end of what had turned out to be a protracted two day search to find Lord Nephril. Mirabel had been assured he was still hale and hearty, although clearly long a recluse.
She peered between the posts into a small cobbled yard that rose steeply to a featureless flint wall. To each side of the gateway, a tall, thick yew hedge ran away along the road she had at first discounted, hiding whatever lay beyond. There’d been no one to ask, not for the last few miles of Nordgang Road, and certainly not within the convoluted lanes of Eyesget that ran from it, beyond its junction with Weyswal Way. She’d spent an hour at least combing the district only to end up back here.
Mirabel again checked the name against her slip of paper and stepped a short way into the yard. A gable wall rose to her left, a thin haze of heat rising from a chimney at its point. Beyond the gable, in the corner of the yard, a tall gate drew her quietly up the rise, a faint and erratic clicking noise seeping through from beyond.
The gate unlatched and swung in easily, revealing a flagged path along the front of a large but unimposing property. The clicking now stuttered more loudly.
“Hello?” Mirabel called out, and the clicking stopped. “Hello? Is anybody there?”
To her right, emerging from tightly-clipped bushes bordering the path, an aproned woman stepped out onto the flags, clippers in hand, and shaded her eyes as she peered towards Mirabel. Slipping the tool into her apron, the woman brushed her hands against its rough fabric as she approached.
“Can I help you?” she said, warily.
“I hope so. I’m looking for Lord Nephril. I’ve been told he...”
“Well, you’ve no need to look any further,” and she smiled, but only thinly. “Who may I say...”
“Mirabel Mudark. I’m Chancellor Melkin’s daughter ... of Yuhlm College.”
The woman eyed Mirabel closely, her smile slipping slightly. “I’ll show you in,” she finally said, leading Mirabel to a small flight of steps and up to the front door of the villa. She wiped her feet on the doormat, pushed the door open and stepped in, beckoning Mirabel after her before standing beside a door that led off a long but narrow hall within.
“If you’d like to wait in here ... I’ll go let Nephril know you’re here. Mirabel Mudark you say?”
Mirabel nodded then slipped into a light and airy drawing room that looked out over the garden. The woman’s footsteps clomped away down the hall and Mirabel went to stand at the window.
Across the path, through a wide gap in the bushes, a wine-red gash of late-blooming rose beds stained the garden’s green canvas. A basket, overflowing with deadheads, sat upon the grass to one side.
The yew hedge along the road clearly ran all the way around to here, a dense, dark-green wall of it hemming in the far side of the garden. She was just leaning forward to see how far it extended when a familiar voice startled her.
“Mirabel?”
She spun around.
“By Leiyatel, ‘tis thee indeed. What a ... what a pleasant surprise.”
The man now standing in the doorway, his glinting eyes fixed firmly upon her figure, smiled warmly at her.
“I’m ... I’m sorry,” she hurried to say. “I didn’t mean to intrude, but would it be possible to speak with Lord Nephril?”
The man’s smile quickly blossomed to a grin, then he laughed. “Thou art already doing such, mine dear,” and he stepped into the room, into the light from the window.
Mirabel’s brow furrowed as her eyes slowly widened. “But ... but you can’t be...”
“Ah, yes, of course, I do tend to forget. Much time has passed since last we met, Mirabel, time spent in Leiyatel’s invigorating embrace,” and he raked his shock of black hair back, a few gentle creases forced to the corners of his eyes by a broad grin.
She stared at him, clearly lost for words.
Nephril eyes dropped lower, his grin becomin
g lopsided. “Thou hast certainly fared well thyself, mine dear. Thou dost undeniably wear the years well.” He leaned forward and pecked her on the cheek. “Can I offer thee a drink? Tea perhaps, or ... would something stronger be in order?”
“No, Nephril, tea would be fine. Thank you.”
He went to the doorway and poked his head through into the hall. “Whinny? Any chance of some tea, mine dearest one?” A distant call answered and he returned to stand close before Mirabel.
“And so,” he said, “other than granting me the pleasure of thy company again, to what may I ascribe such an enchanting visit, hmm?”
She reticently reached out towards his face but stopped, although Nephril gently took her hand in his own and placed her palm against his cheek. “A piffling consequence of thy mother’s perseverance, mine dear. With the return of Leiyatel’s vigour, so too the return of mine own habitual youth,” yet the smile he gave her seemed practised somehow.
“I have ... I have a few questions, Nephril, if you wouldn’t mind indulging me. Something I’d like to get clear in my own mind. Something I suspect is no longer of any great consequence, other than to myself.”
Nephril glanced through the window. “May I suggest we take our tea in the garden, Mirabel? It be such a fine day.”
He led her out into the hall and to the front door, calling over his shoulder, “We will be out on the lawn, Whinny.”
They crossed the path and stepped onto the soft grass bordering the rose beds, down a short flight of steps and around to the rear of the villa where a lawn opened out between the property and the yew hedge bordering the road. Dotted about it, beyond a metal table and four chairs, a number of white hoops were stuck in the lawn, to form small standing arches.
Mirabel stopped short. “What on earth...”
“I thought we might partake of a short game, Mirabel?” but then he looked down at her skirt. “Although, such heavy fabric might give thee a hampered stroke,” by which time he’d opened a long, low wooden case, set against the wall of the house.
Starmaker Stella (Dica Series Book 6) Page 5
