“What was scared out of him?” but her aunt no longer remembered, however much Stella pressed, the pain each time crowding Prescinda’s face the more.
“Come on,” Stella decided. “Time we got you home,” and she helped her aunt up, taking her arm as they set off back along the avenue, away from the Star Tower and its lethal wonder.
22 The Say-So of a Bobby-Dazzler
“What on earth’s happened?” Geran said as she clattered the pan she’d been holding back onto the range.
Stella had just guided her aunt into the kitchen and now helped her onto a chair nearest the range’s bread oven which she opened, so its heat could flood out around Prescinda.
“Now don’t you go worrying, Sis,” Prescinda said, rather unsteadily, and leant forward so Stella could slip her jacket off.
“By Leiyatel,” Geran exclaimed when she saw the mess beneath. “What happened?”
Before Stella could say a thing, Prescinda rolled her eyes and sighed, “Oh, just my own damned clumsiness, Geran. I should have been taking more care.” She avoided Stella’s eyes.
“Grog?” Geran called towards the stairs, to which a grumble wafted down from upstairs. “Get down here now. This minute, do you hear?”
A clatter of feet descended, Grog sweeping in, pulling his braces onto his bare shoulders, his face red from where he’d quickly dried it. He stopped dead, his eyes widening beneath his sodden fringe. “Bloody Norah,” and he stared at Prescinda as his mouth dropped open.
“Go get Falmeard,” Geran told him. “He should still be cleaning the harrow in the barn. He’ll know what to do.”
For a moment his gaze stuck to Prescinda’s back, but he tore it away and clattered off down the passageway.
“Leave it be ‘til Falmeard gets in,” Geran warned, filling the kettle at the tap. “I’ll get some hot water on. You, Stella? Up to the linen chest and get me some old sheets.”
By the time Stella rushed back in with an armful, Prescinda had a towel against her chest and Geran was peering closely at the matted blouse, still congealed against the wound.
The outer door noisily opened and the passageway filled with voices and the clomp of boots. Falmeard stopped in the kitchen doorway, more than one person briefly held back behind him. He said nothing, his eyes quickly taking everything in, then joined Geran for a moment. Grog, and Stella’s Aunt Kirsten, drifted nervously in behind him.
Whilst Falmeard meticulously scrubbed his hands at the sink, Prescinda explained, “Stella was showing me something at the Star Tower when I tripped and fell. I only glanced against the thing but it went straight through my jacket.”
“It was a fast moving part,” Stella lamely added.
“Well, it’s ruined now,” Kirsten said, holding the jacket’s large hole up to the window. Think it needs more than a wash and a darn.”
“Kirsten?” Geran levelled at her. “Go get a mug of mead ... now, if you wouldn’t mind? And don’t put that jacket there. Here,” and she pulled a bucket from beneath the sink.
“What were you doing near something so dangerous?” Falmeard said, shaking his hands dry as he approached Prescinda’s back.
“It was just something of interest Stella was showing me,” Prescinda said, “but she did warn me. You know me, though, Falmeard: won’t take no for an answer.”
He cast a quick glance at Stella, his eyes narrowing before concentrating on Prescinda’s wound.
Prescinda now looked weary, one hand holding the towel to her breasts, the other raising the warmed mead to her mouth. Stella pulled a chair round and sat off to one side but facing her, cleaning dried blood from her face with a warm, wet piece of torn sheet.
“Right, Prescinda,” Falmeard announced. “This is going to hurt. Best put your mug down.” She did, and Falmeard began dabbing water around the matted blouse.
Prescinda screamed then gritted her teeth as Stella took her free hand.
“Sorry,” Falmeard calmly said, “but I’ve had to put a little salt in the water, to clean the wound. Can’t have it going off.” Again, he glanced at Stella. “Seems strange it should have happened so near Leiyatel’s close presence, though.”
Stella could almost feel every sharp piercing needle of pain that coursed through her aunt’s body as Falmeard methodically loosened the clotted blood holding the blouse. When it finally came free, Prescinda having long collapsed into Stella’s arms, Falmeard’s face lit up.
“The good news is it’s not too deep. The bad news is I’m going to have to spend a bit of time cleaning it up. You’d best take a rest for a while beforehand, though,” and he turned to Kirsten. “Top up your sister’s mead would you?”
“I think I chose the wrong day to drop by,” Kirsten mumbled as she went to the range.
Prescinda took the refreshed mug and drank thirstily, some colour returning to her face. She even managed a smile for Stella, although she remained silent.
All the fuss over her aunt, Stella realised, had eased her own worries about the threat from Leiyatel she now knew hung over her. For some days to come, everyone’s wefts and weaves would only point to Prescinda and not herself. It would hide her, and so leave her free to think more carefully about what she could possibly do – if anything.
It took a good hour before Falmeard declared Prescinda’s wound clean and securely dressed. She now looked fair fit to drop and gratefully leaned against Stella as she helped her to her bed. Once there, Prescinda lay on her side and soon fell asleep, clearly exhausted. Stella made herself comfortable on a chair she drew up beside.
She must have nodded off because she started awake at the click of the bedroom door. Kirsten tiptoed in and quietly shut the door behind her.
“I’ve brought Presci’s bag up,” she whispered, “and I thought I’d see how you were doing yourself, you know, since your illness.” She sat on the arm of Stella’s chair. “Are you getting over it? You’ve obviously had a long walk today so you must be feeling better, and I’m sorry I didn’t get to come and see you earlier.”
Stella assured her she felt just about fully recovered now, that the walk had done her good.
“Your dad’s a bit pissed off with you, though,” Kirsten confided. “Reckons you should have looked after your aunt better,” and she sneaked a look at Prescinda before even more quietly saying, “He thought you’d been foolhardy going back there. He even said he’d have gone himself for your stuff.”
Now learning to dread discovery through other people’s wefts and weaves, Stella quickly changed the subject. “Anyway, what are you doing dropping by so late, Kirsten?”
“Ah, well, bit of a long story that.” She bent over Prescinda then carefully sat on the edge of the bed, facing Stella. Prescinda grunted in her sleep.
“Somehow, your stories always seem to be long ones, Aunty,” and Stella grinned at her.
At first Kirsten just raised her eyebrows, but then told Stella, “This morning, I thought I’d give a man-friend of mine a pleasant surprise. He lives at the bottom of Hlaederstac, so it’s not that far from here.”
“So why aren’t you staying the night there?”
“His wife and I didn’t see eye to eye.”
“Ah,” and Stella narrowed her own at her aunt. “It seems to be a bit of a habit with you, Kirsten.”
“It’s not my fault I attract the wrong sort. I’m just too trusting, that’s my problem, Stella. Oh well,” and she absently smoothed her skirt, “easy come, easy go.”
She looked wistful but then caught Stella’s playful gaze and raised her brows again. “Why is it that all the bobby-dazzlers are always taken?”
Stella quietly laughed and placed her hand on Kirsten’s. “You never seem that bothered, though.”
Kirsten slowly shook her head, her eyes downcast. “Don’t let my cheery nature fool you, my dear. There’s a soft centre you know, lurking somewhere in this hard shell I call a heart,” and she forced a smile.
She looked out at the encroaching dusk, her gaze now far
beyond. “There was one, though, I fell too hard for, not long ago,” she quietly said, her eyes now glistening. “A fellow by the name of Calico Diggery. Ah, and a right bobby-dazzler he was an’ all. I could have set up home with him.” The truth of her words lay plainly written across her now soft and glowing face.
“What happened then, Kirsten? Was he married as well?”
Kirsten shrugged and looked aside. “They always are.” She brightened and grinned at Stella. “But we had a lovely few weeks. He was a tyler you see, putting a roof on the new long-barn at the back of my place. He’d come from a big job down in Eyesget and so...”
“Eyesget? That’s the place,” and Stella’s hand tensed on Kirsten’s.
“What place?”
“Oh, err, nothing really. It was just somewhere a friend mentioned, but I couldn’t quite remember the name. It’s nothing.”
Kirsten narrowed her eyes. “Odd place to mention, lovey. I mean, it’s been deserted for centuries.”
“Then what was your bobby-dazzler doing working there?”
“Well, when I said ‘deserted’, what I really meant was ‘as near as damn it deserted’. Calico had been laying a new roof on what’s probably the only inhabited property in the district. Some finicky recluse who made the job twice as long as it should have been.” Kirsten grinned. “The time he spent there, though, away from all womanly comfort, hadn’t half given Calico an impressive appetite, if you see what I mean.”
“A recluse?”
“Eh? Oh, yes, that’s what Calico reckoned. Said the place was surrounded by a thick, high hedge, to keep out prying eyes, although who in their right mind would want to wander around Eyesget, poking their noses into other people’s business, I can’t imagine. And anyway, Calico said it was a bit self-defeating really as it made the place stand out like a sore thumb.”
“Like a sore thumb, eh?” Stella removed her hand from her aunt’s. “Where exactly is Eyesget, Kirsten?”
Eyesget? Well, it’s at the far eastern end of Nordgang Road, where it meets Weyswal Way, just as you get to Galgaverre’s wall. Why?”
“Oh, nothing, Aunty. I just couldn’t quite place it, that’s all,” and she yawned, stretching her arms above her head.
“You look knackered, poppet,” Kirsten said. “Do you want me to sit with Presci for a while? Let you get some rest yourself?”
“Would you? I could do with resting my legs if nothing else, and a lie down seems really tempting all of a sudden.”
“Off you go, lass. I’m sure Presci’s out for the count, so don’t worry about her.”
Stella met her mother on the landing, bringing up some tea. “I’m off for a lie down, Mum. Kirsten’s with Prescinda.”
“Well, take your tea with you then. You’re probably best off not going back down anyway, not while your dad’s in the mood he’s in.”
Stella frowned in the half-light and mumbled her thanks, nodded and quietly made her way to her room, closing the door softly behind her.
“Shit,” she whispered to herself as she leant back against it. “Not only have I nearly killed Aunt Prescinda, but now dad’s going to be on his guard. Oh well,” and she sighed, “it seems I’m left with only one last chance of saving myself.”
In the dusk light, the flicker of a lost crow’s feather on the windowsill caught her eye, and she pursed her lips. “Maybe even all other Dicans as well whilst I’m at it,” and a smile forced her frown out of the way as her eyes lit up.
23 Foolhardy Again
Prescinda seemed greatly improved after a good night’s sleep, although Falmeard didn’t appear at all mollified. Once she’d got going, Prescinda clearly felt well enough to be quite dismissive of the whole affair. Stella couldn’t tell if it was the recuperative effect of Leiyatel or her aunt’s own stoicism, but she did seem genuinely brighter.
Despite it, Stella felt uncomfortable sitting in the kitchen with her, especially as her dad laboured there over the kind of task he hated doing – repairing a leaking water pipe. At his third curse, and as a puddle rapidly grew about his feet and away from the sink, Stella decided to see how Bertha was doing.
Closing the door behind her, she stepped out into the side yard and began the walk to the piggery, but the view slowed her to a halt. She stared out at the ... now, what had Mirabel called them? Ah, yes, the Gray Mountains.
For the first time, she saw them as beautiful. Majestic, certainly, as they’d always been, but now, without the doubt they’d always cast on her sanity, their stretch across the northern horizon filled her with pure joy. Their snow-capped peaks almost beamed her way in the rising light of the morning, glistening as though dusted with diamonds.
The view drew her across the main yard to the wall above Ten Acre field where she sat, her legs dangling over patches of nettles below. Wisps of mist clung to the few copses scattered beyond the Cambray Road, much further down the hill. The clear air towards the Lords Demesne, however, set its white halls sharp within their verdant settings. As sharp as the same telltale specks of white sprinkled throughout the vale beyond the estuary.
“How could I have doubted my own eyes ... and for so long?”
A clatter of hooves impinged, Kirsten’s soothing voice drawing Prescinda to look across the yard, towards the stables.
“Hey, hey, hey, Stayer. Settle down now. Come on, my beauty, you’re alright,” and Kirsten patted the neck of a flighty-looking gelding, his eyes huge in his dark grey head.
He twirled around her, jerking his head against the reins in her hand, small kicks at thin air from his hind legs. Finally, he did settle, although his eyes stayed like silver shillings.
Kirsten walked him briskly into the yard, back and forth through sharp turns until some of the edge slipped from him.
“You’re getting off early, Aunty,” Stella said, smiling at the sight of Stayer, his head now drawn in to the treat in Kirsten’s hand.
“I’d only get in the way, petal, and Presci’s probably better off with some peace and quiet.” She tried buttoning her jacket but Stayer remained too unsettled for her to use both hands.
“Here, Aunty, let me take him a minute.”
Stella lowered her shoulders and approached the gelding’s own, his eye intent upon her but his legs now stilled. When she took the reins, he gently butted her arm and whickered softly.
“He always seems so calm around you,” Kirsten said, and to prove the point, the gelding’s eyes had already half-closed, his ears pointing forward. “Right. Done,” and Kirsten swept the reins over his head, taking an overly firm contact as she gripped the saddle’s pommel. Stayer pulled against it, to nuzzle Stella’s sleeve. “I wish I had you with me every time I came to mount him,” Kirsten said.
“You’re a good lad, aren’t you, Stayer?” Stella cooed against his cheek as her aunt put her foot in the stirrup. A shift of Stayer’s weight, and Kirsten had eased herself cautiously into the saddle.
“I’ve usually got him on a tight-rein by now, turning in small circles,” and she gazed at them both for a moment, Stayer’s cheek against Stella’s as another soft whicker escaped.
“Well,” Kirsten said, “best be off before he remembers he’s forward-going,” and she grinned down at them. “If you two can bear to be parted that is.”
“Sorry, Aunty, but he really is a love, which I think you know already,” and Stella stroked his muzzle. “See you again, Stayer. Look after Aunt Kirsten, eh?” and the horse nodded, as though answering.
“Oh, before you go, Aunty. You know you were telling me about Eyesget? Well, just out of interest, how far do you reckon it is?”
Her aunt eyed Stayer as she quickly guessed forty or fifty miles, depending on which way you went.
“Forty or fifty!”
“Stella?”
“Hmm?”
“Why the interest in Eyesget?” but Stella gave Stayer’s cheek one last kiss and stepped away, the horse jerking forward, snatching the reins from Kirsten’s hands. By the time she’d got th
em back, Stayer had already passed the stables and was approaching the lane – sideways.
As she pulled him in sharply onto a small circle, Kirsten called back, “Good seeing you again, Stella – Stayer? Calm down will you? See you again sometime, my lovely,” and with a clatter of hooves, they vanished out of sight down the far side of the stables and onto the lane from the farm.
Stella went back to sitting on the wall and watched her aunt’s choppy progress down beside Ten Acre. “Give him his head,” she said, quietly. “Let him relax into a walk,” but it didn’t happen.
“Forty or fifty miles, though,” she marvelled to herself. Too far, she thought, too far by half, especially when she’d only the vaguest idea where she was going. Stella chewed her lip and imagined the discomfort of having to shelter a night in a cold, damp and deserted Eyesget property, having failed to find Lord Nephril. A two-day journey there wouldn’t leave much leeway for getting back in time for Mirabel either, but Stella was determined to know as much as she could before they met again.
“You couldn’t get much further if you tried,” she told herself. “Almost to Galgaverre itself,” and that reminded her of the couple of times she’d witnessed its elusive priests visiting the Star Tower.
“Hang on,” and she slapped her forehead. “Like the Bazarran engers who sometimes came from the Royal College, they’d arrived on the lemgang,” and Stella’s face lit up. “All I’d have to do is work out how to use the thing,” at which her features quickly clouded. “And without anyone being the wiser of course,” for she couldn’t imagine a starmaker ever being given permission to use it.
Stella glanced towards the sun, now hanging above where the edge of the distant forest turned south-east. “If the lemgang really is as fast as they say then there should still be plenty of time today to try.”
She slid from the wall and rushed back to the house, her mind racing through ideas.
When she came into the kitchen, she found no one there, the sink and floor beneath freshly scrubbed clean and now almost dry. Her aunt had gone for a lie down, as Stella discovered when she looked in on her. Wide awake, she beckoned Stella in, to sit on the edge of the bed.
Starmaker Stella (Dica Series Book 6) Page 10
