Silence crept between them until Mirabel softly said, “Well, it was Nephril, actually.”
“Ah, I did wonder.”
“Mother said, ever since their journey to Nouwelm, he’d got it into his head that Leiyatel was bad for Dica and that Nature should be embraced.” Mirabel quietly laughed. “She thought his ancient years had addled his brain.”
“So what did Nephril actually do?”
“Well, I don’t know for certain. I was miles away at the time, but I saw the tail of Nephril’s wealcan turn off for the Farewell Gap, which was telling enough.”
“Wealcan?”
“It was what Nephril used to carry Leiyatel’s remains from Baradcar to Leigarre Perfinn. It had a glittering green tail that shot straight up into the sky, so people knew where it was and could stay away.”
“Why?”
“Because, despite how weak she’d become, Leiyatel was still damaging to life if it got too close. That’s why mother had to coerce Nephril to help us. He’s the only one who’s immune enough to get close to Leiyatel.”
Ah, Stella thought, the reason for his altered weft and weave. “So how did Lady Lambsplitter stop him?”
Mirabel sighed. “Mother had gone missing earlier in the day which worried us. You see, we soon had to get off Mount Esnadac because of the tumult it was going through, and because Leiyatel was drawing nearer. That morning was the last time I saw my mother alive, but I’m sure she suspected Nephril, despite his promises. I think she feared he would still try to destroy Leiyatel once and for all. I was convinced even then she’d waited for him at the Farewell Gap, although I now know it wasn’t just my mother who saved the day,” but Mirabel then fell silent.
Stella tried to remember what she knew about Mount Esnadac but could think of nothing to explain ‘tumult’ and so had to ask. She learnt that, shortly after the wealcan had been seen to leave Galgaverre, the mountain began to crack and spill molten rock.
“It made me realise how much Dica’s existence really does rely on Leiyatel,” Mirabel finally said, “and so how important my line of cuckoos has always been.” Mirabel’s words had slurred a little and she yawned, snuggling up closer to Stella.
Through the silence that fell between them, somewhere in the distance, floating upon the still air without, an owl hooted as a soft snore caressed Stella’s neck. She smiled to herself and thought, “Maybe Nature hadn’t just got into Nephril’s head.” Snuggling her back against Mirabel, she now felt far happier about seeing her Aunt Prescinda again on the morrow, and with that, sleep soon came in to claim her.
45 From a Pig to a Poke
“Come on, Bertha, out of the way,” Prescinda grumbled at the sow. “It’s no good you carrying half the straw out on your back, now is it?” but Bertha only grunted and got under Prescinda’s feet again.
“There’s nothing for you there either, you daft hap’orth. It’s just your new bedding,” and she dusted her hands before crouching and reaching out for a rake she’d propped beside the entrance to the sty. She couldn’t quite stretch far enough so pressed one hand against the inner wall and stuck her head and a shoulder through the opening.
She jumped at the sight of a man’s grinning face, beaming down at her from where he leant on the coping stones of the pen’s low wall. A twinkling eye and unusually balanced features quickly changed her surprise to interest.
“Mistress Prescinda Sodbuster?” he said, and his voice sent a tingle coursing through her.
“Happen I am.”
“I’m Henson. I’ve a message for you.”
“A... Just a minute,” and she squeezed herself out of the dimly lit sty, shielding her eyes from the sun as she stood, ankle deep in the pen’s squelching muck. “A message?” but her frown quickly dissolved when she noticed the perfect line of his jaw.
“Well, two really,” he said and smiled, the kind that fills the eyes.
“Who would send me a message?”
He looked down at her half-buried boots, wrinkling his nose. “You sure you’re Prescinda Sodbuster?” and she narrowed her eyes at him and pursed her lips.
“Alright ... Mistress Sodbuster,” but when he broke into a grin, they both laughed.
“Come on... Henson wasn’t it? Where’s the first message then?” and she held out her hand.
He opened his mouth but paused before carefully enunciating the one short word, “Anasci.”
The levity in Prescinda’s face became leaden and she stared at Henson, although she didn’t really see him. In her mind’s eye she saw her bag, at the moment safely beside her bed where pig muck couldn’t harm its cherished leather.
Prescinda picked up the rake and let herself out of the pen, putting the tool aside before reaching down to a bucket of water and a brush. Hurriedly, she cleaned off her boots.
“Follow me,” she finally said and led Henson back up the lane to the house.
Once out of her boots and smock and up to her room, Prescinda sat on the edge of her bed, her bag on her knees. She found the card in the small section she rarely used, along with a delicate lace handkerchief she’d forgotten she had.
“‘Anasci’ he’d said,” and she placed the card at arm’s length, so she could read, “If someone says...” and she swallowed, “...says ‘Anasci’ to you, do as they bid – without question.” She frowned as she stared across the room at the blank wall before her.
“I’m pretty sure Stella gave me this,” she said to herself, “but I can’t honestly swear to it.” The written words had been penned carefully to avoid any hint of a hand, but she still thought she saw some of Stella’s own in parts.
“But why now, after the poor girl’s gone?” she whispered to the empty room.
Back in the kitchen, where she’d left Henson with a mug of tea, she found him still at the table but now with Grog. They seemed to be at cross-purposes over something or other, which she ignored as she asked Henson to accompany her out to the yard.
There, she checked no one else was about. “Very well, Henson, what’s the second message?”
He nodded. “You’re to come with me – now,” and he looked across at his horse and carriage.
“Now?”
“Without delay I’m afraid, and you’ll be away for most of the day,” but his apologetic look somehow allayed the last of Prescinda’s misgivings.
“I’ll have to make arrangements first. There are things that need doing before the day’s out, and I’ve hardly started.” She ran through them in her mind. “Give me half an hour and I’ll...”
“A quarter of an hour, at the most,” and again, she couldn’t find it in her to deny his winning smile.
Before they set off, he would say nothing of where they were bound, and the enclosed carriage, when they did set out, kept them apart. Prescinda could therefore only guess.
They turned east from Blisteraising’s lane and onto the Cambray Road where vague memories of the Star Tower began to creep into Prescinda’s mind.
When they eventually turned off to the south, steeply up the side of the Lords Demesne, Prescinda absently felt at her shoulder. For some reason, sad reminders of Stella welled unbidden from a hidden corner of her heart.
“What is it about the Star Tower?” she asked herself, but however hard she tried, the answer wouldn’t come. It did, though, bring back the memory of the day shortly after Stella’s death, when Nephril had turned up. She’d found the Star Tower haunting her thoughts then, although it had led to no more in the way of answers than now.
The slow ascent finally saw the Demesne’s outer wall slip away behind, the gateway to the Upper Reaches marking a better pace as the horse got its wind back. A turn to the east again reinforced Prescinda’s suspicions, and she leant out of the window to peer at the still distant tower’s unearthly rise.
By now, they were fair clipping along a wide avenue. Prescinda’s eyes began to water in the wind of their passage so she ducked back in just as a stark image of a harbour flashed across her mind. She gasped and sat back heav
ily in her seat. A name hovered just out of reach, harrying her mind, a name to go hand-in-hand with “harbour”.
She was still racking her brain when she felt the carriage slow, prompting her to glance out. Two figures stood near an alcove to one side of the star-swirling base of the tower. Each stepped forward to meet her. By the time Henson had drawn them to a halt, Nephril was opening the door for her.
“I should have guessed, I suppose,” she said, getting up from her seat.
“Welcome, mine dear Prescinda, and how art thou keeping? Well, I hope.”
“Hello, Nephril... Ah, Mirabel. Now, I didn’t expect to see you, I must say.”
Nephril helped her down from the carriage.
“What’s this all about?” she asked him, but couldn’t help but look up at the tower, rearing so high above them. Her gaze returned to Nephril when he asked that she grant him time to take her inside. He promised to explain everything soon enough.
“We have a favour of thee, mine dear, but it will only mean anything to thee when we are within,” at which he lifted his brows and waited.
Prescinda shrugged and allowed herself to be led into the alcove where Nephril opened a door in its rear wall. This, and their passage into a lofty hall, all seemed familiar somehow, the more so when they stepped onto a platform that swung down, lowering them to before a tunnel entrance.
The swirl of stars that filled it brought her up short, a memory of the viewing gallery at the Scarra Face for some reason springing to mind.
I’ve been here before, she thought to herself.
Nephril stood before her, smiling, his arm outstretched towards a doorway to one side, and again, it seemed familiar. She was about to comply when the words “Grayden harbour” shone brightly in her thoughts.
“Yes, Prescinda,” Nephril said, clearly seeing her frown. “Thou hath indeed been here afore. This time, though, fear thee not. We will allow thee no further injury,” and she again felt at her shoulder. “More memories will likely come to thee as we descend, and thou will, all in good time, answer thyself as to why thou art here.”
His smile was enough to urge Prescinda on and through the doorway, unsurprised at finding a curved flight of blue-lit steps leading down. Nephril followed her in, Mirabel close behind. From here, Prescinda submerged herself once more in mysteries that steadily became ever more painfully plain.
46 Out of the Blue
As soon as the eerily blue-lit chamber started to come into view below, Prescinda stumbled down the next step and nearly fell. She closed her eyes, her arm now reassuringly against one wall.
“Art thou all right, Prescinda,” Nephril said, his own arm soon around her waist.
“I’m ... I’m fine, Nephril,” but she didn’t feel it. Whether real or not, the pain now stabbing at her shoulder made her feel weak.
“Would you like to sit down for a moment,” Mirabel said over Nephril’s shoulder. “Even in this light, you look pale.”
“Maybe for a short while, until I ... until I feel a bit stronger.” She sat heavily on the step and slumped forward, unable to bear the weight of the memories now flooding back. She let out a long groan into Nephril and Mirabel’s patient silence.
She eventually whispered, “I’m not sure I can really face going any further, Nephril.”
“Prescinda?” he said, softly. “Can thou remember being on the balcony beneath the dome at the Royal College, with Melkin Mudark?”
She looked up and peered into his eyes. “The turtledove,” she said, seeing the part of its painted dome the slowly fading dark figure had revealed.
“Turtledove?”
She grinned. “Yes, Nephril, I can remember.”
He smiled, looking somewhat relieved. “Can thou also remember what thou saw in Melkin’s eyes at the time?”
She could, and it chilled her heart.
Nephril sat down beside her, Mirabel on the step above. He placed his hand on Prescinda’s arm. “Thy niece reasoned a wonderful plan, mine dear, did thou know that? A way to return their true past to all Dicans, to give them back their rightful freedom...”
“And to preserve herself,” Mirabel enthused but then bit her lip.
“Indeed, Mistress Mirabel,” and he cleared his throat. “And so it should hath been.”
“I remember her saying she’d think of something,” Prescinda told them, seeing in her mind’s eye the look of determination that had accompanied Stella’s words. “She told me we’d meet here again one day – with a simpler love between us.” The memory too painful, Prescinda lowered her head and quietly sobbed.
Nephril put a gently reassuring arm around her. “We are now almost sure Stella’s plan would work, Prescinda. Almost sure.”
“It wouldn’t bring her back, though, would it?”
“It would honour her memory, that at least. Or it would do if only we could be certain her plan would truly work.”
Prescinda’s eyes had narrowed when she lifted them. “Just a minute; Melkin Mudark, then the dark figure, and now your uncertainty about Stella’s plan.” She leant away from him, her eyes growing wide. “Don’t tell me... Nephril? Say we haven’t got Nature amongst us again. Please say we haven’t.”
“We were hoping thou would tell us.”
She glanced at them both in turn. “Ah, I see. So, where do you suspect Nature’s hiding this time then, Nephril?”
He stared at her for a moment. “Well, given thou hath seen nothing of note in mine own eyes, it now only leaves Stephan, mine ... mine assistant.”
“Hang on, Nephril. You can’t say that, not yet.”
“But if thou recall seeing the dark figure in Melkin’s eyes, surely thou can tell now if it be within mine own?”
“Oh, I can remember seeing it well enough. The only thing is, I wouldn’t be able to see it here, not in this light.”
“This light?”
“It’s something I only ever saw in the daylight. I’ve no chance of seeing it down here, not in this blue gloom.”
“Ah,” Nephril sighed before appearing to look into some imponderable distance. “Daylight thou say?”
“And I’d need to be quite close too.”
“Close?”
“Within no more than a few yards.”
Nephril ran his hand over his mouth, an occasional dart of his eye Prescinda’s way, until he drew a deep breath and turned to Mirabel. “I think thou should ask Stephan to join us, mine dear, but not before I have had a word with Prescinda,” and he waved Mirabel past. “If thou might wait at the foot of the steps with him, until I call thee both up.”
“What’s wrong, Nephril?” Prescinda said when Mirabel had slipped from sight into the chamber below.
“Quite the contrary for thee, mine dear Prescinda. On mine own part, however, I am now charged with a difficult task on the tail of a hard decision.”
He took her hand in his own, nervously kneading it in his silence, his lips drawn to a thin line, his gaze upon the last dozen or so steps leading away below. When Prescinda heard footsteps approaching from within the chamber, Nephril stiffened and looked at her.
“I can think of no gentle way of breaking this, but please try to remember, it was done in all good faith.”
“What was, Nephril?”
Prescinda felt his grip tighten, drawing her gaze to their hands, but only for a moment.
“Stella be still alive,” he carefully and quietly said.
The words seemed to glance past Prescinda’s ears, as though wax now filled them, or strong ale had befuddled her mind. She half closed her eyes, hoping to catch some sense by the scruff of its neck.
“Stella is still alive,” she could only repeat, numbly, its meaning still escaping her.
Nephril squeezed her hand. “Stella saw an opportunity in the fire, Prescinda. On the spur of the moment, she hid from Leiyatel in a convenient fiction of death.”
“Stephan!” Prescinda shouted, her eyes lighting up as she now stared down the steps.
A youth
in a longshoreman’s cap, its brim hiding his face, stepped from the chamber and stood, shifting his feet, at the foot of the stairs.
Prescinda rose and peered at him.
“Take off your cap,” she said, and he did; slowly, deliberately.
Her heart sank at the sight of his cropped hair, the leather jerkin and canvass trousers, until he looked up at her. Prescinda stared into those eyes, now holding hers as they slowly drew her down, a hesitant step at a time.
For a haunting moment, Prescinda stood before Stephan until Stella’s face blossomed before her. Its pained look blurred through the tears now welling in Prescinda’s eyes, tears that soon mingled with Stella’s own.
47 In the Light of Day
The two women hugged each other between stepping apart, when recrimination, relief, disbelief and a whole host of other emotions were swapped and assuaged. Copious tears, strained smiles, longing looks, and much searching of faces flowed one to the other as Nephril and Mirabel gave them the time they needed. Eventually, lowered voices prevailed, a soft bond that held aunt and niece face to face, hands clasped tightly.
When Stella turned her reddened eyes up to Nephril, he rose from the step on which he sat and returned her smile.
“I’ve told my aunt as much as I dare, Nephril,” she assured him, “and so she now knows what need we have of her, and its importance.”
Nephril stepped down towards them, Mirabel close behind, and asked, “But dost thou know for how long we will have thy services, Prescinda, once we leave here?”
“I started recalling odd bits on my way here, so maybe their previous resurrection has left them nearer the surface, more likely to last.”
“But last time,” Stella warned, “you’d forgotten it all within minutes of getting outside.”
“Minutes?” Nephril mumbled.
“I know, but I was in pain then, so we were slow getting back up and out of the tower. Maybe if we rush this time. I’ll only need a minute or two anyway, once we’re outside.”
“Outside,” Nephril said, “where thy weft and weave will once again be in plain sight of Leiyatel. Precisely why we had hoped to keep Stephan’s true identity from thee.”
Starmaker Stella (Dica Series Book 6) Page 20
