“Well, I’ve also cast a spell of silence,” said Martin, “so you don’t have to whisper. But keep your ears open.”
He spoke casually, but Ivy could feel the tension in his body. The farther they walked from the entrance, the harder it was for him to hold the time-spell. “You can let go now,” she said. “They can’t see us anyway.”
“Good point.” He exhaled, relaxing. Then his hand slid up Ivy’s arm, and she stifled a gasp as his lips brushed the hollow of her jaw. “Missed,” he said regretfully. “Shall I try again?”
“Are you kissing her?” demanded Cicely. “That’s dis—”
An abrupt silence followed, as her hand in Ivy’s went still. “Did you just time-freeze my sister?” Ivy asked as Martin tugged her toward him, but the only answer was the slow curve of his mouth on hers.
“I’d have done this earlier,” he murmured, “but you didn’t give me a chance. I’d like to think this won’t be the last time, but if it is, let’s make it a good one.”
The practical part of Ivy wanted to push him away and scold him for being so frivolous. But if the worst happened and Betony scorched her to ashes, at least let her heart burn with something sweeter than regret. “For someone who can stop time, you have a terrible sense of it,” she whispered, and Martin made a startled noise against her throat.
“Ivy, my queen, my heart’s love, was that a joke?”
“‘O single-soled jest,’” Ivy began, but Martin stopped her lips with his before she could finish. She should have known better than to quote Romeo and Juliet at a time like this. They both knew too well how that story ended.
When he let her go Ivy was breathless, but her skin tingled and her blood surged with sparkling energy. She felt stronger than she had for days, and the shaky feeling that had gripped her since the barn subsided. Despite his quicksilver tongue and unpredictable impulses, Martin could be steady as bedrock when she needed him, and it wasn’t so hard to be brave when they were together.
She brushed back his silky hair and pressed her brow to his, inhaling the faint fir-needle fragrance of his skin—which must be from his faery mother’s side, because as Thorn had pointed out, spriggans didn’t smell like anything at all. It was cruelly hard to let go of him, wondering if they’d ever be this close again. But time had only stopped for Cicely, and they couldn’t afford to waste any more of it.
“—gusting,” Cicely finished in the same aggrieved tone, and Ivy smiled.
“Don’t worry, it’s over now. Let’s go.”
It had been three months since Ivy set foot in the Delve, and nearly twice as long for Cicely. But they’d grown up in these tunnels and knew every turning by heart. Treading slowly for Martin’s sake, cloaked with invisibility and silence, they crept to the end of the Earthenbore and down the Hunter’s Stair to the Narrows.
They’d nearly reached the first junction when they heard the distant, familiar clump of miners’ boots hitting stone. Two knockers were tramping up the tunnel toward them.
“More trouble than it’s worth,” one grumbled, as they rounded a bend in the corridor and their skin-glows lit up the walls. “Can’t even get any digging done with that lot in the way.”
“And they’re no use to anyone either,” said the other. “We’re spread thin enough as it is without—” He stopped, spluttered, and broke into a hacking cough.
Cicely tugged Ivy’s hand. “Quick,” she whispered, “while we’ve got the chance.”
The intersection was only a few paces away, and with luck they’d make it before the coughing guard spotted their shadows. Ivy tugged Martin’s hand and the three of them dashed forward, past the men’s flickering glow and into the side tunnel.
They made it just in time. The knocker straightened, clearing his throat, and the two men set off again. Pressed to the wall, Ivy waited until their glows faded. Then she tapped Cicely, and they all moved on.
Martin hadn’t spoken since their kiss in the Earthenbore, and now he stumbled after Ivy in a parody of his usual grace. His palm felt clammy, and his hand clutched hers painfully tight. Despite all his assurances, he was afraid, but they’d gone too far to take him back to the surface now.
“We’re almost there,” Ivy said, hoping to comfort him. “This tunnel we’re going through is called the Upper Rise, and it’s one of my favorites. When the day-lamps are lit, it’s the brightest place in the whole Delve, and it’s covered with mosaic tiles in every color you can imagine. Remember when I was leading you out the first time, and you saw the gemstones sparkling in the walls? It’s just as beautiful. Only this tunnel has pictures of plants and animals, so the children can learn about them.” She paused, wistful with memory. “I wish you could see it. I wish I could show you the whole Delve.”
Martin didn’t speak, but his grip eased. He raised Ivy’s hand gratefully to his lips, and they continued on.
A few moments later Cicely halted, sputtering out a cough. The deeper they went into the mine, the more poisonous the air became. But it surprised Ivy that her sturdy little sister was the first to feel it.
“Here,” Ivy told her, switching places with her little sister and pressing her hand into Martin’s. “I’ll lead for a bit.”
Cicely gave a last cough and fell silent. In single file the three of them groped onward, until the tiles beneath Ivy’s fingers yielded to rough granite and they turned into the sloping passage known as Tinners’ Row.
With the day-lamps lit, Ivy could have found Daisy’s cavern with ease. But in full dark it was hard to tell one door from another, and dangerously easy to lose count. Yet Ivy couldn’t kindle her skin-glow, in case the guards spotted them. She could only hope that if she picked the wrong cavern, they’d be able to slip out again without being caught.
“Get ready,” she told Cicely and Martin. Then she put her hands flat against the chiseled door and pushed.
Martin must have kept up his spell of silence, because it opened soundlessly, and the cavern stayed quiet as Ivy crept in. She let her skin glow just enough to see her surroundings, and spotted Thrift’s favorite rag doll lying by a chair.
“It’s safe,” she whispered over her shoulder. “Come in.”
Once the door was shut, they had no more need for secrecy. Brightening her glow, Ivy hurried to the smallest bed-alcove and pulled back the curtains.
Thrift lay curled up on her side, a picture of sleeping innocence. But the pillow next to her head was indented, and the covers formed a trembling lump at her back.
“I know you’re there, Pearl,” said Martin in a warning tone, and the little spriggan whimpered. She sat up, knuckling her eyes as she turned visible.
Thrift woke with a cry. “Mam!”
The door to the adjoining bedchamber flew open. Daisy rushed out, pulling a robe over her nightgown—and stopped, aghast, at the sight of Ivy and Martin. “What are you doing here?” she exclaimed. “Betony will kill you!”
“We came for Pearl,” said Ivy, gesturing at the little spriggan.
Daisy gasped. “Thrift, you wicked child! Get up this instant!”
With guilty meekness the two girls climbed down, and stood clutching each other’s hands as Daisy scolded them. “Why would you do such a daft, reckless thing? However did you—”
“That’s not important right now,” Ivy cut in. “What matters is that no harm’s been done. But we need to get Pearl out of here right away.”
“No!” Thrift flung her arms about the spriggan girl. “You can’t have her!”
“Thrift!” Daisy chided, but the child only clutched Pearl tighter. She turned to Ivy with a sigh. “She’s been like this ever since we got back. I don’t know how to manage her, without. . .” Her voice hitched, and she pressed a hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry. I just miss Gem so much.”
Ivy was taken aback. She’d thought that once Mattock returned with the women and children, Betony would let the men go. “You mean he’s still a prisoner?”
“Betony said they needed to learn their lesson. S
o they’re all locked up in the diggings, except . . .” She hesitated. “Never mind. The point is, she won’t let any of us see them. I don’t think they even know we’re back.”
Meaning that all those men thought they were about to die, with no hope of pardon. And Betony wanted it that way. Smoldering anger kindled in Ivy, but she forced herself to stay calm. “You said they’re all there except someone. Who?”
Daisy looked stricken. “Mattock,” she said in a small voice. “And Mica. She’s got them chained up in a cave halfway down the Great Shaft . . .”
Martin made a hissing noise, and Ivy stiffened. They both knew that dank, lightless hollow too well.
“. . . and tomorrow she’s going to execute them.”
There was an awful silence in the cavern as Daisy’s words sank in. Cicely spun to Ivy, wild-eyed. “I can fly down to them. Please. Let me help!”
“I wish you could,” said Ivy heavily. “But if you try to get their chains off, you’ll end up trapped down there with them. We’ve both been out of the Delve too long to touch iron without losing our magic.”
Cicely looked stricken. “But so has Mica. And he’s half faery too.”
Ivy caught her breath. She hadn’t thought of that, but by the bleak look on his face Martin had. “We need the key, then,” he said. “And I’m guessing Betony has it.”
In which case it might as well be on the moon, for all the chance they had of getting it. Stomach tight with anxiety, Ivy started to pace the dark, mottled granite of the floor. There had to be a way to save her brother and Mattock. But how?
“Gem,” said Daisy abruptly. “He could break in and strike off their chains with a thunder-axe. Any of our men could, if we set them free.”
Thrift perked up. “Daddy!” she squealed. “He’s big and strong, he can do it!”
Ivy had no doubt they were right, but how could they free Gem and the others, let alone rescue Matt and Mica, without Betony knowing? A silencing spell could muffle sound, but not vibrations. Even if they didn’t hear the stone door shattering, every knocker in the Delve would feel it.
“We need a distraction,” Ivy said. “Something to force Betony and all her soldiers up to the surface.”
Martin stood silent, gazing at his folded arms. At last he said, “I might be able to provide one. But it depends on how much Betony knows.” He looked up at Daisy. “Did she question you when you came back to the Delve?”
Daisy made a sour face. “She didn’t need to. Copper, that old fool, told her practically everything.”
A chill rippled through Ivy. That meant that Betony not only knew Martin was a spriggan, she knew there were other spriggans living in Kernow as well. She might not know where to find the barrow yet, but she knew it existed, and all it might take was the threat of fire to get one of Ivy’s followers talking . . .
Ivy turned to Martin in distress, but to her surprise he was smiling. “Excellent,” he said. “Cicely, get up to the surface, find Thorn, and get ready for my signal. Ivy, go around the tunnels, and bring as many women and children here as you can.”
“Teasel?” Ivy called as she stepped into the older woman’s cavern. “Wake up.”
Without Cicely to keep her invisible or Martin to silence her footsteps, avoiding the Delve’s guards hadn’t been easy. Ivy had nearly been caught twice, and only escaped by darting around a corner at the last minute. But though her route through the tunnels had been longer than she’d hoped for, Ivy had managed to visit Fern, Moss, Clover, and nearly all the other women she trusted. Teasel’s cavern was her last stop.
“We’re going to save Hew,” Ivy continued, rapping on the door of the bedchamber, “but we need your help. Teasel?”
There was a rustle in the bed-alcove that had once belonged to Keeve, and the curtains parted as Teasel poked her head out. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and Ivy’s heart panged for her: she must have been lonely sleeping without her husband, and crawled into her late son’s bed for comfort. “You oughtn’t to be here, me bird!” the piskey-woman gasped. “If Betony finds you—”
“I know,” Ivy said. “But I can’t let her execute Mica and Matt. That’s why we’re going to break out your husband and the others tonight.”
Teasel broke into a racking cough. For several heartbeats she wheezed and thumped her chest, then sagged against the wall of the alcove in exhaustion.
Ivy had seen a few coughing spells tonight, but none as bad as this. “Have you seen Yarrow?” she asked, hurrying to help the older woman down. “Or is she out of medicine?”
Teasel sank into an armchair, dabbing her eyes. “She’s locked in her quarters. No one sees her unless a guard brings them, and they won’t do that without Betony’s say-so.”
And of course Betony wouldn’t give such an order for Teasel, or any of the other women who’d left the Delve. That would be too much like mercy. Ivy’s nails dug into her palms, and she had to breathe deep to quell her anger before she spoke. “All right, then. Get dressed and come with me.”
By the time they got back to Daisy’s cavern, all the other women were waiting. Their hair was in knots, their eyes dim with weariness, and with their children clinging to their skirts they couldn’t have looked less like an army. But if they had the will to come here and the wits to avoid getting caught, they’d proved their mettle already. Gathering them around her, Ivy explained Martin’s plan.
“I know you’re afraid,” she told the women. “I’m scared too. But we can’t let Betony bully us any longer. We have to stand up to her and fight for the people we love.”
Clover’s oldest boy straightened up proudly. “I’m ready to fight. My dad gave me a knife, see?” He pulled the little blade from his belt and waved it, as the women exclaimed and scuttled back.
“And a fine blade it is,” said Martin, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “But there are better ways to use it. Come over here with me, and I’ll show you.”
The boy looked hesitantly at his mother, who nudged him to follow Martin. Relieved, Ivy continued her speech. “So I’m asking you to dig deep for the courage that I know is in every one of you. When you hear the signal, you have to go down and find your men, free them, and tell them what we need them to do.”
If Ivy could tell them the safest route to take, what spells they should use, and all the challenges they might encounter on the way, she would have. But she didn’t know any of those things. She wasn’t even sure how they’d get the men out of the diggings once they got there, if they were chained like Matt and Mica or trapped behind some great slab of rock. All she could do was hope the women would be clever and determined enough to work it out.
“I’m giving you this task,” she told them, holding each of their gazes in turn, “because I trust you. I believe that if you work together, you can do amazing things—bigger and braver and better things than I ever could. You don’t need me to do this for you. You can do it on your own.”
When she finished, a hush fell over the cavern. Then Teasel spoke, her voice no longer raspy but strong and clear. “Ayes, you’ve said it. We’ve cowered and cringed before Betony these past twenty years, and what good has it done us? The more we give her, the more she takes, and now we may as well be so many sheep for her wolf’s teeth to gobble. But you, maid . . .”
She reached out, clasping Ivy’s hand in both her seamed ones. “You’ve done all you could to build us up, for all it cost you dear to try it. You may not have the fire of a true Joan, but you’ve surely got the heart of one. If you think we can do this, then I for one believe you.”
“And I,” said Fern, stepping out from behind her. “I’m not letting my Mattock swing from Gossan’s gibbet, whether anyone else joins me or no!”
“I’ll join you,” Moss said. “I’ve still got the keys to the treasure cavern from the last time we had a Lighting. We can arm our men, and ourselves too, if it comes to that.”
Bramble gave a little cough, and Ivy tensed, but the old auntie was only calling for attention. “I’m
too old and slow to run about the tunnels,” she said, “but I’ll do my part. I’ll stay here and care for your little ones.”
The younger women’s faces cleared at that, and Daisy put down the wriggling Thrift. “Then I’ll come,” she said, and Clover nodded her agreement.
“Don’t forget to find Yarrow,” Ivy said. “If she has any medicine left, make sure you all take some, and give it to the men too.”
“They’ll need it, no doubt,” agreed Teasel. “The air’s worst down in the diggings.” She inhaled slowly and looked about, frowning puzzlement. “Though it’s fine here, odd enough. I’ve not breathed so easy since we left the barrow. What’s your secret, Daisy?”
Thrift’s mother looked surprised. “None that I know of. I’ve not done a thing different since we came back.”
Yet no one had coughed for several minutes now, and Teasel was right about the freshness of Daisy’s cavern. There wasn’t a trace here of the throat-clogging haze that filled the tunnels, and now that Ivy thought about it, she hadn’t heard Daisy or Thrift cough since she and Martin got here. Let alone Pearl, who was smaller than any of them.
But they only had a short time left to save Mica and Mattock, so that mystery would have to wait. “Once Martin and I get back to the surface,” Ivy told them, “it won’t be long before Gossan sounds the alarm. Wait until he and his men come after us. Then go.”
The women nodded, determined. Ivy searched their faces—old, young, and in-between—and it grieved her to think of losing any of them. But if their story and hers had to end, at least it would be a brave ending. “Good luck.”
“Are you all right?” Ivy whispered, as she and Martin crept through the tunnels. He’d recovered his poise in the light of Daisy’s cavern, but he’d been unusually quiet while Ivy was talking to the women, and since they stepped back into the darkness he hadn’t spoken at all.
“I’ve been better,” he replied in a low voice. “But I’ve also been worse. Don’t mind me.”
Torch Page 19
