Bone, Fog, Ash & Star

by Catherine Egan

  Wet, cold and exhausted though she was, Eliza managed a weak laugh at this notion. “No,” she said.

  “Yes, yes!” said Ferghal. “Else I’ll smash the engine into bits right now. I’ve seen enough of this world for one lifetime and I fancy seeing another.”

  “It’s dangerous,” said Eliza. She hadn’t really the strength to argue. She opened her backpack and checked to make sure the Gehemmis was undamaged. The shard of bone was wet but otherwise unhurt.

  “Never mind danger. I have faced Mancers in my day, I might boast! I wish to see Tian Xia. And think, witchlet, a pair of strong arms might serve you well. This Mancer is unwell. I can see it all the better having just come face to face with the healthier variety. Do you think you are strong enough to carry him if he needs it?”

  Foss looked back and forth between them, ashen-faced, without comment.

  “I’m stronger than I look,” said Eliza dryly, but in fact she was wondering if it might not be a bad idea. Ferghal had helped them elude the Mancers and might prove helpful again. One thing was certain, the Faeries would not let Foss enter their Realm, and so she would not be able to stay with him the whole time they were in Tian Xia. Ferghal watched her face closely and saw that it was decided. He clapped her on the shoulder rather too forcefully. She coughed up some seawater.

  “Then let us go where your predatory Mancers have erroneously pursued you already! Into the volcano, and another world!”

  Ferghal raised his arms in a great cheer, and then the engine died.

  Chapter

  ~12~

  Tariro stood on the battlements and watched the morrapus making its journey across the chasm. The outlying battlements of her Castella perched on the edge of a bottomless cliff. The white rock veered down sharply. Clouds whirled in the chasm and great black birds wheeled and screamed far below.

  “You sent five Faeries. How could they fail?” Her voice was crisp and cool as usual. One would have to know her very well to hear the rage tightening her vowels. Miyam knew Tariro all too well.

  “There was some warning,” said Miyam. “They were prepared for my assassins, who dared not use Illusion on a noble Faery’s property.”

  “He is barely noble,” spat Tariro. “Born to it, perhaps, but he has nothing to show for it.”

  Miyam said nothing. The morrapus bobbed closer. They could see the bright eyes of the myrkestra now.

  “I want you to finish this yourself.”

  “I will. Jalo has gone to the City. He will lead us to them.”

  The myrkestra flew along her high walls and Tariro gave a curt nod to the Guards in the courtyard below. A part of the wall swung open, allowing the morrapus to enter the courtyard. Four Faeries dressed in simple servant garb emerged, staring up at the towering battlements and at the archers looking down from them, arrows tipped with enchanted poisons. A guard with several silver-hounds loping after him went to meet them.

  “I wanted it to be quick,” said Tariro to Miyam. “It is not good for my son to have it drawn out this way. Now go and see who is arriving.”

  Miyam ran down the battlements to the little courtyard. Tariro watched the way her bare feet barely touched the ground. Tariro could not have asked for a more dependable servant but in fact she found Miyam disconcerting, with her cold, spinning eyes that sometimes fell terrifyingly still. Tariro often faced away when speaking to her so she wouldn’t have to look into those strange eyes, that dead face. Miyam formed the habit of standing behind Tariro to receive instructions while Tariro looked elsewhere. She had saved Miyam long ago from certain imprisonment and Miyam was grateful and loyal. Tariro knew she could trust her; in fact, she trusted no one else. But she could not bring herself to like her.

  Miyam exchanged a few words with the passengers. The guard took a covered basket from the morrapus, which he gave to Miyam with some documents. Everybody deferred to Miyam. In authority here, she was second only to Tariro herself. Nobody pretended that Nikias, Tariro’s husband, wielded any real power.

  Miyam came flying back up the battlements to report.

  “Jalo has sent servants for Cadeyrn and his wife. An apology for his sudden departure. They come from the servant house of Illyron.” She held out the finger-length crystal as evidence. Tariro examined it.

  “And the basket?”

  “Apricots, my Lady.” Miyam opened the lid a crack to show her. Tariro glanced at it and then looked away again.

  “Apricots?”

  “There is a letter. For Second Advisor Nikias and Lady Tariro, with warmest regards and much appreciation, your loyal friend Emin,” Miyam read. “He has enclosed a poem.”

  “What is he playing at?” demanded Tariro, bristling. “Are you sure they are just apricots?”

  “I will have each one investigated carefully, and the basket too.”

  “I want a witch to look at them. Search for spells.”

  “It is done, my Lady.”

  “Emin will pay for this insolence.”

  “He is Jalo’s dear friend, my Lady.”

  Tariro spun around to face Miyam. “Are you telling me my business?”

  “No, my Lady.”

  Miyam did not flinch the way most would when facing Tariro’s wrath. This was annoying. Even more annoying, Miyam was right. Emin was Jalo’s friend. Killing the girl would hurt Jalo. His friend should be left alone, however much Tariro wished to punish him.

  “We are done here,” said Tariro. “I hope to hear from you soon that the girl is dead.”

  “So you shall, my Lady.” Miyam bowed down on one knee, head bent, then rose in a single fluid motion and disappeared through a well-hidden trapdoor that led inside the walls. The stone walls around the courtyard were real, not Illusion. Now the great door swung open again, this time leading onto a bridge that crossed the chasm, its other end lost in a deep mist. Tariro watched the little group for a moment as they walked along the bridge in a row, then turned and descended the battlements.

  ~~~

  Mala presented Nell and Charlie as members of a new group of Illusion-makers who took vows of silence as a means of conserving the powers of the imagination, which sounded completely batty to Nell. They noticed the archers, and the Faery glaring down from the battlements. Nell had had nightmares about Tariro since their last meeting and was less than thrilled to be seeing her again, even from a distance.

  They crossed the bridge, into the mist. On the other side, a polished opal floor, smooth and clear and bright as water, stretched as far as the eye could see. Here and there stood isolated archways, and through each, a different scene presented itself. They looked through the archways at opulent banquet halls, gardens and forests and lakes, ballrooms and stormy seas, myrkestra races and extravagant musical performances. But these tantalizing other worlds were not for them. Mala took them through an archway and into a broad corridor hung with clothes. Faeries examined the elegant dresses and murmured gloomily to one another.

  “Lady Demetria likes to have her gowns redone every day,” explained Mala in a low voice. “She does not like to face the same choices day after day and so her entire wardrobe must be reinvented. This rather taxes the imaginations of her servants and we are to assist.”

  It was not long before Nell was more afraid of dying of boredom than by Tariro’s hand. Mala worked Illusion on their behalf, loading the gaudy costumes with still more gold thread and bright ribbons. By night, they slept in the servant quarters, in a long row of beds. Mala brought them food when she could, some of it real and some Illusion. Throughout the day, they tried to be inconspicuous. All that was required of them was to ponder Lady Demetria’s dresses with expressions of great seriousness, follow her about in a big mass when she wished it, and stand by watching while the Faeries feasted and danced in the evenings. Nell thought unhappily of the miniaturized folder tucked in her pocket. She fingered it and ran through formulae in her head.

  On the third evening, Nell and Charlie stood side by side watching a Faery ball. Orbs of light ci
rcled high in the black sky overhead while unearthly music soared and sang in all directions. The Faeries danced as if they were weightless. And yet Nell couldn’t help feeling there was something rather joyless about it all. School dances at Ariston Hebe, the gym decorated with streamers, a mediocre band and over-sweet punch, had more of a buzz of excitement about them than this strange, beautiful, perfunctory performance. She was trying to keep from swaying to the music when a Faery approached her and said softly, “I need you to come with me.”

  Fear coursed through her like a wave of heat. She had understood him, which meant that the Faery had spoken with intent. He knew what or who she was. She searched his face but it was blank.

  “Quickly, please,” he said. She glanced at Mala, who gave a little jerk of the chin. She followed the Faery out the archway, leaving the ball behind them. He led her at a brisk pace through the forest of arches, not speaking, and then abruptly through one of them. They emerged into a pleasant glade that reminded Nell of her first visit to the Realm of the Faeries. Jalo was waiting for her there, dazzling in his feathered cloak. She gave a cry of delight. The other Faery stepped back outside the archway.

  “I apologize,” said Jalo, smiling down at her warmly. “This is risky but I had to see you. We have thrown them temporarily off the scent, I believe.”

  “Dinnay you think this is a crazy idea?” Nell asked. “Do I look like a Faery to you?”

  “The glamour is very good. I can find you through it, but not easily.” He touched her cheek with his fingers and she felt herself flush. “There. There you are.”

  “How long are we going to stay here, Jalo?”

  “Your friend, the Shang Sorceress, is in Tian Xia with the Faithful,” he said. “She has called for me with your ring and I will leave at once.”

  “Thank the Ancients!” cried Nell. “Has she gotten rid of the Thanatosi?”

  “That I do not know,” said Jalo. “But it is too dangerous for you to stay here much longer. You will eventually be found by those that seek your life.”

  He looked stricken. Nell felt very sorry for him.

  “Thank you for everything you’ve done,” she said. “Mala is an absolute gem.”

  “There is another way for you to be safe,” Jalo said earnestly, and then sighed. “I wish I could lift the glamour. I want you to look properly like yourself when I say this. But never mind.” He took her hands in his and she felt a distant pounding in her ears. He was going to try to kiss her again and this time she would let him.

  “If we were married, you would be safe forever. None could harm you,” said Jalo. “I know it is sudden and the circumstances of my proposal less than ideal, but I would make you happy and you would have everything you ever wanted. Will you be my wife?”

  This was so unexpected that her first impulse was to laugh. She mastered herself quickly and fumbled for a response that matched the seriousness of his expression. “Jalo…I dinnay know what to say. I’m too young to be thinking about marriage. And…and I’m fond of you but we dinnay really know each other all that well yet, do we? It doesnay seem like a good idea to marry somebody for protection.”

  “For love, not protection,” he insisted. “The immediate danger is what drives me to make this proposal so suddenly, but you and I would be happy.”

  He bent his lovely face towards her. Before his lips touched hers she found herself inexplicably stepping back again. It was as if she had no control over her own movements. She pulled her hands from his and said in confusion, “Sorry.”

  Jalo looked sad. “No, I am sorry. I should not be so brash. It is just that time is short and I fear I may not see you again if you leave.”

  “We’ll see each other,” said Nell, not because she really believed it but because she didn’t know what else to say. It was odd to realize that she didn’t want to kiss Jalo, but she didn’t. What she wanted, suddenly, desperately, was to be outside, really outside, walking or running in the fresh air. She missed the real world. She was sick to death of the sunless sky and the bewildering Illusions here, their unreal beauty masking something ominous.

  “Be my wife,” he said again.

  She shook her head. “I cannay marry you, Jalo. You’ve been a wonderful friend, but there it is.”

  He looked confused. “It is a human custom, I think, to put off a suitor or refuse at first. But we do not have time, Nell.”

  “No, lah, this is nay a custom. I cannay marry you. I willnay change my mind.” It came out rather blunter than she meant it to sound but she felt surer by the moment that he would not understand her unless she was very, very clear.

  His expression hardened. “It is the other one, isn’t it? Your friend the Shade? Though he is nothing but a powerless boy now.”

  “Charlie?” exclaimed Nell. She did not at all like the icy contempt with which he said powerless boy. “This has nothing to do with Charlie.”

  “Be careful, Nell. I must go meet with your friend the Sorceress.” He turned away and she caught him by the arm.

  “Jalo! Dinnay be angry. I’m just trying to be honest with you, lah.”

  He faced her again, his marble-smooth face very bright. He looked a great deal like his mother at that moment, she thought.

  “Do you have any idea what you’ve just refused? It is…I cannot think of a word. You, a human girl, turning down the proposal of a Faery? And not only a Faery, but a Faery from one of the most powerful families in the realm! What do you imagine your life as a human will be? I will tell you, in one word: brief. I could give you Immortality and then everything you could dream of to enjoy for eternity. I think you don’t really understand. How could you choose a short and meaningless life in Di Shang, empty and colourless? You will grow old and die so quickly, and that only if you are lucky! You must be mad.”

  Nell’s temper flared. “Why would I want to live forever just so I could be bored out of my mind, away from everyone I love?” she snapped. “I hate this place! It might be very pretty but it gives me the creeps, aye, and I have a lot of plans for my life by the way. I’m going to be a cetologist and go on marine expeditions with Graeme Biggis!”

  Jalo stared at her as if she had lost her mind. “I will meet with your friend the Sorceress,” he said again in a tight voice. “I will return as soon as I can.”

  He swept away through the archway and Nell was left feeling sorry and miserable and a little afraid. After all, Jalo was all that stood between them and Tariro; it probably wasn’t a good idea to make him angry. She stepped out of the archway but he was already gone. The waiting servant led her back to the ballroom and she slipped into her place next to Charlie.

  “Jalo’s going to meet Eliza,” she murmured to him.

  “Thank the Ancients,” he said.

  “He proposed marriage,” said Nell. It sounded so silly she half wanted to laugh again, though in fact she was feeling rather shaky still.

  Charlie glanced at her from the corners of his eyes, his expression unchanging. “And?”

  “Lah, obviously I said no. We hardly know each other and I dinnay like it here a bit. I’ve got this exam to take and everything. But he lost his temper, aye. It was a whole other side to Jalo. He couldnay believe I’d turned him down.”

  “Do you think we can still count on him?”

  “I think so. He wouldnay betray us, let us be killed, would he? Just because of hurt pride?”

  “I dinnay know. Faeries are notorious for not particularly valuing the lives of non-Faeries.”

  “We’re really nay safe here, are we? But if he’s meeting with Eliza, praps it will be all right.”

  “Praps she’s gotten rid of the Thanatosi and we’ll be able to go home.”

  “I hope so. I cannay wait to get out of here!”

  His smile, though not his usual smile, was a hint of the real Charlie under the Faery mask. “Still, I’m a little surprised you turned down immortality.”

  Nell pondered this. The very idea of immortality was so abstract and unimagina
ble, as was death. She had spoken honestly, for she didn’t want to marry Jalo or live in this place. The grander implications of mortality versus immortality had been simply impossible for her to seriously contemplate in such a brief moment.

  “I would have had to leave behind my family and my friends and all my plans. I wouldnay be able to go to Austermon. I couldnay give everything up, just like that.”

  “Not even for a dashing Faery and eternal life?”

  “He is handsome, aye. I must be crazy. He said as much, actually.”

  “Arrogant,” said Charlie with pleasure. “Although, I spose I’m a little more to your taste like this, nay?”

  She gave him a sidelong glance. “It’s too strange to see you as a Faery. What about me? Which version do you prefer?”

  “The Nell version. No contest.”

  Nell felt a warm glow when he said this.

  “Me too,” she said immediately. “I mean, lah, I prefer the Charlie version.”

  Mala’s head swiveled round and she shot them an icy glare. They stopped talking, both of them trying to hide their smiles.

  ~~~

  “She was speaking to Jalo?”

  Tariro stood in the shadows, the circling orbs overhead never casting their light on her. She was looking at the two servants whispering together.

  “Yes,” said Miyam. “He has gone now.”

  “What did they speak of?” Tariro demanded.

  “I do not know what passed between them. But look at her and the one she is with. It is a glamour. They are not Faeries.”

  “Of course.” Tariro laughed. “Well, they have made it easy for us. The apricots were a diversion – we wasted our time trying to find spells in them and failed to see the humans in my own Castella!”

  “Shall I kill them now, my Lady?”

  “No,” said Tariro. “If we murder them here…we are well within our rights, but Jalo would be furious. No, arrest them and have them deported to the Faery City for judgment and execution.”

  “Judgment and execution?” asked Miyam. “Like a witch?”

  “They have made illegal use of a glamour,” said Tariro. “Jalo need never know that we knew their identities. He will have nothing to hold against me. It is perfect, like a gift.”