The Last Stitch (The Chronicles of Eirie: 2)

by Prue Batten

  ‘But Mathey could barely wait for the morrow as his heart was trapped by the woman’s charms. At dawn he sat at his nets and began sewing, allowing his tenor voice to fill the morning air with a ballad of boats and fair maids and honorable and lasting love.’

  ‘She walked up the shore and joined him in a heavenly chorus. To those watching, the two were like charmed children of the Others, their beauty a sight to behold.’

  ‘Mathey’s eyes never left those of the sea maid and she held him by a thread of devotion the mortal folk feared could never be broken. She turned away, singing a song of her own people and walked to the sea, Mathey following blindly behind.’

  ‘As the waves lapped at her toes, the fine legs transformed to become the infamous tail, covered in discs of incandescent green. Mathey, mesmered, waded into the ocean singing the chorus to her lilting tune and the folk of Zennor called feverishly to their son. But he waded, deaf to their entreaty, deeper and deeper.’

  ‘Eventually the waters closed over his head and there was no sound except for the cruel sea against the shore. The maid in her feckless way swam off, leaving the mesmered youth swimming far and deep, diving, searching, calling, until weakness and waves conspired to drown the poor lad. The folk of Zennor found his body a day later on the rocks of Zennor Point and they buried him beneath a cairn on that same headland. And now on a foggy day and by the breath of a seawind, a silver bell tolls to remind the unwary of the melodic voice of the murderous Other who took away the life of Mathey Trevalla of Zennor.’

  Ebba would conclude, brushing Phelim’s hair away from his forehead as his eyelids became heavy.

  ‘A mermaid found a swimming lad,

  Picked him for her own,

  Pressed her body to his body,

  Laughed;

  and plunging down

  Forgot in cruel happiness

  That even lovers drown. It’s an old Faeran poem,’ she would explain the lines away,

  ‘feckless individuals!’

  Chapter Eight

  Adelina had spent the night on the heavy coffer she hoped would protect her. She dozed intermittently, always waking with a start, eyes wide, heart thumping. But Luther left her alone.

  She stretched the kinks from her back to walk to the window, the clear day affording a view across the Mevagavinney harbour wall. The water shone pale blue with silver discs of reflected light jostling in the early breeze. The fragrance of that tiny zephyr reminded Adelina of freedom and space and she felt her heart and soul curling tight and black again as she measured what she had lost.

  Her reason strained at the cracked banks of her mind. She knew she talked to herself and became lost in dreams and fantasies of what might have been. In very bad moments she tried to invent a death for Severine and vomit would burn her gullet as she shook and fought for some form of self-control. That she trod the path to murder she had no doubt. Travellers would call it murder, so too the people of Trevallyn, the Archipelago and Veniche, especially Veniche, where the rule of law was deliberated and despatched. Ah, if she had sense she would escape and endeavour to bring Severine to swift justice from the judges.

  If she had sense.

  But her Traveller’s sense had deserted her along with her morals the moment she heard Kholi had been murdered. She floundered in a bog filled with hate and revenge and had no one with whom to deliberate right or wrong. Her loneliness exacerbated her condition a hundredfold. Anxieties fed off her depression and a bleak future stretched before her, which was why she had called to the hob with such desperation the previous night. And true to the Other fashion, reinforcing Adelina’s long held view about the facile unreliability of Others, he had not come. As she went about her ablutions, one ear on her door should Luther approach, she cursed the hob and all Others for the importunate individuals they were; ranting and swearing, her voice a counterpoint to the emptiness of her situation.

  She examined the robe hanging against the armoire. Three-quarters finished. She could finish it before the souls were retrieved as Severine had rightly guessed. It would be an easy, if uncomfortable task to sew the quarters of those unfortunate shades under the finished embroidery.

  Despite her moments of madness or maybe even because of, it was the consummate need to finish the garment that kept her going. Like the artist who must finish the fresco despite strained eyes and blinding headaches, or the sculptor who despite bleeding hands and screaming muscles, must put the last chisel strokes to a muscular thigh or a mass of curls, her masterpiece swallowed her whole. It obsessed her, dragged at her attention, but she also believed it diverted her from the pain of loss and her current predicament. If ever there was a love-hate relationship, it was between Adelina and the robe.

  A noise at the door had her hurrying to remove the coffer and as the key turned in the lock she sat quickly at the table and picked up a hoop wired with a series of strappy fritillaria leaves. Her needle flashed in and out as she overcast the wire in a fine blanket stitch. The door was pushed open and a seedy Luther entered, squinting at the bright sunlight filling the room from Adelina’s open window. ‘The Lady wants you to walk now. There will be a storm by this afternoon.’

  Adelina closed her eyes. Outside she felt safe. Outside she could see Ajax, albeit far away. Outside she could breathe.

  She had never been in the garden earlier than midday and it felt fresher, more pristine. The air tingled and she took a deep breath, thinking it sparkled like a bubbling wine. She liked the effervescent wine on the rare occasions she had been able to afford it. It seemed to demolish depression, as if each exploding bubble blasted apart the foundations of a black mood.

  She hurried down the walk of weeping silver-pear trees to the willow and the pond, for if there was anywhere to alleviate her mood it was that almost eldritch stretch of water. And perhaps Maeve would come back, so she sat quietly on the grassy bank, stripping off her stockings and dangling her toes in the cool water in anticipation. Ducks watched the woman and dragonflies hovered and wove about her.

  ‘If I didn’t know you were in such strife, Needlewoman, I would say you present a relaxed and gracious picture.’

  Adelina’s head came up so fast she ricked her neck. ‘Ouch! Mr.Goodfellow? Is it you?’

  The youth to whom she spoke was leaning against another willow on the other side of the pond. Jacketless, his sleeves were rolled up and he appeared to have shaved. His chin shone like a baby’s bottom as he grinned at her and called out. ‘Hola!’

  ‘Ssh, Luther will hear you.’

  ‘Not if I don’t want him to and they all think you’re going mad anyway, you talk to yourself so often.’

  She refused to rise to the bait. ‘You can stop them seeing you or hearing you?’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘Then why didn’t you say so before?’

  ‘Threadlady, you were hardly in a mood to converse.’

  Adelina was thrilled at his appearance, Other not withstanding. To talk to someone... she was that desperate. He leaned back again and crossed one languid ankle over the other. Had he not been so skinny it would have been an elegant stance. As it was...

  ‘Why are we calling to each other, can you not come and sit by me?’ Adelina smiled at him. The hob uncrossed his ankles and trotted around the side of the pool, amusing her with his energetic gait. Throwing himself down, pulling off his own boots and stockings, he thrust his toes in beside hers.

  ‘So, Madame Embroiderer, you seem happier.’

  ‘You think? And please, can you call me Adelina?’

  ‘Yoho! You give me your name. Are you not afraid?’

  ‘Of what? You know my name anyway. And besides I am a prisoner like to be killed when I have completed work to my gaoler’s instructions. I have lost my love. If I am afraid of anything, I quiver and shake only when I think to be left alone in the manor with Luther. For he wants me and will no doubt try when his mistress leaves on business. To be afraid of you or any Other to be honest, pales into insignificance.’
>
  ‘Then if I know your name, I shall tell you mine and then we can get down to the serious business of your future. I am... Gallivant.’ He looked at her engagingly as if to say, There, isn’t that a wonderful name?

  Adelina laughed. ‘Such an admirable, such a suitable name. Because you truly are a gallivanting sort of individual, aren’t you? Gallivant ...’ She spoke as if tasting the moniker. Rolling the ‘l’s’ and stressing the ‘v’ and the ‘t’, almost as if she had a lozenge in her mouth. She grinned. ‘I like it.’

  ‘ADELINA! ADELINA!’ Luther’s shouted tones sliced down the walk and split the willow branches apart.

  ‘Quick, hide,’ Adelina grabbed Gallivant by the arm.

  ‘Worry not, dear lady. Don’t forget, he can’t see me if I don’t wish it. Be yourself.’

  Gallivant ran a hand down Adelina’s arm and she felt a honeyed warmth relaxing her as he pulled her to her feet. She hastily dragged on her stockings and boots and rushed out with a push from Gallivant, to meet Luther striding toward her.

  ‘You’re to come back now. The Lady wants you at work immediately.’

  ‘But I’ve only been here a short while. Why?’

  ‘Ours is not to reason why!’ Luther grabbed her and pushed her ahead of him.

  Glancing up, Adelina spotted Gallivant walking backwards in front of her, a finger held to his lips. Her eyes bulged. Then she remembered the barred window in the wall and its view of Ajax.

  ‘My horse, Luther, I haven’t seen my horse.’

  ‘Too bad. Come on!’ He pushed her again and she staggered as the air was filled with a shrieking blast from a horn. Everything shook and Adelina’s ears reverberated, the hairs on her neck rising as surely as if an eldritch wand had orchestrated it. Ahead of her, Gallivant stopped dead and spun in the direction of the ugly sound. Birds arced into the sky and the previously quiet morning was filled with anxious calls as the horn echoed and re-echoed around every wall in Mevagavinney.

  ‘What in Aine’s name is that?’ Adelina gasped as she put up shaking hands to her aching ears.

  ‘Never you mind, just get on.’ Luther pushed her through the open gate and she jumped as Gallivant appeared at her side.

  ‘Don’t worry. He can’t see or hear me. Listen... you have just heard Huon’s Horn. Your accursed gaoler has just called forth the minions of Hell. Go to your room quickly and I shall be with you anon.’

  At that he melted into the shrubbery surrounding the manor walls and Adelina hurried indoors ahead of Luther. She ran from him to her room and went to push the door shut but his foot and then his shoulder slid into the opening. ‘My mistress leaves for business today, woman. She will visit you before she goes but remember this - I am in charge and any move you make that displeases me, then I shall be about you so quickly you will beg for mercy. I am less understanding than my Lady.’ He brushed a dirty finger down her cheek and let it linger on her pale lips. ‘We could be friends...’

  Adelina wanted to bite the finger, chomp down through the bone and sinew to sever it from the murderous hand but Severine’s steps could be heard on the stair and Luther wisely withdrew. The echoes of the horn were fading as she made an entrance, flinging the whip-thin body into a leather-slung chair.

  ‘I’m going away for a few days,’ she said, ‘and I demand the robe be finished while I am gone. When I return I shall have the souls and then we are done, are we not?’ She jumped up again and began to pace, her manner edgy and sharp.

  Her voice had gloated as she mentioned the souls and Adelina’s heart sank. Has she found Lhiannon, is it that which fills the bicce with brash confidence? Oh I hate her. I can’t stand the thought that she might win after all she has done. ‘So you think calling Huon will find the girl for you? On my honour, Severine, you are pathetic. I fear she’s more wily than to allow herself to be caught by some antlered hellhound.’

  Severine bent her head over one of Adelina’s hoops of embroidered insect wings that lay on the side-table, replying with sang-froid. ‘Well well, you know the sound of Huon’s Horn, do you?’ She swung round and sank her nails into Adelina’s arm. ‘Let me tell you, Stitcher, my Ravens sniffed out the chit on the western seas. They flew across a little dory and the smell of Faeran was tangible. The storm Huon will unleash will toss every being on every boat, mortal or Other, into the briny and the stealing little chit will be left floating in the sea and Huon will find her. He and the Hunt will scour every shoreline and as each tide deposits body after body they will find her and I shall have my souls. So don’t you worry about any little thing. Just stitch. And don’t forget your nag. His life depends on you, I will kill him if I have to.’

  ‘Oh, I am sure you would, Severine.’ Adelina pulled her shoulders back, her tone caustic. ‘I am sure you would. Tell me, indulge me for a brief moment, how did you, a mundane mortal, get Huon’s Horn?’

  Severine raised her eyebrows. ‘Mundane, you think?’ She laughed the crystal laugh. ‘Adelina, all your life,’ she leaned so close to her prisoner, the embroiderer was able smell cloves and wine on her breath, ‘you have underestimated me. Be afraid woman, I am so much stronger than you could ever imagine.’ She whispered this last as close to Adelina’s ear as she could get and the embroiderer felt chills shiver all the way down her backbone as the woman’s warm breath slid past her earlobe. But as quickly as she had invaded Adelina’s space, Severine moved away. ‘But... the Horn. I have an Other working for me and he stole it. As easy as that. Just sneaked into Huon’s lair and pilfered it and now it’s mine.’ She stood before Adelina and reached forward and fondled a hank of the tawny hair. ‘I am a changeling as you have told me so often and I have a destiny.’ She tugged hard at the hair in her hands, bringing tears to Adelina’s eyes. ‘You know it.’ She pulled again. ‘Don’t you?’

  Adelina heard the first rattle of distant thunder from the Styx Forest and thought of all those who were now under threat because of a bag containing two souls. She jerked her throbbing head away from the cruel hands and turned bitterly to the robe. ‘I can finish the garment in a few days.’ She stared at it as it swung in the atmosphere of the room. A last beam of sun alighted on the tiny figure of Aladdin and his face seemed to smile and say, Be heartened, all is not as it seems. ‘But I need one thing to complete my work. I need a charm, a little gold lamp to put in Aladdin’s hand. Then it will all be as you want.’

  ‘A charm you say? I have a box load of gold oddments my husband gave me with the idea I should have a wristlet made but I could not abide the jangle. I shall get Luther to bring them.’ Severine turned a questioning eye on Adelina. ‘Are you sure you are well? No stinging rejoinder about my minions or my ambitions? I think your spark has gone.’ She laughed as she walked to the door.

  ‘No, Severine, my spark still glows as red as ever. I am disgusted with all that you do and if I could stop you I would. As it is I can only protect my Ajax by finishing the robe. That is all I shall say. I do this for Ajax, not for you.’ Adelina turned her back on Severine, abhorrence in her rigid shoulders, and walked to the window.

  Countess di Accia leaned against the door as Luther locked it.

  ‘Go to my jewelry box, Luther. In it you will find a smaller box filled with gold charms. Bring them to Adelina.’ Her face twisted as she walked away. ‘Oh, another thing. Kill the horse.’

  ***

  You must find more books with speed for I have so much more to detail. Come quickly! I find that the sense of urgency that seemed lacking in me earlier, that depressed lassitude and loss of purpose has disappeared to be replaced by a frenetic need. Severine has rubbed my back so powerfully up the wrong way that I see I must be strong and wily to survive. Somehow, somehow so help me, I must outwit her!

  Seek the chequerboard-patterned fritillaria with its strappy green leaves and the bronze scarab beetle underneath. You will see a bud, a part opened flower and then a fully opened flowerhead with a most unnatural pattern like the squares on a shatranj board.

  Find the fully
opened flower and reach up inside the petals and you will discover a journal the colour of the stamens - not very thick for it would have distorted the flower and been obvious, but it is thick enough for my needs.

  Then lift the elytra of the beetle as you have done before and there too will be another book.

  Read on...

  Chapter Nine

  ‘Kill the horse,’ Luther stalked along the passage with a small box in his hand. ‘Kill the flaming horse. By the soul of Behir, the woman is mad!’

  He unlocked Adelina’s door and entered, dazzled by the woman’s tawny glow as she bent her head over some hoop of damned silk embroidery. Hell she’s a piece, I want her. ‘Milady said you were to have this.’ He threw the small box at Adelina and left before the ache in his groin became uncontrollable, running down the stairs, grabbing the harquebus and walking toward the paddock where Ajax shepherded the mares. They stood under the oak tree stamping their hooves and laying ears flat as the sound of the thunder reached them.

  Ajax threw up his head, ears back, eyes wide, nostrils flared as he moved apart from the mares, snaking his head at the oncoming figure. Small half rears showed a fighting spirit. Luther liked that.

  He stood for a moment and looked at the horse and thought what a pity Severine was so filled with the desire to hurt the stitcher that she couldn’t realise the value of the beast. He lifted the harquebus and aimed to strike the horse on that exact spot above the eyes and in the centre of the forehead and took a steadying breath.

  Ajax reared high, the air filled with a shrieking battle cry from horse to man. The sight of the massive body pawing the air was an epiphany for the thug who lost no sleep over a garotte slicing a throat. I could sell this horse in Veniche for so much gelt!