The Flame in the Mist

by Kit Grindstaff

  Leth gith bal celde!

  Cebvasya ag wonn oge

  The words she had pulled from thin air. Had dreamed, over and over. They were here. Majem had written them, almost three hundred years ago! How was that possible? Had her ancestor somehow been speaking to her across time, and through the ether, as well as through her book? Whatever the case, the result was that Jemma had already deciphered the Code. She had the key to unlocking the rest of the Releasing Rime’s meanings—now, just when she needed it.

  “The Light be called,” she whispered, her nerves shimmering as she reread the words that had just revealed themselves. Then she took a breath and drank in the second line:

  Cebvasya ag wonn oge … Cebvasya ag wonn oge …

  Magically, the letters unraveled. She went cold.

  “Scagavay.” The name barely croaked past her lips. “Be gone now.” Jemma felt as though spiders were crawling under her skin. She began pacing again, drumming the two lines into her mind with each step until she was sure of them, then turned the page, hoping that what she’d find there would somehow calm the spiders down. It didn’t.

  It made no sense at all.

  Drawn across each page were four series of five straight lines spattered with black-tailed dots, like tadpoles sitting on a fence. The following pages were the same. The spiders were running amock now, turning agitation into desperation. How would she find guidance, if she couldn’t even begin to understand this?

  “Trusssst!”

  Jemma wheeled around. “Drudge! You startled me—”

  “You … learn Opnn Call … Good!” The old man beckoned to her, and she went to the door. He reached through the bars, took the book from her, then tapped on the offending page. “Thisss,” he said, “fffrrgot … Frrrgotn sss-sss …”

  “That’s the Forgotten Song? But it looks like rubbish—pages of it!”

  “Mew,” Drudge wheezed. “Mew …”

  “Mew? Like a cat?”

  “Gnaaaaaa! Mew … Mew … sick.”

  “Sick cats?” Jemma frowned. “Drudge, I don’t— Oh! You mean, this is music?”

  Drudge’s face cracked into a smile, and he nodded fervently as he scanned over the next pages. Then he handed the book back to her. “Me, teach you,” he mumbled. “Sssong.”

  “You? But … how do you know it?”

  “Me, good … read—”

  “You mean, you’ve read the book? Was it you who put it under the straw? Of course, it must have been! But where did you find it, and how did you know I’d be here, not upstairs?”

  “No quesssstnnnss! No time! Trusssst, Jmmmaaaah, trussst!” Drudge grabbed Jemma’s forearms and closed his eyes, swaying slightly. Then she heard the strangest sound, like the keening of the wind, but softer, soothing, its rhythmic pitch flowing in waves from Drudge’s hands, through her body. It was not audible in the dungeons, but somehow filled her head, a melody that contained fragments of Marsh’s nursery rhymes, of the song she’d heard her mother sing in her dreams, and the song Freddie and Maddie Meadowbanks had sung the night of her welcome-home feast in Oakstead. Every note of it seemed to resonate in every cell of her body. She felt as though she’d known it forever.

  Drudge released her forearms, and the sound stopped.

  “That was beautiful!” Jemma tingled from head to toe; she felt full, and light. “But I don’t know how I’ll ever remember— Drudge, are you all right?”

  He looked deathly pale. “Show,” he rasped, pointing at his head, then hers, “efffrrrrt.” He heaved several breaths, and his face started returning to its normal sallowness. Then he touched Jemma’s sternum with a bony finger. “Remmmemmb, here. Song here.”

  “Oh!” A bolt of energy shot from his finger through Jemma’s chest and down to her toes. She almost dropped the book. Drudge took it from her, turned several leaves, and handed it back. At the end of the music symbols, the text resumed:

  “The Song doth open Portals to the Angelic Realms,” she read aloud. “Once hearde by the Fire One it shall be remembered always.…”

  Drudge was breathing more easily now, and he patted the book. “Finishhh.”

  Jemma read out the remaining text on the page. “Scagavay being thus weakened shoulde thenne be assailed with the Releasinge Rime of Saeweldar, whych is the opposite of Scagavay. Saeweldar. The opposite of Scagavay. So … Saeweldar is some sort of Entity as well?”

  Drudge nodded, his silken hair wisping across his face. “Scagaaav—baaad! Saewldrrr—good!” He nudged the book. “Reeead, quick!”

  Clang! The clock tower tolled out. One … two … three …

  “Four, already! There’s no time now, Drudge. Shade will be here any minute. But Drudge, if you know it, why can’t you just tell me?”

  “Wrrrds, not remembrrr. You … musssst learn … by heart. Finissssh. Tonigh. Promisss!”

  “I promise. Tonight.” Tonight, she, Digby, and the triplets would be leaving here. Suddenly it hit her: that would also mean leaving Drudge. Again. Her heart sank to her stomach.

  “Gnnnn …” Drudge patted her hand. “No, sssad.”

  “Drudge, come with us! Gordo will have the cart, and—”

  “Gnnnnaa!” He shook his head and smiled. “Me ssstay. Trusssst, Jmaaah!”

  “But, Drudge—”

  “Trussst! You, your path. Me, mine. Remembr. The ligh … be …”

  “The Light be Called. I’ll remember.”

  Drudge teetered into the kitchen, and Jemma gazed after him. A faint blue aura seemed to be outlining him—the same as she thought she’d seen emanating from him the night she escaped. She blinked, and it was gone. Then she tucked the book back beneath the straw. It was such a small, shabby volume, but it breathed the wisdom of her ancestor, and gave her enormous hope.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  The Eve of Destruction

  The Light be called … The words spun through Jemma’s head, buoying her for the rest of the day. Even when discussion turned to the next day’s ritual, she was able to smile through Shade’s eager anticipation of it and ignore the pit in her stomach. At nine-thirty, after a light supper of weasel-milk cheese and pancreas paté, Shade led her once more down to the dungeons.

  “Clothing a lamb in wolf hide doesn’t make it a wolf,” Shade sneered, looking Jemma up and down. “Tomorrow, we’ll see what you’re really made of.”

  “Speaking of tomorrow,” Jemma said as they crossed the kitchen, “I think it would be wise to make sure that Drudge has done as we instructed with those three brats, don’t you?”

  Shade scowled at Jemma, but nevertheless walked with her down to the larger dungeon second from the end. The triplets were huddled together on a pile of fresh straw, the blankets heaped on top of them rising and falling with the deep breaths of Slumber Potion–induced sleep.

  “Satisfied, Jem-mah?”

  Jemma nodded, steeling her expression against the heartache she felt for Flora, Simon, and Tiny as Shade marched her back to her cell.

  Shade clanged the door shut, and locked it. “Breakfast at seven. Ceremony at seven-thirty sharp. I trust that you will be ready for it. Good night to you.”

  “And to you, sister dear.”

  Shade’s footsteps echoed into the distance. Condensation dripped. The almost-half hour until Digby’s arrival yawned ahead of her. Remembering her promise to Drudge, Jemma sat on the pallet and tried to decipher the remaining lines at the end of Majem’s book.

  “The Releasing Rime of Saeweldar,” she read. “Bal sorl heerd hel vitaepi nicet … Lyre easeth ben bedows foure het. Bal sorl … Robs all? Slob lar?” Too agitated to concentrate, she tossed the book onto the bed, then lay down and tried to relax. Breathe. That was no use, so she stood and walked in small circles. First clockwise. Then reversed. Then clockwise again. At last ten o’clock tolled, and she heard footsteps running from the covered yard. Lamplight approached, and two silhouettes stumbled into view.

  Jemma’s heart leapt. “Digby, Gordo! Over here—behind you!”

/>   “Jem!” Digby ran to her cell. “Look at you, locked up like this! Are you all right?”

  “Yes, yes—but thank goodness you’re here! It seems like weeks since this morning.”

  “I know. I been worried sick since Drudge told me the plan had changed. But now Pa’s arrived with the cart, I feel better. We’re ready— Oh my, Jem, what’s that you’re wearin’?”

  “I know.” Jemma tugged at the thick black fabric of Shade’s old dress. “It’s vile.”

  “Where’s my little ’uns?” Gordo walked up behind Digby, holding the lamp. “I want to see ’em!”

  “Down the corridor,” Jemma said. “Second cell from the end. Please be quick though, Gordo, we can’t waste—”

  Gordo was already gone.

  “Me too,” said Digby. “Just be a mo’.” He ran after his father. Jemma paced nervously until they returned, just as Drudge shuffled in from his lamp-extinguishing rounds.

  “Sleepin’ like angels, thanks be,” said Gordo. “Ah, Mr. Drudge, good evenin’ to you.”

  “So,” said Digby, “the keys. With you locked up, Jem, who’s going to get ’em?”

  “It’ll have to be you, Dig.”

  “But I don’t know where Shade’s room is! Can’t Drudge go?”

  “He’d be too slow,” said Jemma. “But her room is easy to find. Just be careful not to wake her, though; she’s got the strength of an ogress.”

  “Oh, nothin’ to it, then.” Digby attempted a grin.

  “You’ll be fine, lad,” said Gordo, his voice trembling. “We’ll have ’em out of here in no time, just you see.” Digby set his mouth and nodded.

  Jemma described how to find Shade’s room. Digby took a deep breath, then sped off. Gordo went to the door to the Pickle Corridor and shifted from foot to foot as he stood staring after Digby.

  Drudge took Jemma’s hands. Calm washed through her as once again, blue light flickered around him. This time, it was undeniable.

  “Ligh game,” he said. “See boy … Make sssafe.”

  “Is there anything you don’t know, Drudge?” said Jemma. “You’re amazing!” She closed her eyes, and saw the vision that was running through Drudge’s head. Together, they projected a protective sphere of Light around Digby as he ran, lamp in hand, through the hall, up the main stairway to the Bed-Chamber level—avoiding the third and seventh steps, which creaked—and rounded the corner to the West Corridor. He crept along it until he was outside Shade’s room, then slowly turned the handle and eased the door open.

  “Wait—his lamplight will wake her!” Jemma opened her eyes. Drudge was deep in concentration. Suddenly his mouth fell and his body started twitching.

  “Gnnn … gnaaaa,” he wheezed, gripping Jemma’s hands. “Ssstop!”

  “What? What’s happening?” Jemma closed her eyes again, and suddenly she saw it too: Digby, his hand over his face, retching at the stench of rotting flesh … tripping over a leg protruding from under Shade’s bed … dropping his lamp … Shade, waking. Jemma frantically envisioned the light sphere around Digby again and tried to strengthen it, but Shade leapt into full swing, lashing out at him, screaming, forcing him back into the corridor as Nox, Feo, and Nocturna rushed into the fray. Nox grabbed Digby by his collar. Feo picked up Digby’s lamp, and the whole family marched toward the stairs, while Digby, still retching, struggled in their grasp.

  “Oh, no!” Jemma gasped. “It’s my fault! I stopped concentrating on the Light!”

  “Shshshsgnnnnaaa!” Drudge opened his eyes and pulled his hands from hers. The calm blue around him fragmented, and disappeared.

  “What is it?” Gordo trotted over. “What’s happening?”

  “They’ve caught him—they’ve caught Digby!”

  Voices were rapidly approaching.

  “Gordo,” said Jemma, “you must hide.”

  “But, my boy—”

  “Quickly, Gordo! Go with Drudge—and stay out of sight, or they’ll capture you, too!”

  “Book. Stone,” said Drudge. “Give.”

  Jemma grabbed Majem’s book from the pallet and handed it to him with her amulet. Then, remembering Bethany’s coin, she dug that from her pocket too, just in case, and pressed it into Drudge’s palm. He scuttled across the kitchen, Gordo in tow, and slipped into the scullery.

  “If you don’t talk, boy, you’ll regret it.” Nocturna’s voice cut through the darkness.

  “I tell you, Mama, he’s in league with Jemma! He’s exuding guilt like steam off a dungheap. They’ve probably been plotting to free those three miserable wretches—why else would he want to steal the keys in the middle of the night? That’s really why she came back, I’d wager!”

  “You can’t know that, Shade,” said Nox, but doubt edged his voice.

  Jemma threw herself onto her pallet and closed her eyes tight. Every nerve in her body jangled.

  Something slammed against her cell door.

  “Wakey wakey, Jem-mah,” said Shade. “We’ve brought someone to see you.”

  Jemma opened her eyes. Digby was pressed against the bars, his arms held behind his back by Nox. A large bruise was spreading across one cheek.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” Jemma tried to feign indignance as she stood, and pulled herself tall, but Digby’s bruise tugged at her heart.

  “You tell us, Jem-mah,” Shade growled. “You know this creature, I believe?”

  Nox’s face flickered between hope and anger.

  “He … Haze … Hazebury dross …” The words barely croaked past Jemma’s throat.

  “Very convincing, I’m sure,” Shade sneered. “So, perhaps you’d like to be the one to punish him for trespassing?”

  Jemma began to tremble, all pretense draining from her.

  “I thought not. Then I shall have to.” Shade grabbed the back of Digby’s hair, wrenched his face around, and gashed his bruised cheek with her nails. He yelled out in pain.

  “No!” Jemma lurched instinctively toward him.

  “Finally, we have the truth!” said Shade. “Mama, Papa, you must agree with me now. Why, those were probably his disgusting hand-me-downs she was wearing yesterday!”

  “Jemma—you wretched girl!” said Nox, through gritted teeth. “You deceived me!” He tightened his grip on Digby and pinned him more firmly against the cold steel of her cell door.

  “She deceived us all,” said Nocturna calmly. “Quite a feat, I must say.”

  “Not I, Mama,” said Shade. “I tried to tell you.”

  “I’m sorry, Jem.” Digby whispered, his bottom lip quivering. “I failed ’em … them poor little ’uns.…”

  “You see?” Shade yelped. “I was right! How noble he is! Or is he? Perhaps he’s their big bwuvver, and being a good boy, rescuing them for Mama and Papa Gutbellows—”

  “Shut up, Shade!” Jemma reached through the bars and laid her palm against Digby’s ravaged cheek. The bruise faded slightly with her touch. “Dig … it’s my fault, not yours.”

  “No!” Feo, who until now had stood back in the shadows, took a step forward and wrenched Jemma’s hand away from Digby’s face. He shot a look of pure hatred at Digby, then turned away.

  Bitter wrath spread across Nox’s face. “I gave you a second chance, Jemma,” he said. “I fought for you! But Shade was right—”

  “We must search her, in case she’s hiding any kind of weapon!” said Shade. “Out of my way, Papa. Feo, hold the lamp higher, so we can see.”

  Nox yanked Digby away. Shade unlocked the door, then she and Nocturna whipped through Jemma’s cell, turning over the straw on the pallet and strewing it across the floor. Shade pressed Jemma against the wall and rifled through her dress pockets.

  “Nothing!” she hissed, then fingered Jemma’s throat. “Where’s your Stone? You were wearing it earlier—”

  “It … I made it disappear, to protect it from you.”

  “Lies, more lies!” Shade pulled on the neckline of her old dress, ripping it across one shoulder.

&nbs
p; “Shade, Jemma’s Stone is of little consequence now,” said Nocturna. She waved an arm at Digby. “Go with your father to lock this treacherous ruffian in the dungeon at the end, next to our other visitors, so these two can’t communicate.”

  “With pleasure, Mama.” Shade strutted out of Jemma’s cell, and Digby was dragged away. Nocturna turned to Jemma, her black eyes flecked green with regret.

  “A commendable show, Jemma,” she said, “to have so artfully beguiled us. I admire you, really I do. You have always had a certain something about you, and it seems your new Gifts are indeed genuine. Such a pity they will go to waste.”

  She stroked Jemma’s cheek, one corner of her mouth turned upward in a half-smile, then let her hand drop with a sigh. “Well, so be it. We shall at least be rid of the danger you pose to us. We shall decide your fate tomorrow, when our minds are fresh. Now, where’s my dear son?” Nocturna turned to where Feo was slouched against the opposite wall, the light from his lamp etching sharp shadows on his face. “Ah, there you are. Guard the door until your sister returns with the keys. I shall retire now for my beauty sleep. I bid you both good night.”

  Nocturna walked out of the cell, glided away across the kitchen, and was gone.

  Feo closed Jemma’s cell door and leaned against it with his back to her, arms crossed. Seconds later, Shade returned, closely followed by Nox, who walked past without a word. Shade rattled the keys at her waist and selected the brightest one. “You have all night to dwell on your demise, Jem-mah,” she said, locking the cell door. “Yours, and your precious sweetheart’s. Ha! We shall think of how best to dispose of you both after we’ve dealt with those other three brats. Come on, Feo, and stop trying to look so ferocious. It’s pathetic.”

  Feo cast a sullen glance at Jemma, then followed his sister into the gloom.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Feo

  Jemma clutched the bars of her cell and wept. In her mind’s eye, she could see Digby slumped against the back wall of the littlest dungeon, his ripped and bruised face set in pained disbelief. The triplets, in the cell next to him, were still as corpses under the effect of Slumber Potion. Her tears splattered to the floor.