The Midnight Swan

by Catherine Fisher

‘Where’s Denzil?’

  ‘They’ve got him! I don’t know what to do!’

  Seren scowled. ‘Come on!’ she yelled.

  They fled across the lawn towards the jaunty lights. When they got to the gate she gasped because all the iron horseshoes and protective plants had been torn down and flung by spiteful hands all over the path.

  Tomos pushed ahead of her. ‘They are in my house, and it’s my fault!’

  He raced down the path.

  ‘Silly boy.’ The Crow sighed. ‘After him, quickly!’

  Tomos was already at the house. The door was wide open and light and music were streaming out. They saw him disappear inside.

  ‘Wait, Tomos!’ Seren yelled. She ran into the hall, up the stairs and burst through the wide doors of the ballroom.

  She crashed into a dancer.

  ‘Excuse me!’ she gasped.

  The dancer was tall and silver-haired.

  ‘That’s quite all right,’ he said gravely, but as they waltzed away he laughed, and his partner, in a gold mask and dress, gave a mocking giggle.

  Seren took a breath.

  She looked down the long length of the room.

  It was bewildering. In one corner the local musicians were playing, a harp and a fiddle and a crwth, but the music was all strange, and the musicians seemed sweaty and tired and baffled, as if they couldn’t stop or even understand the sounds their instruments were making.

  And the dancers!

  Farmers and dairymaids, young girls from the village, local squires and their ladies, they whirled in a dream of strangeness, because among them and around them the Tylwyth Teg danced, too, tall and thin in their silver clothes, their hair glimmering, their eyes long, their mouths in wild laughter.

  Could the mortals see Them?

  Seren had no idea.

  But surely they couldn’t, because there was Denzil all tied up to a chair, and They were all around him, mocking and laughing and poking at him. His face was like thunder. Then he saw Tomos.

  ‘No boy!’ he snarled, ‘Get out! GO!’

  Tomos took no notice. He barged through the crowd with Seren after him. ‘Leave him alone! Let him go!’

  The Fair Family drew back. Amused, They let them through.

  Tomos took out his penknife and tried to slash through the silvery bonds around Denzil’s wrists and waist.

  ‘That’s no use,’ the small man hissed.

  ‘I’m going to get you free. I…’ Then Tomos stopped. And turned.

  Seren turned too. All around the strange tall silvery people were pressing close. Their masks were fox faces and swan eyes, they wore the ears of hares and the muzzles of wolves. Some were small and ugly. Some were winged like butterflies.

  ‘It’s time, little Star,’ they whispered.

  ‘Time to come.’

  ‘Time to join us.’

  ‘As you promised.’

  ‘Yes, you promised.’

  Tomos looked at Seren. ‘What do they mean? You couldn’t have promised to go with Them.’

  ‘Yes, she did.’

  ‘Yes, she did.’

  ‘In return for the Egg.’

  ‘She did.’

  Behind her, the Crow groaned. ‘Oh, you silly girl!’

  13

  A circle of friends

  Rope of stars across the floor

  Who could dare to ask for more?

  Seren felt awful.

  Tomos looked devastated and the Crow, who had flapped round and perched on the lamp, was glaring at her.

  Beyond the circle of strange faces, the Ball was going on, but it seemed oddly distant.

  Denzil struggled in his chair. ‘You are not going with Them, Seren bach, be sure of that. Whatever happens…’

  ‘But I made a promise, Denzil.’

  ‘It should be me.’ Tomos sounded bitterly unhappy. ‘I brought the pen in.’

  The Tylwyth Teg murmured. They put out their silvery fingers and touched his hair and sleeves.

  ‘NO!’ Seren pulled him away.

  ‘Then come, Seren.’

  ‘Now, Seren.’

  ‘The Moon is full.’

  ‘The nights are shortest.’

  ‘The roses are in bloom.’

  She felt so scared she was breathless. All her friends were here, but who could help her? She would have to be snatched away with the Fair Family, into their country of snow and strangeness, to that icy palace she had been in once before. And there was no time there, so she would live forever in a whirl of dancing and hunting and cold beauty, and there would be no one to talk to and no lessons and no books and no Sam the cat to play with and no Plas-y-Fran. Unless she visited it at night like a ghost, and watched everyone else growing older.

  She shivered.

  Above all, there would be no one to love her. But did she even have that now?

  ‘I’m not having this!’ Tomos folded his arms. ‘If they want a human child, they can have me. I’m not scared and I’ve been there before…’

  ‘Close your mouth, you foolish infant!’ the Crow snapped. It drew itself up. ‘Clearly I am the one who should be sacrificed. All I have been is a source of trouble to my friends. I quite see that now. I will go and live in Their cage and amuse Them and…’

  ‘No!’ Enoch said earnestly. ‘I haven’t traipsed around the world for a hundred years trying to find a cure just for everything to fail now. I will go with Them and then you can all sort everything out without me and…’

  ‘Nonsense!’ Denzil snapped. ‘This is my fight. I have warred against these beings for years. They will not have anything or anyone from Plas-y-Fran while I am alive. So if anyone has to go it will be me…’

  ‘We need you here,’ Gwyn gasped, scared but determined. ‘I could take your place, Seren, if you like. I don’t mind, really. You’ve always been very kind to me.’

  Seren had tears in her eyes.

  She sniffed them back.

  This was no time to be silly.

  ‘Thank you all,’ she said, ‘but I couldn’t let any of you take my place.’

  Which was all very well, but what on earth should she do? What would Mr Sherlock Holmes do? He would say, ‘This is a very singular three-pipe problem, Watson,’ and then he would…

  She stopped.

  Problem.

  That had been the word the Midnight Swan had used.

  Suddenly an idea went right through her so fast it felt like a bright light. She drew herself up. She turned to face the sinister masks of the Fair Family.

  ‘I made you a promise.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I promised you I’d come if you want me to, were the exact words I said. But maybe I can offer you something else instead, something you’d like better than me.’

  The Tylwyth Teg giggled and hissed. ‘What else would interest us? What else would we want…’

  ‘My schoolmaster taught me about you.’ Seren glanced at the Crow as she said it. ‘There are two things you always hunger for. A human child is one. The other is … treasure.’

  At the same time she unbuckled the collar of diamonds from under her coat and laid it down on the shiny wooden floor of the ballroom.

  The Tylwyth Teg gave a long, hissing gasp.

  How the diamonds shone! They were like small facets cut from the face of the moon. They were the brightest thing in the whole brilliant room. They took light from everything and glinted it into rainbow shimmers that played over the narrow eyes and greedy hands of the clustering faery creatures. They were the tears of the Midnight Swan.

  Seren said, ‘You can have these instead of me. But you must go away and leave us all in peace from now on. No more trying to steal us away. No more trying to get into the house. Peace between us. For ever.’

  ‘Peace.’

  It was a whisper of awe.

  ‘Yes. If you agree with all that you can have the diamonds.’

  ‘You can’t trust those creatures,’ the Crow hissed in disgust. ‘And what a waste of such
a gift!’

  She shrugged.

  The Tylwyth Teg looked at each other. If they spoke she didn’t hear a word. But they must have a secret way of talking because they all nodded their heads one after another, all the beautiful, ugly, strange and sinister faces. Then one of them, a small dancer in a mouse-mask, bent and picked up the diamonds with a shiver of delight.

  The shiver spread. It rippled through the crowd, through the mirrors, through the chandeliers. It rippled through the curtains and the floor. It rippled through Seren like the cold feeling you get when something delicious scares you.

  The windows flew open. The music soared. And now all the dancers of the Fair Family were spinning and turning and laughing, and Seren was spinning with them till her head was dizzy and she was quite lost and sure they would snatch her away anyway. But at the last minute she held onto the doorknob tight and stamped her foot angrily.

  ‘There is no such place as away,’ she said.

  Instantly, everything was changed.

  She blinked.

  The ballroom was just their ordinary drawing room, with the furniture all taken out. The gauzy curtains drifted in a warm summer breeze. The dancers were the local village people in their Sunday clothes and they were all stopping, breathless, as if the dance had gone on too long. The musicians stopped playing with huge relief. They looked around as if something had happened and they had missed it.

  And Lady Mair and Captain Jones were standing at the fireplace, smiling happily.

  Lady Mair clapped her hands. ‘Supper is served!’ she said. ‘In the next room. And then we will have a very special announcement!’

  A murmur. All the farmers and their wives hurried out.

  Someone grabbed Seren’s hand; turning, she saw it was Mrs Villiers.

  ‘Goodness, Seren, where have you been and why aren’t you wearing your party dress? And you, Master Tomos, your face is quite smudged with dirt! Go and smarten yourselves up the pair of you. And Denzil! Why are you in here? Surely the guests’ horses and carriages need…’

  ‘Just going to see to it, ma’am.’ Denzil was already out of the chair. He looked at Seren. ‘Going, at once, now that everything is good here in the Plas.’

  She smiled back at him, but she didn’t feel that happy.

  As he went out and Mrs Villiers turned away, she slipped after him.

  ‘Denzil,’ she said softly.

  ‘What, Seren?’

  But all of a sudden she couldn’t answer. It was the Crow who said, ‘We need a bonfire.’

  14

  Cinders and ash

  Through the sadness, through the fire,

  we will find our hearts desire.

  In her room she put on a new midnight blue dress that Mrs Roberts from the village had made, and the little bracelet Tomos had once given her of berries and an acorn. She felt as if she needed all her special, magic things at a time like this. Looking at herself in the mirror she said firmly, ‘Whatever happens, if the Crow is human again it will be worth it.’

  Then she gave herself a determined nod, slipped out and ran downstairs, through the party room, onto the terrace and down the steps.

  ‘Seren!’ The whisper was Gwyn’s. He was peering round the lilac bush. ‘Over here.’

  She ran over and went round the bush.

  ‘It’s in the stable yard,’ he said. ‘But why do you need a bonfire?’

  Seren shook her head. ‘You’ll see.’

  She could see the flicker of the flames even before she turned the corner of the stables. Denzil had lit it in an out of the way corner, by the wall, so as not to scare the horses.

  It was small and bright and the wood blazed in the iron brazier.

  Tomos was already there. Enoch was standing with his hands knotted together, more nervous than ever.

  Only the Crow looked bold.

  He was standing with his head held high and when Seren came closer he held out his wing and shook her hand with formal stiffness. ‘Goodbye, Seren.’

  ‘Don’t say that!’

  ‘Well, not for ever, of course. Just a few minutes really. But I just wanted to say … in case, well, these faery creatures, you can never quite trust them, so … I just wanted to say thank you.’

  ‘What for?’ she whispered.

  ‘Well, lots of things … I mean, you are not perfect: you are stubborn, ridiculously fond of rubbish stories and have no idea at all how to behave like a young lady. But your Latin is coming on, your Maths is reasonable, and you do write an interesting paragraph. You have been a pleasure to teach. And er, ahem, of course, you have been a very good and loyal friend.’

  Seren’s eyes were wet.

  The Crow coughed and harrumphed and suddenly flicked the key out of its side.

  ‘Well then, let’s get on with it. No point in hanging about. I’m sure it won’t hurt a bit.’

  Seren ran forward. She kissed the Crow on its moth-eaten head. ‘You’ve never been a coward,’ she said. ‘And now you’re really brave.’

  The Crow looked a little surprised. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I am rather, aren’t I? Well, I have to saay thaaat I raaather hope I caaaannn keeeeppp it upppppp….’

  And then he was perfectly still, because the clockwork had run down.

  Seren sighed.

  ‘Let me help you’, Enoch said anxiously. ‘I know how to…’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s all right, really. I can do it by myself.’

  She took the Crow apart. It was just the opposite of when she had put him together, tugging off the wings and beak, unscrewing the cogs and wheels, unclicking the wiry talons. It was horrible but she tried not even to think about it, and in a few minutes a pile of pieces lay on the cobbles of the yard, with straw between the two jewel-bright eyes.

  Tomos breathed out. ‘That’s so strange! I mean it’s just bits now. So where is he?’

  Seren shook her head.

  Behind them, the music started up again.

  Denzil looked at her. Then he said, ‘I will do this part, bach, and don’t say I won’t.’

  He picked up the pieces of the Crow, and very gently stacked them on the small fire.

  They burned with a strange blue flame, and then a red crackle.

  Seren pressed her lips together tight. She felt a touch on her fingers and Tomos’s hand crept into hers. They stood and watched the fire burn, and Enoch stood next to them, quivering with nerves, his face as white as paper. Soon all the pieces of the Crow were nothing but ashes and twisted wire, and then they were gone altogether, falling down into the heart of the blaze.

  They waited.

  Nothing happened.

  Over the lake, the moon laid a silver pathway. The midsummer stars wheeled across the sky. Bats flitted. The summer garden was a soft peace of sleeping flowers.

  Inside the Plas, the harp was playing a gentle Welsh folksong.

  Five minutes passed.

  Ten.

  Twelve.

  ‘Where is he?’ Seren whispered at last.

  ‘Wait,’ Denzil growled.

  ‘But it’s taking so long!’ A terrible doubt was creeping into her mind and she couldn’t stop it. What if it had all been a trap, a bitter revenge taken by the Swan? What if the Crow was gone and would never come back? What if…

  ‘Seren!’

  She turned.

  Lady Mair was standing there with a lantern. ‘Seren! Tomos! Come quickly!’

  ‘But…’

  ‘Come at once!’ Lady Mair waved her hand. ‘I need you here now!’

  Seren looked at Denzil. ‘Go,’ he said. ‘We’ll wait here. See what happens. Go now.’

  She couldn’t move. He thinks nothing will happen, she thought, but then Tomos was pulling her with him towards his mother. Seren ran, too, but inside her was a horrible darkness, a deep grief that she thought she might fall into forever.

  Lady Mair said, ‘Oh, I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Come quickly!’

  She caught Seren’s hand an
d between the two of them she was pulled into the house.

  Plas-y-Fran was open to the summer night, all its windows wide, all its doors ajar. They ran through the lavender-scented hall and up the stairs, and the lamps were bright and moths danced duets under the painted faces of the Jones’ family, all of whom seemed to be smiling down at her in delight, their gilt frames gleaming.

  Up, past dozens of guests, past Lily and all the maids clustered on the landing, past Mrs Villiers who touched Seren’s arm and whispered, ‘I’m so glad, dear,’ and touched a tear from her eye with a handkerchief.

  Bewildered, Seren said, ‘What’s happening? What’s going on?’

  ‘You’ll see,’ Tomos grinned.

  Her heart beat fast. Her palms were hot. She was scared.

  Past all the farmers and squires and ladies in the hot room, who squeezed aside and whispered.

  Up to where Captain Jones stood, tall and waiting on the polished dais with the musicians, his tweed suit immaculate, his collar white as snow, his moustaches perfect.

  ‘Seren,’ he said. He held out a hand. ‘Come up here, my dear.’

  Breathless, she gasped, ‘What’s wrong?’

  He smiled, and turned her round to face the crowd. ‘Ladies and Gentlemen. All our dear friends. Thank you for stopping your merriment for just a moment. I have a very important announcement to make about my young friend here, Miss Seren Rhys.’