A Secret of Birds & Bone

by Kiran Millwood Hargrave

  Sofia let go of her little brother and stood carefully. Her ankle was tingling, but the pain had receded. The bruise had vanished, her skin was its usual light brown and the nub of her ankle bone was smooth and painless.

  ‘That was awful,’ exclaimed Ermin. He looked to the opposite bank. ‘Where’s Ghino?’

  Sofia wheeled round. She could not see him. Was it possible he’d been swept away?

  Her panic eased as she saw Ghino’s hands emerge from the foaming torrent, followed by his gasping face. She and Ermin must have weakened the chain, because it hung much lower in the water. Ghino clung to the slick metal, bobbing on the surface like a cork, tossed this way and that.

  ‘Careful!’ cried Sofia. ‘Hold tight!’

  Her heart hammering in her throat, she watched as he continued to inch towards them. More than once his weight dragged the chain down to the level of the water and Sofia could see him panicking, spluttering.

  ‘It’s all right,’ she called, trying to keep her voice steady. ‘Just keep going.’

  He came hand over hand but as he reached the middle, there was a crunching sound loud enough to be heard over the river. Ghino looked back, eyes wide, scarred face stretched in horror, and Sofia imagined the rivets holding the chain in place, rusted by age and water, starting to turn.

  ‘Quicker!’ called Ermin. ‘Come on, Ghino!’

  Ghino sped up, but it was too late. With an awful grinding sound, the rivets gave way. The chain was sucked sideways, sinking fast. Ghino splashed and gasped, clinging to it as it pulled him down.

  Sofia threw herself on to her belly and grasped at the other end of the chain. The rivets were holding this side, but for how long? She scanned the furious water, looking for Ghino’s strong arms pulling him to the surface. Nothing. But the chain was still taut and pulling downstream. He was holding on.

  ‘Help me!’ she cried and Ermin unfroze, joining her in gripping the rope, and together they began to pull.

  Their combined strength was barely enough, but the water was taking some of the weight, and together they hauled the chain until finally Ghino rose from the depths.

  Sofia saw that he was not holding on after all. The broken rivets had caught in his clothing, hooking him like a monstrous fish. His hands lay limp at his sides.

  They hauled him up the bank, free from the grasping river. His chest was still, his lips apart, eyes shut.

  ‘Sofia . . .’ Ermin’s teeth were chattering. ‘Is – is he?’

  Sofia leant over the boy. He was not, could not, be drowned? She bent to his mouth, willing his breath to tickle her face. Nothing. She brought her hands, trembling, to his throat, to where his pulse should be working quick and warm. His skin was freezing.

  ‘No,’ murmured Sofia. ‘No, no, no.’

  She placed her hands on his chest, where his heart should be beating, and felt the hollow knell of nothing. She leant her weight on to him, feeling for life, coming so close her locket rested on his collarbone and her hair dripped water over his face. Do not be dead, she thought. Don’t you dare be dead. Be well, be well, be well.

  ‘Sofia—’ Ermin’s voice was reedy.

  ‘Shhh!’ She was listening for breath, her smooth cheek resting on his pox-pitted one. She listened so hard she felt she could have heard into the centre of the earth, to all the worms and other blind things that nested there.

  Her hands were pressing so firmly they marked Ghino’s dark skin red, the river water from her palms transferring on to his body as she wished and prayed and swore that if only he’d breathe, she’d do anything, give anything. She’d lend her own breath, to fill his chest.

  And then, small as a whisper, she felt it; a sharp jolt of something like static pass between their wet skin. A tingle in her fingers. There, she thought, there! Was that . . .

  It was. The small stir of a breath arrived at last beneath her hands. A heartbeat.

  ‘Sofia, he’s breathing!’

  He was, his chest was rising and falling now, over and over, and Sofia had never realized before how simple a breath was, or how miraculous. Ghino’s eyelids fluttered open and focused on her face. Ermin was whooping, his voice ricocheting round the tunnel. Corvith was diving and chittering. But Sofia remained still, and silent, staring at the boy come back to life. She felt exhausted, and more alive than she ever had before.

  His dark eyes were bright with river water and tears. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’

  ‘For what?’

  Ghino rolled on to his side and threw up all over Sofia’s feet.

  After Sofia had rinsed her feet in the river, and Ghino had apologized again, she and Ermin helped the boy into a sitting position. He was shaking and though Sofia comforted him, she felt just as shaky, just as strange. She felt as though her promise had come true: that her breath had been taken and placed precisely into Ghino’s chest. She felt winded, outside her body, dizzy with cold.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Ghino was looking at her closely.

  ‘Of course she is,’ said Ermin dismissively. ‘She’s not the one who almost drowned!’

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Sofia, but the truth was her lungs did feel a little waterlogged – a little too full of something thicker than air. But there was no time to waste, and at least her ankle seemed better. She stood, testing how it took her weight. She could feel Ghino watching her, and wondered if he understood what had happened better than she. Sofia looked at the steps, chalk white and arching out of sight.

  ‘Time to go.’

  All three of them quickened their pace, Corvith flying overhead. The steps steepened all the time, narrowing until they were funnelled single file and taking the steps more like a ladder than a staircase, leaning forward on all fours.

  Sofia’s lungs ached, and she focused on putting one hand before another – hand, foot, hand, foot – keeping her eyes fixed on Ermin’s ankles. All the joy of finding the hidden river had faded in the wake of Ghino’s near-drowning but now she allowed a glow of wonder to light in her chest, spurring her on. She had to believe Mamma was at the end of this path, together with the truth she had promised Sofia on the morning of her birthday. Sofia needed answers to questions that multiplied with every minute.

  Ahead, Ghino’s voice bounced down to them. ‘What the—’

  ‘Ouch!’ Sofia’s head collided with Ermin’s foot, and from his exclamation she guessed he’d had a similar experience with Ghino. Corvith took off with a squawk of indignation. Ghino was standing on a platform above them, the lamp held high before him, Corvith wheeling over his head.

  Rubbing her scalp, Sofia squeezed past Ermin – coming to stand next to Ghino, so intent on the boy it took her a moment to realize why he had stopped.

  They were at a crossroads. Three tunnels stretched out of sight; one to the left, one to the right and one straight ahead. Corvith came to settle on a pillar of stone at the centre of the crossroads, flapping his wings and tipping back his head, giving an almost triumphant caw.

  ‘Ghino, are you all right?’ Sofia reached cautiously for his shoulder and he started, sending the lamp’s light swinging crazedly across the three dark mouths before them.

  The light skittered across Corvith and the stone column, which flashed suddenly white.

  Sofia gasped. ‘What is that?’

  She reached forwards, gently nudging Corvith aside as Ermin squeezed on to the narrow platform beside her.

  ‘Che bello,’ whispered Ermin. ‘That is . . .’

  ‘Incredible,’ breathed Sofia into his silence.

  Atop the stone column was a shape of bone. She recognized what it represented instantly. It was a hollow replica of Siena’s centre, made miniature, small enough to fit in Sofia’s two palms and carved entirely from bone. Sofia could not see any joins, though she knew they must be there.

  She motioned for Ghino to hold the lamp closer. The detail was extraordinary. At the centre the Piazza del Campo was raked, the surface dimpled as though it was spread with soil as it was for the Palio. Only
one thing was missing. The cathedral had minute gargoyles, but its striped tower wasn’t there. There was only a slot, as fine as a coin – a gap where it should have rested.

  ‘Did your mamma make that, too?’

  Ermin hushed Ghino’s question, as Sofia placed her hands either side of the model and made to lift it from the base. It would not move. She twisted it, thinking it might be screwed into place, but it stayed resolutely still, as though it had grown out of the rock itself.

  ‘It won’t budge,’ she said, teeth gritted in frustration. She stared at the model, willing it to reveal its purpose. Corvith settled on to her shoulder and pecked at her pocket until he caught hold of the locket’s fine chain.

  She drew it out. ‘This?’

  The crow blinked his bright eye and pecked at the locket again.

  ‘What do I do, Corvith?’ she asked.

  ‘Why are you asking the crow?’ sneered Ghino.

  ‘Shush!’ said Ermin. ‘He’s clever. You’ll see.’

  Corvith hopped on to the bone model and jabbed his beak at the cathedral – at the gap where the tower should be.

  Sofia understood at last. With trembling fingers, she aligned the locket with the slot and slid it down. It clicked, unmistakeably the noise of something finding its rightful place. Sofia tried to lift it again, but still the model would not come away.

  Ermin reached past her and pressed at the model’s right edge. Soundlessly, in a steady, easy movement, the model turned left. As it did so the locket swung down, like an arrow, pointing to the left-hand tunnel.

  ‘Che cavolo!’ whispered Sofia.

  ‘Now who’s saying cabbage?’ said Ghino with a smile.

  ‘It’s a compass!’ Ermin whispered. ‘See? That’s the way to the cathedral.’

  Sofia pushed the model back the other way and this time the magpie tower swung down, arrowing straight ahead. ‘And that’s the palazzo.’

  She turned it once more, to the right-hand tunnel, and two tiny gates opened. The gates they had to take to leave the city.

  ‘And that,’ said Sofia, catching on, ‘is the way home! Ermin, Ghino. We have to go this way!’

  ‘Che bello,’ murmured Ghino. ‘Your mamma really is a genius.’

  ‘I know,’ agreed Sofia, but the truth was she had never realized just how much. She turned the model back to its original position, and the gates closed. Her locket popped out of its slot and she plucked it out, thinking it more beautiful than ever before.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, making for the right tunnel. But Corvith squawked and blocked her path. ‘No-So!’

  ‘Yes,’ said Sofia. ‘That’s the way home, Corvith!’

  But Corvith was flying back and forth, back and forth, between them and the tunnel ahead.

  ‘We’re not going there,’ said Sofia impatiently. ‘We have to go home!’

  ‘No-So!’

  Again, Corvith blocked her way. He flew further up the tunnel, vanishing from sight.

  ‘Sofia,’ said Ghino. ‘I think we should follow the crow.’

  ‘Are you mad?’ said Sofia. ‘That’s the way to the palazzo!’

  ‘But he’s telling us to follow him,’ said Ghino. ‘And he’s the one who showed you how the compass worked.’

  ‘He’s right,’ said Ermin. ‘I think Corvith might know where Mamma is.’

  Corvith loomed back out of the tunnel and landed on Ermin’s shoulder.

  ‘Is that right?’ murmured Ermin, stroking his feathers. ‘Do you know where we’re meant to go?’

  Corvith purred, and Sofia fought back the sudden urge to cry. She knew Ermin and Ghino were right, but she didn’t want to go on. She wanted to go home – to be back in their bone house, with their olive grove and their well – where everything made sense.

  But only if Mamma is there, said another voice. That’s the only reason it’s home.

  Sofia sighed deeply, holding the bone locket tightly in her hand. Then she nodded at Ghino, and said spitefully, ‘This is on you if it goes wrong.’

  Ghino turned away, towards the tunnel, Corvith flying ahead. ‘I’m only following orders.’

  They followed the new path, even steeper than before. Sofia tried not to think of what awaited them ahead – a tower of magpies, a palace of guards. And, said a small, unwelcome voice, an impenetrable cell perched on top.

  ‘Ghino,’ said Sofia, as casually as she could. ‘Have you ever heard anything about the magpie tower? About—’

  ‘The prison?’ he said, almost as casually. ‘Yes.’

  ‘A prison?’ said Ermin. ‘You don’t think Mamma is there?’

  But Sofia couldn’t answer. The truth was, that was exactly what she thought. And if Mamma was in that particular prison, it would be impossible to reach her.

  Once he was convinced they were obeying him, Corvith settled on her shoulder – his breath coming in nervous little chirrups. As the tunnel widened, a light began to shine from above them, and the crow began to shift from foot to foot.

  ‘Nearly there,’ she said, trying to soothe him though she felt as restless and ill at ease. ‘It’ll be all right.’

  ‘No-So!’

  Ghino stopped climbing and turned back to listen. ‘Are they behind us again?’

  ‘That’s not what he means,’ said Sofia, frowning. ‘He’s scared of what’s ahead.’

  She looked at the glowing light, and inched closer. The surface of the tunnel began to change. In place of rough rock was seashell mortar, and the steps steepened into a ladder.

  The candlelight overhead was sliced by a drainage grate, and Sofia could now see the stone ladder was dotted with black and white.

  ‘Ugh,’ said Ermin behind her. ‘Is that—’

  ‘Watch your hands,’ said Sofia, as the smell of bird droppings started to grow stronger. She smooshed her top lip beneath her nose, the river smell of her skin strong. ‘And be as quiet as you can.’

  It was almost silent above, only faint rustling like paper in a breeze. Corvith was trembling in her pocket, but Sofia could do nothing except carry on. She climbed to the stinking, stained metal and blinked up into a tower full of magpies.

  There were hundreds of the birds, perched on the railing of a massive spiral staircase that twisted all the way to the top.

  All the magpies Sofia could see were asleep, their beaks folded back between their wings. If she pressed her cheek against the filthy metal, she could see lamps attached to brackets on the floor.

  And high, high above, was what seemed to be the night sky, dotted with stars. A painted ceiling of royal blue and gold.

  ‘What can you see?’

  Ghino’s murmur made her jump and lose her grip on the slimy step momentarily. He was up close behind her, trying to peer through the grid too.

  ‘Magpies,’ she replied shortly. She couldn’t see anyone in the tower aside from the birds.

  ‘Any of Mamma’s signs?’ Ermin asked, squeezing on to the top step too and pressing his nose against the grate. ‘Pooh, it stinks!’

  ‘Poo does stink,’ said Sofia. ‘And keep your voice down!’

  She tried to scan the tower, but it was difficult with Ermin and Ghino taking up half the looking space. ‘There’s no guard.’

  ‘He’ll be outside, won’t he?’ said Ermin. ‘They wouldn’t expect people coming from down here.’

  Sofia looked up again at the dizzying ceiling. This was where Mamma’s bone trail had led them. They could not stop now, but Sofia was afraid. She didn’t want to open the grate and risk waking the magpies. Corvith poked his head out of Sofia’s pocket and chattered softly.

  ‘What now?’ she whispered to him.

  But there was a scraping sound and clods of dust and other things Sofia didn’t want to think about, suddenly rained down on them. Ghino had swung the drainage grid up. Before Sofia could so much as gasp, Corvith had taken off from her shoulder. As he went he brushed his wings against the chalk walls, coating them in white.

  ‘He’s making himself look
like a magpie!’ Ermin whispered.

  Ghino ducked back down beside them as Corvith wheeled out of the grid. ‘I have to give it to you, he really is a clever crow.’

  Sofia punched him hard in the arm. ‘What did you open the grate for?’

  ‘That model didn’t lead us here just to look,’ he hissed back.

  Sofia ground her teeth. She wanted to call after Corvith, to have him safe in her arms again. The sight of him flying past all those sharp-beaked magpies turned her stomach.

  Ghino and Ermin pressed up beside her as the bird circled higher.

  ‘Where is he going?’ asked Ermin, dancing nervously from foot to foot.

  But Sofia had no answer. She could only watch as a couple of magpies snapped their beaks when he got too close, his ungainly wings taking him dangerously near to their perches, but none attacked. Sofia exhaled. Corvith was already halfway up, and he had not been spotted by the sleepy magpies for what he really was.

  Corvith headed directly to the painted ceiling. He flew in a sharp circle, and swooped out of sight.

  ‘Where’s he gone?’ whispered Ghino.

  ‘Shush!’ hissed Sofia, chewing her nail with nerves until she realized how bad it tasted. ‘The cell!’

  And then, suddenly, Corvith was there again. But now he had something in his beak, small and glinting.

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Ermin. But as Corvith started to fly back down, his chalky wing brushed the filthy upper railing and scattered droppings down the length of the tower. A couple of magpies ruffled their feathers, and one stretched out its wings in a sign of aggression.

  ‘No, no, no,’ muttered Sofia. She would never forgive herself if Corvith got hurt again. ‘They’re waking up!’

  The magpie with outstretched wings began to chatter, low and threatening.

  ‘Go back to sleep, you beast,’ willed Sofia, her fingers laced through the grid and ready to push it open. But then what? She could not get to Corvith.

  ‘The glue!’ Ermin’s breath was hot in her ear. ‘I have glue, from the workshop!’