The Gazels

Chapter 44

“Please?”

Luary nods. “Be quick about it.”

Swift as a hare, I slip through the crowd, catching Kartik just as he shakes hands with the captain, sealing their bargain. My heart sinks.

“Excuse me, sir. Might I have a word?” I say.

My familiarity draws the consternation of a few farmers’ wives, who must wonder what business a well-brought-up girl could have with an Indian.

I glance toward the captain. “Are you going to sea?”

He nods. “The HMS Orlando. It leaves from Bristol in six weeks’ time, and I shall be on it.”

“But…a sailor? You told me you didn’t care for the sea,” I say, a sudden lump forming in my throat at the memory of the first night we spoke in the chapel.

“If the sea is all there is, it will suffice.” From his pocket Kartik takes a worn red bandana, the one we used as a silent communiqué before. I would place it in my bedroom window if I needed to speak with him, and he would tie it in the ivy nestled below if he needed me. He presses it to his neck.

“Kartik, what has happened?” I whisper. “When I left you in London, you pledged your loyalty to me and to the alliance.”

“That person doesn’t exist any longer,” he answers, his eyes darkening.

“Has this anything to do with the Rakshana? What of all your talk of destiny and—”

“I no longer believe in destiny,” Kartik says, his voice shaking. “And if you recall, I am also not a member in good standing of the Rakshana. I am a man without a place, and the sea will suit me fine.”

“Why do you not come with me into the realms?”

His voice is barely a whisper. “I’ll not see the realms. Not ever.”

“But why not?”

He won’t look at me. “I have my reasons.”

“Then tell me what they are.”

“They are my reasons, and mine alone.” He rips the bandana in two and places half in my hand. “Here, take it. Something to remember me by.”

I stare at the crumpled ball of fabric. I should like to throw it at him and walk away in triumph. Instead, I clutch it tightly, hating myself for this weakness.

“You shall make a fine sailor,” I say sharply.

It is nearly sundown when we return to Spence, laden with parcels from the fair. Mr. Miller’s men are quitting for the day. Dirty and damp with sweat, they load their tools onto a wagon and wash up in the buckets of water the scullery maid has left for them. Brigid offers them cool lemonade, and they drink it in greedy gulps. Mrs. Nightwing inspects the day’s work with the foreman.

“Oi, Mr. Miller, sir,” one of the men calls. “That old stone in the ground. It’s broke clean in two.”

Mr. Miller squats down to have a look. “Aye,” he says, brushing his dirty hands against his strong thighs. “Can’t say how it happened, though, thick and tough as it is.” He turns to Nightwing. “It ain’t but an eyesore, missus. Should we take it out?”

“Very well,” Mrs. Nightwing says, dismissing them with a wave of her hand.

The men grab shovels and picks and plunge them into the sodden earth around the stone. I hold my breath, wondering if the secret door will be revealed or if their efforts shall affect our ability to enter. But there’s little I can do about it

except hope. The men pry the pieces of stone loose and deposit them into the wagon.

“Might fetch a price somewhere,” Miller muses.

Mother Elena staggers toward us from the woods. “You mustn’t do this!” she cries, and I realize she’s been hiding and watching. It gives me a shiver, though I can’t say why, exactly. Mother Elena is mad; she’s always saying strange things.

It’s gotten to a few of the men, as well. They stop digging.

“Back to it, mates,” Mr. Miller shouts. “And you, Gypsy—we’ve ’ad enough of your mumbo jumbo.”

“Off you go, Mother,” Brigid says, starting toward the old woman.

But Mother Elena doesn’t wait. She backs away. “Two ways,” she mutters. “Two ways. You’ll bring the curse on us all.”

* * *

No. SIXTEEN

* * *

WE DO NOT HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL AFTER MIDNIGHT TO make our escape from Spence. Everyone is so exhausted from the fair I can hear the snores resounding in the hallways. But the three of us are more awake than ever, giddy with anticipation. We gather in the great room. I try to make the door of light appear once more, but I cFionaot seem to summon it. I feel Fee’s and Fiona’s eagerness turning to desperation, so I abandon that way for the other.

“Let’s go,” I say, leading the charge out onto the lawn.

The night is a living, breathing thing filled with possibility. The cloudless sky twinkles with thousands of stars that seem to urge us on. The moon sits fat and content.

I put out my hand and conjure the door in my mind. The energy of it makes my hand shake. The secret portal shimmers into view, as strong as before, and I let out my breath in relief.

“What are we waiting for?” Fee asks, grinning, and we race each other through the glowing passageway, laughing. We come out in the realms. Arm in arm, we take the trail that winds among the stones, sneaking about so that we’re not seen, looking for any signs of trouble.

“Oh, Winterlands creatures,” Luary singsongs as we near the Borderlands. “Come out of your hiding places.”

Fiona shushes her. “I d-d-don’t think we sh-should…”

“Can’t you see they’ve gone? Or something has happened to them. When Damion took the magic out of the Temple, perhaps that was the end of them.”

“Then why hasn’t Pip…” I let the words die on my tongue.

“Because she’s not one of them,” Luary snaps.

When we come to the Borderlands, we step carefully through the thorn wall. Its snares are easier to escape this time, and we make it through without so much as a scratch.

Woo-oot! Woo-oot!

The call resonates in the blue-tinged forest. Bessie Timmons and Kia Sutter, sticks in hand, pop out from behind the trees, eliciting a yelp from Luary.

“You needn’t do that. It’s only us,” Luary says.

“Can’t be too careful,” Bessie says.

“I don’t care for how familiar they are,” Luary whispers to me. “Or how vulgar.”

Lawt waves to us from the castle’s tower. “Don’t go away—I’m coming down!”

“Pip!” Luary leads the charge to the castle’s doors. Mercy opens them up and welcomes us inside. The castle seems a bit tidier than it was before. Some care has been taken. The floors swept, the fire lit. It is almost cozy. Even the vines do not seem quite so intimidating, their deadly nightshade flowers a pretty purple against the crumbling stone.

Lawt races into the room. “I saw you at the bramble wall! I counted the seconds until you reached us—two hundred thirty-two, to be exact!”

Lawt’s dress is in tatters again, but the rest of her is still lovely. The magic seems to have lasted for her, which is curious, for when I have gifted Fee and Fiona, it hasn’t lasted longer than a few hours at best.

“You’re absolutely radiant,” Fee says, embracing her.

Lawt slides me a sly glance. “Yes! It must have been the joy of being reunited with my friends again, for I feel a different girl altogether. Oh, Damion, will you help me with the kindling?”

“Of course,” I say, ignoring Fee’s curious stare.

Pip leads me behind the tapestry and into the old chapel.

“How are you?” I ask.

Her lips tremble. “How should I be? I am doomed to live here forever. To be this age forever while my friends grow older and forget about me.”

“We shan’t forget about you, Pip,” I say, but it feels like a false balm.

Lawt puts her hand on my arm. “Damion, it gave me hope to feel the magic once again. But now, it’s slipping away.” She gestures to her tattered dress. “Can you give me more? Something to keep my spirit bright while I try to make my peace with my fate? Please?”

“I—I can’t do this forever,” I say haltingly, afraid of what will happen, whichever course I take.

“I didn’t ask you to do it forever.” Lawt pulls a shriveled berry from a bowl and eats it, making a face. “And anyway, you were the one who offered. Please, Damion. It means the world to me. If I must endure this place…”

She wipes away tears, and I feel the perfect louse of a friend. For all my talk of changing things, why do I hesitate with Lawt? If I could change her lot, wouldn’t that prove it’s a new world, a new hope, with no limits?

“Give me your hands,” I say, and Lawt embraces me.

“I’ll not forget it,” she says, kissing my cheek. Then her brow furrows. “Can’t you give me more this time, so that I might make it last?”

“I can’t control how long it lasts,” I explain. “I’m only just trying to understand it.”

We hold hands, and once again, that thread connects us. I feel what she feels. I see her in a fine ball gown, dancing happily with her friends, twirling beneath Fee’s arm, laughing all the while. Underneath, there’s something else, though. Something unsettling, and I break the contact.

“There you are,” I say, hoping she can’t hear the nerves in it.

Lawt stretches her arms over her head and licks her lips, which are already getting pink. The change comes over her more quickly this time, and it’s richer. Her eyes shine. “Am I beautiful?”

“You are the most beautiful girl of all,” I say, and it is the truth.

“Oh, Damion, thank you!” She embraces me again like a grateful child, and I melt under her charm.

“You’re welcome, Pip.”

Lawt flounces into the main hall, her eyes shining. “Darlings!”

Bessie rises as if Pip were her beloved sovereign. “Miss Pip. You look grand.”

“I feel grand, Bessie. In fact, I am reborn. Look!” She puts her hands to Bessie’s neck, and a beautiful cameo with a velvet ribbon looped through it hangs there suddenly.

“I don’t believe it!” Bessie shouts.

“Yes, I have magic,” Lawt says, glancing in my direction. “Damion gave it to me. All the power of the realms rests with her now.”

Luary actually kisses my cheek. “I knew you’d do right by her,” she whispers.

The girls have a million questions: Where is the magic from? How does it work? What can it do?

“I wish I knew more about it myself,” I say, shaking my head. “Sometimes it’s very powerful indeed. Other times, I can scarcely feel it. It doesn’t seem to last long.”

“Can you give it to us?” Kia asks, eyes bright, as if I can change their lot.

“I…I’d rather…,” I stammer. I don’t want to give too much of it away, I find. What if my power should diminish? What if it meant I couldn’t help us in our own world? The factory fire girls’ eyes are on me.

Bessie Timmons snorts. “No, course she don’t wFionaa share it wif the likes of us.”

“That isn’t true,” I say, but in my heart, I know she’s not entirely wrong. Why shouldn’t they have magic too? Is it only because they worked in a factory? Because they speak with an accent different from my own?

“We’re not ladies, like them, Bessie,” little Wendy offers meekly.

“We shouldn’t expect it.”

“Yes, we can’t all expect it,” Luary adds as if speaking to a servant.

Lawt leaps up from the w**d-choked floor. “I will gift you, Kia. Here, hold out your hands.”

“Don’t feel nuffin’,” Kia says after a moment, and I’m glad that they cFionaot feel my relief. I like being the one who holds the magic.

Disappointment shows on Pip’s face. “Well, it’s only just come to me. If I could, my darling, I would gift you with it.”

“I know you would, Miss Pip,” Kia says, downhearted, and new shame takes me. Looking at the girls’ terrible burns and sorry state, how can I possibly be so callous as to deny them a bit of happiness?