Cassandra

by Nicola Shill

  The other children rolled around laughing. Ith muttered, ‘As I said, smart-aleck,’ then he gestured to the other two boys, ‘Pax and Rissin,’ and the girls, ‘Zia and Phee.’

  Cassandra smiled and nodded, but the hooligans were by now absorbed in their own merriment.

  Ith said, ‘Would you like to join us?’

  Cassandra thought that one day she would like Ith to teach her how to weave a basket, but for now she didn’t feel comfortable joining this tight-knit little group with their in-jokes.

  ‘I think I’ll go inside and help Iznaya.’

  Ith nodded and Cassandra stepped inside. Iznaya was standing in the centre of the room, holding thoroughly cute twin babies, one on each hip, rocking and humming. Cassandra didn’t know much about babies, but they seemed less threatening than the hooligans. ‘Would you like me to hold one?’ she offered.

  Iznaya smiled. ‘Thank you, dear.’ She turned to one side so that Cassandra could take the baby out of her arm. He was swaddled in a delicate, lacy blanket with only his head poking out the top. Cassandra lay him in the cradle of her arms and he immediately began to grizzle and struggle. She felt the first inkling that she might not be good at this.

  ‘He likes to be upright,’ Iznaya said, ‘like this.’ She turned and showed Cassandra how she was holding the other baby.

  Cassandra tried to move her baby, but although the wrapping gave his body a solidity that made him easy to handle, his head didn’t seem to be securely attached and lolled around as though it might fall off. Cassandra reacted to this terrifying thought by jerking him into her body so that his head knocked against her collarbone. Now he was howling and his blanket had slipped down to reveal tiny crumpled wings fluttering ineffectively on his back. Cassandra didn’t know whether to jiggle him or stand still, hold him tighter or looser, higher or lower, give up or persevere, but giving up seemed to be the best solution for everyone concerned. She thrust him back at Iznaya. The moment Iznaya took him, he transformed back into a peaceful baby.

  Maybe making friends with the hooligans would be easier, after all.

  Cassandra wandered to the front door and stepped outside. The scene had now changed considerably. Children swooped past clutching woven baskets in every shape and size, all heading for Ith, standing calmly in the middle of the swarm. His wings opened and buzzed and a second later he had disappeared into the colourful confusion of wings and bodies that moved as a mass out of the yard and into the bush beyond.

  — CHAPTER 18 —

  Gita

  Cassandra was alone.

  Behind her: the scary babies; in front: a quiet yard with only a small group of very young children playing under a Correa bush – a tree, really, at this size. She chose the children. If she remained standing here much longer, Iznaya might come out and try to save her. She stepped off the veranda into the sunshine and dawdled over to them.

  A little girl with an angelic baby face and the devil twinkling in her eyes stood up as Cassandra approached. Her hair was nut brown and curved around her little face to tickle her shoulders. Even with a fringe cut into it, she still managed to have long strands falling into her eyes. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ She held out an upturned Correa flower, full of water, dirt and grass seeds. The flower required both of the girl’s hands to hold it up.

  ‘Thank you.’ Cassandra took it, hoping she wouldn’t be forced to actually drink the contents. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘I’m Gita.’ She turned away to prepare another cup of tea. On her back fluttered glorious stained-glass-window wings of gelato colours heavily edged and veined in black.

  ‘My name is Cassandra.’

  Gita, having filled her own cup of tea, plopped down to sit on the ground. Her loose dress, made up of layers of filmy, pastel-coloured fabric, wafted down around her. Cassandra sat, too, and followed Gita’s example by pretending to sip her tea. She looked around at the group and spilled tea into her lap when she noticed a bird standing off to one side, apparently enjoying the company. At only slightly taller than Gita, it must have been some sort of tiny finch.

  ‘This is Lelu and Kisaniya,’ said Gita, nodding at the two other girls and ignoring the bird. They smiled sweetly and went on pretending to sip their tea. ‘And that’s Fosset.’ Gita looked around at a boy who was wearing a shirt that was so big on him it reached to his knees like a dress. He was conscientiously sweeping the ground with a broom made from a bundle of grass heads. ‘He’s sweeping the kitchen,’ Gita continued.

  Fosset stopped sweeping. ‘It was my birthday last week.’

  ‘Was it?’ said Cassandra. ‘How old were you?’

  ‘Thirty.’ He stood tall to demonstrate what a big boy he was.

  Cassandra was so shocked, she accidentally drank some of her tea. Unaware of her discomfort, the other children offered their ages, too.

  ‘I’m forty-one,’ said Lelu.

  ‘I’m thirty-eight,’ said Kisaniya.

  ‘I’m the oldest,’ said Gita. ‘I’m forty-six, but I’ll be forty-seven, soon. On the ninth of April.’

  ‘Mmmm!’ Cassandra swallowed again to make certain the brew would stay down before she risked opening her mouth to speak. ‘That’s my birthday.’

  Gita reached over and slipped her hand into Cassandra’s. ‘We can be sisters then.’

  Cassandra didn’t follow the logic, but it was a nice thought. Having recovered from her initial shock, it only now occurred to her that the children must have been joking about their ages. She offered a belated laugh.

  ‘Lelu and Kisaniya and Fosset can’t fly yet, but I can. Do you want to see?’ Gita didn’t wait for a reply before she was up in the air, fluttering around the yard. The other children jumped up with shouts of, ‘I can almost fly,’ and, ‘Watch me,’ and began to chase Gita around the yard, leaping into the air and flapping their wings. A few times, Lelu actually became airborne on her pretty butterfly wings and skimmed above the ground for short distances. Cassandra wasn’t surprised that Fosset couldn’t fly yet since his wings seemed to be no more than a messy bunch of autumn leaves, twigs and vines that were still trying to work out what to do with themselves. Now that the children had the yard all to themselves, this game continued on until the older children arrived home with their baskets full of food.

  After lunch was cleared away, most of the children lay around the yard in small groups and fell asleep. The hooligans sat in a tight circle in the farthest corner, protected on two sides by the hedge, talking and laughing. Ith fell asleep in a sunny chair with Boggins dozing at his feet.

  Cassandra wandered towards Iznaya, who was sitting in a rocking chair in the shade, knitting. She looked up as Cassandra approached, but her hands never stilled for a moment and the delicate pattern continued to grow. The yarn was a translucent silk that seemed to draw any available light into itself and variegate it into colourful bands. Cassandra’s eyes traced Iznaya’s yarn to its source and she froze in horror when she found it. At Iznaya’s feet stood a spider with silver, yellow, red and black stripes and dots across its abdomen, spinning web as fast as Iznaya could knit it – and Iznaya knitted very fast. Cassandra recognised it as a St. Andrew’s Cross spider. It was one of her favourites in the garden, usually found sitting upside down with its long thin legs forming a cross in the middle of an impressive web decorated with zigzag ribbons, also in the shape of a cross. Cassandra wasn’t normally particularly frightened of spiders, and she knew this species wasn’t considered dangerous to humans, but that was when it had been less than the size of her thumbnail. Now, it was as big as her head, and she was no longer so sure it was harmless.

  Iznaya looked up and smiled warmly at Cassandra. She motioned to a seat beside her. ‘Come and sit here, Cassandra.’

  Cassandra was thankful the seat was on the other side of Iznaya from the spider. She felt confident that Iznaya would not have invited her to sit if there was any chance of her being in danger. Even so, she walked in a wide arc away from the spider as she approach
ed the seat. ‘What are you knitting?’

  ‘Ahhh … it’s a secret,’ laughed Iznaya. ‘It’s a present for someone special.’

  That reminded Cassandra: ‘Fosset said that he had a birthday last week.’

  ‘Mmmm.’ Iznaya smiled down at her knitting.

  ‘He said he turned thirty.’

  ‘Mmmm.’

  ‘Was that a joke?’

  Iznaya’s hands stilled suddenly and she looked up at Cassandra with anxious eyes. ‘Cassandra, ten human years are equivalent to one year of ours.’

  Cassandra tried to do the maths in her head, but it just wouldn’t compute. One of theirs to ten of hers … that would mean … ‘So, if I was fae, I would be one hundred and sixty-something years old?’ She waited for Iznaya to laugh.

  But Iznaya didn’t laugh. She raised her eyebrows and nodded.

  Cassandra immediately felt juvenile and immature. She muttered, more to herself than to Iznaya, ‘How can you live for that long and still be a teenager?’

  ‘If you were a fae teenager, you’d be in there with the babies.’ Iznaya twitched her head towards the house. ‘From one hundred to one hundred and ninety-nine years you’re known as a centenarian.’

  A disturbing thought suddenly occurred to Cassandra. ‘What speed am I aging at while I’m here?’

  ‘You still age at the same rate you always have.’

  Cassandra considered that for a moment. ‘Which means that, if I stay, I’ll be dying of old age when you’ve barely aged … what? Eight years.’

  Iznaya resumed her knitting, looking down at it as though it required her full attention. After a few seconds, she stopped and sighed. Looking back up at Cassandra, she said, ‘Yes. That’s exactly what it means.’

  — CHAPTER 19 —

  Hostile Territory

  When Cassandra arrived home late in the afternoon, she found that Chayton and Brack had dismantled her bedroom and built stairs up to Tani’s room for her.

  Tonight of all nights, she had needed some time in her private refuge away from this hostile world while she thought about what Iznaya had told her. Now she had lost her sanctuary. She’d been hoping they would be very slow getting around to this, maybe even decide not to bother with it at all.

  Well, she had two choices that she could see: she could stand here in the foyer looking forlorn until someone forced her to go upstairs, or she could resign herself to the inevitable and at least retain some pride by taking the initiative herself. She marched up the stairs, pushed open the door to Tani’s room and stopped. Tani was already in there holding the door of her wardrobe open and peering inside with a sour look on her face. This was not what Cassandra had wanted. She had wanted to get into the room before Tani so that Tani would be coming into Cassandra’s territory, not Cassandra into Tani’s. A minor variation, particularly since it was Tani’s room in the first place, but it made all the difference to the balance of power for Cassandra. Now, she was the intruder. Nevertheless, she walked in confidently.

  ‘This side of the wardrobe is yours,’ snapped Tani.

  Cassandra walked slowly over and looked inside. Clothes had been pushed left and right with space in the middle. On each side at the bottom sat a set of drawers. Tani had gestured to the clothes on the right. Cassandra realised that Oonnora must have had clothes made for her. She was dying to take a closer look at them, but not now with Tani watching. Tani snatched a dress from a hanger on the left, stepped back, turned around and began to undress.

  If Tani wanted total denial, Cassandra was happy to oblige. Pretending Tani didn’t exist worked for her. She grabbed the first dress her hand touched on the right of the wardrobe and moved past Tani to the other side of the room – apparently her side – to dress.

  Cassandra held the dress up to examine it. It hung limply on the hanger. Yuck. The style was so simple it was boring. And the colour! No one wore this shade of yellow nowadays. Cassandra wondered whether they were deliberately trying to humiliate her, but with Tani in the room, she was determined not to show any weakness. She pulled the dress over her head and turned to face an intricately carved cheval mirror, which, thankfully, was on her side of the room. She was transfixed. The dress fit perfectly. It was better than perfect: no dress had ever suited her so well before. The colour made her skin appear to glow with health.

  Tani, having finished dressing, marched out of the room. After checking that she’d really gone and was not hovering just outside the door, Cassandra walked across to the wardrobe and looked at the rest of her new clothes. The colours and styles were incredibly varied. There seemed to be no conformity to any particular fashion. Cassandra decided to spend some time trying them all on when there was no risk that Tani might flutter back in at any moment. Right now, Oonnora was calling out that it was time for them to leave for the revelry.

  When Cassandra made her way down the stairs to the foyer, Brack, Oonnora and Tani were already waiting. Cassandra joined them, and the four of them continued to wait, looking expectantly towards Chayton’s bedroom door. It didn’t take long for Tani to become impatient.

  ‘CHAAAYTON!’ she yelled skyward.

  A moment later, Chayton’s door opened and he sky-dived down from his room. He was careful to land a good distance away from Cassandra. Brack still looked annoyed and gave Chayton a warning glare, and Cassandra thought she heard a low rumbling, like thunder. Oonnora led the way through the front door, and Brack followed, looking like he would have preferred to stay home and shout at Chayton. With Brack’s back turned, Chayton took the opportunity to walk through the door at precisely the same time as Cassandra, so that for a second they were squashed against each other. Cassandra’s body tingled as it remembered the feel of his.

  ‘Grow up,’ Tani muttered behind them.

  Chayton winked at Cassandra and disappeared into the air.

  The revelry that night was almost identical to the previous night’s, without the final humiliating scene with Chayton’s friends. Cassandra stood mute, all of Tani’s friends ignored her, and Tani did, too. Cassandra kept glancing over to Chayton’s group, unsure of whether she wanted him to look up and invite her over or not. What would she say if he did? She wanted to be with him, but not with those friends around. She just wanted to be alone with him again. The gazillionth time she looked over, Brack’s apprentice, Prel, noticed her watching them and nudged Chayton, speaking intimately into his ear. He turned and glanced at Cassandra but his look held no hint of desire or even, as far as she could discern, affection. He shook his head and made a comment, which caused those in his immediate vicinity to laugh and look around at her. She turned quickly away, almost as humiliated as she had been the night before, and wished herself invisible. At least now she was pretty confident she knew what they thought of her.

  Cassandra hoped nobody else had noticed, but she wasn’t so lucky. Tani tutted her tongue and huffed out an irritated breath. She leaned slightly towards Cassandra to speak in a low voice, ‘Dad warned Chayton and his friends to keep away from you.’ She paused for a moment as if trying to decide whether to say more, then added, ‘He can be pretty scary when he wants to be.’

  Cassandra was grateful to Tani for telling her that. Surprised too. Tani could have chosen to leave her in the dark. She looked around to thank her, but Tani raised her eyebrows in a disdainful expression. ‘Try not to be any more pathetic than you already are.’

  Okay, still not friends, then. Not that Cassandra had even wished to be.

  So, Chayton wasn’t approaching her because he wasn’t allowed to, not because he didn’t want to. It made her feel a little better, even if it was obvious that Chayton’s friends thought she was a joke and Tani thought she was pathetic.

  She didn’t look in Chayton’s direction again for the rest of the night.

  — CHAPTER 20 —

  Eavesdropping

  The three humans sitting around the table didn’t notice the extra light glittering in the darkened window that owed nothing to the globe suspended
in the ornate shade above them.

  Although fae were invisible to most humans, their luminous auras were not, so in darkness they were vulnerable. Lorcan had learnt long ago how to camouflage his aura from humans at night by blending in with their artificial lighting. One method he had perfected was to sit on a windowsill right up against the glass so that his aura appeared to be no more than reflected light.

  Lorcan was not officially a member of the council of elders. The council comprised all adult fae in Gillwillan, although most didn’t attend meetings with any sort of regularity. In fae society, one was not considered to be an adult at a particular age: adulthood was an honour bestowed by the council when a member of the community had accrued what was considered to be sufficient wisdom and maturity and was well established in a vocation. Most fae did not achieve that level until they were around two hundred and twenty years old – twenty-two by human age. Some even had to wait until they were getting on for two hundred and fifty. But at the tender age of one hundred and eighty-nine, Lorcan was already practically considered to be an adult. Everyone knew it wouldn’t be long. So it was no surprise to anyone when the council invited him to attend a meeting to be briefed on this delicate situation. He was an obvious choice to send on this mission because he was one of their best watchers and particularly good at exactly this kind of human reconnaissance.

  Lorcan had been here twice over the last two days, observing the humans and searching the house. He’d come again late this afternoon but had found nobody home. He was about to leave when he heard the telephone ring. The answering machine clicked to life, and after a few seconds of silence, Lorcan heard a woman’s voice.

  ‘Peter, I’m coming over tonight to talk about Cassandra whether you like it or not. Expect me at seven.’

  So now, a little after seven, here he was, attempting to make his aura blend into the window.

  The humans were arguing. Lorcan found the dynamics very interesting. The older lady, the owner of the voice on the telephone, was accusing the other two of not caring enough.

  ‘Where’s the desperation, Peter? I don’t see it. I’d like to have my granddaughter back, if that’s alright with you.’