Definitely a dream.
It’s nice to hear your voice.
I’ve never stopped talking.
Did I stop listening?
Mom, you’re in danger.
What do you mean?
Get out, Mom. Get out—
Chapter 40
“Leave her alone, Valarie.” Nate’s voice is firm but pleading.
“Why should I? Because you love her? Well, you know what? You loved me once—me—but I never stopped loving you.” The cruise director’s mouth twists into a nasty snarl. Her shoulder-length brown hair is tangled with leaves and mud.
Valarie straddles Tessa’s cocoon high above the forest floor. A rock with a lacerated edge is in her hand. Her other hand loops around the sticky thread above her. She leans forward and back, swinging the cocoon and kicking it with her heels.
“Valarie, climb down. You’re going to fall,” Archie calls.
Ardenal is already halfway up the nearest tree. “I don’t want to burn you, Valarie, but I will,” he warns.
“If you torch me, you’ll also burn Tessa’s thread and make her fall. Maybe that’d be perfect. The selfish beauty perishes and the one who no one noticed finally receives the attention she deserved all along. You see, I can tell. None of you care about me. No one has ever cared. Not my wretched self-absorbed mother. Not anyone at Constellations, though I rarely slept, making sure the passengers and staff were fed and entertained and massaged and catered to and their pets walked and their children contained so they could toss back bottles of champagne that I, of course, cleaned up. Did you ever really care about me, Nathaniel? Did you?”
“I did. I promise you, I did.” “Then what? Not blond enough for you? Not complicated enough? I didn’t need saving?”
Lady Sophia fans herself with her hand. “Oh, good heavens!”
“Good heavens!” mocks Zeno.
“I . . . I didn’t know what I wanted back then. I was lost, Valarie.” Nate struggles for words. “You’re great; really, it’s my loss.”
“Not good enough. Not even close.” Valarie runs the rock against the strand of web beneath her. Tessa’s cocoon bounces a foot lower in the air. “This will be easier than I thought.”
“No, wait, Valarie! A part of me will always love you . . .” Nate begs, “please, come down and let’s talk.”
Ardenal sends a blade of burning grass shooting toward Valarie, but she leans, and Tessa’s silky line is singed. Ardenal sends a fireball but Valarie ducks out of its way as well. The branch breaks under Ardenal’s weight and he barely catches himself. Only a few boughs separate him from the place where Tessa’s webbed thread is affixed. He continues to climb upward on the dangerously unstable branches.
“Oh, give up, Ardenal—Tessa will never love you, never forgive you, no matter how valiant you attempt to be. And Nate: I’m sick of your words. Empty promises. All of them! I’m sick of feeling this way. You made me like this, you know? You broke me.” She slices the web, which comes apart with a snap. Valarie, holding fast to the sticky thread, is catapulted into the canopy above. Tessa, unaware in her cocoon, plummets.
“No!” screams Ardenal. He reaches for Tessa’s cocoon, but his fingers narrowly miss.
Rolace—who had disappeared for a time, exhausted from the spinning—emerges from the darkness, leaps down, and surrounds Tessa’s cocoon with legs like jewelry claws clutching a gem. His twelfth leg tows a new strand of web, which he affixes to the cocoon before scaling up its thin glowing line, in pursuit. Tessa sways, slower each time, until her cocoon hangs again unmoving. Those on the ground watch branches flutter where Valarie, hidden behind dense foliage, struggles to escape.
Valarie screams.
Rolace appears again. Pinched between the strong palpi that jut out of the man-spider’s mouth is Valarie, fighting to free herself. He ejects a new thread, fastening it to a high branch and pulling it low to effortlessly bind Valarie’s ankles. She shouts profanities at Rolace and lashes out at him with the rock that frayed Tessa’s original line. Valarie slices one of his four spider eyes. The rock falls to the earth as Rolace weaves a cocoon around her.
“Her will is strong and her heart is brave—but also evil. I do not know what will become of her.” Rolace shakes his head sadly while watching the fresh cocoon with Valarie inside quiver and quake. He sighs mightily and calls, “Maiden, would you please?”
The Maiden of Olearon approaches as Rolace lowers himself to crouch on the mossy earth. “Would you cauterize this eye for me? I’d rather lose its vision than let it sicken me slowly.”
“As you wish.” The Maiden lays her hands on the deep gash to the extreme left of the four spider-eyes, but before she ignites, she turns to the others. She gestures for the humans—Archie, Nate, and Lady Sophia—and the Olearons—Ardenal, Azkar, and Nameris—and Zeno too, if he is agreeable, to brace Rolace’s nervous legs. Then, the Maiden’s hands flare. Rolace makes no sound. It only lasts a moment.
Chapter 41
While the humans and Kameelo hang from their cocoons—with Valarie’s still fresh from Rolace’s spinning—the great spider entertains his attentive audience with stories. He tells of his origin on Jarr-Wya, which he is not certain of himself, though he suspects his egg stowed away from some distant world. There, he presumes, are millions of his kind, compared to here, on the island, where he is both king and peasant, baker and cleaner, best friend and worst enemy. When Rolace laughs at his own plays on words, he winces in pain where Valarie destroyed his left-most eye. This does not, however, deter Rolace. He swings and climbs as he rattles on.
Archie begins to slink backward, away from the group, when he realizes that obtaining a magical gift is not a time-sensitive process. Rolace’s stories remind him of the secret history of the Olearons, which he is eager to study. He slips from the clearing into the shrubbery at its perimeter.
Archie dances his fingers across the glass and takes a deep breath—smiling, though he doesn’t realize it—ready to read. The surface of the glass is only beginning to cloud when Archie is torn from his hiding spot and roughly dragged by his jacket’s collar back to the clearing. The firm hands that shove him down are Azkar’s, but it is the Maiden who speaks.
“Give it to me now,” she orders.
Archie looks for a place to conceal the glass, but it is in plain sight. Even the leather envelope is gone, dropped in the forest a moment past. Reluctantly, Archie rests the glass in the Maiden’s hand.
“Azkar, burn him!”
“Wait, no!” Ardenal yells. He runs between his father and his comrade. Archie is surprised to see Zeno, as well, jump to his defense. It is not clear if the Bangol’s gesture is one of self-preservation—loath to be with alone with the Olearons—or of genuine friendship.
“He is a traitor, Ardenal. He took something that does not belong to him. After all we have done for Archibald—I should have roasted him on their ship. I believed you when you said your father—your people—were worth saving. Was I wrong to trust you? Stand aside, warrior,” the Maiden growls.
Ardenal does not budge. “What is it that he took? I’m sure it was a mistake.” The Maiden conceals the glass in her jumpsuit.
“The concern is not what it is, but who it belongs to. The Lord will be furious to learn of this betrayal. I am confident he would order this human to be scorched.”
“It was an accidental discovery,” Archie pulls himself up from the dirt. “I meant no offence.”
“Fine.” The Maiden spreads her fingers and blades of grass and other forest debris rise and amalgamate into one long glowing band of fire. “I will not continue—my warriors will not continue—until this human is bound. We will wait to see how the Lord responds.”
“That is very gracious of you, thank you, Maiden—but please,” Ardenal begs, “my dad is old and our chords will burn him to the bone. What if we use the rope from Kameelo’s supplies, then secure it in place with the lock from the bag of food rations? You will have your captive and he will rema
in unharmed—for now.”
Archie objects, “How can I be of help on our mission if I’m tied up?”
“True,” Zeno agrees emphatically.
“I will not waste more breath on this matter. Here—” the Maiden retrieves Kameelo’s rope and Azkar provides the lock. “You do it, Ardenal. Prove your loyalty.”
Chapter 42
Tessa claws harder against the invisible wall in the darkness of silver stars. She is unsure of the trustworthiness of the voice she heard. More likely, she reasons, it is my own imagination. Maybe a lingering hallucination of the Banji. Either way, I need to break free of this.
Tessa uses every muscle to jerk and tug against the cocoon, but her movements are limited. She can smell the iron in her blood and with every motion of her hands her fingertips burn. What did Rolace say I must do? She chokes on the webbing—and remembers. She jams her shoulder against her chin, snapping her jaw into place, chomping down and gnawing at the webbing with her teeth. She wiggles her forearms within their tight restraints, finally moving her hands up to her mouth. No matter how she yanks, the silver thread—interlaced and knotted within her veins—cannot be extracted. Instead, she swallows the webbing as her teeth finally slice the resilient silk.
Moments later, her fingers find a tear in the cocoon and poke their way through. A sliver of light shines in. Inch by inch, Tessa widens the hole until she can grab both sides and stretch it wide. Pressing her face against the hole, she sucks in air that wheezes down her throat. She forces her head out and then her shoulders. It is bright outside, maybe mid-morning, Tessa guesses.
“You did it, Tess!” Ardenal’s voice rings up to her. “Let yourself fall. I’ve got you.”
Too weary to argue, Tessa wrenches her hips and legs out of the cocoon, and drops.
On the ground, she mumbles, “Ouch!” at Ardenal’s warm hands on her gaping jaw, forcing it wide. Tessa blinks to focus her eyes until she can make out the Olearon beside Ardenal. It is the Maiden. At first, Tessa is comforted to see her, but then confused. The Maiden takes a deep breath and exhales fire into Tessa’s mouth. Tessa screams, but it’s inaudible. The only sound is the hissing of the shriveling web inside her throat and clogged lungs, within her bloated belly and arteries.
As the hissing fades, Tessa’s normal breathing returns. I made it, she celebrates. Then she asks aloud, “I am one of you, aren’t I? That’s why you can breathe fire into me and I’m not burned.” It hurts to speak. Her jaw is sore with both fatigue and pain. She slouches in the moss.
Lady Sophia shoves Nameris and Zeno aside as she rushes to Tessa. “Oh, wonderful!” Her double chin bobbles as she speaks. “I’m so glad you’re okay!”
Tessa tips to the side and expels a mound of slimy, bloody webbing.
“¡Me cago en la mar! My dear—that reeks to high heaven!”
“To high heaven,” Zeno mocks.
“Oh, come here you!” Lady Sophia orders Zeno. She pulls him in close and surrounds him with her arms. “Do mothers of your kind give children affection? You lash out as if you’re starved of it! This is what Valarie has taught me. That we all must give a little love.”
“You are crushing me in your bosoms, woman!” Zeno sneers, but does not fight himself free.
“Tess—you look the same!” Ardenal says as Tessa frantically examines her legs and hands and chest. “You look like you,” he chuckles.
“I’m happy you’re safe,” Nate sighs, hanging back—an expression of somber reflection on his face—since Valarie’s capture.
“If I look the same, then what is my power?” Tessa wonders. She tries jumping. She sings a few chords, though pitifully, Lady Sophia informs her. “Same skin, same voice, same limited athletic ability,” Tessa notes. Every part of her body she touches feels familiar. She slows her racing mind and shuts her eyes. Power, she thinks, come forth! But nothing happens. She clears her mind, waiting for a vision, but all she conjures is a stronger headache.
Furious, Tessa turns to find Rolace to demand an answer. “Rolace!” she hollers.
“Not now, human,” Nameris warns. “Leave the spider be.”
“Wait—” Tessa crinkles her forehead. “I see four empty cocoons . . . so, who is in the fifth?”
“Valarie,” Nate answers. “Tessa, I’m so sorry . . .”
“Valarie?”
“She tried to cut you down—Rolace saved you,” says Ardenal.
“I never meant to put you in harm’s way.” Nate hangs his head. “It’s my fault. I should have treated her better; at least drawn a hard line when our relationship ended.”
“It’s done now,” Ardenal says. “I think we have all learned to be more observant.”
“Tessa!” Harry and Donna call, fracturing their gloom. The couple joins them. They look the same at first, but when Tessa embraces the pair, their bodies feel peculiar. She investigates, taking Donna’s hands in her own. Instead of wrinkled, pale, and loose skin, they are firm and smooth. It is the same for Harry.
“Are—are those . . . scales?” Tessa stammers. The couple nod. Their bodies shine with subtle, but perfect staggered layers of cosmine and keratin. “What are you?”
“We don’t know, exactly,” Donna admits. Her smile lines are gone, though she still has her crackly old voice. “We also have gills.” She points to her neck.
“I think this means we can breathe underwater.” Harry chuckles. “I feel thirsty just thinking about it.”
“And where is Duggie-Sky?” Tessa asks Archie, but her father-in-law is not there. “Archie?”
“Here, Tessa.” Archie’s voice is sad. He steps into the gathering.
“Why are you tied up? Who did this to you?”
“Ardenal did it,” the Maiden answers. “Archibald betrayed my trust, the trust of the Lord. He stole something private and precious. Ardenal has demonstrated that he feels the same.”
“That’s ridiculous. Archie is not a thief; there must be a mistake. Here, let me help you.” Tessa strains against the rope but it does not stretch.
“Back away, human, or you will be bound by the same fate.” The tone of the Maiden’s voice, its depth and quiver, convince Tessa to drop her hands.
“Leave it alone, Tess,” whispers Ardenal. “I will explain later, but for now, let this go.” Tessa studies Ardenal’s face and recognizes the protectiveness of his manner. She nods and again inquires about Duggie-Sky’s whereabouts.
“Where is exactly the right question,” Archie replies weakly, as Duggie-Sky appears at Tessa’s side. Then disappears. Then pops up twenty steps away. Then peeks from behind Archie once more. “He’s having a rollicking good time. The Olearons speculate it’s a relocation gift.”
“Personal teleportation,” the Maiden explains. “There are many benefits to this. Duggie-Sky may teleport away from danger—or into it, if our purposes require a spy, for example.”
“Your purposes?” sneers Archie. “And you call me the traitor? Come here, Duggie-Sky, wherever you are.” The child huddles beside Archie and swings the lock back and forth.
“Not at all, human. I was merely suggesting that there are many possibilities, some of which Duggie-Sky must discover on his own.”
“And dare I ask about Kameelo?” Tessa sighs. The company point up to the blazing azure sky bursting with rotund, smoky-white clouds. There is a streak of red. Then another. “Is he flying?”
Kameelo’s joyful hoot and “Yahoo!” reaches them on the breeze.
“I’m happy for you all, I really am—but I don’t get it.” grumbles Tessa. “I thought that this torturous process was to help me save Ella.”
“Nothing is guaranteed.” Rolace’s voice startles Tessa. “I am sorry that I could not assist you on your mission. At least your friends discovered their gifts. Perhaps they will prove of great benefit in locating your daughter.”
“Your eye,” Tessa draws near to the spider’s face. She touches him tenderly. Rolace folds closed his wounded eye, his complexion morphing; the nose and eyes
and lips of the elderly man return. Tessa smiles with compassion at Rolace. “The others told me what you did for me. Thank you. I am so sorry you got hurt on my account.”
“You may not have realized, Tessa, but you saved me first,” Rolace says. “Since the Star fell, the Banji have begun to disappear. Especially here, in the white woodland where the soil is thin, thanks to the desert—the poison is dense. The Banji are fragile, though fierce, as you have discovered. Since I cannot cross the sand, I needed your help. It is the Banji, you see, that infuses my web with Naiu. I must rest now, please do excuse me. I wish you all safety and success on your journey.”
“What about Valarie?” asks Nate. “Is she okay in there? We’re not leaving without her, are we?”
Rolace scales his web and nudges her cocoon. “None have stayed in this long and survived.”
Chapter 43
“Now that this detour is complete, let us resume our travels north,” Nameris grumbles impatiently and sets off. The Maiden nods her head of thick dreadlocks in agreement and—followed by the company of Olearons and humans, plus Zeno—begins to march through the whitewoods behind Nameris.
Tessa hesitates, then hurries to catch up. “I know we agreed to go north, but . . .” she trails off as the company give her their attention. Her voice sounds small in the dense, echoing wood, which gobbles up her protest. They are going to think I’m crazy, like I would have of Arden if he came home ranting about such strangeness, she scolds herself. She second guesses what she heard. She talks herself out of mentioning the voice, then back into it, convinced she must in fact share what transpired in secret while trapped inside the cocoon. Tessa straightens her back and wedges her way into the center of the group, to the side of the Maiden and Ardenal.
“Can this wait, human?” Nameris barks back. “We have spent precious time we will never make up at this sluggish pace. You are not familiar with Jarr-Wya. What can you possibly have to add?”
“Go on, Tess.” Ardenal jumps in, glaring at Nameris.
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