Starmaker Stella (Dica Series Book 6)

by Clive S. Johnson

  “Nephril?” it thinly called, but when he turned, he found no one there. He frowned and peered about the garden.

  The stems of a close by hydrangea twitched and a face peered out, that of what looked like a Yuhlm gutter urchin; grubby, gaunt, matted hair close but roughly cropped, a dirty graze across its brow. Hauntingly familiar eyes, though, peered from beneath the grime.

  “Please, Nephril?”

  He stepped uncertainly back down to the path and stood before the bush.

  “Who...” His eyes started wide and he fell back a pace. “Who ... who are you?” but those eyes had already answered.

  “By all that be right,” he gasped. “Stella!” and he watched a trace of tears reveal the pallor of the face now before his startled gaze, as he held out his arms in welcome.

  38 An Enforced Fast Broken

  Stella’s weight shocked Nephril when he gathered her in his arms, sweeping her up when he felt her legs give way. As he turned for the front door, she weakly struggled against him.

  “No, Nephril. Not inside,” and he faltered.

  “I cannot leave thee out here, Stella. Just look at thee.”

  “Not if Winifred’s here. Please, Nephril.”

  “Whinny?”

  “Don’t let her see me, whatever you do.”

  “But why?”

  “No one must see me, only you. Don’t you understand? No one.”

  Nephril stared into her eyes, his brows knotted.

  “No one with any weft and weave, Nephril.”

  “Ah, now I do indeed understand,” and he forced a smile. “Fear thee not, mine dearest Stella. Whinny be no danger there, I assure thee. I will tell thee more anon, but for now, trust me, eh?”

  She searched his eyes, closely, until slowly nodding.

  Fumbling the door knob, he finally pushed the door open. “Whinny?” he called out. “Whinny? Quick woman.”

  As he hurried as best he could down the hall, Winifred appeared in the kitchen doorway.

  “In Leiyatel’s name, what’s going on here?”

  Nephril felt Stella wince.

  “Is there hot water?” he said.

  “Plenty, Nephril. But who...”

  “Go and run a good, hot bath, Whinny. We will be in the kitchen. Have we got eggs?”

  “Loads. They’re up on the shelf, but...” and she gasped, then gaped. “Mistress Stella. Oh, dear Leiyatel, what’s happened?”

  “The bath, Whinny? Now, if thou would? And stop saying ‘Leiyatel’,” at which she stared at him before closing her mouth and bustling upstairs.

  Nephril carried Stella into the kitchen and gently placed her in a chair, the arms of which she grabbed as her head lolled against its back.

  “Scrambled eggs, Stella. They will only take a minute,” but he stared down at the state of her for a moment before reaching up to the shelf. As he clattered the frying pan onto the range, Nephril heard the bath being filled upstairs. Eggs were soon broken into a bowl and whisked, the sound of the bath now swamped by the splutter and angry hiss of their cooking.

  “Not up to Whinny’s standard, I am sure, but it will give thee some sustenance all the same,” Nephril said when he spooned it all onto a dish and set it before her on the table.

  Using the serving spoon, Stella crammed her mouth full but soon choked.

  “Slow down,” Nephril told her as he sliced and buttered some bread. “When did thou last eat?”

  Stella stopped coughing, wiped her mouth on her sleeve and stared into the distance. “Err, yesterday morning I think.” She swallowed, heavily. “It was eggs then – raw ones, mind,” and she shuddered.

  “Right,” Winifred said as she came into the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel, “as soon as you’ve eaten that mess, your bath’s ready.”

  When Stella shortly wiped her plate with the last of her bread, Winifred could hold back no longer. “Whatever’s happened to you? How did you ever get into such a state?”

  Nephril answered for her, in part. He told Winifred how the fire had been at the neighbour’s farmhouse, and how everyone thought Stella had been lost to it.

  “Thy mother,” he carefully told Stella, “be convinced she saw thee consumed by the blaze, saw thy very body with thy bag beside it.”

  Stella’s face dropped. “Oh, Mum, I’m so sorry. More pain for you both, for them all, but they can’t know the truth – not yet.”

  When they only stared at her, she assured them it hadn’t been her intention, not at the outset. “It was the old man’s bedside lamp. He knocked it to the floor and it took so quickly. The paraffin, you see. The only way I could get out was through the window.”

  She stared down at the table top, clearly reliving the horror. “I got... I got out onto the windowsill, but it was such a long drop to the yard. I didn’t know what to do,” and she lifted tearstained eyes to them. “Then ... then there was an almighty whoosh and I remember falling. I ... I saw Tabatha appear, turning her startled face up at me before I landed on her. She ... she broke my fall ... and ... and I must’ve broken something of hers by the sound of it. Oh, it was awful,” and she shuddered before crying into her hands.

  “I think,” Winifred said, her voice unusually soft, “we should get you into that bath before it goes cold,” and she glanced at Nephril.

  “Yes. Come on, mine dear.”

  “I must have been dazed or something, Nephril. By the time I came to my senses, I couldn’t get near for the heat, nowhere near the old man’s daughter. Nor ... nor my bag, not where it’d fallen beside her.”

  “Take my arm, Mistress Stella,” Winifred cajoled. “The bath’ll do you good.”

  “It was only when I saw lights coming the idea struck me,” and her face creased beneath its layer of muck. “Oh, I’m so sorry, everyone, but the chance was just too good to miss,” and her words slurred into weeping as Nephril put his arm around her waist.

  “Thou can tell us later, Stella. When thou art stronger,” Nephril told her, and she sniffed and nodded as she let them lift her to her feet between them.

  For a while, Nephril paced back and forth outside the bathroom door, his mind torn between worry for Stella and elation at what her survival now meant for their plans. He had to return to the kitchen, to thwart his urge to march in and ask there and then where she had found her father’s cask.

  “All in good time,” he kept telling himself. “All in good time.”

  39 A Secret for a Secret

  “I’ve tucked her up in bed with a bottle, in the spare room,” Winifred told Nephril as she came into the kitchen. “She says she’s fine talking with you if you want to go up there now, but I reckon you might find her fast asleep by the time you get there. She looks fair done in, poor lass.”

  Nephril tried not to look too keen. “Did she say anything to thee?”

  “Once I’d helped her wash, she only seemed up to lying back in the heat with her eyes closed. I didn’t want her nodding off, not in the bath, so I stayed with her. I must admit, though, I did get the feeling she was a bit wary of me. I don’t know why.”

  When Nephril tapped on the door to the spare bedroom, it gained no response. He tapped a little louder and opened the door enough to peek in. Winifred had been right. Stella lay well tucked up and seemingly fast asleep.

  He was just easing the door to when he heard her say his name, and looked in again. Her large, dark eyes peeped above the turned back sheet, under which she’d hidden her nose, like a comforter.

  “I thought thou were asleep, mine dear. How be thou feeling now?”

  Stella pointed her nose out from beneath the sheet and smiled. “Much better now, Nephril. Thank you for everything.”

  “Oh, I think the most part be due Whinny. I, for mine own, only fed thee badly cooked eggs.”

  “And carried me in ... and made me buttered doorsteps,” and her grin captivated him.

  He sat beside the bed. “Whinny says thou art happy to speak with me now.”

  “I should sle
ep, but I need to put my mind at rest first.”

  “As do I, Stella.”

  “You?”

  “I know thou were reticent about saying before, but I really do think thou should tell me where thy father’s cask be hidden.”

  Stella looked uncertain. “It just seemed so wrong somehow. Maybe I was feeling guilty, still do I suppose, you know, about taking his box of papers.”

  “If I were to tell thee Leiyatel has recently robbed thy father of his own memory of where he hid it, would that change thy feelings?”

  “She hasn’t has she? The bastard,” but then she looked chastened. “Sorry, but I’ve grown to despise Leiyatel. Do you blame me?” to which Nephril shook his head.

  “It’s in the... It’s in the cold store at Blisteraising, Nephril, within the only brick support to the slate bench.”

  “Thank thee, Stella,” and Nephril breathed out a long breath. “Thou hast put mine mind greatly at rest, mine dear. Thou see, without it we could not have fulfilled thy wish.”

  Stella blinked at Nephril’s smiling face until a grin split her own and lit her eyes. She pushed herself up and wrapped her arms around his neck, squealing and hugging him hard.

  When Nephril returned her hug, his hands pressed against bare flesh, and he froze. Stella slowly pulled away, glanced down and grabbed the sheet to her chest.

  “Oops. Sorry, Nephril. I forgot,” but her grin quickly returned. “It’s just, well, such wonderful news. You really do mean it will work, that we can replace Leiyatel? You’ve checked with dad?”

  Nephril nodded.

  “Yes, yes, yes. We’ve got you now, you...”

  “Provided the bastard does not learn of it,” and Nephril grinned as he took Stella’s hand in his own.

  “Speaking of which,” Stella now more soberly said, “are you sure about Winifred? Sure her weft and weave can’t give me away to Leiyatel?”

  He squeezed her hand before tracing a finger along the scratch across her forehead, then glanced at her stubble of hair. “What happened to thy lovely long locks, Stella?”

  She raised her eyes and rubbed her hand over the rough bristle. “The back got burnt off in the fire. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself, although I’ve kept out of the way these past few days. So, when I came across some sheep shears in the outhouse of a farm, I chopped it all off, as best I could.”

  She gave him a lopsided grin. “You don’t find it fetching then? A bit wild maybe?”

  Although Nephril laughed, his eyes held something else as he gazed at her freshly scrubbed face, her point of a nose, large eyes and enticing mouth.

  He coughed and looked down at his hands. “Whinny does indeed have a weft and weave, Stella, but thou hath nothing to fear from it.” He sat back and she slipped her nose under the bedcovers again.

  “She is the granddaughter of a friend of mine, one Lady Charlotte of Haweshead Manor, in the far north-western corner of the Vale of Plenty. The Mudark family history is not a happy one, mine dear. Thou see, an ancestor, long ago, had a rare proclivity...”

  “A what, Nephril?”

  “A liking, Stella, despite unmatched wefts and weaves – or perhaps because of it – for bedfellows not of her own High Dican birth.” He picked at a loose thread in the coverlet. “Well, one such incautious liaison sired a viable offspring, one that went on to sire its own before the transgression came to light, by which time it was too late.”

  “You’re losing me, Nephril.”

  At last, the loose thread no longer held its attraction and Nephril returned his gaze to Stella. “The match produced a line with a mixed and therefore damaged weft and weave, one the whole family now suffers. One that like thine own makes them invisible to Leiyatel, but that be a secret, Stella, so keep it to thyself.”

  She nodded. “In which case, Nephril, that wayward ancestor has now earned a place in my heart, whoever they were.”

  Nephril laughed again as he leant forward, finding his hand gently playing across her unusual hair.

  Stella yawned, closed her eyes and quietly sighed.

  “Sleep now,” Nephril softly said, “for it should become thee, mine dearest Stella, should return the colour to thy cheeks,” along which he lightly drew his hand.

  Stella turned her head and kissed his passing palm. “Thank you,” she murmured as she slowly squirmed into the comfort of the bed’s warm sheets.

  Nephril sat back again and gazed upon her face until her breathing slowed, until it became shallow and measured by sleep.

  He rose, and before leaving, studied her face. “Sleep soundly, dear one, sleep well, for tomorrow I need broach thy lover’s part in all this.”

  A sadness tugged at his heart.

  “’Tis thy Mirabel now who holds sway in where our future lies. May she see sense in the wants of her heart, not the hard reason of her long-schooled mind,” and he quietly withdrew, closing the door softly behind him.

  40 Man to Man

  The following morning, Stella felt strong enough to walk with Nephril in the garden. Although she still looked a little drawn in the stark sunshine, her complexion had improved markedly. She had her arm through Nephril’s, left there after he’d been solicitous of her tread down the front door steps.

  “You really ought to lower those hedges,” she told him.

  He narrowed his eyes at her and briefly laughed. “Funny thou should say that. I had been thinking something similar on mine way home yesterday, but now I am again taken by the privacy they afford.”

  His arm squeezed her own and his eyes drew her in, as though an ancient history lay deep beyond their sparkling grey flecks. She smiled, unsure why.

  “Were thee awaiting mine return for long, Stella?”

  She shivered at the memory. “Almost two days. You didn’t say you were going to Blisteraising so soon.”

  “I heard about the fire.”

  “Ah, the fire,” and she slipped her arm free and wandered on.

  As he came beside her, he mentioned Mirabel had been there when he’d arrived.

  Stella stopped and drew a sharp breath. “Oh, damn. I forgot all about her visit.”

  “Thou forgot?”

  “How was she?”

  Nephril furrowed his brow and averted his gaze. “Well, to quote thy mother, ‘distraught’.”

  “Distraught? Yes, yes, I suppose she would be. After all, we were getting on pretty well. I don’t think she’s ever had any really good friends before. A bit of a loner. It’s a shame she can’t be told I’m still alive.”

  Nephril’s mouth had slowly dropped open. He snapped it shut before saying. “Well, she will need to know shortly enough.”

  “No, Nephril. No, we can’t. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Worry thee not, Stella. Mirabel cannot give thee away to Leiyatel. Thou will not know this, but she does not have...”

  “Any weft and weave at all; yes, I do know, but I still can’t go and see her. It’s just too busy where she lives, and there’s Melkin to consider. That’s why I chose to come to you and not her. Yours is the ideal place to hide away,” and she ran her gaze about the garden.

  When she looked back at him, his face had fallen. He took a deep breath. “Well, Stella, what I am certain thou do not know is that we cannot replace Leiyatel without her.”

  She touched his arm.

  “Why?”

  “Because I believe she now be the only one who knows how to prepare Leigarre Perfinn, so we can dock ... so we can introduce the new Certain Power to Baradcar.”

  “Oh,” and Stella brows lofted. “Something else the bastard’s stolen from dad I take it?”

  Nephril nodded.

  “Shit. You’ll have to go on your own then, Nephril. If anybody recognises me, which they’re bound to at the college...”

  “Nay, nay, nay, Stella,” and Nephril grinned from ear to ear. “Thou can accompany me with all impunity. No one will recognise such a fine young lad as thee.”

  She peered at him. “What do
you mean, ‘lad’?”

  Come the noonday hour, Winifred had by then cropped Stella’s hair yet closer still, squashed her feminine shape into a stout leather jerkin and found a pair of baggy trousers that hid her hips. A full-cut longshoreman’s cap, usefully wide-brimmed, completed her disguise. Stella’s own now very scuffed boots finished off the whole ensemble nicely enough.

  When Winifred led her down to the kitchen and stood her before a seated Nephril, his face beamed up at her. “If thou can keep from jutting thy chin out, as thou are now, thou wilt pass nicely for one Stephan Studleaker, a youth of Uttagate.”

  “Uttagate?”

  “Thine accent, Stephan. Definitely not of Bazarral, and we want to keep any hint of thy true home from thy disguise. Now, if thy profession be scrivener then thy presence at mine side should arouse no suspicion.”

  “You’ll have to guard against pecking me on the cheek, though, Nephril,” and she smirked. “Don’t want you tarnishing your reputation, now do we?”

  Nephril cleared his throat whilst Winifred blushed and looked away.

  “Speaking of which,” he quickly countered, “thine alien weft and weave should keep any interest at bay from the ladies of Yuhlm, for I do swear that otherwise thou do make a most handsome young man.”

  “Why, thank you, kind sir,” and she bowed then broke into giggles.

  Winifred caught Nephril’s eye. “As you seem happy enough with my efforts, Nephril, I’ll get on with my chores now, unless there’s anything else.”

  “No, Whinny. Thank thee most kindly. Yes, yes, off thee go, by all means, and what thou hast conjured here be just the ticket,” and she gave him a flash of a smile before fussing off on her errands.

  Stella was trying to see her reflection in the kitchen window, against the dark hedges at the other side of the lawn. She twisted to look down at her rear.

  “Do these trousers disguise my bum enough, Nephril?”