The Language of Ghosts

by Heather Fawcett

  Mite glared through her tears. “Yes, you did. You always do!” She buried her face in Julian’s shoulder.

  “No, I don’t,” Noa promised. She wiped her nose on her sleeve, which was already a little slimy. “I want to be alone sometimes, but that’s not the same as not wanting you around. Last night I just wanted to see Mom again.”

  Mite lifted her head. “You saw Momma?”

  Noa would have cried again if she had any tears left. “No. You were right, Julian. M-Mom didn’t come back to see me. I just thought she would miss us . . .”

  “Noabell.” Julian tilted her chin up. “I know that Mom’s thinking about us, wherever she is, just like we’re thinking about her. So is Dad, though I know neither of you remember him much.”

  Noa sniffed. “I remember some things. He wore glasses that were always falling down his nose. And his beard was scratchy when he kissed me.”

  Julian laughed. Then, to Noa’s astonishment, he began to cry.

  Mite looked from Julian to Noa, clearly astonished, too. Noa hadn’t seen Julian cry in years. Mite wrapped her arms around his neck, and Noa wrapped hers around his chest, which probably made it hard for him to breathe, but he didn’t complain. After a moment, he pulled away, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

  “Do you miss Papa more than Momma?” Mite said, her eyes wide and serious.

  Julian smiled faintly. “I miss them both.”

  Noa wondered why she had never thought about the fact that Julian was the only one of the three of them who could remember both their parents’ deaths. Noa remembered some things about their father, but the only memories she had of his death were a room full of people talking in hushed voices and Mom’s face crumpling once when she thought Noa wasn’t looking. The memories of their mother’s death hurt bad enough that it was hard to imagine having to carry around ones of their father’s death, too.

  Julian blew his nose on a handkerchief. He pulled out a second one and used it to clean up Mite’s face. Then he turned back to Noa. “Noa, part of the reason why Mom wouldn’t have lingered in Death is because she knew I was looking after you two. She made me promise that I’d take good care of you.”

  Noa thought this over. “That wasn’t fair,” she said slowly. “You were only sixteen.”

  “I’m the eldest,” Julian said, as if that explained everything. “Besides, I would have done it anyway.” He sighed. “Only I’m afraid I haven’t been doing such a wonderful job of looking after either of you these last few months.”

  “That’s not true!” Noa said passionately. “I shouldn’t have said those things before. You were right about that ghost. I should have listened to you. I’m sorry, Julian—”

  “You have nothing to apologize for.” He let out a long breath. “You said you don’t know who I am. Well, sometimes I don’t, either.”

  He looked so pale that Noa hugged him again. Mite was frowning. “I know who you are, Julian,” she said.

  Julian smiled. “All right, Maita. If I ever need a reminder, I’ll ask you. Deal?”

  Mite nodded. “Deal.”

  Julian took Noa’s hand. “I’m sorry I don’t listen to your advice as often as I should. I really did put you on the council because you belong there, Noa. You must know how clever your ideas are.”

  Noa puffed out a bit. She did know, of course, but it was nice to hear someone say it.

  “And I’m sorry you two had to sit next to Matty at dinner. He’s a truly dreadful boy.”

  Noa giggled.

  “I knew that!” Mite said, shaking her head.

  “He kept the servants up half the night, running back and forth to fetch salves and cookies and who knows what else. Claiming the whole while that he was probably poisoned. If his father wasn’t my most important ally, I’d send Matty back to Sevrilla right now. Or make him spend an hour in Mite’s closet, maybe.”

  “No!” Mite looked aghast. “He’d step on the crickets.”

  Julian turned back to Noa. “If I understood you correctly, you found another magical language.”

  “Yes,” Noa said, swallowing. “Then I lost it.”

  Noa told them the whole tale, though it hurt. The hope she had felt when she saw Mom was still there, but now it was a broken, jagged thing that she didn’t like to think about. When she thought of Esmalda, she felt an anger so bottomless, it scared her.

  “What are you going to do about Esmalda?” Noa asked.

  “I’ve already done enough where she’s concerned.” Julian’s face was drawn in a way Noa had never seen before. “This is my fault. I’m sorry.”

  Noa couldn’t tell if he was apologizing to her or wishing he could take back what he’d done. What had happened wasn’t all his fault, but some of it was, so she didn’t argue; she just hugged him. His cloak smelled of seawater and smoke, probably from some experiment he’d been working on. She wished she could stay tucked in his arms forever and not have to face whatever was coming their way. But at least Julian wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was Mite. They would face it together, like they always had.

  “I always knew Esmalda resented Mom,” Julian said. “I shouldn’t have put her on my council. I knew she would do anything for power, and that she was completely ruthless toward anyone who wronged her.” His gaze was distant, and Noa thought she could guess what he was thinking.

  “You’re not like her,” she said.

  “No?” He gave her a tired smile.

  “Well . . . sometimes you are,” Noa said slowly. She remembered something. “Gabriela said that Mom destroyed her village when she was little. Did you know that?”

  Julian’s face was blank with surprise. “No—she never told me.”

  “It doesn’t sound like Mom.”

  Julian sighed. “Mom faced a few rebellions during her reign. All kings and queens do, because it’s impossible to get everyone on your side, and sometimes things go wrong that aren’t your fault. Harvests fail. Sea serpents prey on your harbors. Mom dealt with more rebellions because she was a dark mage and people distrusted her. I’m not saying what she did was right. But it was what all the other kings and queens of Florean have done. In fact, many of them did worse than burn villages.”

  “Gabriela also said she doesn’t believe in heroes,” Noa said. “She said that you and Xavier and Mom are all monsters, and the best anyone can do is side with the least monstrous monster.”

  “I don’t know what to say to that,” Julian said, “speaking as a monster. But I think Gabriela does believe in heroes—after all, she sees herself as one. Maybe she’s wrong about the rest of it, too.” He rubbed his eyes. “Sometimes, when everything seems to be going wrong like this, I wonder what Mom would have done. She always seemed to know what she was doing, no matter how bad things got.”

  “Maybe you don’t have to do what Mom would have done,” Noa said. “Maybe you can do better than her. Better than all of them.”

  Julian didn’t reply. He looked pale and young, not like the Dark Lord at all, or even a prince, but a boy recently turned eighteen who didn’t know what lay ahead of him.

  Noa glanced up the beach. The crowd hadn’t dispersed, but was simply watching them from afar. Some of the mages seemed to be pretending to patrol the beach while sneaking glances at the Marchenas.

  “What are we going to do?” Noa said. “Esmalda will give that book to the king’s mages. What if one of them can speak this fear language? They’re only a few miles away.”

  “They don’t know we’re right under their noses,” Julian said. “That buys us some time. Can I see that page?”

  Noa pulled it from her pocket and handed it to him. It was perfectly dry. Julian unfolded it, his brow creasing. Mite and Noa crowded around him. It seemed to be some sort of title page, for the writing was large and spaced out. That was all Noa could deduce, though. The words careened around the page like dancing ants. She couldn’t read one letter.

  She watched Julian, holding her breath. After a moment, though, he sighed.
<
br />   “Nope,” he said. “Well, this whole quest has been rather humbling. Just last month, I was the only mage in history who could speak all the languages of magic.”

  “I’m glad you’re not a fear mage,” Noa said. “You already give people nightmares. It would definitely make you go bad, and so much for my mission.”

  Julian stared at her blankly. “What?”

  “Ah—nothing,” Noa said. “The mission, you know. The Lost Words. Do you think there are other magical languages out there?”

  “Probably,” Julian said. “But we’ve exhausted our only two leads. Come on—we need to get you some dry clothes. And breakfast.”

  Mite trailed at their heels. “Julian,” she said in a worried voice, “I didn’t mean what I said. I am hungry. Can I have breakfast, too?”

  Julian and Noa laughed.

  27

  The King’s Spider

  After a hot bath and a breakfast of goose eggs and fried tomatoes, Noa felt, if not entirely herself, then at least partway there, and a freshly baked chocolate cake brought her even closer. She slept the morning away, and would probably have slept longer had she not been awoken by a strange sound.

  She lay among her pillows, trying to work out what had pierced her dreams. Was Beauty howling about something again? But then the sound came a second time, and she knew it wasn’t Beauty. It sounded rather like a foghorn, but deeper. Darker.

  She went to the window, pushing back the curtain. She blinked, certain her eyes were playing tricks on her. But no—there on the horizon was the strangest cloud Noa had ever seen. At least, she thought it was a cloud. It didn’t really look like one, but it looked more like a cloud than anything else. The main problem was that it seemed to be rising out of the water and reaching up to the sky, rather than the opposite. It was huge and dark, and sparks danced across it like lightning.

  If it was an approaching storm, where were the cool breeze and the choppy waves? The sky was a pure blue, and the sea was still. Noa shivered.

  She threw on a clean cloak and hurried outside, muttering as she tripped over an invisible furry shape. Everyone seemed to be gathered on the beach, watching the bizarre cloud looming on the horizon.

  Noa hurried across the sand to Julian, who stood with Asha, Kell, and several other mages, his brow knitted. “What do you think?” Asha said. “Some kind of storm?”

  “Let’s hope so,” Noa said darkly. Her thoughts were on the Lost Words, and the book Esmalda had taken from her. She exchanged a look with Julian.

  “Should we try to outrun it?” Kell said. “Whatever it is, it doesn’t look like it’s traveling very fast.”

  “There shouldn’t be a need to outrun it,” Julian said slowly. “Astrae is facing away from it. If it’s only a storm, we have nothing to worry about. If it’s sentient, it can’t see us.”

  “I’ve seen storms that could shred your nose hairs. Never seen one like that.” Kell sounded grim. “Why’s it look like it’s headed right at us?”

  “Should we send out the scouts?” Asha suggested. “They can get as close as possible, then report back.”

  Julian nodded. “In the meantime, let’s head up to the observatory. Noa?”

  She shook her head, still watching the cloud. “I’ll stay here.”

  “All right. If you see Renne, send him to me,” Julian said. “We can’t find him.”

  “Renne?” Noa said, but Julian was already striding away.

  “Maybe he went to send another letter,” Mite said from a hole she was digging in the sand.

  Noa frowned. “A letter?”

  “He sent one yesterday.” Mite tipped more sand off her shovel. “It looked like a secret letter. He kept looking over his shoulder.”

  Noa’s heart was beginning to thud. “You mean he sent it on the wind?”

  “Yeah.” Mite unearthed a sulfur clam and set it carefully aside. “I told you yesterday. Don’t you remember?”

  “Oh no,” Noa murmured.

  Her thoughts flashed back over the last few days. Someone had let Gabriela know that Beauty liked cakes. Renne had been on the beach with Kell when Noa had told her that Beauty had taken a fancy to them. Julian had thought Esmalda was a spy—but what if someone else had been the author of that first letter to Xavier? What if, rather than discovering Esmalda writing it, Renne had been caught with it himself and blamed her? Noa thought of how furious Esmalda had been with Julian, how she’d accused him of betrayal—that didn’t make sense if she’d betrayed him first.

  And Julian . . . of course Julian would believe Renne’s word over Esmalda’s. Renne was Julian’s oldest friend. Who would believe that he’d been passing information to Xavier?

  A murmur was rising on the beach. Mages backed away from the water’s edge, their eyes wide. The mysterious cloud was suddenly closer to Astrae—much closer. Close enough that Noa could make out shapes within it, or rather through it, towering shapes the color of blood.

  “Xavier’s warships,” she breathed. “They’re hiding behind the cloud!”

  The ships were much farther away than the cloud was. As Noa watched in horrified fascination, the cloud began to writhe and twist, and then it spilled across the water and covered the beach.

  “Mite!” she shouted. “Back to the castle! Now!”

  Her shouts were drowned out by screams. As the cloud spread across the beach, it touched the horde of sea iguanas snoozing atop their favorite basking rock. An eruption of startled snorts filled the air, and the creatures began to stretch and grow. Noa had to stifle her own scream as one of the iguanas leaped into the air with an echoing roar, spreading broad wings no iguana should possess.

  The iguanas had become dragons.

  Mite screamed and dove into the hole. Noa stood frozen, her logical brain fixated by the impossible sight. The other onlookers had no such hesitation, though. People were fleeing, including most of the mages. The dragons were young and healthy, nearly twice the size of Reckoner, and they all seemed to be taking to the sky, soaring over the beach, skimming people’s heads. One breathed a cloud of fire that a mage barely dodged. The fire touched a pile of driftwood, and Noa threw herself on top of Mite, waiting for it to explode into flame.

  But the wood didn’t ignite. Nor was the sand scorched where the flame had passed over it. Noa watched another dragon breathe a cloud of fire at a mage as she fled. But the mage ran on, as if she wasn’t even aware of the fire, let alone hurt. One of the scouts shot an arrow at a dragon, and the beast fell to the ground with a surprisingly gentle thud given its size. A dark mist rose off its body, and it was an iguana again.

  The dragons weren’t real. It was all an illusion. But how?

  A dreadful roar interrupted Noa’s thoughts. On the steps leading up to the castle crouched an enormous jaguar. The mages who had been running up the stairs to seek shelter in the castle turned on their heels and ran back down again. Another jaguar happily chased a screaming sailor along the beach. The huge cat seemed to bore after a while, and pranced back up the sand. Then it simply vanished, winking back into view next to a pelican, which squawked and flew off.

  Noa looked from the jaguars to the dragons, still wheeling across the sky and breathing fire while the few stragglers remaining on the beach cowered and screamed—but not, Noa noticed, doing any actual harm. Nobody had been eaten, or burned, or even lightly charred. People were running because they were afraid, not because anything terrible was actually happening to them.

  “Fear,” she whispered. She looked back at the ships. The strange cloud had dissipated after it passed over Astrae, but whatever magic it contained hadn’t.

  Someone on King Xavier’s side could speak the language of fear. That was what the cloud had been—a spell that made people’s fears come true.

  Julian came racing down the castle stairs, followed by Asha and several other mages. The jaguar leaped at him, placing a paw on each shoulder, and then—

  It nuzzled his neck. Because it wasn’t a real jaguar—it was on
e of the island cats. The huge beast flopped at Julian’s feet with its belly in the air.

  Julian hopped over the cat. Noa dragged a protesting Mite out of the hole and ran up to Julian. “Julian, I think one of the mages on those ships—”

  “Speaks the language of fear,” he finished for her, his voice grim. “Yes, I think you’re right.”

  Noa’s eyes welled with tears. “This is my fault.”

  “It’s not your fault.” Julian’s voice was firm. A dragon skimmed his head, and he ducked with a shout. They seemed to be enjoying themselves almost as much as the cats were. Noa couldn’t really blame them—iguanas were ordinarily about as intimidating as barnacles. Julian murmured a spell, and a fierce wind rose, pushing the dragons down the beach.

  “You shouldn’t waste your magic,” Noa said. “They’re just iguanas—they can’t hurt anyone.”

  “Unfortunately, they seem to have most of my mages convinced otherwise.” Julian froze.

  Noa looked. The king’s ships were almost close enough to launch boats. On the deck of the nearest ship stood a familiar straight-backed figure, her red cloak and dark hair billowing in the wind.

  “Gabriela,” Noa murmured. Of course she had survived the destruction of her ship. Gabriela could survive anything.

  “Who’s that man with her?” Mite asked.

  Noa had hardly noticed him—compared to Gabriela, he cut a much less striking figure, being skinny and so pale he seemed to fade into the background like a wisp of cloud. It was hard to tell from that distance, but Noa thought he was smiling.

  “That’s Xavier,” she said, feeling faint. “Why would he come here?”

  Julian didn’t reply for a moment. When he did, his voice was dangerously flat. “I can only imagine it’s because he wants to watch me fall.” He motioned to the salt mages, and they hurried down to the water, already chanting a spell that stirred up the waves and would make landing boats more difficult.

  “Call Beauty,” Noa said. “I bet she can sink at least one of those ships.”