The sun is setting and she’s only halfway up. She can hardly draw breath she’s so worn out, and her mouth is parched. Her back paws are torn and bleeding, and she can only hold on now with her front paws. Evening closes in, and she strains to see if she can behold the top of the mountain. Then she gazes beneath her – a yawning abyss, with certain and terrible death at the bottom, reeking with the half-decayed bodies of horses and riders.
It is almost pitch-dark now. Only the stars light up the glass mountain. Maggie clings as if glued to the glass by her bloodstained paws. Then, the eagle who sits atop an apple tree, guarding the prince, spots her and swoops down. The eagle digs its sharp claws into her flesh, but she seizes the bird’s feet. The creature, with a cry, lifts her high up in the air and circles round the tower, which by the pale rays of the moon looks more like ice than gold. In a high window she sees Kyle. She struggles and shakes and lashes out until the bird releases her and then vanishes, shrieking, into the clouds and she falls into the branches of the apple tree.
The apple tree is no longer an apple tree, but a pomegranate tree and when she rubs the juice against her wounds they are healed.
* * *
KYLE SEES HER. SHE SITS AT HER WINDOW IN A SILVER room in a marble castle, atop a mountain made of mirrors. She waves languidly to him, trailing frost from her fingertips. A tree full of golden apples grows in front of the castle. He must bring her one and then she will reward him. He is astride a splendid horse, white as the moon. She has a silver pipe in her hand now. He will reach the top of the mirror mountain; he will pluck an apple from the tree and thereby gain her favour and the dreams she offers.
Knights have gone before him. Some shod their horses with sharp nails, and some tried to loop ropes around the crags with which to haul themselves up. They all fell back to the bottom of the steep, slippery hill. The cries of the men and the horses, broken into pieces as they tumbled, sliced to ribbons, were terrible to hear. Now, nothing is left except their bones, which rattle in their battered armour like dry peas in a gourd.
Kyle, though, wears a suit of golden armour. He clings to the horse’s mane as they climb over the heaps of corpses, both equine and human, at the mountain’s base. He spurs the horse and makes a rush at the mountain and scrabbles halfway, then he turns the horse’s head and comes down again without a slip or stumble. Again, and again he does this, and sparks fly from the horse’s hooves. People gaze in astonishment, for he is almost at the summit now.
An eagle flies above, riding the thermals. It spots Kyle and his moon-horse and prepares to dive, but the woman in the window plays a single note on a bone flute and the eagle returns to the heavens. The horse opens its wide nostrils and tosses its mane, then rears high in the air, allowing Kyle to pluck a golden apple from the tree.
A lacy handkerchief flutters from the window, white as a dove. “Well done, sweet boy. Now bring me the fruit of my desire,” says the woman. Her laugh is like wind chimes made of bones.
* * *
BETH POKED MAGGIE IN THE RIBS AND TOLD HER TO GET UP.
“I’m awake,” said Maggie. “But it’s still dark. Is it always dark?”
Beth used a match to light the candle, then turned back to Maggie, leaned on her elbow and grinned. “You get used to it. Outside the hall’s different than inside. Inside suits us. We like the shadows. Keeps secrets.” She scratched her head.
Maggie and Badger followed Beth and a still-cringing Oso through the torchlit hall. The fires burned low and the floor was strewn with bones and apple cores and crusts of bread – remnants of the last meal. A partial staircase in the corner, which Maggie had not noticed the night before, led halfway up the wall to nowhere and then abruptly stopped, just as the one in Beth’s room did. She wondered if there had once been a second floor, now fallen. There must have been, for the ceiling looked very far away indeed. It was hard not to think of how grand it all must have been once. Now vines crawled in through the windows and clung to the walls. Bats hung from the beams. There was no sign of the ravens.
Beth led her through a back doorway into a small courtyard with a privy and a water pump. In the far stone wall, Beth used a large key on the lock on an exterior gate and opened it to let the dogs out. Beyond the gate the day was blindingly bright, the sky blue, and Maggie caught a glimpse of snow. The day, however, stopped dead at the threshold. Maggie’s legs twitched with the desire to dash toward that light and Beth must have sensed it for she slammed the door shut. “Oso’ll bark when she wants back in,” she said. The women relieved themselves and washed and then Oso barked. Beth opened the door just enough for the dogs to bound in and led Maggie back to her room. No one else stirred. Either they were still sleeping, or they’d gone out.
Beth dressed, making sure to keep her scars hidden.
Maggie took the opportunity to check her pack. What was left in it? Her undergarments, yes; Kyle’s picture. The little enamel box Mr. Strundale had given her.
“You think I’d steal out of your pack.”
“Forgive me, but you did take the carriage, and I think a lot of other things, no?”
“Castoffs are outcasts. Castoffs take what’s been cast off by others, and if they come on our turf, then it’s fair game.” Beth picked up the book from the stump, sat down and rubbed it between her palms. “Wanted by none, welcome by none, invited to no one’s table, we’re stronger and tougher for it.”
“I thought I was an outcast, too, once, but it turned out I was wrong.”
“And what would you know about being an outcast? You in the fancy carriage, with the dog and the silver birds in your hair.”
“Believe me, I haven’t spent much time in carriages.” Maggie sat on the floor with her back leaning up against the trunk. “What do you know about elysium?”
Beth poked at the birds, making them flap and squawk. She then looked at Maggie with a raised brow. “Part of the trouble from her in the north.” She stood. “You can tell me while we’re walking. We’ve got work to do.”
After a few handfuls of bread and cheese, and while the rest of the band was beginning to rouse, Beth and Maggie stepped past the gates of the main courtyard into the brilliant day. Snow had fallen, and glittered as though strewn with crystals. Being outside the resolutely night-filled hall was like taking off a heavy, wet cloak. From the position of the sun, Maggie judged it to be just past noon.
“I don’t understand this at all,” she said.
“Winnie says when she was a kid the old-timers told tales of it being different, but gradual-like night fell on Castoff Hall.” Beth shrugged. “Just the way it is.”
She took Maggie into the woods to check the traplines for rabbits. And as they walked, Maggie recounted her story, about her addiction and the Grimoire, and about how the message had come from Kyle. She talked about Mother Ratigan, and how Badger saved her, and about Wallis and her hotel of delights. “So that’s where the carriage came from. It wasn’t mine at all.”
Beth, who had listened thoughtfully as they walked the snowy trails, grunted. “We’ve all got our troubles, I guess.”
Maggie thought this response a little thin but remembered the scars along Beth’s back. It was possible her story sounded not so very bad after all.
They walked a few more minutes and found three rabbits, which Beth stuffed into a stained satchel slung over her shoulder. Maggie asked, “Do you want to tell me your story?”
“Nothing to tell.”
“Well, how did your people come to live in the hall?”
“I don’t know. Our people came here a long time ago. Don’t know why. Found this place and moved in.”
“What about your father?”
“He died. No loss, believe me. He was a fist-happy bastard.”
They walked for several hours, checking all the traps. They walked through fields and hollows, through woods and by riv
ers. There was no path here, just animal trails, and Maggie wondered where it had gone.
They collected eight rabbits, and Beth’s satchel was full when she finally said they were circling back to the hall. Maggie had thought they were going in a straight line. How would she know which way was north?
Beth watched Badger and Maggie. Finally, she said, “So, show me how you make your dog, you know, be the way he is with you.”
“Well, you can’t make a dog love you. That’s just what dogs do, if you give them half a chance.”
“Yer daft. Can’t be that simple.”
* * *
WHEN THEY ARRIVED BACK AT THE COURTYARD, DARKNESS again enveloped them the moment they stepped across the threshold. The dogs cared little about such things apparently and romped ahead. Beth looked into the hall and called out to Blossom and Betty, “Where’s Winnie?”
“She went out for a walk in the woods. Says she’s done with us.”
“What have you been up to, then?” asked Beth.
As her eyes adjusted to the light, Maggie noticed the women looked dishevelled, bruised and a bit battered all over.
“We don’t see why we should share if you don’t,” said Blossom. “I want my own friend, too.”
Beth spat on the ground. “And I want to have wings and fly, but it ain’t likely, is it? You get what you earn around here, have you forgot? And it isn’t like any of you are good for much. Winnie decided and that’s that, or do you want to tell her she’s wrong? Oh, Winnie’d like that fine.”
“I’d like what?”
Winnie stood at the entrance to the courtyard. She held a clay pipe between her lips, puffing away furiously. She wore a man’s coat, tied in the middle with a piece of rope, and stout boots. Her grey hair escaped from a red bandana and the tattoo of a cat on her cheek gleamed with sweat, even in the cool air. “What’s going on here?”
The women began to talk all at once, sounding like a gaggle of angry geese. Winnie held up her hand and they went silent. “Beth, what’s going on here? Where are the boys?”
“Seems the sisters don’t like the way things are. And I don’t know where Tim and them are. Probably gone back to get the carriage with Tab.”
“I’ll skin him if he’s off in the woods getting drunk.” Winnie turned to the women. “Since when do you question my decisions?”
Blossom mumbled, “Just don’t seem fair, is all, Beth getting presents when we don’t.”
Winnie frowned, then nodded. “We’ll see what Tim finds. Any luck, you’ll have a new toy, you sisters. If not, well, maybe Beth should share.”
“Wait now,” said Beth. “What belongs to me stays mine.”
“You telling me the way it’s going to be?” Winnie puffed up to monstrous proportions. “You dare?”
Beth looked like fury. “Maybe I do. Maybe it’s time.”
“I give. I take away,” Winnie bellowed, and then stalked over to Maggie and backhanded her. As Maggie fell to the ground she heard Badger snarl and then yelp.
“That dog tries to bite me again I’ll rip its head off. You lot,” Winnie turned to the sisters, “you’ve got work to do so bloody well do it. And Beth, if you’re not with Tim then you can skin them rabbits I see in your basket.” Winnie jabbed the air with her pipe. “You pull your weight or you’ll find yourself on the road out of here and no never mind about it.” She barrelled past them into the hall.
“You’re getting old, Ma,” called Beth. Her face was blood red and the owl on her cheek jumped as she ground her teeth. She grabbed Maggie by the arm and pushed her forward. “Go on, get inside.” The dogs bounded after them.
Beth led Maggie to her room and kicked the trunk as she entered.
“Gonna have to be some changes around here,” said Beth, her head hanging. Absently, as though she wasn’t aware she was doing it, she reached round and ran the back of her hand over her scars. She looked as though she might explode, but Oso, who had come into the room with Badger after the women, lay her head on Beth’s knee. Beth stroked her dog. Oso’s tail wagged and wagged. “You’re not such a bad dog, are you?” Oso’s tail thump-thump-thumped on the floor. Her whole behind wagged. It was impossible not to smile.
“She loves you,” said Maggie.
“Nobody loves me,” said Beth, so quietly it was little more than air passing between her chapped lips. Oso put her paws on Beth’s knees and began licking her hands and her face, her tail thumping away. Finally, Beth chuckled and told the dog to stop, which she refused to do, just went on licking, and Beth turned her head this way and that, trying to avoid the great slobbery affection. “You daft thing. Cut it out,” said Beth, but she held the dog in her arms. Oso laid her head on Beth’s neck and seemed to faint from love.
It was shocking to see the big, muscular woman hanging onto the dog as though drowning, but it gave Maggie just the wedge of hope she needed. She had to persuade Beth to let her go. She waited until Beth had somewhat recovered. Oso sat between her legs, her head resting on Beth’s thigh. Beth was gentle with her, and even bent down to kiss the top of the dog’s head.
“Seems dogs are better’n most people.”
“It’s true, I rather prefer dogs to most people,” smiled Maggie. “But people can be pretty good, too. Take yourself, for example.”
“Me?” Beth sneered, but it wasn’t a terribly convincing sneer, rather it looked as though she wore it more out of habit than conviction.
“Of course. You let my brother go, didn’t you?”
Beth pulled back from Oso and folded her arms over her chest. “So?”
Maggie ducked her head, trying to look as submissive as Oso. “I just meant, well, dogs understand loyalty, and so do you, so maybe you understand the loyalty I have to Kyle.”
The muscles in Beth’s jaw worked. Oso moved away from Beth, lay down, put her chin on her paws and looked up at her mistress. Badger sat at the end of the bed. He cocked his head, as though he knew something of import was about to happen.
“Maybe I do,” said Beth.
“Beth, you’re strong and have insight, but you’re apart. You have this room, and you aren’t – you’ll forgive me – quite like the rest of your family.”
“Maybe. I guess.”
“Is it possible there’s something new waiting for you?”
“You’re new.”
“I mean something much bigger than me. I think you have a calling, a vocation, if you like.”
“And what might that be, Miss Know Everything?”
In the hall a child cried, and a woman told it to be quiet or she’d give it something to cry about. Someone dropped something metal on the stones and cursed. “Not for me to say.”
“Is it not?”
Oso took herself off to a spot under the pigeon cages. Maggie stayed quiet. To try and persuade Beth of her honesty would do nothing but make her sound less honest, and besides, she didn’t trust herself not to sound desperate. Beth got up and, moving aside the blanket at the doorway, gazed out into the torchlit, perpetually dark hall. She ran her finger over the owl tattoo on her cheek. Then she turned to Maggie and said, “I want you to teach me to read.”
“Yes, I can do that. But,” Maggie hesitated, “it takes time.”
“And you’re thinking you don’t have much time, is that it?”
“Not if I want to find Kyle alive. You and I both know if he’s with Srebrenka for long, he’ll be past healing.” She kept her voice as calm as she could.
“You’re thinking you’re tough enough to rescue your brother from her?”
Maggie kept her head high. “I just know I have to try.”
Beth snorted and looked down at her boots. “Teach me to read.” She stood and opened the trunk. Inside were piles of books. “They’re mysterious, especially the ones without pictures. I don’t l
ike it.”
Maggie knelt by the trunk and picked up a leather-bound botanical study of something called the Qualsat Mountain Range. It was filled with drawings of plants and herbs, mosses and lichens. They were precise and rendered by an expert hand, the petals, stems and leaves fairly jumping off the page. Qualsat Mountains? They must be a range of mountains in this world, as they weren’t in hers. She picked another book: The Evaldian History of Cerlian City States. Apart from not knowing what a Cerlian City State was, she had no idea what Evaldian meant. Was it a person? A school of philosophical thought? Here was a book of poems by someone she had never heard of. And here, what looked to be a geological work about the Great Rift Valley of Collana.
A strange shifting sensation went through her and made her a little dizzy. Worlds within worlds. Her chest tightened. She’d never find Kyle. The darkness spreading through the Immanent World would keep going, until there was nothing but elysium-haunted Forest, with Srebrenka ruling over a kingdom of suffering. Badger pawed her leg. She snapped back to the present. Oh, what a good dog. She kissed the top of his head.
Beth sat on the brocaded chair and watched her through narrowed eyes.
“Sorry, it’s just that you have a lot of books here. They’re a bit advanced, even for me.”
“I know my alphabet,” said Beth.
“Do you? How did you learn?”
“I made your brother teach me. I know my As from my Rs, but I just can’t see what sense they make all jumbled up together.”
“I’m sure we’ll find something.” Maggie kept digging, and there, yes, she found several children’s books. More folk and fairy tales, and oh, thank God … a child’s reader. She opened it to the first page. The Eclectic First Reader for Young Children, consisting of progressive lessons in reading and spelling, mostly in easy words of one and two syllables. “But where did you get this? It’s perfect!”
The Grimoire of Kensington Market Page 18