“You’d rather plot some kind of devious strategy?” asked Martin. “That’s new.”
For Ivy, it would be—just as risking his life to save one little girl was something Martin would never have done in the past. But that wasn’t what she had in mind.
“Not me,” she said. “You. You’re good at that sort of thing.”
“Which is her diplomatic way of saying I’m a weasel,” said Martin to Broch and Thorn. “You see why I love her.”
Thorn snorted, and Ivy’s cheeks flared hot. “No, I’m just saying that we only have one chance at this. So we need to do it right.”
“A distraction could be useful,” Broch pointed out. “We might be able to provide one, if your brother doesn’t.”
Ivy was about to ask what he meant, and then it hit her. Mica and his followers were trying to get into the Delve as well. If they burst in at the wrong moment it would be a disaster, but if they could time it right . . .
“I’ll try to find him,” she said. “He probably won’t tell me what he’s up to, but at least we’ll know where he is.”
“I wouldn’t tell him our plans, either,” said Martin. “The more he knows, the more trouble it’ll make when he’s caught. Better to get help we can count on.” He turned to Broch. “We need more faeries.”
“I already tried that,” said Ivy. “It didn’t work.”
Thorn nodded grimly. “I don’t know what’s got into the queen, but she wouldn’t budge.”
“She has the Sight,” Martin pointed out. “She may have seen something that convinced her not to intervene.”
“Well, hopefully it wasn’t our fiery deaths,” Thorn said. “But she’s not going to send us an army, no matter how much we beg for it.”
“We’re not asking for an army,” Martin replied. “Even one or two could make a difference. Broch?”
“I . . . could try. But—” He broke off as Thorn held up a warning hand, her eyes fixed on the door.
Martin nodded, as though Thorn had spoken. Then he flung the door wide and pounced like a striking mink, seizing the eavesdropper by the collar. “The fox barks not when he would steal the lamb,” he quoted. “If you want to spy on people, Dagger, you’d better learn not to hiss like a pantomime villain while you’re doing it.”
Thorn glared at the spriggan boy, who blanched. But as soon as Martin let go, Dagger turned on him. “The faeries never gave a farthing for us, so why go begging to them now? You think we’re not good enough to help?”
Martin regarded him sternly. “As usual, my callow youth, you have a positive genius for missing the point. This is not about you.”
“Then who is it about? Pearl’s a spriggan, one of us. We should be marching off to save her ourselves, not crawling to some—some fool of a faery queen!”
Martin went still, his eyes a cold blank. When he spoke, his voice was deadly. “In all my murders, treasons and detested sins, boy, I have never struck a child. But you are sorely tempting me. Get out of my sight.”
Dagger stared at him, swallowing. Then he backed away and scuttled out the door.
“I thought you said you were going to deal with him,” said Thorn, and Ivy tensed. But Martin only looked rueful.
“He spent half his life being thrashed, kicked and starved by his old foster-chieftain, and now he thinks I’m weak for not treating him the same. He’d stab me in the back if he could, just to prove he didn’t suffer for nothing. But the only way to satisfy him is to live up to his worst expectations, and I’m not going to do that.”
Thorn’s brows shot up. “You have changed. When Valerian pardoned you I thought she was giving you too much credit, but I’m beginning to think she was right.” She tipped her head to one side, studying him. “So did you swear her a blood oath, then?”
Martin gave a short laugh. “Of course not.” His face sobered. “But I might as well have. In all the years I served the Empress, she never touched me except to cause me pain. But when I came before Queen Valerian as a prisoner and she saw the iron burns on my wrists, she brought a salve she had made and put it on me herself. So . . .” He spread his hands. “I chose to trust her then, and I trust her now. Whether she gives us what we ask or not.”
“I’ll go, then, if you wish it,” said Broch. “But if help comes, it won’t come quickly. None of the other Oakenfolk have been to Cornwall, so we’ll have to fly.”
Which would take until nightfall, or even later—and with every hour they delayed, Pearl would be in more danger. Ivy cast an anxious look at Martin, who met it with a resigned one. “There’s no time, then,” he said. “We’ll just have to work with what we’ve got.”
“I’ll look for Mica,” said Ivy, and Martin caught her hand and kissed it.
“Be careful,” he said. “And good luck.”
Coming from a spriggan, that was more than mere wishful thinking. Or at least Ivy hoped so, because she’d need all the help she could get. “Shaper guide you,” she replied, and Martin looked startled, then touched. He bowed to her, and went out.
“Shaper?” Thorn asked skeptically, but Ivy didn’t answer. She only knew it was the sort of thing Helm, Dagger’s sire and Martin’s old protector, used to say—an old spriggan blessing, long forgotten by the world. But if there were even a chance that some unseen power was watching over the Small People of Cornwall, Ivy prayed it would show them some mercy now.
Ivy glided over the winter-dulled countryside as a peregrine, rain beading on her feathers as she scanned the fields and hillsides for signs of Mica and his company. Every few miles she landed and cast a finding-spell, hoping for the bright flare inside her mind that would tell her magical folk were nearby. But though she searched as close to the Delve as she dared, she found no trace of a piskey camp.
That didn’t prove much, though. Cicely had a gift for illusions and invisibility spells, and though Mica could be reckless, he was too skilled a hunter to leave an obvious trail. If they worked together, they could hide themselves right under Ivy’s wingtip, and she’d never know it. All she could do was keep flying in circles and hope they’d take the hint.
But if Mica spotted Ivy that morning, he wasn’t responding. Had he dusted her off his boots for good, or had he gone underground already? Were his followers still trying to break into the Delve and free the trapped piskey-men, or had they been captured as well?
There seemed no way to find out, and she’d wasted enough time already. Resigned, Ivy wheeled back toward the Menadue farmstead. Betony’s wards probably hadn’t faded enough yet for Ivy to get inside, but if the worst happened, she didn’t want to disappear without leaving her mother and Molly a note to say goodbye.
By the time Ivy reached the farm, the clouds had thinned and the sky was a flat pearl-gray. She circled the barn at a cautious distance, then swooped, bracing herself for impact. But her wings met no resistance, and she landed easily in the cobblestone yard.
Puzzled, Ivy changed shape and sent out a tentative thought to test the wards. They hadn’t just weakened: they were gone, dissolved so completely that she couldn’t feel a trace of Betony’s power.
Bemused, Ivy turned toward the house, where a glimmer of light shone through the kitchen curtains. Had she forgotten to turn off the switch before she left, or was someone inside? Could Marigold have grown anxious when no one answered her phone calls, and dashed here to find out what was happening?
There was only one way to be sure. Ivy concentrated and leaped inside the house.
“Hello?” she called, glancing around the sitting room. “Is anyone here?”
For a moment there was no sound but the slow tick of the mantel clock. Then came a sniff, a hiccup, and a small, glowing figure stepped out from behind the coat stand.
“Cicely,” breathed Ivy, and her little sister’s face crumpled. She flung herself into Ivy’s arms and burst into tears.
Ivy guided her to the sofa and sat down with her, rubbing her back soothingly. But Cicely sobbed so hard it was like trying to still an earth
quake.
“Mica s-sent me away,” she gasped out, when she could speak. “I w-wanted to fight, but he wouldn’t l-let me, he threw me onto Dodger’s back and told him to r-run.”
And Mica’s gift with animals was strong, even for a piskey’s, so Dodger would have obeyed no matter how hard Cicely tried to stop him. “Fight?” Ivy asked. “You mean Gossan found you?”
Cicely nodded miserably. “We were camping in the wood near the Delve. Mica wanted to tunnel in through one of the old adits, but the uncles kept getting tired so it wasn’t going fast enough. And we couldn’t find anywhere dry to sleep, so Daffodil got sicker and sicker, and finally Yarrow said she’d die without medicine and she was going into the Delve to get some.”
Mica wouldn’t have liked that one bit, and he’d doubtless let Yarrow know it. But the healer could be just as stubborn as he was in her own quiet way, especially when a patient’s life was involved. “Go on,” Ivy said.
“She told us she’d be careful, but we waited all night and she didn’t come back. Then Daffodil d-died—”
She broke off, shuddering, and Ivy bowed her head in grief for the poor old auntie. If Copper hadn’t been so set on following Mica, his wife would still be alive.
“I’m so sorry, Cicely.” Ivy stroked her sister’s hair. “So you buried her, and then?”
“Copper went wild, he was pounding the rocks with his thunder-axe and calling down curses on Mica, and we tried to calm him down but we couldn’t, so Gossan and his men found us. And I d-don’t know what happened then, because by the time I got back they were . . .” She pressed her lips together and shook her head, too distraught to finish the sentence.
Ivy’s heart gave a painful thump. “You mean captured?” Please, she begged silently. Please don’t let them be dead.
Cicely nodded, and Ivy let out her breath. So Mica and his followers were alive. Though if Betony found out that he and Yarrow had tried to set themselves up as Jack and Joan, they might not stay that way for long.
“I’ve been here since last night,” Cicely mumbled. “I was so tired of being dirty and hungry. It took me hours to get past Betony’s wards, and when I heard someone outside I panicked because I thought she was coming to get me. But it was you.”
“You did the right thing,” Ivy told her. “You got away safe, and that’s what Mica wanted.”
“I don’t care what Mica wants,” blurted Cicely, bolting upright. “He’s stupid! I hate him!”
It was tempting to agree, but Ivy knew better. “He can be stupid sometimes,” she said gently. “But he was trying to do the right thing, even if he went about it the wrong way. You couldn’t have helped him, Cicely. If you’d stayed, Gossan would have caught you too.”
Cicely hung her head. Then she said in a small voice, “I’m sorry I spied on you. Mica asked me to make sure you didn’t hurt Matt, and I—”
“I know.” Ivy squeezed her, reassuring. It would always hurt to remember how her sister had betrayed her. But Cicely looked so ashamed already that there was no need to hammer that spike in. “You wanted to be useful to somebody.” And Ivy had been so caught up trying to be useful herself that she’d ignored Cicely until it was too late. “Anyway, we can’t change the past, so let’s not dwell on it. I’m just glad you’re safe.”
“I don’t want to be safe.” Cicely screwed up her face. “I want to help.”
“With what?” Ivy asked, hiding her dismay. Had Cicely guessed what she and Martin were planning? But how could she?
“You’re going to the Delve, aren’t you? That’s why you stopped here.” She snatched the letter out of Ivy’s coat pocket and waved it accusingly. “This is for Mum and Molly, I’ll bet. And you want me to give it to them if you don’t come back.”
Ivy gave an inward sigh. Cicely knew her too well. “The best gift I can give Mum now is you. So yes, that is what I’m asking. And if you really want to make it up to me for siding with Mica, you’ll do it.”
Cicely scrubbed her eyes. “I don’t want Mum,” she said thickly. “She was gone so long I barely remembered her, and now she might as well be human. You’re the one who’s always looked after me, and if you don’t come back I’ll—” Her head came up, defiant. “I’ll march into the Delve and fight Betony myself.”
“Cicely!”
“You don’t think I mean it, but I do. I’ll tell her exactly what I think of her. And I don’t even care if she burns me up. I’d rather die than be a coward.”
This was getting out of hand. “What about Dodger?” Ivy challenged. “Are you just going to leave him to starve?”
“I’ll turn him loose. Somebody will find him.” Her small mouth was set with determination. “You know I’m good at turning invisible. We can sneak into the Delve tonight and rescue Mica and the others before Betony even knows we’re there.”
Ivy pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. She dreaded bringing Cicely into this, but Martin had said they needed more help. “All right. You can come.”
Cicely brightened. “Really?”
“Yes. But you have to promise to stay close, and do everything I tell you. No arguing or sneaking about. If I tell you to run, you run, and don’t come back for me or Mica or anybody. You’ll find Thorn and Broch and tell them what happened, and then you’ll come straight here and call Mum to come and get you.”
“But what if—”
“No, Cicely. If you want me to trust you with something this important, you have to trust me too. That’s the bargain.”
Cicely toyed with the end of her braid. Then she said, “Fine. I’ll do everything you say. I swear.”
“Good.” Ivy got to her feet. “I’ll go tell Martin and the faeries.”
“Wait,” pleaded Cicely. “Come and see Dodger first. He’s missed you.”
Ivy doubted that, but it was clear that Cicely wanted a little more time with her. And this could be the last private moment they had together, before the end. She took her sister’s hand, and together they leaped to the barn.
The bay pony snorted a greeting as they landed, and Ivy reached to stroke him. But as he lipped her fingers, her eyes strayed to the crack in the wall, where the knockers had forced their way in. Had it really been only a few days ago? It felt like a lifetime. Stepping back to make room for Cicely, Ivy glanced upward—and froze.
“Good boy, Dodger,” Cicely murmured, rubbing his neck. “You’re glad to see Ivy, aren’t you?”
Ivy barely heard her: she stood like a pottery statue, staring at the roof of the barn. In a vivid flash she remembered how it had blazed on the night of the battle, the searing heat that had stung her eyes and the smoke that had filled the air. And the sight of those beams where Betony’s fire had once burned sent a shiver through Ivy, from her crown to the soles of her feet.
“What is it?” Cicely asked, but Ivy couldn’t answer. The thought that had sprung to her mind was too overwhelming. If their plan to rescue Pearl failed, and she was forced to confront Betony . . .
“Ivy?” Cicely tugged at her. “Are you all right?”
She tore her eyes from the roof and met her sister’s worried brown ones. “It’s fine,” she said hoarsley. “I was just thinking.”
“She’s posted guards at the entrance to the Earthenbore,” Cicely whispered, creeping under the gorse bushes to rejoin Ivy, Martin, and the two faeries crouching there. “We’ll have to get past them first.”
The sun had set long ago, and at this late hour the piskeys of the Delve would usually be sleeping. But clearly Betony was taking no chances. Ivy turned to the others. “Two guards at least, and probably more inside. What do you think?”
“Don’t look at us,” said Thorn sourly. “This is as far as we go, remember?”
She wasn’t complaining, really: they’d all agreed to this plan. But it still chafed the faery woman that she and Broch weren’t going with them. “I know,” said Ivy, putting a hand on Thorn’s shoulder. “I still value your advice, though.”
Broch flicked Mar
tin a questioning glance. “Put them to sleep?”
“We’d have to touch them to do it,” Martin said. “And they’d likely wake up and sound the alarm before we got out again.” He plucked a pebble from the ground, tossing it lightly. “I have a better idea.”
Thorn grabbed his wrist. “Don’t you dare.”
Her fierceness would have shocked Ivy, if she hadn’t known the reason behind it. The last time Thorn had seen Martin toying with a pebble, he’d transformed it to a dagger and killed the Empress.
“Not quite sure of me yet, I see.” Martin pried off Thorn’s grip and rose, his eyes on the guarded entrance. “But sometimes a stone is just a stone.” With a snap of his forearm he sent the pebble flying past the piskey-men to rustle the gorse nearby.
The guards spun toward the noise, and Martin caught Cicely’s hand. “Hide me,” he told her. “The rest of you, wait here.” And before Ivy could protest, the two of them vanished.
“Show-off,” muttered Thorn, shaking her fingers. “He’d better not muck this up.”
Ivy scanned the hillside, but even her piskey night-vision couldn’t track Martin and Cicely. She held her breath, waiting for the guards to crumple or flee. But they stayed motionless, and when Martin flashed into view at the mouth of the tunnel and beckoned, Ivy realized why.
“He’s stopped time around them,” she told Thorn and Broch. “We can walk past and they’ll never know we were there.” She took the faeries’ hands, sobered by the knowledge that she might never see them again. “I’ll send Cicely back to you as soon as I can. And if we aren’t out by morning—”
“None of that nonsense,” said Thorn brusquely. “We’ll do our part. Just go.”
Broch nodded, his eyes grave. “And may Rhys and the Great Gardener be with you.”
Ivy pressed their hands gratefully, then slipped out from the thicket and ran to join Martin and Cicely. Together they slipped past the frozen guards and down the baked-clay passage into the Delve.
“I can’t believe you can stop time,” breathed Cicely as they crept along, holding hands so they wouldn’t lose each other in the darkness. “I’ve never heard of anyone who could do that.”
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