Sparrow Falling

by Gaie Sebold

  “Astonishing thing, what is it?”

  “Where does the horse go?” some wag said.

  “Have to be Pegasus, old boy.”

  “My daughter is ill,” Madeleine said, her tone icily calm. “We need to take her home.”

  “Oh, sorry.” The man who had climbed in the cockpit looked up, blushed, and scrambled over the side. “’pologies. Never seen – here, let me help. Give her to me.”

  “We can manage, thank you,” Madeleine said.

  “Let me at least...” He held his arms out.

  “No!” Beth said, clutching Eveline closer, though her arms were shuddering with strain and her back moaned. If he held her he’d get blood on him. Just get out of my bloody machine, you stupid man!

  Madeleine stood, waiting, until the young man climbed down, looking nonplussed. “Well I must say...”

  Madeleine pushed past him and climbed in. “Give her to me.”

  Carefully, so carefully, aware that their every move was being watched, they manoeuvred Eveline into the craft. Beth laid her in Madeleine’s lap, stood straight and gave a croak of pain as something in her back seized.

  “Beth?”

  “It’s all right,” she said, clenching her teeth against the pain, fumbled her way to the front, and lowered herself into the seat. She extracted the small glass bottle from her pocket.

  About an inch of fluid glowed inside.

  Enough. Probably.

  Fed, the Aerymouse sputtered and shuddered. A few people moved back, others pressed closer. Aren’t you all supposed to be at a party? Get out of the way!

  There was a large black rubber bulb in front of Beth. She squeezed it, and a gout of noise blatted from the Aerymouse. “Out of the way, please,” she shouted, and hauled the nose around. The Aerymouse faced across the lawn. Wheeltracks. The Ambassador wouldn’t be pleased. Beth bit her lip, and pulled the bar towards her.

  The Aerymouse began to move. Two men in conversation walked across her path, and Beth blatted the horn again, making them jump and scurry.

  There was barely enough room, less than in Drape’s yard. The trees and wall at the end of the lawn rushed towards her. She hauled back. The nose lifted. Not enough, not enough... she hauled back some more.

  The Aerymouse scraped the top of the trees with a horrible sound like claws gouging its belly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please fly,” Beth muttered, and the little craft struggled up into the smoke-thick London air.

  The Sparrow School

  LIU CAME RUNNING out of the school as they landed, his face ghost-white in the darkness. “Eveline?”

  “Help us with her,” Madeleine said.

  “I tried... I couldn’t find her... the fox... what...”

  “Oh shut up and help,” Doris said.

  Liu did, taking Evvie in his arms and carrying her into the school, without another word.

  Beth eased herself out of the cockpit and climbed down, trying not to cry out. Her back was a red band of pain. She leaned her head against the Aerymouse’s warm, glossy side, looked up at the moon, a misty smudge beyond the clouds, and cried.

  “LIU, I NEED you to listen,” Madeleine said, once Evvie was settled in bed. “She’s very badly hurt. We need a doctor, a good one.”

  “One who won’t ask questions,” Adelita said.

  “I...” Liu looked down at Eveline. “Yes. Wait.”

  And he was gone.

  “HOW DID I get here?” Eveline said.

  “Eveline, dear, don’t try to talk.” Madeleine said. “I’ll get you some tea.”

  “Yes, please, Mama. But how?”

  “We found you and brought you home. You’re safe now. But you’re to stay in bed.”

  “How... Beth?”

  “Sorry, Evvie,” Beth said, hovering by the door.

  “You told ’em.”

  “Evvie, I had to. When you didn’t come back I knew something had gone wrong. And... there was no-one else. What happened?”

  “It was Simms. He took the baby.” She looked at Beth.

  “What baby?” Madeleine said. “Eveline? What baby? What have you done?”

  The Crepuscular

  STUG FELT HIS innards writhing with impatience as he waited for the Queen’s permission to approach. Her gown teased his eyes with constant, flickering movement.

  Finally, she beckoned him. Her court shifted and whispered; beast-headed, tree-limbed, beautiful and grotesque and both together, all of them watched him as he walked towards the throne with the child in his arms.

  Seated at her right hand was the Huntridge child. It seemed she was still pleased with that gift, too. Soon, soon... he imagined what it would be like to carry his son. Not this foreign brat, nor some stinking whining creature from the stews and slums. His son. No more of this. This one would buy him what he desired, and that would be the end of it. Once he had dealt with Simms.

  He reached the foot of the dais, and bowed low. He realised her gown was made all of butterflies – whole, live insects, fragile legs woven together beneath their tiny furred bodies, wings fluttering helplessly, folding and unfolding, allowing glimpses of the Queen’s pearly skin.

  “Your Majesty,” he said.

  “You have brought me what I desire?”

  “I have.”

  “Bring it to me.”

  He stepped closer, even as the hairs on his neck crept and crawled.

  The Queen leaned forward, and held out her arms.

  Stug put the little girl into them. A few wings, crumpled and broken, floated away.

  The Queen looked down. Her delicately drawn brows, curved and fine as a butterfly’s feelers, bent.

  She leaned closer.

  Stug’s heart sped up. What was she looking for? The child was the one, it even had the double-headed eagle embroidered on its blanket.

  The Queen’s head came up, and she looked at Stug. Her eyes had gone the yellow-grey of the sky before a snowstorm.

  “Surely,” she said, “you did not think to fool me, with this?”

  “I... what? But it is the child, I know, it was...”

  “It is not the child. It is not even a child.” She dropped the baby to the floor, where it began to wail, thin and high and chilly as a night wind.

  The Queen stood, and her gown shivered and flickered and hummed with desperate beating wings. “Little man,” she said, “what did you imagine you were doing?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You brought me a changeling. A mommet. Something that will fade, and die.” She moved towards him, sleek as water, and he stood helpless, trapped by her eyes. “Did the old woman, did Baba Yaga put you up to this? To humiliate me?”

  “I... what... no...” He managed to wrench his gaze away long enough to seek out the Queen’s son, Aiden, who stood beside her throne. “Your son told me what you wanted, and I had her brought... I risked everything, everything...”

  Aiden looked slightly puzzled. Then something... understanding, even amusement, began to dawn on his face. Seeing him smile, Stug felt a jag of hope. He must have done it, he would explain...

  “My Lord!”

  But Aiden was staring into the distance, thinking of something else, and seemed not to hear him at all.

  “You think to plead with my son?” The Queen put her hand to Stug’s face, forcing him to look at her. Her fingers fed a terrible, crippling cold through his skin, and his knees began to weaken. “This is between you and me, little man. We made a bargain, and you failed to keep it. Stand still.”

  His knees failed, but he remained upright, held by the light, dreadful touch of her fingers on his skin. His limbs felt like hollow glass filled with water from the Arctic depths.

  “They call you Viper, don’t they?” the Queen said. “Josh ‘Viper’ Stug. A name that helps give you power – but not enough. I know it, and that is one of the secrets of my power. Shall I make you a snake, to crawl at my feet until you have earned forgiveness?” She leaned back, pressing the forefinger of her
free hand to her lip. “No, too dull. Perhaps I should pay you back in kind. Oh, I could. I could give you a son, as you so desire... but one of my design. A son to burden you with lost hopes and broken dreams, to riddle your life with sorrow and loss.” She laughed. “Of course, I might have done that in any case. You dared to summon one of my subjects with the elder flute, and yet you thought this bargain might go in your favour? Yet, I might have been minded to be generous, and give you the child of your heart. But now... oh, what shall I do with you? You are far too ugly and commonplace to be kept about my court as you are. Oh, I know! How perfect!” She turned, and looked at the red-haired girl who sat beside her throne. “My little love, he is the one who brought you here. What do you think I should do with him?” She shook her forefinger. “And do, please, make it amusing.”

  The child turned her green eyes on him. Stug could see nothing there but calculation.

  “May I ask him something, my Lady?”

  “Of course.”

  “What did you do with them?” Pearl said. “The ones who were not so fortunate as me.”

  Even through his fear Stug felt fury rise like nausea in his throat. That this brat should dare...“I... Bartholomew Simms. He took them. Please...”

  Pearl turned to the Queen. “This one is very ugly,” she said. “Far too ugly to be here, where everything is beautiful. He looks...” She smiled, a charming, innocent smile. “He looks like a pig! Oh, lady, turn him into a pig!”

  “Why,” the Queen said. “The very thing. But I do not like pigs. He cannot stay here, rooting and snorting and stinking.”

  “I know someone who would be very pleased to have a pig,” said Pearl. “They will be so pleased, they will make him into sausages, and eat him all up, from his nose to his tail!”

  “Now that is a truly delightful thought,” the Queen said.

  Stug whimpered.

  “And who is it you wish should have a fine fat pig?” said the Queen.

  “Why, my own old family in Limehouse!” Pearl laughed. “Of course it is a terrible thing to eat a person, even if they are a pig, so it is a fine trick to play on them, too!”

  Stug remembered the room: the single table, the piled clothing. The children, and their ravenous eyes. Would the Huntridge family question the sudden appearance of a pig? Or would they simply fall on him? The children, hollow-cheeked, their mouths open, empty... “No,” he whispered.

  “My dear,” the Queen said fondly. “How sharp you are grown!” And she stroked Pearl’s hair. “Are you sure they will eat every single bit of him?”

  “Oh yes, your Majesty. They are always hungry,” said Pearl, looking directly at Stug, her eyes as cold as coins.

  “No,” Stug said. The Queen took her hand from him, and he fell to his knees, next to the changeling, which stopped crying and looked at him with empty eyes.

  “No,” he said, and “No,” and “No,” until he could no longer say “No,” or anything at all.

  “AIDEN.”

  “Mama.”

  “I think you have been playing tricks upon your mother,” the Queen said, and pouted. “That is unkind, and improper.”

  “I had no such intention, Mama.”

  “Oh?”

  “Someone played a trick on me, in fact.”

  “Indeed?” The Queen tapped her chin. “In that case you shall be doubly punished. For tricking me, and for allowing yourself to be tricked.”

  Aiden bowed. “Your judgement is, as always, lamentably precise.”

  “This was supposed to be the human ambassador’s child. Here is a thought I find piquant. You shall be our ambassador, to the court of Baba Yaga. She has failed to provide much amusement as an enemy, but as a place to exile one’s foolish son... yes, thinking of you among her court may serve to lighten my tedium, at least until I can find a better use for you.”

  “I see. I hope you will allow me to take a few of my court? Otherwise, I will make a very poor showing.”

  “Oh, take who you wish,” the Queen said. “Except – no humans. I think perhaps you have been too much influenced by them of late.”

  “As my Lady commands,” Aiden said, and bowed, and returned to his own court.

  HE SAT UPON his throne of brass and pistons and cogs and fat buttoned leather, and stormclouds gathered beneath the soaring roof of iron and glass, and lightning flared about the metal and his servants hid themselves. “I become a little weary,” Aiden said. A hawk spread wings of gold and steel, stooped from the highest beam and landed upon his raised wrist, tilting its head to gaze at him with a scarlet, enamelled eye. “I am, after all, the prince,” he told the hawk. “Yet still I am treated like a child. One day, Mama, you will realise I have grown. Children do that. Yes, even among us they do that.” He stared thoughtfully at the hawk, and the thunder and lightning died away. “Charlotte!” he called. “Come to me.”

  The Sparrow School

  “YOU SHOULD HAVE told me,” Madeleine said.

  Evvie, still wrapped in bandages, hunched her shoulders and stared into her mug of tea. She had taken the jade fox out of its secret pocket, and it sat on the dresser, looking forlorn.

  “She...” Ma Pether stopped and shook her head.

  “If you have something to say,” Madeleine said, “please do so.”

  “All right.” Ma straightened her shoulders. “She wasn’t going to tell you, was she? You don’t approve of her using what she knows, so why’d she tell you? But she should have told me.” She glared at Evvie. “I coulda helped.”

  “It’s your influence...” Madeleine started.

  “Oh, stop it, both of you!” Beth said. They both looked at her as though a chair had jumped up and bitten them. “Leave her alone, she’s hurt and she’s tired. She did what she thought was best, and if you two hadn’t been forever arguing maybe she wouldn’t have...” Beth stopped, and ducked her head. “I’m sorry.”

  “Well, well,” Ma Pether said. “You’ve finally found yourself a bit of gumption, haven’t you, missy?”

  “Yes,” Madeleine said, “and since she told you and you didn’t see fit to inform anyone...”

  “I can speak, you know,” Evvie said. Her voice was still weak, but her look wasn’t. “I told Beth where I was going, that was all. Not why. And don’t you go blaming her. I didn’t tell you, Mama, because you’d fret yourself to nothing or try and stop me, or both, and Ma Pether, you weren’t here, so how could I tell you? ’Sides, you’d have interfered. So I’ll thank the pair of you to,” she drew a hard painful breath, “to stop it. I looked after meself a long time. And it worked out, din’t it? Apart from me getting stuck like a pig, anyways.”

  “But Evvie, dear,” Madeleine said, sitting on the bed and taking her daughter’s hand, “you don’t have to do it all yourself, any more. And besides, if I understand rightly what was going on, do you really think I’d have objected to you dealing with that awful man the way he deserved? Yes, I might have advised you to involve the police, but...”

  “And get them interested in the school? Mama, we can’t. We have to stay out of their way, best we can.”

  “Well what if he turns up again?”

  Ma Pether snorted. “He tried to palm off a changeling on the Queen of the Folk. If he turns up, it won’t be in the shape he started out. It’ll be in a bunch of ’em, all screaming.”

  “Please,” Madeleine said, her hand going to her throat.

  “Serves him right, you ask me,” said Ma. “Anyways. Seems to me like you need me around, Evvie Sparrow, keep you and my girls out of trouble.”

  “Your girls?”

  Ma rolled her eyes. “The girls, then. But it’s up to your Mama, I suppose.”

  “No,” Evvie said. “No, it isn’t. I’m sorry, Mama, but we do need her. Only you two better be polite.”

  “She saved your life, Eveline,” Madeleine said. “I was very angry with you, Ma,” she said, standing up. “But you did save her life.” She offered her hand to Ma.

  Ma took it. “You
were worried about your girl. I don’t take it wrong, f’I hadn’t been wrongheaded and taken meself off in a spelter, maybe she wouldn’t have got in such a mess.” She let go. “Right, I got some business to see to.”

  “What business?” Evvie said.

  “Best you don’t know,” Ma said. “Not till after.”

  “Ma! What did you just say not a breath ago? You said I should have told you what I was doing!”

  Ma grinned. “I will tell you. Later. Now you be good and listen to your Mama.” She left.

  Eveline sighed with exasperation.

  “Now I think you should rest,” Madeleine said.

  “You do understand, Mama? Why we need her?”

  “She is terribly useful,” Madeleine said. “But one day, Eveline, I do hope we can manage without getting entangled in quite such dangerous messes.”

  “I admit I don’t fancy getting knifed again,” Eveline said.

  “No.” Madeleine’s face was hidden as she picked up the tea-tray, but her voice was very tight.

  “Ma, I’m sorry you were frightened.”

  “I was, yes. But I’m proud of you,” Madeleine said, straightening up. “You did the right thing, my love.” She kissed her daughter on the forehead and left.

  Evvie stared out of the window.

  “You’re angry with me,” Beth said.

  “No, I... well, all right. Some.”

  “I never meant your Mama to find out.”

  “I know.”

  “I don’t think you can keep things from her, Evvie. Not any more. Not everything, at any rate.”

  “Doesn’t look like it, does it?”

  “Does it still hurt?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want some medicine?”

  “No. It’s got laudanum in it.”

  “Evvie, what’s wrong? You did it. You did everything. You saved the baby, you got rid of Stug... well, probably... and there won’t be a war, now.”