by Webb, Holly
Lily was shaking later, as she climbed the same staircase. Miss Merganser had got round to her needlework – or lack of it – and had ripped it apart in disgust. Her hand had been hovering over the pocket hanging from her waist where she kept the spell bottles, but in the end she had settled merely for shouting. But she had separated Lily from her sister, sending her to sit alone on the window seat where Henrietta had been hiding earlier. Georgie kept darting her furious glances, and Lily’s eyes were so blurred with crying that she stabbed her fingers over and over, staining her sampler with a mixture of blood and tears.
‘What have they done to you?’ Henrietta growled, as Lily climbed the third staircase on trembling legs. The black pug circled around her feet worriedly, almost tripping Lily up.
‘Nothing. Only shouted. I’d forgotten what it was like. No one ever shouted at us at the theatre, or only to say I had my dress sticking out of one of the hidden panels, or something like that. They weren’t mean. And Mama was always meaner to Georgie than me.’ Lily stumbled to the top of the steps, and sat down, wrapping her arms around her middle. ‘It’s stupid. It doesn’t really matter.’
Henrietta leaned heavily against Lily’s knee, and whirled her tail. ‘You need to do some magic. You’re missing it, I can tell.’ She tugged Lily’s pinafore with her teeth. ‘I think you’re right about the dampening spell up here. I can’t feel it at all, and the air seems fresher.’ She looked up at Lily hopefully, but Lily was staring at the faded wallpaper, frowning.
‘What’s the matter?’ Henrietta peered at it too.
‘It moved! Like the banisters! I was just looking at the pattern – it’s so faded, I was trying to see what it was – and it moved.’
‘Looks like the family coat of arms to me,’ Henrietta mused, jamming her nose up against the wall. ‘That’s very smart. A little showy, though, I think. It’s hardly discreet, is it, slapping your family emblems all over the wallpaper?’
‘So the Fell crest has a dragon?’ Lily asked, tracing the faded, greyish figure coiling across the paper.’
‘Yes. But they’re still a myth.’
The worn old dragon seemed to wind itself around Lily’s fingers, and someone laughed. Lily jumped back, pressing herself against the banisters.
Henrietta sneezed with surprise, and then stared suspiciously at the wallpaper.
‘You heard that too, didn’t you?’ Lily whispered.
‘Mmm,’ Henrietta admitted. ‘I might have done. No one followed you, did they?’
‘No.’ Lily ran her fingers gently across the paper again. ‘Someone was already here.’
They hid themselves in one of the abandoned rooms, swathed in dustsheets. They had turned left at the top of the stairs. The right-hand passage seemed less dusty, as though some of the rooms might still be used. One of them, the first door down the passage, was locked, and Lily had started to call for Peter. Then she’d sighed at her own stupidity. He couldn’t hear her. And if she tried to push a note under the door, Miss Merganser or one of the other staff might find it. She listened for a while, with her ear to the keyhole, but she couldn’t hear anyone inside.
‘He isn’t there, Lily,’ Henrietta told her impatiently. ‘If he were, I would have smelled him. I know his scent.’ She snuffled along the bottom of the door. ‘I won’t say there isn’t someone in there, mind you. But it’s not him.’
The left-hand passage looked safer, for a hidey-hole, as though they were less likely to be found.
Lily chose the room because of the overmantel, a fantastical white wooden explosion of swirls and scrolls. It matched the white dustsheets, and lent the whole room a curious dreamlike feel. Once she brushed away the dust furring over the curlicues, the carvings could have been snow, or even sugar.
‘There’s another one down here,’ Henrietta muttered, almost reluctantly, nosing the marble mantelpiece surrounding the fire. ‘Bigger than those others.’
Lily laughed when she saw him first – he looked like a dragon made of icing, something from a smart pastrycook’s shop. She wanted to lick her finger, when she’d dusted him, to see if it had come away sweet. ‘He’s beautiful,’ she murmured, dusting him a little more with her grey dress – and the outstretched wings seemed to shimmer gratefully. ‘Let’s practise here.’
Lily wedged herself between the grate and the carving of the mantelpiece, and Henrietta climbed possessively into her lap.
‘What shall I do?’ Lily asked, rather helplessly. She didn’t usually practise her magic – it just happened, when she needed it to. Now it seemed terribly important to choose the right spell. Something that would reawaken her damaged powers, and turn her back into the sort of person who could rescue friends. And fathers.
‘Anything!’ Henrietta snapped impatiently. ‘You could rustle me up a nice ham sandwich. I tried to go ratting in the stables last night, and the rats were rather larger than I was.’
‘Food’s difficult,’ Lily muttered. ‘Especially when there isn’t anything to start with. I’m sorry.’ She stroked Henrietta’s ears. ‘Miss Merganser was watching me all through lunch. I couldn’t steal anything for you. Not even crumbs.’
‘Mice taste most unpleasant, did you know that?’ Henrietta told her gloomily. ‘Especially raw.’
Someone chuckled behind them, and Henrietta turned round to glare at the marble mantel. ‘It’s very rude to break into a conversation when you haven’t been properly introduced.’
A sense of apology seemed to hover in the air, and Lily stared hopefully at the stone dragon. It didn’t move. But the apology died away, replaced with a glow of excitement that seemed to shimmer all through Lily too, warming her. It shifted the hard little stone of fright that had grown inside her, fright and worry and despair, and she smiled gratefully. Even Henrietta almost purred.
The marble dragon was shining, Lily realised, as she stroked it lovingly, the stone translucent, and almost soft.
‘It’s real,’ she murmured.
‘How can it be?’ Henrietta sounded confused, and quite annoyed. ‘It’s a stone!’
‘Not always. It’s been real, Henrietta, I’m sure it has.’ Lily blinked at her. ‘And anyway, you were a painting!’
‘Hmf. But that was a spell. You called me out. You’re saying that this – stone – was real first?’
‘I can’t tell. It isn’t just a carving, though. Can’t you feel it?’
‘I suppose so,’ the pug muttered, and Lily suddenly realised that she was jealous.
‘I chose you,’ she whispered. ‘You were my first spell, remember.’
‘You’re meant to be practising.’ Henrietta jabbed her roughly with a cold nose.
Lily nodded. She reached out, and wrapped both hands around the strange soft stone of the dragon’s body. Scales itched and glinted against her fingers, even though she couldn’t see them, and the carving glowed brighter still. She could feel magic thrumming eagerly through the stone, like a warm little heart beating. And the eagerness! Something so wanted to break free.
But it couldn’t, quite.
Lily’s head swam, and Henrietta snarled. ‘Lily, stop!’
Half-fainting, Lily’s hands slid away from the stone, and she shook herself wearily.
Almost, something whispered gratefully. Soon!
‘Was it really a dragon?’ Lily whispered, when they were back in bed.
‘I still say they’re only a myth,’ Henrietta muttered stubbornly. But she didn’t sound quite as sure as before.
‘It felt like the house.’ Lily stared up at the dark ceiling of the dormitory. ‘The spirit of the house. Perhaps it was just using that carved dragon to talk to us.’
‘Are you planning to talk all night?’ Henrietta growled, burrowing down further under the blankets. ‘I’d be asleep already if I weren’t so hungry.’
Lily smiled. She was tired too – wonderfully worn out, her magic stretched and limp. She had missed using it so much. She felt as if she was held together with damp string. She yawned sud
denly, and tucked her knees round Henrietta. Whatever it was, dragon or not, she was almost certain it was an ally.
Lily woke the next morning almost eager to get to the schoolroom. The sooner they were done with lessons, the sooner she could hurry up to the third floor.
But everything changed at breakfast.
‘There’s a new boy, can you see him, Lily?’ Lottie nudged her, as Lily stirred her porridge without enthusiasm. It was so horribly grey. A similar colour to her dress.
Lily looked up hopefully. She had begun to think that Peter wasn’t at Fell Hall at all. But perhaps he had been hidden away somewhere. In one of the outbuildings. Or upstairs. Maybe even one of those rooms further down the right-hand side of the corridor? She felt a sudden stab of guilt. She shouldn’t have listened to Elizabeth, she should have looked harder. She stared eagerly at the boys’ benches, where Lottie was pointing.
Her spoon clattered against the bowl and sprayed greyish porridge over her greyish uniform.
Across the room, a thin, tanned boy with spiky brownish hair didn’t look up.
He couldn’t hear the sharp sound of metal hitting china, or Miss Ann’s whining voice telling Lily to be more careful.
Peter just went on eating his porridge.
‘He can’t hear you. There’s no point talking to him,’ the curly-haired boy explained, staring at Lily and Georgie. ‘What do you want to talk to him for anyway?’ He sounded affronted, and he kept glancing shiftily at the door. Clearly he didn’t want to get into trouble with Mr Fanshawe.
‘We know he can’t hear. Look, just go away, can’t you? Then no one can tell you off for being with us.’ Lily flapped at the boy dismissively, and he slunk into the next row of desks, scowling at her.
‘Are you all right?’ Lily demanded anxiously, making sure that Peter was looking straight at her. ‘Where have you been? Were they keeping you somewhere else?’ She shoved a piece of paper and a pencil in front of him, and stared at him expectantly. Last time she’d seen him, he’d been hiding under the jetty, at the bottom of the cliffs on Merrythought Island, on the night they’d run away. Peter had pushed their boat out into the water, and she’d begged him to come with them. But he hadn’t dared. He’d been abandoned on the island years before, because his family hadn’t wanted to raise a mute, or so everyone at the house decided.
Peter only stared at her blankly. His fingers twisted and reached towards the pencil, as though he halfremembered what it was for.
‘They’ve been at him with that same spell they used on us, I think,’ Lily muttered. ‘It’s like he’s half-asleep.’
Heavy footsteps sounded outside the door, and Georgie tugged her arm. ‘Lily, come on! We can’t let them see we know him. The girls are already staring.’
Lily nodded, darting into her seat. No one at Fell Hall seemed to have worked out that Peter and the girls were all from Merrythought. She would rather it stayed that way. The less anyone knew about them the better.
Later that afternoon, Lily climbed the staircase again, sneaking around the corners, and darting from shadow to shadow. She had wanted to bring Peter and her sister with her, but Georgie was with Sarah again, strolling round the shrubbery with their heads together. And Peter didn’t even seem to know who he was, let alone remember Lily. So she went back upstairs alone, desperate to talk to Henrietta.
The pug was sitting by the carved dragon, eyeing it worriedly.
‘It doesn’t feel the same,’ she said, as soon as Lily slipped in the door.
Lily dropped down next to her, and stroked the dragon’s stone back. Stone was all it was, this time. Disappointment flooded through her. ‘Did we break it?’ she asked miserably. Everything was going wrong.
Henrietta shook her head. ‘I think it’s gone somewhere.’
Even though the stone figure was still clearly sitting there, Lily knew what she meant. She ran her fingers down the stone scales. ‘I found Peter.’
Henrietta blinked at her. ‘Where is he then? Why didn’t you bring him with you?’
‘He wouldn’t come.’ Lily swallowed. ‘I think they’ve broken him somehow. With the spells they use to fight our magic. And he didn’t even have any powers! It’s so stupid!’
Henrietta glared at the carving. ‘We’ll have to mend him, then. We should get this thing back. It must be magic, so it ought to be on our side, don’t you think? It can’t hurt, surely…’ She licked the dragon’s muzzle thoughtfully. ‘It’s possible that you set it free.’
‘I was trying to,’ Lily sounded doubtful. ‘But I just got dizzy. Nothing happened.’
Henrietta shrugged. ‘Maybe you woke it up enough that it set itself free.’ She snorted. ‘It’s a dragon! Who knows what the rules are?’
‘What if we never find it again?’ Lily leaned back against the carving with a sigh. ‘I was hoping it might help us escape, somehow.’
Henrietta huffed. ‘If you did set it free, we’ll probably never see it again. None of the myths about dragons ever said they were grateful. It’s probably flapped off to the other side of the country.’
Lily shook her head. ‘I don’t think it would do that. It belonged here.’ She sighed again, and heaved herself up from the floor. ‘I suppose we should go back downstairs. I didn’t tell Georgie about the dragon last night, I didn’t know what to say. It would have sounded so strange. But I probably ought to now. Or she’ll complain I’m keeping her in the dark.’
Henrietta lay down, resting her head on her paws and looking up at Lily mournfully. ‘I’ll stay here then. I’ll try and creep into the dormitory later.’
Lily kissed the close-furred top of her head. ‘I’ll wait for you. I couldn’t sleep without you, the first night.’
Henrietta ducked her head so as not to let Lily see her smugness. ‘Well. I’ll do my best then.’
Lily wandered miserably around the lower floors, searching for Georgie. She had to tell her what was happening. She hurried from the schoolroom, to the girls’ common room, even to the outhouses, where no one with any sense would linger. Little knots of girls were everywhere, and they all seemed to be laughing. It made her feel desperately lonely. And cross. Why were they all so happy in this horrible place?
Lily found her eventually, huddled up next to Sarah in one of the old parlours. It had been a pretty room once, with soft sage-green silk on the walls, but now the colour had faded to a sickly grey. The delicate furniture that must have been there had gone, but there was still a cushion in the window seat, and Georgie and Sarah were sitting on it, sewing. They looked up as Lily came in, and glared at her. Both of them.
‘What do you want?’ Sarah snapped.
Lily blinked. She’d hardly spoken to Sarah, and certainly hadn’t done anything to offend her. Why was the older girl being so unpleasant?
‘Go away. We’re busy. And your sister doesn’t want to talk to you.’
‘Georgie…’ Lily started towards her, wanting her to tell Sarah to mind her own business. But after a couple of steps, she realised that Georgie wasn’t even looking at her. She was staring at her needlework as though she’d never seen anything more fascinating.
‘See?’ Sarah sneered. ‘She doesn’t want to talk to you. Better for her if she doesn’t, anyway. Anyone can see you’re going to be trouble. Go on, run away and play.’
Lily did. She was ashamed afterwards. She should have yelled. Grabbed Georgie and dragged her away. But just then she couldn’t think of anything to yell, except how much she hated Fell Hall. So she ran, slamming the door behind her, and hurried off down the dusty passage, refusing to cry again.
In the end she went to bed. There didn’t seem to be anything better to do, and she was still tired after the huge effort of the spell the night before. She lay huddled under her blankets, worrying about Georgie. Her sister was taking the teaching at Fell Hall to heart. Georgie already hated her magic, the way it was tied up with Mama’s cruel spells. She did everything she could to avoid using it. It wouldn’t be hard to persuade her th
at magic itself was evil. That was bound to be exactly what Sarah had been telling her, Lily thought dismally. That, and how to pretend she didn’t have a sister.
She was half woken by Sarah herself, complaining.
‘She has to drink her cocoa!’
‘She’s asleep. Don’t wake her up. Look, if you’re going to get into trouble about it, I’ll drink it for her.’
Lily wriggled in her sleep, wanting to wake up and tell Georgie not to, although she wasn’t quite sure why. It seemed terribly important somehow. But she was weighted down with sleep, and the voices died away.
A little later – in her sleep, it seemed hardly any time at all – Lily began to dream, wonderful flashes of flight, soaring and dipping over the stone crags they had seen on their way.
Who are you?
They both thought it at the same time, and a deep, throaty chuckle made the bed shudder.
Are you sure you’re not a Fell, little one?
No. I’m Lily, Lily Powers. From Merrythought.
I don’t know that name. There’s Fell blood in you, I’m sure. A distant cousin perhaps. Welcome, cousin.
Who are you? Lily asked again, hoping she knew.
Oh, you do know, cousin. But you have to believe in us enough to say.
Us? There are more of you?
There was a soft sigh, and Lily felt whatever it was – no, the dragon. She did believe. She felt the dragon slip a little further away.
There were…
Lily twitched, and huddled closer to the warm bulk down the side of the bed, holding it close and tight. It was warm but strangely smooth and hard – like one of the clay hot-water bottles they’d had at Merrythought. Just much, much bigger.
As she woke up enough to start wondering about it, suddenly it wasn’t there any more. Lily sat up, confused. She had been lying on something. She knew she had. Blinking, she looked across at Georgie’s bed, to ask her sister what was happening.