by Greg Keyes
“Except me,” Billy replied.
“Well, you don’t exactly go to my school,” Errol said.
Billy didn’t reply to that. He just sort of slumped forward, like he had fallen asleep sitting up. The fire flickered and took on a bluish tint.
“This talk sounds very naughty,” a soft, high voice murmured. For a moment, Errol wasn’t even sure he heard it. But then he saw her, just a few feet away, crouched in the vines between two fallen blocks of stone. A hot wave of shock pulsed through him. Where had she come from? She was right in front of him. How could he have not seen her arrive?
Her eyes were what he mostly saw; blue like the fire—which now was deep turquoise. Her hair glowed the same color, but the rest of her was dark, and he realized it was mostly her outline he saw, limned in a faint glow.
It was very cold. The girl stood up and stepped toward him.
“Billy?” Errol said. “Are you okay?”
She took another step.
“Don’t come any closer,” Errol snapped.
“You aren’t like him,” she said, ignoring his warning. He scrambled up, unsure what to do, but knowing he had to do something.
He could see her features in the azure glow of the fire now. She was smiling, and when he raised his fist she puckered her lips and blew. The fire suddenly swirled up and surrounded him. He felt his legs go heavy and sat down, hard. His arms were difficult to move, but he tried, reaching toward her as she knelt down at his feet.
“Here we go,” she murmured. “Don’t fret.” And she touched his ankles, very gently. It felt as if his feet had been dunked in cold soda water, and the effervescent sting worked quickly up his legs, to his torso. When it reached his head he had a moment of giddy confusion before oblivion.
TWO
THEY WENT INTO THINGS
Girl’s night is always such fun,” Veronica commented, as the sun settled on the horizon. Something warbled in the distance, and something closer answered it.
“Yeah,” Aster replied, staring up at the dark, forested hills. “Really fun.” She sighed. “They’re not going to make it back before nightfall, are they?”
Dusk shook her head. “Someone just built a fire up there,” she said. “See the smoke? Climbing down in the dark wouldn’t be sensible.”
Aster stared hard to where she was pointing, but didn’t make out much.
“Learn that in girl scouts?” Veronica asked.
“I don’t know what that is,” Dusk replied. She sounded irritated. The camaraderie that had developed between Dusk and Veronica seemed to have dissipated. Aster wasn’t sure why—although it probably had to do with Errol—but it was something of a relief to Aster. If they were sniping at each other, they weren’t ganging up against her.
“Errol and Billy,” Veronica said. “All alone in the woods. Whatever shall they talk about? Girls, perhaps?”
“Billy doesn’t talk much,” Aster said.
“Yeah. I figure that’s what you like about him. He’s quiet. Does what he’s told. Quietly.”
“Not a quality Errol values apparently,” Dusk said.
“Oh,” Veronica said. “There is no accounting for who Errol is going to like.”
You can say that again, Aster thought. Dusk, however, did not let it go by.
“Errol is a kind person,” Dusk said. “He finds an injured bird and he tries to fix its wing, even if it pecks at his eyes. But his kindheartedness blinds him to a simple fact—that some things are broken beyond fixing, and to continue the effort hurts everyone.”
Aster was slightly shocked; it was the meanest thing she had ever heard Dusk say.
“Wow,” Veronica said. “That was a good one. When the boys are gone, I guess you figure you can drop your act.”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” Dusk said.
“Why are you with us, Dusk?” Veronica sked. “You’ve never explained that. And yet odd things keep turning up. Everybody we meet acts funny around you, like you’re something special. Now suddenly Aster is a relative of yours. What are the odds? And that snake—I didn’t call it up. I doubt very much it crawled up on you on its own. So how did it get there? I was the obvious one to blame.”
Dusk pursed her lips. “I’m not accustomed to being spoken to in that manner,” she said, softly. “I give you my aid—risk my own life—and this is my payment?”
“I’m on to you,” Veronica said.
“If you have something to say, nov, say it.”
Aster felt a little shock at the word from her father’s language.
“Ouch. Name-calling too,” Veronica said. “Shall we move on to hair-pulling?”
“You guys—” Aster said. But it turned out she didn’t have to interrupt them. The whirlwind settling on the deck of the ship did that.
Dusk swore and yanked out her sword, while Aster spoke an adjuration to Calm Winds. She felt the power of it as it came through her throat into the world. She felt her mind envelope the rough moving surface of the air.
Then everything flashed blue-white, and spasms wracked her body, sending her down to the deck. For long moments she knew only agony, but then the pain slacked, and her muscles returned to her control. She pushed herself up.
The whirlwind was gone. In its place stood a boy with a blaze of red hair and beetling eyebrows to match. He wore a long shift of felt with swirled patterns of umber, red, and black and dark yellow pants tucked into high boots that turned up a bit at the toe.
“Don’t let’s try that again, eh?” he said. “It’s not as if I’m an ordinary wind.”
“Haydevil is actually more ordinary than he imagines,” a softer, feminine voice said. This came from the slight young woman settling on the deck near the boy. She was dressed much like he was, but her colors tended toward late autumn gold and brown and her hair fell in long, black braids. They were both beautiful in a delicate way.
The girl also held what looked remarkably like Dusk’s sword, and a glance at the warrior-woman’s empty hands confirmed it. Aster wondered how that had happened.
“Oh, sew it in your lips, Mistral,” the boy said. “She knows my power to her bones.”
“Aster was defending us,” Dusk said, helping Aster to her feet. “Your arrival was abrupt and strange.”
“That’s a fine description of him, abrupt and strange,” the girl—Mistral—said. “Let’s all be easy. No harm was intended. But this is our country, and you are strangers in it.”
She stopped, and waited expectantly.
“This is Dusk, and she’s Veronica,” Aster said. “As Dusk said, my name is Aster.”
“What are you doing here?” Haydevil demanded.
“Give them time, brother, they will tell us, I’m certain,” Mistral said.
Aster regarded the two and then cast a little glance at Dusk.
“We’ve nothing to hide,” Dusk said to Aster, in the language of her father. For an instant, Aster considered pretending not to understand, but Dusk shook her head.
“You bear the mark of my kin,” Dusk said. “And I’ve heard you spell in the old tongue. There’s no use in pretending, with me or them. The danger here is in deceiving them and being discovered. Speak plainly.”
“ Yes, please do,” Mistral said, in the same tongue. When she saw their surprise at knowing the language, she smiled. “I am well-traveled.”
“Then maybe you can help us,” Aster said. “We’ve come in search of a certain orchard. One with—ah—well, a giant.”
Mistral blinked. Haydevil pursed his lips, but remained silent.
“I know that place,” Mistral finally said. “May I ask your intentions?”
“I’m not really clear on that,” Aster replied. “I’m supposed to find an orchard, and a giant, and he’s supposed to help me somehow.”
“Help you?” Haydevil scoffed. “A giant? Help you to the grave, maybe. Plant you straight in the ground.”
“There is danger, that is true,” Mistral said. “But if you seek him, I
can help you.”
“Thank you,” Aster replied.
“Well,” Mistral said. “That’s settled then. Are you ready?”
Aster blinked. It all seemed a bit too easy.
“Errol,” Veronica said. “Billy.”
“Right,” Aster said. “Two of our companions went ashore last night. We’re waiting on them.” She pointed up the hillside. “Waiting on them?” Haydevil said. “Well that’s useless.”
“What do you mean?” Aster said.
“Well, the Brume has them,” he said. “We thought you knew.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well you sent them up there,” Mistral said. “That’s begging the Brume to make off with them.”
“You must not have liked them much,” Haydevil put in.
“No, we like them well indeed,” Dusk snapped. “What is this Brume?”
“She’s awful,” Mistral said. “Really awful.”
“Some sort of monster?”
“All sorts of monster, I would say,” Haydevil said.
“Has she—are they dead?” Aster asked.
“No, not yet. Dragged off to her lair, by the looks of things.”
“And where is that?” Dusk demanded.
Mistral looked thoughtful. “That’s two favors you’re asking of us now, and the second one is a great bother.”
“I would be very grateful,” Aster said.
“I am so certain of that,” Mistral said. “But I’m minded that there are traditions about this sort of thing. You know that, I think.”
“I have some things,” Aster said. “Magical things.”
“Indeed you do,” Mistral replied.
“And one very nice one.”
“What do you—” she closed her eyes as it sank in.
“You mean the boat, don’t you?”
“Eh—yes,” Mistral said. “After all, it did once belong to our father.”
“No it didn’t,” Aster replied. “It belonged to mine.”
“Both things are possible,” Mistral said. “I was just a little girl, but I remember Father giving it over. Made a deal with a traveling wizard. Red-headed fellow, had a little girl . . .” she stopped and smiled. “Why that was you, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t . . .” Aster began. But she did remember a man, talking to her father in a huge hall of stone. Was there a little girl with dark hair? Maybe.
“Well, you see, that brings us all back around,” Mistral said.
“But I need the ship to go back home,” Aster said.
“Well, then,” Mistral said. “You will have it. And the Brume shall keep your friends. It may well be too late anyway.”
Veronica walked over to Mistral until they stood eye-to-eye.
“Where is Errol?” she asked. Her voice was quite low. “I’d like to know.”
“Take it up with your friend Aster, then,” Mistral said. Her eyes began to flash and glint, and Aster felt the sudden welling up of power. Veronica didn’t budge. Mistral reached and touched her shoulder, and Veronica’s hair stood straight out; sparks played along her arms and legs, crackled between her fingers. She crumpled without a sound.
Aster stared, aghast.
“What have you done to her?” she gasped.
“She is no more alive and no deader than she was before,” Mistral said. “She was summoning the beasts of the deeps, and so I did no more than defend myself. I have no wish to harm anyone.”
“Why do you want my ship?”
“It was my father’s, and all things of his are dear to me.”
Oddly, her voice had a certain gravity that it hadn’t up until now. It felt to Aster as if she was telling the truth.
“Fine,” she said. “If you take us to Errol and Billy and if you show us the way to the orchard and the giant, then I’ll give you the ship. I’ll find another way home.”
“Done,” Mistral said. “Sail west along this coast. My brother and I shall guide you.”
I told you things grow stranger in the west,” Dusk said.
“I see that,” Aster replied. She hadn’t noticed the oddness about the trees at first, the slant was so imperceptible, but as they went along the trees bent more and more towards them. They looked as if they had grown that way. But as her gaze wandered up the hillside, it was apparent that the trees weren’t all leaning in one direction—instead they bent away from some common single spot, as if a great explosion had pushed them all down.
The only exceptions were the youngest trees, the saplings. They stood straight.
On the deck, Veronica began to stir, and after a little while she stood and joined them. When Aster asked if she was okay, the other girl nodded slightly, but didn’t say anything.
Not much later they reached the epicenter of whatever had happened, the place everything slanted away from.
It was not empty, as Aster had half expected. They sailed into a little bay. Beyond that a small mountain rose up in three tiers, almost like a wedding cake. The cliffs and slopes were of white stone, but Aster could see green upon the flat surfaces. The upper part of the mountain had been carved into strange, flowing shapes with odd, irregular openings which she remembered were windows and doors.
“I’ve been here before,” she whispered.
“Have you?” Veronica murmured, to Aster’s chagrin. She hadn’t meant to say it so loudly.
“Is this where the Brume is?” Dusk asked.
“Yes,” said Mistral. “From here we must go on foot. Bring lamps, unless you can see in the dark.”
Aster landed the boat at the quay, the same quay she and her father had boarded it from. But a lot was missing. She remembered a city, and colorful pennants, other ships, the smell of bread baking. All that was gone, perhaps swept away by whatever bent the trees.
“The people who lived here,” she asked Mistral. “Where are they?”
“They were changed,” Mistral replied. “Into monsters? Like the Brume?” Aster replied. “Your parents?”
“This is not your business,” Haydevil snapped. “It’s this way.”
Mistral seemed content to let Haydevil lead. When they reached the cliff, he suddenly reached out his hand toward Aster.
“What?” she asked.
“Take it,” he said. “You too, hold my other hand.” The last was directed at Dusk.
She did as she was told, feeling the hot prickle of magic against her palm.
“Now you two join hands.”
She took Dusk’s hand and felt how hard it was, how calloused, and realized it was her sword hand.
“Now, run widdershins,” he exclaimed, tugging.
They followed him, faster and faster until she thought they would fall, and then her feet did go out from under her, but not in the usual way. They were airborne, whirling round and round. Haydevil was laughing, the anger in him temporarily absent and replaced by joy, and Aster herself felt a burst of exhilaration.
Mistral had taken Veronica’s hands and they were dancing rather than spinning, long gliding steps taking them higher and higher.
Soon they all settled on the grassy surface of the lower tier.
“Here we go,” Mistral said.
“I hope we’re not too late,” Haydevil said.
They followed the siblings through a door carved in the rock. It was vaulted but slightly irregular, as if the stonemason had been trying to suggest it had been fashioned by nature rather than a chisel.
There were no steps inside, but the corridor sloped alarmingly downward. The stone was very smooth, and she wondered if she would be able to climb back up it.
It grew colder as they descended, and the passage became slick with condensation. Eventually it opened into a large chamber.
Like the door and passage, it was a little unclear whether they were in a cavern carved to look like a room or a room constructed to resemble a cavern. Pillars rose high into the darkness, but they seemed so thin and fragile it was hard to believe they were holding anything up. The cold, wet
air stank of decay.
Beyond the light of their lamps, Aster made out another source of illumination, greenish blue in color.
“Yes, that’s the way,” Mistral confirmed.
Haydevil went ahead, striding quietly. Aster heard a voice or voices. Almost they seemed to be singing.
Haydevil stopped, suddenly.
“Eh,” he said. “Too late for sure.”
“Too late?” Aster repeated. She pushed past him, her heart thrumming, terrified of what she would see.
“We told you she was awful,” Mistral sighed.
The light came from a shaft of sunlight falling down through a hole in a roof choked with moss and ferns. In the dim circle of light stood a table and chairs. The table was set with silver and ivory tea service. Billy and Errol were seated, dressed outlandishly in lacey feminine garb.
With them was a girl who appeared to be around ten or eleven years old. She had long, tangled blackish-green hair and was appareled in what might have once been a pink ball gown. It appeared as if she had been wearing it for weeks, if not longer.
She looked at them as they came in.
“These boys have been naughty,” she said, in a chirpy little voice. “But I have given them tea, and they are thinking better of their ways.”
“We’re thinking better of our ways,” Billy agreed. His voice sounded strange. Errol waved.
“Let’s have a song, boys,” the girl said.
Horribly the two boys began to sing an odd, childish little melody.
Drip and drop
Plip and Plop
Put the spiders in the pot
Boil them up, then we’ll sup
Spider tea from our dainty cups
“That’s the Brume?” Veronica asked.
“Yes,” Haydevil said. “Horrible isn’t she? Look how she’s dressed them.”
“But they’re alive,” Aster breathed.
“Well, sure,” Haydevil said. “But high heavens, the embarrassment.”
“Have you come to join us?” the Brume asked.
“I’m afraid not,” Mistral replied. “The boys’ friends have come to fetch them.”
The girl frowned. “But it’s been such a short time.”
“I know. But we’ve made promises.”
“Not for me, you didn’t,” the Brume said, petulantly. “I make my own promises.”