Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Nuala and the other faeries farther down the table laugh with a savage excitement. Nuala’s head was thrown back, and her cheeks were flushed with wine and exhilaration.
Mackenzie eased herself back from the table while Nuala was still distracted. She gathered her skirts. She was just half an inch above her seat when a hand closed around her wrist.
“Where are you going?” Nuala asked, her eyes narrowing.
“I-I was just going to stretch my legs,” Mackenzie whispered.
“But you haven’t touched the wine in your cup. And look, the piper has arrived to play for us.” The faery tightened her fingers, and Mackenzie felt a small shock travel up her arm. “Stay,” Nuala said sweetly, an icy smile on her face.
Mackenzie’s stomach churned as she watched Finian settle himself at the center of the courtyard. Every muscle in her body was tensed as if waiting for a blow.
The first notes were soft, teasing. If they had stayed that way, Mackenzie was sure she could have resisted them. But the music didn’t remain gentle. It swelled quickly until it was a crushing wave of sound. Mackenzie did everything she could to resist it. She bit the insides of her cheeks until they were raw. She chewed on her tongue. Her fingernails left bloody imprints where they cut into her palms.
She forgot about Nuala’s presence beside her. There was only the piper’s music and her struggle against it. She covered her ears and buried her head in her lap, but it was still there, ringing in her head, battering her body.
She felt the air explode around her. It was like an enormous electric pulse, making every hair on her body stand on end. Her head throbbed. When the pipes fell silent at last, she thought her eardrums had ruptured. Several seconds passed before she could summon the courage to sit up and open her eyes.
The struggle had cost Mackenzie all of her strength. She could barely hold herself upright as the solstice cup was carried toward her at the front of the faery procession. The cup itself was a blur: two cups, three cups, coming closer and closer. Nuala steadied her as Mackenzie accepted the vessel with both hands.
“Drink,” the faery whispered.
Mackenzie was too tired to resist. She let Nuala guide the cup to her mouth. Her lips parted… At the last possible second she heard the pipes again, one soft note that was gone as soon as it had begun, as if she’d only imagined it. She hesitated and then tilted the cup again.
The liquid reached her lips, but her lips were closed. She swallowed her own saliva twice and let Nuala take the cup back. She didn’t have to fake the tremor that went through her body.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Anger had given Mackenzie some of her strength back when Finian showed up at the doorway of her room later that night.
“Are you ready?” the piper called softly into the darkened chamber.
“Why—why do you do it?” she demanded, sputtering in her rage. “My mouth is bloody—it’s a mess! I can barely talk because of you—you and that music! And my sister—” Mackenzie’s voice faltered as she turned to the bed, where Breanne was still asleep. “How can you be their Pied Piper, leading people right into their trap? How can you be so—so evil?”
Finian was silent for almost a full minute. When he spoke again, his voice was ice. “There are some things wee lassies like you could never begin to understand. I’ve helped you and your sister repeatedly, and I’ll take you to the old woman now if you’re ready. But I won’t explain myself to you.”
“I don’t need your help,” Mackenzie said, her heart thundering. “I can find my way myself.”
The piper snorted. “Oh, you can, can you? Then by all means.” With an awkward flourish, he gestured toward the hallway.
“I know the way,” Mackenzie insisted.
“I do not doubt it. But does the way know you?”
“What are you talking about?”
Finian stood aside. “Find out for yourself. But let me warn you—you won’t get far. The passageways will be short, and they won’t lead you anywhere. You’ll find many walls and few doorways, and then you’ll find no doorways at all. If luck favors you, you might find your way back here. Then again, you might not.”
Mackenzie remained silent.
“Let me know what you decide,” Finian said. “I’m at your service.”
With an effort, Mackenzie brought her voice under control. “If you won’t tell me why you’re helping faeries like Nuala trap people, will you at least tell me why you’re bothering to help me and my sister?”
“It’s not you I’m helping. I told you, I owe a debt to Maigret.”
“So how come you can come and go as you please?” Mackenzie asked, her arms crossed. “Why do the hallways stay open for you?”
“The ways are charmed against those the faeries don’t trust. They trust me, of course. I’ve earned certain privileges for my faithful service.”
“I’ll bet,” Mackenzie muttered as she looked down at Breanne’s still form on the bed a few feet away. She uncrossed her arms. “All right. If you’re my only way back to Maigret tonight, I guess—I guess we’d better get going.”
“There’s a bright lass,” said the piper.
Mackenzie didn’t speak to her escort as she trailed a few feet behind him, not even when they were out of the faery mound and well on their way to the water. Finian untied the same boat they’d used the night before, and they rowed across to Maigret’s shack in silence.
“There you are, delivered in one piece,” the piper said, nodding at the ladder that led up into the shack. “You know the plan. I’ll be back before dawn.”
“Thank you,” Mackenzie said stiffly.
“Wait—you’ve forgotten something.”
From underneath his cloak, Finian pulled the pouch that held the fragments of cloth from Mackenzie’s and Breanne’s clothing. He tossed it across the boat. Mackenzie picked it up and started up the ladder.
Maigret was waiting at the top. “Come in, lass, come in,” she said as she took Mackenzie’s arm and led her across the dim, lamp-lit space. “The loom is ready. You brought the pieces of cloth from your own garments?”
“They’re right here.” Mackenzie held up the pouch.
“Good. I spent the day spinning fibers from the marsh into twine—enough to get you started.”
The old woman positioned Mackenzie in front of the empty loom, which consisted of four wooden poles lashed together at the corners to form a tall frame that leaned against the wall. Two narrower poles were attached by slender ropes to the bottom and top poles.
“You have to string the warp threads to start—the ones that go from top to bottom,” Maigret said. She handed Mackenzie a ball of very coarse yarn.
“Wouldn’t it be easier if you did this part?” Mackenzie asked as she struggled to follow Maigret’s directions. The yarn was supposed to wind continuously from the bottom pole to the top one and back again, forming tight parallel lines across the loom. Mackenzie kept dropping the ball of yarn as she traced clumsy figure eights around each pole.
“Keep the yarn taut,” Maigret said. “That’s it. Aye, it would be easier for me to do the whole thing. But the weaving must be all yours, or the mantle’s power against Nuala’s magic will be diluted. It’s enough that I did the spinning.”
When the warp threads were in place, Maigret directed Mackenzie to insert a long stick between every other thread. “That’s your shed stick, to keep the warp threads open. Now the batten.” She handed Mackenzie a flat stick with a sharpened edge and instructed her to insert it under the shed stick. “There, that gives you room for the shuttle.”
Mackenzie took the long flat stick with yarn wrapped around it and began weaving it through the warp threads, releasing yarn from it as she went. It was a painstaking process, even with the batten in place to hold the warp threads open for the shuttle. Following Maigret’s directions, she used a wooden comb to pack down the weft threads she’d just woven in.
Mackenzie surveyed her progres
s and then tensed her body in frustration. “It’s a mess!”
“It’s not a silk dress you’re weaving, lass.” Maigret put a wrinkled hand on Mackenzie’s arm. “It doesn’t matter what it looks like.”
“But there’s no way I can weave a whole cloak by the day after tomorrow. It’s impossible!”
“’Tis a mantle, not a cloak. It doesn’t have to be big. It just needs to be wide enough to cover your sister’s shoulders. Keep going,” Maigret urged. “Don’t think about it—just do it. Your fingers will learn. Soon enough they’ll be flying across the loom.”
Mackenzie closed her eyes and tried to breathe deeply, but her chest was too tight. “I can’t do this. It’s too much!”
The old woman released her arm. “You might as well give up then. This is an easy task compared to the next one.”
“But I can’t just leave my sister here,” Mackenzie said, her voice cracking. “How could I?”
Maigret didn’t answer.
Mackenzie took another breath and picked up the shuttle. “All right,” she said as she squeezed it in her fist. “I’ll weave a mantle.”
Mackenzie lost track of time as she concentrated on moving the shuttle in and out of the warp threads, back and forth across the loom. She’d completed a rough strip of fabric approximately two inches high by three feet long when Finian appeared at the top of the ladder to ferry her back to the island.
“But I’ve barely started,” Mackenzie protested as she rose reluctantly from her stool.
“You’ve done well for your first time, lass,” Maigret said. “It will go faster tomorrow night.”
“What about the pieces from our clothes?”
“You’ll weave them in tomorrow,” said the old woman. She put her hand on Mackenzie’s shoulder and steered her away from the loom. “You have to go with Finian now. You’ve got to be back in your chamber before first light. Have you still got the herbs I gave you last night?
“Good,” she said when Mackenzie nodded. “Take half of them in a wee bit of water just before you lie down. You’ll be hot as a burning ember in no time. Nuala will never know you didn’t drink from the cup last night. She’ll leave you alone after she’s felt your skin, and you can sleep for the rest of the day.
“Do get some sleep, child,” Maigret called softly as Mackenzie descended the ladder after Finian. “You’ll need your rest come tomorrow night.”
Breanne was still asleep when Mackenzie got back to their room, but her body had cooled considerably. “We’re almost out of here,” Mackenzie whispered as she squeezed her sister’s hand. “Just one more night to get through, that’s it.”
Breanne’s eyes opened a crack.
“Are you awake?” Mackenzie said eagerly.
Breanne blinked twice, and then her eyelids dropped again.
“All right,” said Mackenzie. “You’re still tired, but that’s okay. I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’m going to join you in bed for a little while.”
As she spoke, Mackenzie poured half the herb mixture Maigret had given her into a cup of water and swirled it around. She lifted the cup to her nose and grimaced. “This stuff smells disgusting! I can’t tell you how much I wish you were here,” she said to Breanne as she got ready to take the first sip. “I mean really here. You’ve got ten times the courage I have. It’s true—I’m a wuss compared to you.”
She tilted the cup, gagging as the bitter concoction reached her tongue. She had to force herself to swallow.
“I’ve been following you everywhere since kindergarten,” she whispered to her sister between sips. “No, make that since we could crawl. I’d be lost if something happened to you.”
When the cup was empty, Mackenzie lifted the covers and climbed into bed. “I don’t know how long it’s been since I said this, but—I love you, Breanne.”
Mackenzie was barely aware of Nuala’s presence when the faery came to check on her later that morning. She felt something brush her forehead, but she was too tired to open her eyes. The fever Maigret had promised was not nearly as painful as Mackenzie had feared. It was like lying on a hot sandy beach beneath a tropical sun. The ebb and flow of her breath became the ebb and flow of gentle waves, lulling her to sleep. She let herself drift.
The room was lit by a single candle when Mackenzie woke up. The fever had left her body, and her mind was clear, but she had no idea how much time had passed. She remained in bed beside her sister, in case Nuala or one of the faery’s attendants came to check on them. She let herself doze off again until she heard Finian call softly from the hallway.
Breanne’s hand closed around her wrist before she could rise from the bed. “You’re awake!” Mackenzie whispered.
Breanne’s eyes shone palely in the candlelight. Her mouth moved as if she were speaking, but nothing came out.
“Are you okay?” Mackenzie asked anxiously. “Can you speak?”
Breanne’s lips moved again, but there was still no sound. Her eyes widened in alarm as she raised her free hand to her throat.
“We have to go,” Finian called from the hallway.
“Wait! Let me at least get my sister some water,” said Mackenzie. She found a pitcher of water and a cup and brought them back to the bed. Breanne was as weak as a newborn. Mackenzie had to lift her sister’s head and hold the cup to her lips while she drank.
“It’s all right, Bree,” Mackenzie said when her sister was finished. “It’s going to be okay—I promise. But I have to go now. I don’t have time to explain. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
She peeled her sister’s fingers from her wrist and moved away from the bed. “I’m really sorry, but I have to do this,” she said as she backed toward the door, away from her sister’s pleading eyes. “I am coming back. And tomorrow night we can both ditch this place for good.”
Mackenzie and Finian traveled in silence all the way down to the shore. The piper was the first to speak, as he untied the small rowboat from the wharf. “You’re a rare one, you know that?” he said as he prepared to push off through the dark water. “They’re not like you, the others who come here chasing faery gold. You think it’s my music that makes them drink and keeps them in the land below?”
He paused to spit over the side of the boat.
“Feeble-minded bairns. They see the twinkling lights, the faeries on parade in their pretty costumes. They eat faery food and sleep on feather beds. The wee laddies and lassies are spellbound long before they hear my pipes. You think they want to leave? They’d sell their kin to stay!”
“To be slaves for seven years?” Mackenzie asked angrily. “Does anyone explain that part to them?”
Finian kept his voice low as he rowed, but his tone was bitter. “They don’t know the difference. They’re fed well; they’re clothed. Even Nuala doesn’t mistreat her human attendants. Where’s the harm in a few years of service?”
“Where’s the harm? Where’s the harm?” Mackenzie sputtered. “What about when they go home again, and everyone they love is old or dead?”
Finian lifted the oars and they drifted toward the pilings that supported Maigret’s shack. “It’s not always like that,” he said defensively. “Sometimes only a season has passed. Sometimes only a few days.”
“Sometimes?” Mackenzie stared at the dark outline of the piper’s face and shook her head. “You warned us not to drink from the cup from the very beginning, when Breanne found that piece from your pipes in the hallway. You warned us, and you’ve tried to protect us, because you know what the solstice cup does is wrong. It’s evil!”
“’Twas only a favor for the old woman,” said Finian.
The boat bumped against a piling. The piper nodded curtly at the ladder above their heads. “We’re here.”
“Well?” he said when Mackenzie didn’t immediately step out of the boat. “Go on then. You don’t want to keep her waiting.”
“This conversation isn’t over,” said Mackenzie.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“I don’
t get it,” Mackenzie blurted the instant she was through Maigret’s trapdoor. “You help people escape from faeries like Nuala, right? So why do you trust Finian? He’s working for them! It’s his music that puts people into a trance. He’s the reason people drink from the solstice cup, no matter what he says!”
The old woman took both of Mackenzie’s hands and held them firmly. “Take a deep breath.”
“Breanne wouldn’t be a zombie if it wasn’t for Finian’s stupid pipes! I wouldn’t have to weave a mantle to rescue her—we could both just leave tomorrow night!”
“Breathe,” Maigret repeated.
“I am breathing,” Mackenzie said as she yanked her hands away. “But I don’t understand any of this, and I’m angry!”
“Aye, and if that’s what you bring to the loom tonight, you might as well go right back down that ladder. The mantle will have no power if it’s woven through with bitterness.”
Mackenzie’s chin dropped to her chest. She wrapped her arms around her body and began to sob.
Maigret’s voice softened. “There, there, lass,” she said as she embraced the shuddering girl. “That’s right, let the tears fall. You’ve every right to be upset.”
“I’m all right,” Mackenzie said after a moment, wiping her eyes and pulling gently away.
“Good.” The old woman nodded. “Then you’d best get started.”
The weaving went faster this time. Mackenzie’s hands became more nimble until the shuttle was flying back and forth across the loom as Maigret had promised. The weft threads accumulated, one on top of another. The woven fabric was four inches high, then it was six inches, then eight.
The old woman was a silent presence seated on a basket off to one side of the loom. Mackenzie had almost forgotten that she was there until Maigret leaned forward to inspect the coarse fabric. “’Tis good work. You’ve a knack for this.”
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