by J. A. White
“Do you have news of Father?” Taff asked anxiously.
“He’s well,” Lucas said. “Doing a masterful job pretending to be Timoth Clen. The other graycloaks have no idea. He’s completely changed the way the Children of the Fold go about their business. They’ve stopped hunting girls just because they have magical talent.” He swiveled toward Taff, who was gape-mouthed in ardent fascination. “The graycloaks are fighting the witches who try to hurt people, nothing more. They’re a force for good now. All because of your father.”
Taff didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. His smile spoke volumes.
Kara slung an arm around her brother’s shoulder and kissed him on the cheek. She was so proud of the good her father had done, but her concern for him had not diminished; he was taking a great risk impersonating the famous witch hunter. The graycloaks would kill him instantly if he were discovered.
“I’m surprised he told you that his soul had been restored,” Kara said. “That wasn’t his intent, last time we spoke.”
“He didn’t tell me,” Lucas said. “I figured it out on my own. He could fool the others with ease, but he wasn’t as surefooted around me. I think he felt a little guilty about hiding the truth—and for locking me in a cell for six weeks, though he really didn’t have a choice. I had to be punished for helping you.”
“Sorry,” Kara said.
“The other graycloaks clamored for my head on a block, and no doubt if the real Timoth Clen had still been in charge—” Lucas rubbed his neck with a grim expression. “The fact that I was allowed to live was another clue that something had changed. After I was released I cornered your father and he told me the truth of what happened. He set you free—covering his tracks by blaming magic—and sent you to find the pieces of an ancient grimoire before Rygoth could get to them.”
“It’s called the Vulkera,” Grace added, annoyed that she was being excluded from the conversation.
“I snuck out of camp the next morning to find you,” Lucas said, scratching his forearm. “Looked for Shadowdancer’s tracks—rode her close to a year, so I know them well—but too much time had passed. Your father told me you headed west, though, and there’s only one main road going in that direction, so I followed it, asking guarded questions in the towns I passed. Occasionally I heard tell of a tall girl traveling with her brother. And then a few days ago an old farmer told me about a flash of purple light in the sky.”
Kara and Taff exchanged a knowing look: the twins’ barrier.
“Figured it was something magical,” Lucas said, “so I decided to take a look. Picked up Shadowdancer’s tracks near an old farmhouse that looked like some kind of battle had been fought inside it. Followed the tracks . . . and found you.”
“Scintillating tale,” Grace said. “Why are you here?”
Lucas had grown taller and broader-shouldered, yet the changes in him went beyond the physical; he now spoke with a directness that had not been present back on De’Noran, where he spent long hours of servitude burning Fringe weeds. Upon hearing Grace’s question, however, Lucas folded his hands together and the features of his face softened into an uncertain expression. He looked, for that one moment, exactly as Kara remembered him before they left the island, and she smiled. While she liked Lucas’s newfound confidence, Kara was relieved that her best friend had not changed too much.
“This Vulkera thing sounds pretty dangerous,” he started, refusing to meet her eyes. “I thought I should find you, lend a hand. Plus . . . I needed to know that you were all right, Kara. I couldn’t bear the thought that something bad might have . . . I couldn’t do anything else but worry all the time. . . .”
He looked up. Their eyes met. Even by the light of the dim campfire Kara could see his cheeks redden.
“And Taff!” Lucas added, throwing his arm around the boy. “I really missed Taff.”
Grace pointed to herself and grinned.
“You not so much,” Lucas said.
Kara told him everything that had happened since the last time they had spoken at length, including their journey into the Well of Witches and their more recent expedition into the past. As always, Lucas listened with complete attention. Sometimes, looking into his eyes—the soft brown of sun-baked soil—Kara forgot her place in the narrative or what part she had told already.
I’ve missed him so much.
By the time Kara had finished Taff was snoring gently.
“We have an important decision to make,” she said. “Which grim do we go after first?”
“Not the one in Auren,” Lucas said. “The graycloaks were already marching in that direction when I left. Your father planned to speak to the king there, and after that continue onto Lux and Ilma. He was going to try and convince them to join their forces together in the fight against Rygoth.” Lucas threw his head back in frustration. “I should have brought a carrier pigeon with me! We could have sent him a message, let him know what you’ve learned.”
Kara couldn’t help but smile.
“Um, Lucas.”
“What?”
“I’m sort of good with animals. Remember?”
“Right,” he said, smiling at his own foolishness. “Magic. Let’s send your father a message tonight. Maybe he can track down the grim while he’s in Auren. Where did you say it was hidden? The silent room?”
“Silent Vault.”
“Excellent plan,” Grace said, clapping her hands together in a slow, mocking cadence. “And a good thing Rygoth can’t read the minds of animals, because then sending our most important secrets via a bird would be a really horrible idea.”
Kara bit her lower lip, mad at herself for being so careless. For a few pleasant moments she and Lucas had seemed lost in their own private world, and she had foolishly forgotten that Grace was listening as well. As a result, Kara had revealed more information than she ever intended. Judging from the smirk on Grace’s face, she knew exactly what had happened, which was why she had kept so uncharacteristically quiet during the conversation.
“Grace has a valid point,” Lucas admitted. “Maybe using animals isn’t the best plan.”
“Rygoth can’t listen to all animals at all times,” Kara replied with more confidence than she felt. “It will work.”
“So that leaves Dolrose Castle and Kutt as possible destinations,” Lucas said. “I think I’ve learned enough about Sentium geography over the past year that I can lead us to either place. We would have to cross the Plague Barrier to get to Kutt, and its inhabitants, if rumors are to be believed, have some truly strange customs. On the other hand, Dolrose Castle is farther, and has a literal monster waiting in its depths. . . .”
“The castle first,” Kara said. “I need to learn more about Evangeline.”
“The dead princess?” Grace asked. “What in the world for?”
“Because whatever went wrong with magic started with her. Maybe if we understood what happened, we could . . .”
Kara hesitated, Minoth’s words echoing through her head: Magic is sick. And I suspect you’re the one meant to heal it.
“What?” Grace asked.
“I’m not sure yet,” Kara replied. “You’ll just have to trust me.”
“Whatever you think is best,” Lucas said.
Grace rolled her eyes.
“I called out to Rattle,” Kara said. “She should be here by morning.” The rustle-foot had been a long way off, lazing in warm winds with no direction in mind, embracing her newfound freedom. Kara felt guilty calling her back, but they needed to go airborne if they wanted to stay in front of Rygoth.
“Ugh,” said Grace. “The caterpillar again?”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Kara replied. “You’re not coming with us.”
Kara expected Grace to lose her temper. She was ready for that. What she wasn’t ready for was the hurt look in her eyes, as though Kara were a dear friend who had betrayed her.
“Have I done something wrong?” Grace asked.
“It
’s not that,” Kara said, stunned. It’s that I can’t trust you and I have enough to worry about as it is. “Listen, why would you want to come with us in the first place? Don’t you know how dangerous it’s going to be? You’re not even a witch anymore!”
“I can still help.”
“How?”
“I’m clever. And I . . . I think how a witch thinks. I can figure out what Rygoth is going to—”
“There’s a town a short walk north of here,” Lucas suggested. “Seemed nice enough. If you’re sincere about mending your ways, might not be a bad place to start over again.”
Grace gave Lucas a pointed look—This doesn’t concern you—and turned back toward Kara.
“You can’t do this,” she insisted. “You can’t leave me all alone.”
“I think it’s for the best,” Kara replied.
There wasn’t much to say after that, so they all found a spot to sleep for the night. Lucas passed out fast, but Kara remained awake, staring up at the stars.
What if I’m wrong about Grace? she thought. What if she really is trying to change? How can I just abandon her?
Kara heard movement to her right and turned her head. Grace was sitting up beneath her blankets. She held her walking stick across her lap and traced its simple wooden grains with her index finger.
“Can’t sleep?” Kara asked.
Grace shrugged. “Nothing new. I haven’t been able to sleep for a while now.”
Kara nodded in understanding.
“The Faceless have plagued my dreams as well.”
“That’s not the reason I can’t sleep,” Grace said, shaking her head. “Not tonight, at least. I was thinking about my father.”
Kara didn’t say anything. Fen’de Stone, the leader of De’Noran, had been a particularly cruel man. She did not mourn his death.
Grace shifted beneath her blanket until she was facing Kara.
“I was thinking about a bedtime ritual we had,” she said. “Not drinking a warm glass of milk or singing a lullaby, of course. No, my father, the great Fen’de Stone, would stand behind me at the mirror and say the same words each night. ‘Behold the face of evil, child. White hair. Withered leg. You’re the reason your mother died. You’re sick with the taint of magic, and you poisoned her from inside.’ And then, while he scrubbed my face clean with hot water, I would recite a passage of his choice from the Path—from memory, of course—and he would chant, ‘Water to scrub the skin clean, words to scrub the soul.’ And if I misread the passage, he . . .”
Grace grew suddenly silent.
“Why are you telling me this?” Kara asked.
“Because I think maybe you’re right to send me away,” she said. “My own father thought I was evil. How could there possibly be any good in me?”
“There’s good in everyone,” Kara said. “It’s just a matter of bringing it out.”
“Then help me,” Grace pleaded.
Her blue eyes swelled with desperation and need. It was hard to believe that this was the same girl who had tormented Kara and tried to kill her brother.
But it was.
“Go to sleep,” Kara said, turning away. “It’ll be morning soon.”
Kara awoke to the sound of fluttering wings.
It was Rattle, who passed above them and then landed softly just outside their campsite. Kara ran to greet her. She stroked the rustle-foot’s leathery ears and her blue wings, gold at the tips, shook with pleasure. While Rattle drank her fill at the stream, Lucas tottered over to join them, his face still groggy with sleep. He had always been slow to rise, and it was a comfort knowing that some things hadn’t changed.
“Morning,” Kara said.
“Morning.”
Kara kept waiting for them to fall into the familiar rhythms of their friendship, but there was something inexplicably awkward between them now. Have we both changed so much? Lucas was still quick to smile around Taff, more like his old self. When he was around Kara, however, he seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time staring down at his shoes.
“You want me to bring Grace to that village I was talking about before we leave for the castle?” Lucas asked.
“Grace is coming with us,” Kara said.
Lucas nodded, as though he was expecting this.
“Because you feel bad for her?”
“Of course not,” Kara snapped. “I truly think she can help.”
“How? You said it yourself—she’s not a witch anymore.”
“She has good ideas.”
“We already have Taff for that.”
“It’s different. Taff is smart. Grace is . . . crafty.”
“Which makes her dangerous.”
“If she was going to do something bad she would have done it by now,” Kara said.
“Maybe that’s what she wants you to believe,” Lucas replied. “Maybe she’s just biding her time, waiting for the right moment.”
“To do what?”
“We’re searching for an all-powerful grimoire. Grace might be playing nice so she can steal it for herself.”
“Grace said she’s done with magic . . .”
“And we just believe what Grace says now?”
“. . . and,” Kara added, “she didn’t even know the Vulkera existed until after she joined us.”
Lucas ran his good hand—the one with all its fingers—through his hair.
“There’s much I haven’t told you about the past year,” he said. “Things I wish I never saw.” His voice grew soft, as though he were reluctant to speak these thoughts aloud. “But the very worst horrors, the acts that made me wonder if the Fold had been right about magic all along—they all had one thing in common. Once a grimoire has a witch in its clutches, she’ll do anything to keep its power. Anything.” He met Kara’s eyes. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but in that moment they seemed a hue darker, as though stained by what they had seen. “Do you truly believe that Grace, of all people, has given up magic completely?”
“I think it’s possible,” Kara said, crossing her arms.
Lucas looked up at the morning sun.
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe she has changed. I’ve never pretended to understand how that girl’s mind works. But cutting her hair off, claiming how homesick she is, it all feels a little—”
“Pitiable?”
“Calculated,” Lucas said. “She knows you, Kara. The more helpless someone is, the more you’ll want to help them. Grace might be taking advantage of that.”
“I could be making a mistake,” Kara said. “I fully acknowledge that. But when I woke up this morning, one of my mother’s favorite sayings was knocking around my head. ‘If you’re going to err, err on the side of compassion.’”
“I believe that’s true,” Lucas said. “For the most part. But you can’t save everyone, Kara.”
“Why not?” she asked.
“Because not everyone wants to be saved.”
They walked back to the camp in silence. Taff was still deeply asleep, but Grace had begun to gather her belongings. She paused and looked at Kara expectantly, waiting for her decision.
“Hurry up,” Kara said. “We haven’t got all day.”
Ignoring the disapproving look on Lucas’s face, Kara set to filling their canteens. She wasn’t sure how much Dolrose Castle had changed in two thousand years, but a desert was a desert and she doubted that they would find much in the way of fresh water. After she had packed away the canteens, she called forth a sleek falcon and slipped a message to her father into its talon. She made sure that the falcon understood to deliver the message only when her father was alone; being seen with an enchanted bird would hardly help his standing as a witch hunter who hated magic.
A more difficult problem was what to do with Shadowdancer and Darno.
Kara supposed that they might be able to secure the scorpion-wolf to Rattle’s back with enough rope, but it was risky and Darno would hate every minute of it. Shadowdancer, on the other hand, would be impossible to transp
ort without some sort of harness. Taff had half a dozen ideas about how to accomplish this, but Kara was worried about not only the time it would take to gather the materials and construct the contraption, but also how Shadowdancer would react to her legs dangling through the air.
It was Grace who came up with the best solution.
“Shadowdancer rode with the graycloaks for quite some time, right? Do you think she could find them again on her own?”
“She’s a runner, not a tracker,” Kara said. “But if Darno were there to help her—yes, I think it’s possible.”
Grace glided her hand over the silver patch that ran along Shadowdancer’s chest, not quite touching it.
“This is distinctive-looking. I’m sure the graycloaks would recognize her. Shadowdancer would be safe with them until you met up again. And Darno could just follow them at a distance.”
Kara ran the idea past the animals. Darno was confident that he could find the graycloaks with ease, but he felt that his place was with Kara, where he could protect her.
By the time you find my father, Kara thought, he may have a grim. If that’s the case, he will be in far more danger than me. And Shadowdancer requires your protection as well. She’s special to me and must not come to harm.
If this is your wish, Darno thought, bowing his head. I will obey.
Not obey, Kara said, lifting his head up so she could look into his eyes. I am not your master. We are friends, you and I. And we shall meet again soon.
She kissed the scorpion-wolf on the nose and he set off, scouting ahead for the safest path. Kara turned to Shadowdancer and ran her fingers through the mare’s mane. “Be safe,” Kara whispered. Shadowdancer whinnied and galloped away—happiest, as always, when running free.
By consulting a scrolled map and compass that he had “borrowed” from the graycloaks, Lucas piloted the rustle-foot in the direction of Dolrose Castle. The land beneath them grew increasingly barren, dirt and trees changing to desert sand. They wet rags and tied them around their heads, yet still grew sunburned and windburned and developed sores on their legs from riding so long. At night their sleep was deep and dreamless.