The Girl of Ink & Stars

by Kiran Millwood Hargrave

  ‘Gromera, first,’ Doce said. ‘We’re going to take the ship.’

  ‘My father’s ship?’

  My voice was unsteady. ‘It won’t work.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The ship—’

  But before I could explain about the burning, a strange clicking started.

  It seemed to be coming from everywhere at once, a sound that could have been far-off rain or the chirruping of insects but for Doce’s reaction to it. She bolted upright, away from us, and began clicking her tongue. Miss La squawked, scrabbling around her pen and I lifted her up to try and quieten her.

  It grew louder and louder, and I sensed something surrounding the clearing. The clicking stopped. Doce bowed her head slightly. ‘Mother.’

  I squinted towards the trees Doce was addressing, but could see nothing until the woman was nearly within touching distance.

  She, too, was small, strong-looking, dressed in mud and dark cloth, holding a staff. Her weather-beaten face was lined but quite like her daughter’s. Except for the eyes. There was no gentleness there. Even Miss La stopped struggling under her gaze. A scared child would irritate this woman rather than soften her. I stared back.

  She took another step forward. Suddenly we were surrounded, as dozens more mud-clad figures entered the cage or climbed the branches to peer down at us.

  Lupe had gone rigid beside me but I did not take my eyes off Doce’s mother. The woman began to circle, her back slightly rounded, her stride shortened by a limp. I saw a deep indent on her right calf, as if someone had scooped the flesh from it.

  When the woman spoke her voice was clear and loud as a bell. ‘We have a set now. What are you? The Governor’s son?’

  ‘His servant.’ I said, willing myself to sound unafraid.

  ‘Why do you wear his cloak?’

  ‘She’s a girl, Mother,’ said Doce.

  ‘Oh,’ said Ana, in a tone that showed it would take more than a girl in trousers to shock her. ‘Why do you serve a dog?’

  I shifted uncomfortably, hoping Lupe was in her usual state of not paying attention. ‘I had no choice.’

  ‘Just as those who were banished had no choice? Just as the man who did this—’ she turned her back, lifting her tunic, and Lupe made a retching sound – ‘had no choice?’

  Her shoulders were a mess of scars, criss-crossing in raised ridges as if a tree were sending its roots through her back. Ana rolled her shoulders, and a crack issued from her spine as the movement sent a spasm across the scar tissue. I stroked Miss La’s soft feathers, trying to calm myself.

  ‘There is always a choice. Now we have to decide what to do with your master.’ She turned to Lupe. ‘Your father.’

  The crowd parted and a small group of men in Governor’s blue were shoved into the cage. No Pablo. I counted them quickly. One, two, three, four, five. Only five? I strained to see their faces. One was in dark-blue Governor’s robes… Marquez, wearing Adori’s spare set.

  Lupe was frowning at the men. ‘My father? My father isn’t—’

  ‘Lupe!’ interrupted Marquez. ‘My child!’

  Lupe opened and closed her mouth like a fish. ‘I – I don’t—’

  The other men caught on.

  ‘Governor,’ said one. ‘The journey was hard. It has taken its toll on all of us.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said another hurriedly. ‘Do not be upset if your daughter does not recognize you.’

  I did not think they could risk being much more obvious, but Lupe still did not seem to get what was going on.

  ‘I am not surprised your daughter chooses not to know you,’ snapped Ana. ‘I would be ashamed to have such a father.’

  ‘Marquez, stop.’

  Governor Adori stepped through the open door. No one moved for a long moment. I felt my pulse thrumming in my wrists.

  The silence broke as Lupe leapt up. ‘Papa!’

  Ana hissed and stepped between them, clenched around her staff.

  ‘Stay there, Lupe,’ said the Governor.

  Lupe was nudged roughly back to the ground beside me. She started shaking again, and I passed Miss La to her.

  ‘Don’t let them see you’re afraid,’ I whispered. She held the chicken tightly to her chest.

  Marquez dropped his head, defeated. ‘Sir, I would have gladly—’

  ‘It is not your place, Marquez.’

  ‘It is not your place to call yourself Governor.’ Ana put mocking emphasis on the last word as she stalked up to him. ‘I know why you came. You had a chance to redeem yourself, and you failed.’

  She kicked his legs out from under him and he went down hard. Ana clicked her tongue and his hands were tied tightly behind him.

  ‘Then I will pay,’ said Adori, struggling to his knees. ‘But let my daughter and companions go.’

  Ana chuckled joylessly. ‘I will do better than that. I will take them with us when we leave.’

  ‘You are leaving? Why?’

  The tension between them was taut as a storm cloud.

  ‘You know why,’ Ana spat. ‘Because there is a deeper darkness here, a darkness we cannot defeat. I care more for my people’s safety than for revenge. That is the true mark of a leader.’

  The Banished clicked their tongues, like a ripple of applause.

  ‘What deeper darkness?’ Marquez said, raising an eyebrow.

  Ana fixed her eyes on the man and strode towards him. ‘One that will shake that smirk off your face and swallow the ground from under your feet. Yote is coming.’

  He snorted. ‘That old wives’ tale? That superstition?’

  ‘Is it superstition that drove the animals into the sea? Is it superstition that murdered one of ours? If I’m not much mistaken,’ snapped Doce’s mother, ‘that superstition is what brought your Governor here in the first place.’

  She faced the Governor again. ‘Now we must get moving.’ She whistled and the men were hauled to their feet.

  Doce led us to them. Lupe hugged her father tightly as soon as Ana’s back was turned.

  ‘We don’t have time for this now,’ said Adori, shrugging off Lupe’s arms. ‘You must be brave, Lupe.’

  He turned his exhausted gaze on me. ‘I believe you have something of my daughter’s?’

  The locket. I took it off and Lupe held out her hand. ‘How did you know Isabella had it?’

  ‘Isabella?’ The Governor looked at me long and hard. ‘Of course.’

  The secret lifted off my shoulders, but I tensed, waiting for some punishment for deceiving him. It did not come. He seemed unable to focus on anything but his daughter.

  ‘Put the locket on, Lupe. Don’t give it away again. It is a part of our history. A piece of our story.’

  CHAPTER

  FIFTEEN

  I wrapped Miss La in the Governor’s cloak to stop her thrashing, and we settled into formation, prisoners at the centre of the long procession. Ana seemed to know the way, and from the stars I could tell we were heading south through the Marisma, directly towards Gromera.

  I tried not to think of the half-finished map in my satchel, the half-seen island being left behind, and forced myself to focus on each step taking me closer to Da. Whatever welcome met us in Gromera, I would find a way to get him out of the Dédalo.

  In the darkness it was hard to tell how many Banished there were. Fifty at least, with cloth bags and vine nets of possessions lashed to their backs. All believing Yote was real, believing there was a ship in Gromera’s harbour, ready to take them away. How would they react to a border thick with guards, the ship burnt in the harbour? The Governor’s men had not told them, and though I was not sure whose side I was on I did not want to draw attention by telling them myself.

  Lupe did not speak, whereas usually I could not get her to shut up. She was carrying herself rigidly, eyes fixed on her father’s broad back. I put my free arm around her.

  ‘Why does he not speak to me?’ she said, her voice barely a whisper. ‘I…’ She sniffed and squeezed her eyes shut
. ‘I thought things might have changed.’

  I did not have an answer.

  The night was hauntingly clear. The stars revealed their places in constellations and the moon’s pull felt physical on my short hair. Something was happening to the very air we walked through. It was tense, alive and threatening, the island in the grip of forces shifting imperceptibly beneath my feet.

  All night the wind chased us, the mud sucking like fingers. In the dark it was difficult to tell the unsafe, boglike mud from water, or the water from land, but I took care to watch for the slight ripples or softening that meant we were on dangerous ground.

  My feet began to ache. I thought of Pablo, out there in the black forests with the wolves Doce called Tibicenas. I thought of Cata. Miss La cocked her head up at me and pecked at my chin.

  As the hours passed and our pace slowed, my thoughts became oddly detached. My stomach hurt and snatches of Da’s stories and Ma’s face and Gabo’s sing-song voice danced across my senses, disorientating and magnetic.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Doce asked, as I almost stumbled over a root.

  ‘Mmm.’ I didn’t trust myself to speak.

  ‘Here.’ Doce passed Lupe and me something. ‘It’s dandelion root. It will help to wake you up.’

  It was tough to chew and tasted bitter, but after a while I felt the tiredness lift, the world come back into sharper focus. I blinked in the pale morning light and realized we were walking alongside a dried riverbed.

  I fumbled in the satchel for the map. It was battered and torn, creased as my tunic, but still legible. On this side of the island, the river could only be the Arintara. Ahead stretched the last of the swamp.

  Once we skirted it, we would reach Arintan, and soon after that I would be home. And Da—

  ‘Ouch!’ I’d walked straight into the man in front. He shushed me urgently.

  Adori turned to Doce. ‘What’s happening?’

  The Banished girl had frozen, the muscles in her legs tensed as if ready to run. ‘Don’t you hear that?’

  I listened, rubbing my shin. I could hear nothing except the black trees rustling, but the other Banished were as tense as Doce, scanning the trees to our right. Slow as a whisper, the adult Banished slid forward, forming a line facing the forest, weapons drawn. Miss La woke with a loud squawk and began scrabbling frantically at the cloak.

  I clenched her firmly under my arm, feeling the dandelion root sending sparks through my blood, the energy turning to fear with every passing moment. All was still for several long seconds, then came a noise unlike anything I had ever heard before.

  Loud and rumbling, lined with a hard, metallic edge that set my teeth chattering. A roar. It flew towards us, flooding through the trees.

  My skin prickled, a thin acidity filling my throat. Somewhere inside me, something was weakening, coming apart. I wanted to run, but couldn’t.

  Beside me, Lupe was clutching her stomach. ‘It’s them!’ she moaned. ‘Do you feel them?’

  ‘They drive you out of yourself,’ said Doce. ‘The Tibicenas.’

  ‘But they’re not real,’ said the Governor. His tied hands trembled. ‘They can’t be.’

  ‘You know about them, Papa?’

  But he did not answer Lupe’s question. Doce spun around, raised her blade and cut the vine tying the Governor’s hands. ‘Run. Take them. Cross the swamp, straight through, it’ll be quicker. Follow the river, and run.’

  The Governor took Doce’s arm in a vice-like grip, his fingers sinking into her skin. ‘I will stay.’

  Ana was suddenly beside us. She wrenched his hand off Doce’s arm. ‘Don’t touch my daughter!’

  ‘I’m telling her I will stay and fight with you.’

  ‘Papa?’ said Lupe, uncertainly.

  Ana arched her eyebrow.

  ‘It’s my island too,’ he hissed. ‘Whether you like it or not, I will defend it.’

  They regarded each other like two dogs circling before a fight. Then Ana took a blade from her belt and handed it to him.

  Another howl rent the air. I cringed, insides churning.

  ‘How will we know how to get home, Papa?’ cried Lupe.

  ‘I know the way,’ I said, slipping my hand into hers.

  ‘Run! That’s an order!’

  Behind us, Adori sliced Marquez and the other prisoners free. I expected them to run, but instead they accepted more swords from Ana and joined the line of Banished facing the forest. Some of the younger Banished were already fleeing.

  The noise came a third time through the dawn light. My stomach twisted again. ‘We can stay, we could help!’

  ‘Papa, I don’t want to go without you,’ Lupe pleaded. ‘Please come with us, Papa—’

  But Adori only swept her into a tight embrace, and said fiercely, ‘Go, run fast, Lupe. And remember the locket.’

  Lupe’s face was wretched. ‘You said not to open it until—’

  Adori took the ring of keys from his belt and pressed them into her hand. ‘You have to go now.’

  He nodded at me. His hands had stopped trembling. ‘Take care of her, Isabella.’

  He pushed us away just as another roar cut through the trees, followed by a collective yell from the Banished. I spun around to see them lifting their weapons like a thicket, Adori and Ana at the front, side by side as something monstrous broke through the treeline.

  High as a horse, covered in black, matted fur. It moved on paws thick as tree trunks, flicking its terrible, deep-red eyes left and right.

  It was no wolf. It could only be a demon dog. A Tibicena.

  It landed a few metres from the line of Banished with a sound like a thunderclap. Its claws scraped the ground, leaving deep gouges in the dust. More howling came from the trees behind. More were coming.

  The Governor, Ana and Marquez stood together. The other Governor’s men were bunched around them, blades drawn.

  My churning insides brought white points of pain to my eyes. The beast’s presence seemed to be pushing my insides out and away, as if my body were water being whipped up by a storm. No wonder the animals had fled to the sea, if this is what they’d experienced. I felt like a songbird caught in the sharp gaze of a raven, tiny against the darkness closing in.

  Lupe was tugging on my hand, screaming for us to run. Heart wrenching in my breathless chest, I turned away just as the creature lifted its massive paw.

  I did not see it fall.

  CHAPTER

  SIXTEEN

  We ran across the swamp, hands clasped, and I remembered the last time we had run together, through the fields to school. I could feel Miss La shaking. Soon we reached an area that was more water than land, trees lacing through the swamp and vines hanging down, dangling into the Marisma like snakes.

  ‘We have to swim,’ I said, tying the cloak into a sling around my back with the chicken pressed against my neck. We launched ourselves into the thick water, churning our legs.

  I felt myself sink, Gabo’s boots filling with water and slipping from my feet. I kicked hard, unable to find ground or to float in the liquid mud. I splashed upwards and felt Miss La flapping angrily.

  ‘Sorry,’ I spluttered, grasping a vine and manoeuvring her up higher, out of the water. I lashed myself to the vine and shouted for Lupe to do the same. Other shapes were around us, other children fleeing.

  I wrapped my fingers around another vine a few inches in front, levering my foot against a root to gain purchase in the sucking black. We pushed ourselves forward, reaching for a vine an arm’s length ahead. Together we repeated the movement, finding something like a rhythm.

  Time seemed to compress and lengthen with my body. I could hear only Miss La’s worried clucks and the laboured sloshing of our movements, see only the black water and looping vines. It was as if we’d fallen below the earth, where stars could not shine and all around us was the underworld. I tried not to think of the scene we had left behind, wondered where the other fleeing Banished had disappeared to.

  Eventually t
he vines thinned. Our feet scraped along mud thick enough to walk on without being sucked under. We were nearing the opposite bank. This thought propelled me forward and soon I was pulling myself up, hands raw from the fibrous thorns of the vines. Beside me Lupe was picking them from her sopping skirt. She looked dazed.

  ‘The swamp will buy us time,’ I said. ‘Come on.’

  But with the next step, the ground dropped away. We tripped and skidded down a dip, bowl-like and pitted with fallen, rotting fruit that turned to pulp beneath my feet. The smell was overpoweringly strong and sweet.

  My heart raced as I lifted my foot. Something had wedged itself between my big and second toe.

  ‘What – what is it?’ Lupe’s eyes were wide as plates again. I pulled it out and Lupe cried out.

  A bone, small and still lined with gristle. We had found the Tibicenas’ feeding pit.

  I swallowed back vomit as the rot filled my nostrils. Lupe was already scrambling ahead, but I was rooted in the putrid earth. Don’t panic, I told myself.

  Go.

  Clambering on all fours up the other side of the pit, through the decomposing flesh, through jawbones and femurs, I held my breath until I stood once more on the damp ground.

  Lupe had stopped a few metres ahead, and through the trees we saw a slow, rippling shine. A silver thread leading home.

  ‘The Arintara,’ I said.

  We paddled in the trickle to clean the dried blood from our feet, and I let Miss La out to run in circles in the shallows. Lupe took my hand.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she croaked. ‘For leaving you behind just then.’

  I squeezed back. ‘It’s not your fault.’

  ‘You don’t think I’m rotten?’

  ‘No,’ I said firmly. ‘You’re brave. You came into the Forgotten Territories when no one else would. Not me, not my da, not—’

  ‘Not my father.’ She took a deep, shaking breath. ‘My father…’

  I thought again of the matted paws, the bones in the feeding pit, then gently unfurled Lupe’s clenched hand. The set of keys was embedded into her palm and I peeled them out, sliding a needle-thin key off the ring.

  Lupe looked from the key to me, and back again.

  ‘He never let anyone touch them, not even Mama. Why would he give them to me?’