13 Curses

by Michelle Harrison

  “Steady on,” said Sparrow, gently releasing himself from her grip. “I can’t just take you to him. It’s not that simple.”

  “Why not?”

  He gestured to a park bench nearby. “Let’s sit down for a minute.”

  “Why can’t you take me to him?” Rowan demanded again, remaining on her feet as Sparrow sat.

  “Because I don’t know where he is.”

  Rowan swore and kicked an empty can on the path. It skidded across the concrete with a clatter.

  “Why bother telling me about him, then?” she said angrily. “You must have known I’d ask to meet him!”

  “ ’Course I did,” said Sparrow, looking bemused at her outburst. “And if you calm down for long enough to let me talk, I’ll explain.”

  Rowan sat, breathing heavily.

  “I don’t know where he is now,” Sparrow continued. “But I know where he’ll be in a couple of weeks’ time.” He nodded to a lamppost a few feet away. Rowan looked over and saw a brightly colored poster had been pasted to it.

  “You mean…”

  “He’ll be coming here,” Sparrow finished. “The show doesn’t open until the start of June, but they always arrive two weeks early to settle in and set up. Once they’re here, I’ll take you to him, if you’re planning on sticking around that long.”

  “I’ll be here,” said Rowan.

  “In that case,” he said, “keep an eye out for me. I’ll come by the library and find you. Until then, if I don’t see you before, stay out of trouble.”

  Rowan didn’t see Sparrow before, despite looking out for him everywhere she went. She visited the library daily, continuing to cram information from books, though her concentration lapsed every time the library doors opened. Sparrow’s comment about staying out of trouble preyed on her mind. What if something happened to him? It would be too easy for him to disappear without anyone knowing—or caring.

  Then, thirteen days after she had met him, he reappeared, scruffier than ever and slightly out of breath as he hurried over to where she sat.

  “They’re here,” he said.

  Her books were closed before he even finished speaking, and then she was on her feet, following him out into the bright afternoon.

  As they approached the park, Rowan saw a huge area over the back where a cluster of old-fashioned caravans had gathered. More were arriving.

  “They’re all pulled by horses,” Rowan said in surprise, noting the snarled-up traffic surrounding the park.

  Sparrow nodded. “It’s traditional—one of the oldest circuses still going. Many say it’s the best—their acts are second to none.”

  “So what’s this man’s name, then?” Red cut in, as they neared some of the parked caravans.

  “Calls himself Tino,” said Sparrow, edging around some chestnut-colored horses tethered to a knot of trees.

  Rowan felt uncomfortable suddenly, seeing people milling between the vans and feeling their eyes upon her and Sparrow. They were strangers—uninvited.

  Sparrow’s friendly grin deflected a couple of hostile stares, but it wasn’t long before a tall, thin man barred their way.

  “Something I can help you with?” he asked coolly.

  “We’re looking for Tino,” Sparrow answered.

  “Tino’s busy,” was the flat response.

  “Tell him it’s Sparrow.”

  The thin man assessed them a moment longer.

  “Wait here.” The man turned and strode off, his face surly. Eventually he returned, giving only a jerk of his head to indicate that they should follow him. He led them through a maze of gypsy wagons, each more beautiful than the last. Finally, they stopped outside a large van that was painted a deep midnight blue. The man knocked, then left without another word. Behind them a door snapped shut as the one before them opened.

  A swarthy-looking man stood in front of them, one eyebrow raised. His dark blond hair was a similar color to Sparrow’s, but longer, skimming his shoulders. One of his eyes was hazel, Rowan noticed. The other was green. His expression softened as he took in Sparrow’s untidy attire, then he turned his gaze to Rowan.

  “Who’s this, then?” he asked, his voice a lazy drawl.

  As his head moved, Rowan thought she saw the tip of a pointed ear protruding from his hair momentarily.

  Sparrow nudged her forward.

  “She wants to talk to you about the trade.”

  The mismatched eyes narrowed, then Tino shifted in the doorway.

  “You’d better come in.”

  The interior of the caravan was sparser and less ornate than the outside, though it was adorned with racks of glittering costumes. Some even hung on the doorframes and curtain rails, and on a dressmaker’s stand a gown of shimmering silver was half finished. Apart from a shaggy wolfhound sprawled on the kitchenette floor, the caravan was empty of any other living being. It seemed that apart from the dog, Tino lived alone.

  From a pot on the stove, Tino poured three glasses of a steaming mixture and handed them out, keeping one for himself. He motioned to the seating that ran around the edges of the van.

  “Sit.”

  Rowan and Sparrow sat. She sniffed her drink but did not taste it. It smelled of fresh mint, but despite her temptation she resisted. All the books she had read had advised never to drink or eat anything offered by a fairy.

  “Who did they take?” Tino asked, sipping his own drink.

  “My brother,” she mumbled.

  Tino nodded slowly.

  “So you want him back.”

  “More than anything,” she said fiercely. “Only, I don’t know where to start…. Sparrow said trades can be arranged—with the changelings that are left behind. But when my brother was taken, no replacement was left.”

  Tino pressed his fingers together in an arch and took a long time replying.

  “It can still be done,” he said eventually. “A switch is a switch. Some of them are straightforward, some aren’t. Wherever possible we try to match the child who was stolen to the one it was replaced with, but it doesn’t always work that way. Sometimes we return fairy changelings and it’s weeks, months even, before the human counterpart is found.” He finished his drink and poured another, declining to offer Sparrow or Rowan a refill as neither of them had touched a drop of their first glass.

  “If you want us to search for your brother, then I can take some details. Can’t promise anything, though.” He cocked his head suddenly, studying her. “Can’t really divulge much more information either… unless…”

  His eyes met Sparrow’s. Rowan turned to the boy, who had been sitting quietly the entire time. A question of some kind hung between them.

  “Unless what?” she asked.

  Tino ran his forefinger around the rim of his glass.

  “Well, it all depends on how involved you want to get.”

  Rowan felt a tremor pass through her—fear and anticipation combined. Somehow, she sensed she was standing on the edge of a precipice, a turning point in her life that would change everything.

  “I think,” she said hesitantly, “that I’m already involved. I’ll do whatever it takes to get my brother back.”

  “ ‘Think’ is no good to me,” said Tino, his voice low, insistent. “You have to be sure. Otherwise you’re no use to us.”

  “I’m sure,” she said, clenching her jaw to try to bring her nerves under control. “I’m in. Tell me what you want me to do. I’ve got nothing to lose.”

  Tino’s lips stretched into a smile. He extended his hand and gripped Rowan’s in a firm, businesslike grip.

  “All in good time. Now, first things first. I don’t know your name.”

  Her voice, when it emerged, sounded different. Harder. As though something had crossed over in her that could never go back.

  “You can call me Red.”

  The day after Halloween was dark and drizzling. Everyone at Elvesden Manor apart from Nell and Amos was gathered in the kitchen. The housekeeper had decided to barricade he
rself in her room and was refusing to speak to anyone.

  Fabian took a butter knife from the table and punctured the now-soft pumpkin that he and Tanya had never got around to carving.

  “I can’t believe this,” he said hotly. “I can’t believe Warwick has decided that he’d rather go off with that baby-stealing vigilante than come back to his own home! What if he never comes back?”

  Florence sighed. Since Warwick had been missing, she had barely eaten, and looked thin and ill.

  “I’m taking Amos his meal,” she said. “Then I’m going to check on Nell.” She got up and left Tanya and Fabian alone.

  “Warwick’s just trying to help Red,” Tanya said quietly. “He’s doing what he thinks is best.”

  “How can that be for the best?” Fabian exploded. “His place is here, with us—not with her!”

  A light scratching at the back door interrupted them. Tanya opened it and stepped back, stunned to see a small red fox looking up at her in earnest. Then she held back a scream as a hand emerged from the fox’s coat, followed by a head and a body, and then Red was standing before her, holding the coat at her side.

  “Red!” Tanya managed. “How did you… how did you do that?”

  “It’s a glamour,” Red said simply.

  Fabian ran to the door and touched the coat, speechless for once.

  “They’ve let you go,” Tanya said, her eyes shining. “You’re back. But where’s your brother? And Warwick?”

  Red came into the kitchen and sat, her face somber.

  “They’re still there.”

  “What’s happened?” Tanya asked in confusion.

  Red reached out to stroke Oberon, who had come over to greet her. He remained with his head on her knee and wagged his tail a little before returning to his bowl to gobble down some biscuits.

  “I’m in trouble,” she said. She raked a hand through her tangled hair. “A lot of trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble?” asked Tanya.

  “The kind where we’ve been set a task by the fairies,” said Red. “And if we don’t complete it, I’ll never see James again—and we’ll all be prisoners of the fairy realm: me, James, and Stitch.”

  “Stitch?” Fabian asked.

  “Your father. That’s what I called him while we were there. It’s dangerous to use real names in the fairy realm.”

  “Why is Warwick still there, though?” Tanya asked.

  Red slumped forward, her face in her hands.

  “They’ve kept him to make sure I go back. And I don’t know how I’m going to do it. How I’ll ever find them all…”

  “Find what?”

  But Red was no longer listening.

  “If only he hadn’t picked up the bracelet. Anything else, anything at all would have been better than this. They were drawn to it immediately… the charms and what they represent….”

  “Bracelet?” Tanya asked as the truth began to dawn. “You don’t mean… surely not that bracelet?”

  Red nodded, her face still hidden.

  “Warwick took it? Why?” she exploded.

  “He found the Cauldron charm in the sink. He was going to fix it for you—”

  “I never wanted to wear it again!” Tanya cried. “I thought it was beautiful at first, but then the drain-dweller died because of it… and the fact that it belonged to Elizabeth Elvesden is just creepy!”

  “Well, you’ll probably never get to wear it again anyway,” said Red. “But if you change your mind, it’ll be much lighter.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Red reached into her pocket and threw the bracelet onto the table.

  “Where are all the charms?” Fabian asked.

  “I don’t know,” Red said quietly. “That’s the point. That’s the task. I have to find them… and I don’t even know where to begin.”

  “You mean they could be anywhere? Anywhere at all?” said Fabian. “Anywhere in the world?”

  “I know.” Her voice was muffled behind her hands. “It’s hopeless.”

  “It can’t be hopeless,” said Tanya, slowly. “Why would the fairies set you a task that was impossible to complete? There must be a way to solve it.”

  “Tanya’s right.” Gredin and Raven materialized at the back door. “No task can be set by the courts that cannot be completed, however difficult,” said Gredin. “It is a fairy law.”

  “Can you help us?” Tanya asked. “Surely you’ll have an insight into where—”

  Gredin cut her off.

  “Even if we did, we would be forbidden from revealing the locations of the charms. It would be viewed as treachery and result in serious consequences for us both. What we can tell you is that in any fey task there will always be an element—a key, if you like—that once discovered, will unravel the entire thing.”

  “So we need to find out what that key is,” said Fabian.

  “We?” Red shook her head. “This is my task. I only came back to tell you what had happened to Warwick.”

  “He’s my dad,” Fabian argued. “And by the looks of it, you’re going to need all the help you can get.”

  “How long do you have to find the charms?” Tanya asked.

  “I—” Red stopped short. “They never said.”

  “So time isn’t an issue,” said Tanya. “But we don’t know how Warwick is being treated. The sooner we save him, the better. So where do we start?”

  This time, nobody objected to the “we.”

  “Perhaps we should start with what the bracelet is based on,” said Red. “What attracted the fairies to it in the first place… the Thirteen Treasures. We need to go over everything we know about them.”

  Fabian obligingly removed a pencil and his brown leather-bound book from his top pocket.

  “What are they? And what do they do? Remind me. Call them out.”

  “The Platter, which will never allow its owner to go hungry,” Tanya began. “The Cauldron, which will restore the dead to life. The Sword, which will allow only victory and not defeat….”

  “The Heart of courage,” Red continued. “The Key, which will open the door to any world. The Goblet of eternal life; the Cup of divination. The Staff for strength; the Light, which never diminishes; the Book of Knowledge; the Dagger, which drips blood that will heal any wound…”

  “Hang on,” said Fabian, catching up. “All right, keep going.”

  “The mask of Glamour,” said Red.

  “And the Halter, a ring that will render its wearer invisible,” Tanya finished.

  One by one Fabian scribbled them all down. Then they stared in silence at the list.

  “The Platter,” Red said suddenly. She looked at Gredin. “You told us a story about a family that was rewarded by the court with its power. Perhaps the Platter charm could be in the location where that family lived. Perhaps all the charms could be in places where their powers were used. Do you know where that place was?”

  “It was hundreds of years ago,” Gredin answered. “The story will have changed over time, and so it would be hard to pinpoint where it happened. And there’s a problem with that theory—not all of the Thirteen Treasures were used. Some of them never had the chance to be used before the dividing of the court—and after that, they were never used again.”

  “So that’s not the connection, then,” said Fabian glumly.

  “What about the owners of the bracelet?” Tanya asked. “I know it’s old, but how many people have owned it? It must’ve been lots. Perhaps it could be linked to them!”

  “It’s a good idea,” said Fabian. “Although if that is the link, then it could involve both you and Florence—you’ve both owned it.”

  Tanya went very still as she considered that prospect.

  “In that case,” she said, “the best place to start is with Elizabeth Elvesden—the first owner of the bracelet.”

  “That means that at least one of the charms could be in the house,” said Fabian, jumping to his feet. “We should start with her room. I bet there a
re loads of good hiding places in there… under that thick rug, maybe, or behind the portrait.”

  “But that isn’t the only place linked to Elizabeth Elvesden,” Tanya said. “There’s also the place she died—the asylum.”

  “Maybe we should also think about where Elizabeth lived before she came here,” Fabian added. “The bracelet was given to her by Lord Elvesden as a gift after she agreed to marry him.”

  “Do you know where that was?” asked Red.

  “No,” said Fabian. “But I know how we can find out.”

  “Of course,” said Tanya. “We have some of Elizabeth’s diaries! The ones she stashed around the house. Maybe we can find clues in them. Shall I ask my grandmother to let us see them?”

  Fabian shook his head.

  “I don’t think we should tell Florence anything until we know what we’re dealing with. She’s got enough trouble looking after Amos and Nell, without finding out what’s really happened to my father. And if things get dangerous, she’ll stop us from searching for the charms. It’s better if she doesn’t know—at least for now.”

  “But what about me?” said Red. “If she sees me she’ll want to know where Warwick is!”

  “So we’ll hide you,” Fabian said calmly. “Tanya did it before. We can do it again. Only, this time”—he nodded at her fox-skin coat—“you’ve already got the perfect disguise.”

  “Let’s do it,” said Tanya. She turned to Gredin and Raven. “You’ve heard our reasoning. I’m begging you not to tell my grandmother, at least not yet. We’re Warwick’s only chance, not to mention Red’s brother.”

  “As you wish,” said Gredin. “There is little else we can do for you.”

  With that, they left.

  “Let’s go upstairs,” said Fabian urgently. “Put that coat on—we’ll have to smuggle you up, just in case anyone else sees.”

  Obligingly, Red put the fox-skin coat on, feeling their eyes on her as the startling transformation took place.

  Looking around the kitchen, Fabian grabbed a pile of clean bed linen that was ready to go upstairs and lifted it from the basket. “Get in,” he said.

  Red leapt into the basket, and Tanya tucked the folded sheets around her until only her nose was visible.