by Kevin Sands
“And?”
“A thief.”
“And who’s the patron Spirit of thieves?”
“You are—oh, I see,” I said. “Thief, child—foxchild.”
“That’s it.”
“So it doesn’t mean I’m part fox, or anything.”
“You should be so lucky. No, you’re a plain old human.”
“The Eye got pretty excited when it found out what I was. What did it matter?”
“A long time ago, I put a binding on its cave,” Shuna said. “It was supposed to stop the Eye from getting out. The binding could only be broken if a foxchild faced down a bearchild—a disciple of my sister.”
That’s what the Eye had said. Foxchild and bearchild enjoined; the condition is met. I was the foxchild; Sarah, the apprentice Weaver, was the bearchild. I shook my head. We really had been played. And poor Sarah had paid for it with her life.
“It seemed unlikely at the time,” Shuna sighed, “that such a thing could happen. Guess Spirits mess up, too. Anything else?”
“The Lady in Red,” I said. “What is she?”
Shuna hesitated. I think this was bumping up against one of her mysterious rules. “Ask Gareth,” she said finally. “If he doesn’t recognize what she is, he’ll know where to look it up.”
“What about Foxtail?”
“What about her?”
“You seem to know her,” I said.
“We’ve met before.”
I waited. “And?”
“And what?”
“What is she?” I said, exasperated.
“A friend.”
“You know what I mean. Is she . . . ?”
“Some sort of supernatural, magical creature?” Shuna said. “No. She’s just a girl.”
“She’s not just a girl,” I said. “For one thing, she doesn’t have a face.”
“Of course she has a face. You just haven’t seen it. Here we are.”
We stood in front of the door to my hotel bedroom. I looked back, confused. The walk to the woods had been much longer than this. “Wait. I still have more questions.”
“That’s too bad, because I can’t give you more answers. It’s up to you now.”
“But . . . I don’t . . . I mean . . .” I stammered, trying to find the words. Then I just said what was in my heart. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“You can,” Shuna said. “With the help of your friends, you can. They trust you, Cal. Partly because you came up with a plan to steal the Eye that actually succeeded. But mostly because you trusted them in return. No one’s ever really done that before.”
“But . . . wait,” I said, desperate. “If I can’t tell them what I’ve seen, why would they help me? There’s nothing in it for them.”
Shuna looked at me seriously. “You do them a disservice. They won’t go with you because you have something to give them. They’ll go with you because they care about you. Go back and speak to them. You’ll see.”
She nudged me inside with her nose.
“What now?” I said.
“Get in bed.”
I crawled under the sheets.
“Now lie down and go to sleep.”
I lay down. But I didn’t drift away just yet. “I feel like you’re not telling me the whole truth.”
“I already said there were things I can’t explain.”
“That’s not what I mean,” I said. “I feel like the mark in some gaff. Like this whole time, you’ve been manipulating me.”
The Fox looked at me curiously. “You should know better than anyone,” she said, “that just because I’m manipulating you doesn’t mean I’m not telling the truth.”
CHAPTER 47
When I woke, I felt . . . strange.
The bedroom had returned to normal. My soup bowl was back on the nightstand where I’d left it. And the painting above the headboard was a painting again, amateur brushstrokes and all; I touched the canvas, just to be sure. So it took me a minute to place why things seemed so odd.
I felt good.
Not physically; there, I was still an absolute mess. The cloth patch was stuck to my face again, covering my empty left socket, my missing eye hollow in my skull. My body ached where I’d been banged about. The burn on my shoulder stung, as did my scars, the same dull pain as ever.
Yet the worst of it—my sorrow, my overwhelming despair—was gone.
Was that Shuna’s magic? Or just plain, foolish hope? Maybe it didn’t matter.
I crawled out of bed and picked up my shirt, to cover my scars. I stared at it for quite a while. But I didn’t put it on. Why did I need to? They’d seen my scars already. I had nothing left to hide.
I heard them outside, in the common room. I padded to the doorway and watched. They were playing cards: Meriel and Lachlan taunting each other and laughing, Foxtail gesturing grandly. Even Gareth was at the table, though he remained as sober as ever. They looked . . . happy. They’d lost the biggest payout of their lives, and it didn’t seem to matter at all.
Was Shuna right? Would they stick with me, even though I had nothing to promise but a likely death?
You already know the answer, the Old Man said. I taught you well enough.
I sighed. Here to rub it in, as usual?
I’m not rubbing it in. He shook his head. You’re angry with me because I left you. What did they do?
They’d stayed.
Foxtail didn’t have to come for me. She didn’t have to brave the flames at Mr. Solomon’s, didn’t have to risk her life pulling me out. The money was already gone. She could have left me there and lost nothing.
And the others. They could have fled. Should have fled. They hadn’t known Mr. Solomon wasn’t coming for them—to say nothing of a furious High Weaver, who must even now be looking for his stolen Eye. The smart thing would have been to run, leave me to fend for myself. That was the way of thieves.
But, in my despair, I’d forgotten: These weren’t just thieves. These were friends.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
I said it way too softly for them to hear. But Foxtail, that strange girl, did hear. She looked my way and nodded, and underneath that mysterious mask, I was sure she was smiling.
The others saw her turn and looked over, too. Half-dressed, scarred flesh, bandaged eye; I must have looked a fright. No one seemed to care.
“Cal!” Lachlan sprang from the couch, grinning. “Feeling better?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m sorry. All of you . . . I’m sorry.”
“Not this again,” Meriel said.
“I don’t mean it that way. I am sorry for losing you the money, yes. But I really mean I’m sorry for shoving you away. Thank you for looking after me. Thank you for staying.”
“Awww.” Lachlan came over, eyes tearing up, and wrapped his arms around my chest in a surprise hug. Foxtail placed her hands over her heart. Gareth gave a little smile.
“Course we stayed, guv,” Lachlan said.
Even Meriel’s expression had softened. Still, she said, “I’m not hugging you.”
“Thank Shuna for small blessings,” I said, and she stuck her tongue out at me.
Lachlan let me go. “Back to square one, then, eh? Come play, c’mon.”
“Who’s winning?”
“Gar is. But that’s ’cause he’s cheating.”
“We’re all cheating,” Meriel said. “Gareth’s just better at it.”
“Maybe later,” I said.
“Can we get you somethin’, then?” Lachlan said.
I sighed. My dream of a normal life was gone—up in smoke, literally. Guess I had one thing left. “How about revenge?”
Everyone looked at me.
“You want to go after Mr. Solomon,” Meriel said.
“Actually, what I really wan
t is to take back the Eye.”
“Why?”
Shuna had warned me that I couldn’t tell them about her. But as I stood there, I found that I really didn’t want to lie. Not to them.
So I gave them as close to the truth as I could. “When I had the Eye, it spoke to me.”
Their jaws all dropped as one. Kind of funny, actually. “It’s alive?” Gareth said, half whispering.
“It is,” I said. “And it’s powerful. More powerful than anything we’ve ever imagined. That’s why we have to get it back. If Mr. Solomon uses it, we’re all in trouble. As in end-of-the-world trouble.”
“What if he’s used it already?” Meriel said.
I remembered the future I’d seen in the pool. Lachlan’s death. Bolcanathair had erupted, burying half of Carlow. “I have a feeling we’d know if he had.”
Lachlan pondered it. “If we do snaffle the Eye, d’you think we could sell it back to the High Weaver?”
I laughed. “He might pay us our two million, sure.”
Meriel snorted. “Either that, or kill us.”
“So no different than any other job, eh?” Lachlan said. “I’m in. How ’bout you, Foxy— Ow!”
Foxtail kicked him in the shin. But she gave me a thumbs-up. Gareth regarded me for a moment, then nodded. Everyone looked at Meriel.
She seemed surprised. “You had me at ‘revenge.’ ”
Lachlan grinned. “So how’re we going to take the Eye back?”
“I don’t know yet,” I said.
“Do you know where he’s keeping it?” Meriel asked.
“Not a clue.”
Lachlan scratched his cheek. “No offense, guv, but I think I see a flaw in yer plan.”
“I know it sounds mad, but remember, Mr. Solomon didn’t just want the Eye. He needed it. And he needed it by a certain time.”
“Our deadline,” Meriel said, remembering. “He needed it by the end of last week.”
“Right,” I said. “Which means he plans to use it this week.”
Foxtail spread her hands. What’s this week?
Gareth blinked in surprise. “The syzygy.”
The girls looked puzzled. Gareth explained to them about the upcoming alignment of the sun, the moons, and our planet.
“What would that do?” Meriel said.
“It’s s-supposed to be a time of great magical energy,” Gareth said. “The primeval magic, from which all life was created, is trapped deep underground. The pull of the sun and moons make the energy swell close to the surface. Like a magical high tide.”
Primeval magic? That sounded alarming. What terrible enchantments could Mr. Solomon weave by tapping into something like that?
“So when is this sizzle . . . whatever?” Meriel said.
“Tomorrow night. I don’t know when . . . I mean, exactly when. Not long after dark.”
“Then we’d better assume that’s when it’s going to happen,” I said. “We just need to figure out what before then.”
When I’d woken, I’d seen through the curtains it was still morning. That left us little more than a day and a half. The others looked glum.
“We can do this,” I said. “I know we can. We just have to get back to work.”
“Even if we find out where Mr. Solomon’s scarpered,” Lachlan said, “he’s a right cracker with the weaving, ain’t he? Now he’s got the Eye, too. How are we supposed to fight him?”
“We’re not going to fight him. We’re going to trick him. We’re going to play a gaff.”
“How?” Meriel said.
“Same as anyone else. We exploit his one big weakness.”
“Which is?”
“Arrogance,” I said. “After Mr. Solomon took the Eye, he didn’t bother killing the rest of you. Shuna’s teeth, he didn’t even wait to see if I was dead. He just assumed I’d burn with the rest of his things.
“We didn’t matter, see? We didn’t matter enough to get rid of. To him, we’re just a bunch of stupid kids. That means he’ll underestimate us. He’ll think anything we do is a joke. And that’s how we’ll get him. I just need to think the gaff through.”
Before I could do that, however, we did have one big problem. We had to figure out where Mr. Solomon had gone. I needed to tell Gareth what Shuna had said.
I slumped against the doorjamb, as if weakening from the beating I’d taken. Which wasn’t that far from the truth.
“You all right, guv?” Lachlan said, concerned.
“You should be in bed,” Meriel said.
I nodded. “Maybe you’re right.”
Foxtail stood. I stopped her. “Is it all right if Gareth helps me instead?”
Foxtail put her hands on her hips, offended.
“I have . . . It’s . . . a boy issue. If you want the details, I could . . .”
Foxtail put her hands up. Meriel turned red. “We’ll pass.”
Gareth, looking somewhat puzzled, walked me back to my room. Behind us, Lachlan complained. “I’m a boy, too.”
Foxtail patted him on the shoulder. “Of course you are, dear,” Meriel said.
CHAPTER 48
Gareth helped me sit on the bed.
“Close the door,” I said.
He raised his eyebrows, but he did as I asked. Then he waited silently for me to speak.
I had to decide how to start. “So . . . when I had the Eye,” I said, “it stuck itself to my head. And when I looked through it, I could see . . . well, I could see magic.”
Gareth’s eyes widened. “What did it look like?”
“Light. Light everywhere. I could see Weaver runes, and how they connected to each other. Different magic was different colors. And I could see life. My own blood. Mr. Solomon told me magic came from life energy. The Eye showed me it was true. Stone and metal were cold and dark, but every living thing had a glow.”
“Remarkable,” he said in awe.
It was. And seeing it had done something to me. Since the Eye—and my eye—had been taken, everything looked flat. At first, I’d figured it was because with only one eye, I’d lost all depth perception. But as I spoke to Gareth, it struck me that maybe it was something more.
the world, the Eye had said, when I’d first seen the light. you see the world as it truly is. If that was the true world . . . then what was I seeing now?
I shook the thought from my head. “When I was in Mr. Solomon’s house, I saw the Lady in Red through the Eye. She’s not human. She looks like a woman, but inside, she’s nothing but flame.”
Gareth gasped. “An elemental.”
I didn’t know what that was. Gareth explained. “Elementals are c-constructs. Born of magic. Weavers of old were said to have created them. They took elements—fire, water, air, earth—and bound them in . . . in people. Then the Weaver steals souls—human souls. To give the elemental life. I didn’t know they still existed.”
Mr. Solomon had sneered at the Weavers, said they’d lost the true art of binding. I wondered if he’d found the Lady in Red somewhere or learned how to create her himself. Powered by human souls, I thought. How many people had he murdered to do it?
“How do you get rid of an elemental?” I asked.
Gareth looked thoughtful. “I think you immerse it. In its opp . . . I mean . . . oppositional element.”
“So . . . dump a glass of water on her?”
“I think you’d need more than that. Sink her in the lake. Or d-dunk her. In a flowing stream. Or the like.”
I didn’t know how we’d manage something like that. Regardless, we had a bigger problem to solve first. “I’ve been thinking about Mr. Solomon and the Eye,” I said. “And I think I might know what he’s planning.”
Gareth stood quietly, listening.
“Everything I just told you,” I said, “Mr. Solomon had no idea would happen. He
didn’t know the Eye could speak. He didn’t know I could see magic. And though we thought he wanted the Eye to claim the High Weavership, that was wrong. He couldn’t care less about the Weavers. I think he wants the Eye for what it said in that book you showed us.”
“The Eye is a focus,” Gareth said, remembering. “It can enchant things.”
I nodded. “I’m pretty sure that’s what he plans to do. He’s going to use the Eye to enchant something. Something incredible, something no other focus has the power to enchant.”
“Do you know what?”
“No. Though . . .” I couldn’t think of a subtle way to bring up what Shuna had told me, so I didn’t bother spinning a story. “Someone gave me a message for you. It’s supposed to help us find Mr. Solomon. But I need you to not ask me who said it.”
Gareth paused. “All right.”
“I think it’s a riddle. It goes: Three. Twenty-two, first. Four. Then follow the sheep.”
Gareth blinked.
“Does that make any sense?” I said.
He shook his head. “Was it supposed to?”
“Sh—” I stopped myself from saying her name just in time. “She . . . said you’d be able to work it out. That puzzles like this were your favorite sort of thing.”
He frowned. He motioned to the desk in my bedroom, asking permission to sit. He looked awkward, bent over its tiny frame, as he gathered some papers and began to scratch notes. I watched over his shoulder as he inked the numbers on the page.
3
22, first
4
then follow the sheep
He stared at them for a while, then began to experiment. He rearranged the numbers, putting them in order. He wrote them in a column; as points of a triangle; as the sides of a square. He wrote them out using words instead of figures, switching letters seemingly at random.
After staring at the pages for a while, he asked, “Did she say anything else?”
“Just that we’ve been looking in the wrong place.”
Gareth returned to his notes. I had a feeling this would take some time—time we didn’t have—but there was nothing to be gained by pressuring him. So I lay on the bed and waited. As I stared at the ceiling, my eye drifted to the awful painting above the bed, the lamb in the pasture.