I put down my staff and touched the Spook and James lightly on the shoulder. “It’ll be all right. It won’t hurt me,” I said, stepping between them and moving closer to the lamia.
Mam had said the creatures would protect me, even at the cost of their own lives, and I felt that James was safe, too. It was the Spook and Alice that I was worried about. I didn’t want it to attack them. Neither did I want anyone to kill it in self-defense.
“Take care, Tom,” Alice pleaded from behind. “Don’t like the look of it. Dangerous, ugly thing, it is. Don’t trust it, please. . . .”
“Aye, the girl’s right. Be on your guard, lad. Don’t get too close,” warned the Spook.
Despite their warnings I took another step nearer. There were scratch marks on the stone pillar made by the creature’s sharp talons. Its eyes were staring straight into my own.
“It’s all right,” I told the lamia, keeping my voice calm. “These people are my friends. Please don’t hurt them. Just guard them as you would guard me, allowing them to come and go freely as they wish.” Then I smiled.
For a moment or two there was no response, but then the cruel eyes widened a fraction and the lips parted slightly. It was more of a grimace than a smile. Then, from beneath its body, one of the forelimbs was raised toward me, the nails less than a hand span from my face. I thought it was going to touch me, but quite definitely, the lamia dipped its head in agreement and, still keeping its eyes locked upon mine, scuttled backward up the pillar to be lost in darkness.
I heard James let out a big sigh of relief behind me. “Wouldn’t want to be in your line of work for anything!” he exclaimed.
“I don’t blame you for that, James,” said the Spook, “but somebody’s got to do it. Anyway, let’s press on.”
Alice took the lead now, holding her lantern high, and went into the passageway between the cells. On either side were the unquiet dead. I could sense their anguish, hear their pleading voices. James, not being a seventh son of a seventh son, would be spared that, but I was eager to move on quickly into the tunnel and leave all that pain behind me. However, before we reached the wooden door that led to the outer tunnel, the Spook rested his hand upon my shoulder and came to a halt.
“This is terrible, lad,” he said softly. “There are spirits in torment here. More trapped together in one place than I’ve ever encountered before. I can’t just leave them like this—”
“Spirits? What spirits?” James asked, looking around nervously.
“It’s just the spirits of those who died here,” I told him. “They’re nothing to worry about, but they’re in pain and need releasing.”
“Aye,” said the Spook, “and it’s my duty to deal with them now. I’m afraid it’s going to take me some time. Look, James, you press on to Downham. You don’t need me. In fact, you might find it easier to rally the villagers if I’m not there. Stay overnight and bring as many back here as you can tomorrow. Don’t try to use the tunnel—I don’t think it’ll do much for the villagers’ courage to pass through this dungeon. Come straight up to the tower and we’ll lower the drawbridge. And another thing—I wouldn’t mention the death of poor Father Stocks just yet. It’ll be a real blow to the village, not good for their morale. And as for you two”—he looked at Alice and me in turn—“get yourselves off to Roughlee and bring Jack, Ellie, and the child back here to safety. I hope to see you again in a few hours at the most.”
It seemed to be for the best, so we left the Spook with a lantern as he prepared for the long task of sending the tormented dead of Malkin Tower toward the light. Then we set off along the tunnel, Alice in the lead and James close behind me.
Soon we came to the lake, and Alice stepped forward warily, holding her lantern high. A sudden stench of rotting assailed my nostrils. I felt uneasy. The water had been agitated on my previous visit, but this time it was still and calm, reflecting back the glowing lantern and Alice’s head and shoulders like a mirror. Then I saw why.
The wight no longer guarded the tunnel. Several pieces of it were floating in the water. The head was close to the far wall. A huge arm was on the nearside bank, the thick, bloodless fingers resting on the muddy path as if attempting to claw their way out of the lake.
Alice pointed down at the path. There were footprints on it—but they weren’t human. They’d been made by one of the feral lamias.
“It cleared the way for you, Tom,” said Alice. “And unless I’m very much mistaken, we won’t have any witches to worry about either.”
Alice was probably right, but as we skirted the lake, my feeling of unease returned. The wight was clearly destroyed, yet I had a strange feeling that I was being watched.
We quickly went past the lake, stepping over the bloated fingers, and continued on our way until we reached the earthen chamber. After standing there for a few moments, listening for danger, we moved on into the final low section of tunnel, which forced us down onto our hands and knees. Crawling forward, we found it hard going, but at last we dragged ourselves through onto the bone shelf and into the sepulchre. As I clambered out, Alice was dusting herself down. She held the lantern aloft, and I glanced across at the empty leg irons in the corner. Dead Maggie was gone, probably freed by her family as they made their escape.
We extinguished the lantern, and Alice left it just inside the door of the sepulchre against future need. Outside, we said a quick farewell to James, who headed north toward Downham. Moments later Alice and I were making our way through the trees to Roughlee, a strong wind bending the saplings, the smell of imminent summer rain strong in the air.
For a while we walked in silence. The sky grew darker, it began to rain, and I was becoming increasingly uneasy. Although I generally trusted Alice’s judgment, the more I thought about it, the more it seemed the height of folly to have left my family with one of the Deanes.
“This aunt of yours—are you sure she’s to be trusted?” I asked. “It must be quite a few years since you last met her. She might have changed a lot since then. Maybe she’s fallen under the influence of the rest of her family?”
“Ain’t nothing to worry about, Tom, I promise you. Agnes Sowerbutts never practiced as a witch until her husband died. And now she’s what people hereabouts call wise. She helps people and keeps her distance from the rest of the Deane clan.”
I felt better on hearing that. It seemed that Agnes was what the Spook would have termed benign, using her power to help others. When we came within sight of her house, things looked even more promising. It was an isolated, one-story farm cottage at the foot of a slope, on the edge of a narrow track; to the southwest, at least a mile away, chimney smoke from the village rose through the trees.
“You wait here, Tom,” Alice suggested. “I’ll just go down and see if everything’s all right.”
I watched Alice descend the hill. By now the dark clouds were pressing lower and the rain increasing in force, so I pulled up the hood of my cloak. The door to the cottage opened before Alice reached it, and she spoke to someone who remained out of sight in the porch. Then she turned and beckoned me down the incline. When I reached the door, she’d already gone inside, but then a voice called to me from the cottage.
“Get yourself inside out of the rain and close the door!”
I did as I was told. It was a woman’s voice, a little gruff but also filled with a mixture of kindness and authority. A few paces brought me into a cramped living room with a small fire burning in the grate and a kettle close to boiling on the hob. There was also a rocking chair and a table upon which stood a single unlit candle—which, I noted with interest and some relief, was made of beeswax rather than the black wax favored by malevolent witches.
The room was cheerful—somehow filled with more light than the tiny front window should have allowed. There were lots of cupboards and row upon row of wooden shelves laden with all manner of jars and odd-shaped containers. Each bore a label on which was written a word or words in Latin. Without doubt, I was in the presence of a he
aler.
Alice was drying her hair with a towel. Agnes Sowerbutts, standing next to her, only came up to her niece’s shoulder but was as wide as she was tall, with a warm smile that welcomed me into her home.
“It’s good to meet you, Tommy,” she said, handing me another towel. “Dry yourself before you catch cold. Alice has told me a lot about you.”
I nodded, thanked her for the towel, and made myself smile back out of politeness. I didn’t really like being called Tommy, but it hardly seemed worth complaining. I dried my face, concerned that there was no sign of Ellie, Jack, and Mary.
“Where is my family?” I asked. “Are they all right?”
Agnes walked closer and patted my arm in reassurance. “Your family is safe in the next room, Tommy. They’re sleeping peacefully. Would you like to see them?”
I nodded, and she opened a door and ushered me into a room that contained a large double bed. There were three figures lying on their backs atop the covers—Jack and Ellie, with the child between them. Their eyes were closed, and for a moment a chill ran down my spine and I feared the worst. I couldn’t even hear them breathing.
“Ain’t nothing to worry about, Tom,” Alice said, coming into the bedroom behind me. “Agnes has given ’em a strong potion. Sent all three into a deep sleep so they can regain their strength.”
“Not been able to cure your brother, sad to say,” Agnes said, shaking her head. “But he is stronger now, and should be able to walk when he wakes. Can’t do nothing about his mind though. It’s in a fair old muddle. Doesn’t know whether he’s coming or going, does poor Jack.”
“He’ll be all right, Tom,” Alice said, coming across and squeezing my hand in reassurance. “Soon as we get back I’ll sift through your mam’s trunk. Certain to be something in there to sort him out.”
Alice meant well, but it still didn’t make me feel much better. I began to wonder if my brother would ever make a full recovery. We went back into the living room, and Agnes boiled us up a fortifying herb drink. It tasted bitter, but she assured me that it would do us good and build up our strength for whatever lay ahead. She told me that my family would wake naturally within the next hour, and they should be strong enough to walk back to Malkin Tower.
“Anything new to tell us?” Alice asked, taking a sip of her drink.
“Family don’t tell me much,” Agnes said. “They don’t bother me, and I don’t bother them, but I can see things for myself. There’s been a lot of activity these past few days. They’re getting ready for Lammas. More Malkins visited yesterday than I’ve seen in a month o’ Sundays. Been Mouldheels here, too—a thing I’ve never known in my lifetime.”
Alice suddenly laughed, a slight edge of mockery in her voice. “Bet they didn’t all walk by your window, so how come you know all this?”
Agnes colored slightly. At first I thought she’d taken offense, but I soon realized that it was embarrassment. “Old woman like me needs some excitement, don’t she? No fun in looking out of my window onto fields of bleating sheep and windswept trees. What I do is the next best thing to gossip. Keeps me from being too lonely.”
Alice smiled at me and squeezed my arm affectionately. “Likes to use a mirror, Aunt Agnes does, so she can see what’s going on in the world. Would you do it for us now, Aunt?” She turned her smile toward the old lady. “Important, it is. We need to see what the Mouldheels are up to. Best of all, we’d like to see Mab Mouldheel. Could you find her for us?”
For a moment Agnes didn’t reply, but then she gave a little nod and went across to the far corner of the room. There she rummaged around in a cupboard and pulled out a mirror. It wasn’t very large, not much more than twelve inches tall by six or so wide, but it was framed in brass and set on a heavy base. She placed the mirror on the table and positioned the candle just to her left. Then she drew up a chair and sat facing the mirror.
“Close the curtains, Alice!” Agnes commanded, reaching toward the candle.
Alice did as she was bid, and the heavy curtains plunged the room into gloom. The moment Agnes’s hand closed about the candle, it flared into life. I trusted Alice’s judgment, but I suddenly started to suspect that Agnes was a little more than just a healer. A wise woman didn’t use mirrors and candles. The Spook wouldn’t have been happy, but then again, Alice often did things he didn’t approve of. I just hoped that, like Alice, Agnes always used her powers for good rather than to serve the dark.
For a moment there was a silence in which I could hear only the rain pattering hard against the window. Then, as Agnes began to mutter under her breath, Alice and I stood behind her so that we could look over her shoulders into the mirror, which began to cloud almost immediately.
Alice’s right hand gripped my left. “Good with mirrors, is Agnes,” she whispered into my ear. “Even give the Mouldheels a run for their money!”
A sequence of images drifted across the mirror: the inside of a cluttered cottage; an old woman sitting hunched in a chair stroking a black cat on her knee; what looked like the altar of a ruined chapel. Then the mirror grew dark and Agnes began to rock from side to side, the words tumbling from her lips faster and faster, the sweat beginning to ooze from her brow.
The mirror brightened a little, but now all we could see was wild racing clouds and then what looked like branches thrashing in the wind. It seemed odd. How was she doing it? Where was the other mirror? We seemed to be looking upward from the ground. Then two people appeared. They were distorted, and immense. It was like an ant’s-eye view, looking up at giants. One figure was barefooted; the other wore a long gown. Even before the image sharpened and I could see their faces, I knew who they were.
Mab was talking animatedly to Wurmalde, who was resting her hand on her shoulder. Mab stopped speaking, and they both smiled and nodded. Suddenly the image began to shift. It was as if a dark cloud were moving across from the left of the picture, and I realized that our vantage point had been obscured by the edge of Wurmalde’s skirts. Then I glimpsed one of the witch’s pointy shoes and, next to it, a bare foot, three-toed with sharp, cruel nails. She was hiding Tibb under her skirts again.
The image faded and the mirror grew dark, but we’d seen enough. It looked like the Mouldheels were about to join the other two clans. Agnes blew out the candle and came wearily to her feet. After opening the curtains, she turned and shook her head. “That evil little beastie gives me the shivers,” she said. “World would be a better place without it.”
“Without Wurmalde, too,” Alice said.
“How did you do that?” I asked Agnes. “I thought there had to be two mirrors.”
“Depends how strong the witch is,” replied Alice, answering for her aunt. “Water will do just as well. It can be in a basin, or if it’s calm, even a pond will do. Aunt Agnes was really clever and skillful: Wurmalde and Mab were standing on the edge of a big puddle, so she used that.”
At those words a shiver ran down my spine, and in my mind’s eye I saw that dark underground lake again, with the pieces of the wight floating motionless, the surface like glass. And I remembered my sense of unease.
“I felt a chill when we passed the underground lake,” I said. “As if I was being stared at. Could someone have been using it like a mirror to see us pass by?”
Agnes nodded, and her eyes became thoughtful. “That’s possible, Tommy. And if that’s so, they’ll know you’ve left the safety of the tower and will be lying in wait when you go back.”
“So let’s go the other way then,” I suggested. “The Spook’s still inside Malkin Tower, so he could lower the drawbridge for us. We can go straight through the wood toward it. They won’t expect that.”
“Could try that,” Alice said doubtfully. “But they could be waiting in Crow Wood, too, and we’ll have to shout for the Spook to let us in. Still, we might have a better chance there. Specially if we go round the long way and approach from the north.”
“There’s another problem though,” I said. “The Spook will be busy for hours d
ealing with the dead down in the dungeons. So he wouldn’t hear us. We’ll have to wait before we go back. Wait until after dark . . .”
“You’re more than welcome to stay here until then,” Agnes said. “How would you like some broth to warm your insides? Your family will be hungry when they awake. I’ll make some for us all.”
As Agnes prepared the food, there was a faint cry from the next room. Little Mary had woken up. Almost immediately I heard Ellie soothing her, so I rapped lightly on the door and went in. Ellie was comforting her child, and Jack sat on the edge of the bed near the door with his head in his hands. He didn’t even look up when I came in.
“Are you feeling better, Ellie?” I asked. “And how’s Jack?”
Ellie gave me a little smile. “Lots better, thanks, and Jack seems stronger, too. He hasn’t spoken yet, but look at him—he’s well enough to sit up. That’s a big improvement.”
Jack was still in the same position and hadn’t acknowledged me, but I tried to be cheerful because I didn’t want to alarm Ellie. “That’s great news,” I told her. “Anyway, we’re going to get you back to Malkin Tower for safety.”
At my words, alarm flickered onto her face.
“It’s not that bad,” I told her, trying to be reassuring. “It’s in our hands now and perfectly safe.”
“I hoped never to see that grim place again,” she said.
“It’s for the best, Ellie. You’ll be safe there until we can get you home to the farm. Before you know it, everything will be back to normal.”
“I’d like to think so, Tom, but the truth is I haven’t much hope. All I ever wanted was to be a good wife to Jack and have my own family to love. But what’s happened has spoiled everything. I don’t see things ever getting back to how they were. I’ll just have to put a brave face on it for poor little Mary’s sake.”
At that moment Jack came to his feet and shuffled toward me, a puzzled expression on his face.
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