Hunter's Moon (17 page)

Grand Dome Station, the central railway station of Lepmest from which not only trains but coaches to all parts of Noricia depart, is the busiest in the entire city. And this time in the early evening is one of the busiest times there, with crowds of long-distance travellers, gawping tourists and homeward-bound city workers bustling in and out of its massive central hall, famous throughout Noricia and beyond for its marble floors, bronze chandeliers and the magnificent stained-glass dome ceiling that gave the station its name.

Something had gone wrong with the ticketing system this evening and there were impatient groups of people shouting for attention, with staff desperately trying to restore order.

I looked around everywhere for Lucian and the beggars but could not see any sign of them in the heaving crowd. Knowing that they'd have to catch the Mormest coach, for it went closest to the haven, I collared a station official and asked him where it was to be found.

Looking at his watch, he said, ‘You're going to miss it. It's just about to go.'

I thanked him and hurried away in the direction he'd indicated but by the time I elbowed my way through the crowds to the coach stop, the coach had gone. And Lucian was nowhere to be seen …

I had just come back into the central hall to see if I could find him when I caught sight of something that made my blood run cold. A knot of City Police in their green uniforms were pushing through the crowds. Although I was sure none of them had spotted me – I still wasn't even sure that they were looking for me specifically – I panicked. They must be on our trail! Desperately making my way out of the seething mass, I hurried away, expecting that at any moment a heavy hand would come down on my shoulder, and a voice would say –

‘Stop!' The voice was so close to my ear that I jumped in fright.

‘Don't turn around, Bianca,' said the voice. ‘Keep walking.' It was the Prince.

‘Stop, now,' he said after a moment, ‘but don't turn around. Pretend to be looking for someone.' I did as I was told.

‘I'm so glad you are here,' I began, ‘but we need to –'

‘We need to get away,' he interrupted sharply, so that I flinched.

‘How
are
we going to get away?' I cried, and turned so quickly that he was unable to step away, so that he was forced to stare straight into my face for an instant. And I stared back, speechless.

This man was not Lucian! He was dressed in the black uniform of the Special Police, his face hidden by one of those balaclavas, with only a pair of fierce hazel eyes showing. Who he was, how he'd found me here, and what he wanted from me I had no idea, but in that instant my paralysis left me and before the policeman could say another word, I twisted desperately out of his grasp, shoved him aside, and ran. Taken by surprise, he did not react quickly enough, but in an instant, whistles and shouts filled the station as the City Police saw me running and set off after me. In any other place they would have caught me easily, but in the surging crowds, the advantage was less pronounced, and in a short while I had plunged down the stairs towards the station platforms.

The platforms were almost as crowded as the hall above and there were trains waiting at two or three of them, with the usual chaos of passengers and families bidding farewell to each other. I looked up and down, panicked, wondering what to do. I heard the clatter of heavy boots on the stairs and, turning my head, saw a sea of green uniforms heading towards me. I couldn't see the Special Policeman but he must be with them. With a squeak of dismay, I ran down the platform, scattering the crowd as I went. Some people glared at me, others looked bemused, but nobody interfered or tried to stop me. Still, I would have been caught for sure before I reached the end of the platform if it weren't for a very sudden puff of steam from one of the trains which instantly enveloped the station in an impenetrable fog. In the next instant, a soft hand grabbed me and a calming voice said in my ear, ‘It's all right. Stay quiet.'

It was a young woman's voice. And though it spoke Norician, it was with a strong accent. She is from Ruvenya, I thought. Or somewhere near there.

The fog still enveloped us in white, and it dawned on me that this was no ordinary mist of steam from the train.

‘Come,' said the voice, and I felt a hand in mine, guiding me, leading me on. As I followed the young woman, I realised that I could see beyond the fog as though through a misted mirror. I saw vague shapes agitating beyond the cocoon in which we were moving. Then the shapes became solid and I could see the police running up and down the platform looking for me, but though I stood right there in the centre of it, they did not seem to see me. Looking down at myself, I realised that, in fact, I could not see myself, either – and nor could I see my companion. It was as though the fog clung only to us. We were enveloped in what could only be a cloud of magic. It was the strangest thing, but though I felt a shiver of awe, I was not frightened at all.

After a while, we made our way through the crowds that didn't see us, back up the stairs to the main level of the station, past the green-uniformed policemen who ran around like desperate dogs on a trail that had gone cold. I couldn't see the one in the black uniform, however. Perhaps he'd given up and gone away.

‘Here,' said the voice. To my surprise, we had stopped in the station buffet, and my guide was leading me towards a table of people. There was a gaunt old woman with pallid skin that seemed almost grey, and small black eyes; a bearded, very tall and broad young man – almost a giant – holding a baby of around eighteen months on
his lap, a little boy with green eyes and honey-blond hair. Alone among the crowds in that station, those people seemed to see us, with the young man raising a hand in greeting and the old woman and the baby both giving me a direct, unblinking stare. The old woman had a presence which was both disturbing and exhilarating, and my heart raced as her black eyes stayed on my face. Strange images filled my mind, images of deep forests and snow storms, a hut on stilts and three enormous cats sitting by a glowing fire …

Then she looked away and spoke to my rescuer in a language I could not understand. As my rescuer replied, I watched her taking shape in front of me: black-haired, green-eyed, with a lithe, wild grace in her movements.

She flashed me a smile, her teeth gleaming white and sharp under the buffet lights. For an instant, I caught a glimpse of sharp incisors and thought of Verakina. Was this young woman a werewolf too?

‘Don't be afraid,' she said. ‘They can't see us. None of them can, until Lady Grandmother wishes it so.'

‘How … Who … who are you?' I stammered.

‘I'm Olga of the family Ironheart,' she said, comfortably, motioning me to a seat. ‘And over there is my husband Andel.' The tall, bulky man smiled and nodded. ‘And our little son Frans-Ivan.' The baby regarded me warily. ‘And, of course, Lady Grandmother, who has done us the honour of asking us to accompany her.'

‘Oh,' I said. I shot a glance at the old woman. She was looking away, as though she were bored with the conversation and the situation. ‘Thank you so much,' I added, suddenly realising I must appear rude and ungrateful.
‘I am a total stranger to you. Yet you saved me from great danger.'

‘You are most welcome. None of us has ever much liked the police,' said Olga, ‘and Lady Grandmother could see that you might need some help.'

‘It is so very kind. But forgive me, I forget my manners, I have not even told you my name. It is Bianca … and I ….' I gulped and couldn't finish, for all at once my legs gave way.

Olga helped me to a chair and made me sit down, and gave me a glass of water. I drank it slowly and began to feel better. I looked at the old woman who, quite unperturbed, had trotted off to have a look at the cake display. Even though she was in full view of the waiters, no-one seemed to notice she was there.

‘How do you … she … how does she …' I said to Olga, stumbling over my words because even now I did not quite believe the evidence of my senses that told me that I was somehow kept within a protective spell that hid me and my companions from sight.

Olga smiled. ‘I cannot tell you. Not that I won't – I just cannot. It is all Lady Grandmother's doing.'

‘She … She is a witch?' I ventured. ‘An enchantress?'

‘Oh no. She is immortal. She is a feya. The most powerful feya in all Ruvenya.'

I stared. ‘What?'

‘I know what you're thinking,' said her husband, speaking for the first time. ‘Feya don't normally travel. Especially not Old B– I mean, Lady Grandmother,' he corrected himself hastily, throwing the apparently oblivious old woman a wary look. ‘But this is a special case.'

I felt faint. How could they talk of feya in this blithe, down-to-earth way? How could I take in the fact that one of those legendary immortal beings was actually here in this station buffet, greedily eyeing the rows of cream cakes as though she were an ordinary sweet-toothed grandmother? Nellia, the feya from the mountain spring, was the only feya I really knew anything about and even that was all hearsay. Superstition, Belladonna would have said.

‘I … What special case?' I asked, trying to cover my unease.

‘We are here to track down someone,' said Olga. ‘Normally Lady Grandmother would not concern herself with such a thing outside her own domain – but as I say, this is different.'

‘Why?' I asked. I didn't want to seem rude, but I was curious. And besides, I still did not think it would be safe for me to leave the station quite yet.

‘Because it's personal, for her. It concerns an old enemy,' said Olga. ‘A wicked sorcerer named Messir Durant. It's not him we're looking for, by the way,' she added. ‘He's dead.' She saw my puzzlement and continued her explanation. ‘There's a rumour he may have had an apprentice. From Noricia. And if that's so, we have to find out what their plans are. For if they're anything like Durant, they've got to be stopped. But we don't know for sure yet if the rumour is even true. We've only just arrived.'

‘And we still don't know exactly what we're looking for,' grumbled Andel. ‘Man, woman, young, old. In the dark, as usual.'

‘Hush, Andel,' said his wife, without heat. She took the baby, who'd begun to fret, in her arms and rocked him
gently, saying, ‘But here we are talking on and on about our concerns, and you …'

I stopped listening. I had spotted Lucian, who had come into the station, looking red and out of breath. He looked around wildly, searching for someone in the crowd. Me. I was sure it was me. And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the City Police appear. And this time, a short distance behind them, was the black-clad Special Policeman. I saw him freeze as he spotted Lucian.

‘Please,' I cried, ‘please, help Lucian, the young man over there. He is my friend, and that Special Policeman is going to try to get him too!'

The old woman didn't even turn from her examination of the cakes. ‘Please,' I begged Olga, ‘you have to help him, he's going to be …'

‘He's going to be all right,' said Andel, and in the next moment I saw he was right, for the black-clad man had turned and headed for another exit. As for the City Police, they passed right by Lucian without seeing him. The old woman must have made him invisible.

‘Thank you,' I said, turning to the old woman. ‘Thank you so much.' But all she did was shrug.

‘Would you please let Lucian see us? Let him come to me,' I begged.

The old woman shook her head, firmly.

‘Please!'

‘It's no good,' Olga said, as the old woman stalked off with two cakes in each hand, cakes she'd spirited away from the display case under the very nose of the waiter. ‘If she doesn't want to do something, she won't change her mind.'

‘But why on earth not? He's my … friend. He's worried about me.'

‘She sees further than anyone,' said Olga, gently rocking the sleepy child. ‘There must be danger abroad. For him. For you. For both of you.'

Lucian looked around him once more. Then he shook his head, as if dazed, and walked out of the station, unchallenged. In less time than it takes to say it, he had vanished from sight.

‘Lady Grandmother says you may go now.' Olga's voice made me start.

‘If you wish, that is,' corrected Andel. ‘Or you could stay with us.'

‘Andel, you know that isn't possible,' Olga said, casting a look at the old woman who was now impassively devouring her cakes. There was cream on her chin and crumbs in her hair, and she would have looked a comic sight if it hadn't been for that stony, unblinking black gaze which would make anyone think twice about turning her into a figure of fun.

Andel frowned. ‘I don't like to leave you –' he began, but I interrupted him, hastily.

‘Thank you, but I need to find my friend as soon as possible, so please don't trouble yourselves on my account. I cannot express my gratitude for all that you have done for me, a stranger.'

‘It is no matter, no matter at all,' said Andel, gruffly. ‘Stranger or no stranger, we try to help those in trouble.'

‘We know what it is like to be hunted,' said Olga, ‘and you are no stranger to us anymore.'

‘If you do ever need our help again,' said Andel, ‘we will be staying at the Wheat Sheaf Inn on the market square. We'll be glad to be of service in whatever way we can,' and here he gave Olga a somewhat defiant look.

Olga countered with a white-toothed smile, saying to me, ‘Of course. I add my voice to my husband's – if you are in need of a friend, you must not hesitate one moment to come to us.'