Swift (13 page)

‘That’s gratitude,’ called Ivy after him, but the faery didn’t look back. Telling herself it was foolish to feel hurt – what more could she expect from someone who wasn’t even a piskey? – Ivy swept the bracken aside and ducked into the Delve.

Ivy dreamed that she was flying, and at first she didn’t want to wake – until she remembered that she
could
fly, and broke into an involuntary smile. But her bones ached, and her eyelids felt so heavy she could barely force them open. Surely it couldn’t be morning yet?

But there was no doubting her sense of time; it was as unfailing as her sense of direction. And if she didn’t get up and wake the others, they’d know something was wrong. Repressing a sigh, Ivy struggled out of bed and lit the day-lamps. She prodded Mica with the broom handle until he swore and slapped it away, then crossed to Cicely’s alcove, opened the curtains…

And found the bed empty.

‘Cicely?’ Ivy turned, searching the cavern for her sister’s glow. She passed a hand over the pillow, then the bedclothes, but felt not a trace of warmth. ‘Mica, did you hear Cicely get up a while ago?’

Mica poked his head out between the curtains, his black hair tousled from sleep. ‘What? No.’

A fearful suspicion stirred in Ivy’s mind. She went to the door and opened it, looking both ways down the passage. ‘Cicely! Are you there?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Mica, muffled by the shirt he was pulling over his head. ‘Where would she go at this hour?’

He had a point, but Ivy wasn’t about to acknowledge it. She grabbed her wrap off its hook and flung it around her. ‘I’m going to look for her,’ she said, and dashed out.

An hour later she had visited all of Cicely’s favourite places, knocked several sleepy families awake, and walked a circuit of the neighbouring tunnels, calling all the while. Jenny joined her, as did Mica and Mattock, and between them they searched the Delve from Market Cavern to Earthenbore.

But there was no sign of Ivy’s little sister anywhere. Cicely, like Keeve before her, had vanished.

Ivy sat shivering by the hearth in the Joan’s stateroom, one of Cicely’s hair ribbons crumpled in her hand. She barely noticed Betony pacing the rug as she questioned Mica about when he’d last seen Cicely, or Gossan’s frown as he listened, or Flint standing in the doorway with a face as stony as his name. All Ivy knew was that her little sister was gone, and that it was her fault.

After the first shock of Cicely’s disappearance, it hadn’t taken Ivy long to realise what must have happened. The uneasy feeling she’d had yesterday, both times she went to the surface…she ought to have trusted her instincts. Because, of course, it had been Cicely following her all along.

Perhaps it had been Ivy’s sun-browned skin that roused Cicely’s suspicions, or perhaps it was hearing her slip back into the cavern in the middle of the night. Perhaps she’d simply been eager to find out what surprise Ivy was preparing. But for whatever reason, Cicely had made herself invisible and followed Ivy all the way to the surface, only to discover that her older sister had been sneaking out of the Delve without her.

Cicely probably hadn’t gone outside the first time – the afternoon light would have blinded her. Instead she’d retreated to her bed, to brood over what she’d seen. But when she heard Ivy getting up later that night, it was the perfect chance to follow her a second time, and find out what she was up to.

It sickened Ivy to think that she’d led her little sister into danger. But more dreadful still was knowing that the scream she’d heard on the hillside – that thin, wailing cry that had startled her into flight – must have come from Cicely. If she’d gone to investigate straight away, she might have been in time to save her. But Ivy had been caught up in the joy of her new swift-form, and by the time she turned back her sister had already vanished…

‘
WHAT
?’ exploded Mica, and Ivy nearly dropped Cicely’s ribbon in the fire. ‘That’s impossible! I chained that spriggan up myself – there’s no way he could have escaped!’

‘And yet he did,’ said Betony crisply. ‘Perhaps the iron was not as pure as you believed, or perhaps he found some way to weaken it. But the prisoner has gone, and taken Cicely with him.’

No
, thought Ivy in dismay.
He couldn’t have, he was with me.
But how could she tell them that?

‘I’ll kill him,’ Mica’s voice was savage, his big hands clenched so tight they shook. ‘I’ll track him all the way across Kernow if I have to, but I swear I won’t rest until I break his skinny neck.’

‘There’s a search party heading to the surface,’ said Gossan, ‘and our most seasoned hunters and trackers are among them. They will do everything in their power to find Cicely.’

‘No doubt,’ Mica said flatly, ‘but they can only search for a few hours before they have to come back again. And that’s not good enough.’ He dropped to one knee. ‘Jack O’Lantern, Joan the Wad,’ he said formally to Gossan and Betony in turn, ‘I ask permission to track the spriggan myself, and stay out as long as it takes to find him and get my sister back.’

‘Alone?’ asked Betony. ‘Leaving Ivy with no one to provide for her?’

She didn’t even glance at Flint; they all knew that Ivy’s father was of no fit mind to look after anyone. He was safe enough working in the mine, but send him to the surface and he might well drown himself in a bog, or walk off a cliff into the sea.

‘Mattock would take care of Ivy, if I asked him,’ said Mica quickly. ‘Or Jenny’s clan could take her in, until I get back.’

And there it was again. Just because Ivy was wingless, because she was small and skinny, they were talking about her as though she were an invalid. Never mind that she’d been managing a household for five years and doing the bulk of the chores as well – that didn’t count as real work, apparently.

Betony and Gossan shared a look. Then the Joan said, ‘Cicely must be found, yes, and her kidnapper punished as he deserves. But this is not a matter for any piskey to undertake alone.’

‘Then I’ll put together my own search party,’ pleaded Mica. ‘I’ll take Mattock with me, and Gem and Feldspar too if you want. But you have to let me go!’

‘
Have
to?’ Betony said coldly. ‘The Jack and I will do what is best for the Delve, Mica. Not only for you, but for
all
our people.’ She walked behind her desk and sat down, wings folded primly behind her. ‘I will consider your request, and inform you when we reach a decision. Until then, you may leave.’

Mica’s expression turned mutinous. He sprang to his feet and stalked out.

‘That one will make trouble,’ warned Nettle, as she poured the tea and handed a cup to Gossan. ‘He’s moody, like his mother. And if he’s not kept busy…’

‘He will be,’ said the Joan, and now she sounded weary. Then she turned to Ivy and said, ‘Did you bring something of Cicely’s with you?’

Silently Ivy got up and handed her the hair ribbon. Betony smoothed it out upon her palm, then laid her other hand over it and closed her eyes. She must be casting a spell to try and find Cicely, Ivy realised, and held her breath. Of course the Joan would have tried the same thing when Keeve went missing, but perhaps this time…

‘Nothing,’ said Betony. ‘I fear she is already beyond the range of my spells.’ She laid the ribbon down. ‘Tell me, Ivy. You said you and Mica had both warned Cicely against going to the surface. Do you have any idea what drew her there, or what made her disobey?’

‘I—’ Ivy’s throat was so tight she could hardly speak. ‘I don’t—’

‘My love.’ Gossan leaned close to his wife’s ear. ‘She has already lost her mother, and now her sister as well. Give her time to grieve.’

Gratitude rushed into Ivy, followed by a hot wave of shame. She didn’t deserve the Jack’s compassion, not after the things she’d done. But if she confessed, they’d lock
her
up in the dungeon. And then she’d never get the chance to go outside and search for Cicely as only a swift could do.

‘Very well,’ said Betony, waving a hand at Ivy. ‘You may leave.’

As Ivy walked to the door, Nettle followed her. ‘I know how it feels, to lose a sister,’ she said in a cracked whisper. ‘It’s a hard, hard thing. I’ll never see my poor Gillyflower again, but I hope you find your Cicely.’ She gave her a last, sad smile, and closed the door.

Ivy was left alone with Flint, who stood like a statue with his thunder-axe over his shoulder. ‘She’s gone, Dad,’ Ivy said, clutching at his free hand. ‘Cicely’s gone. What are we going to do?’

She searched his face for a change in expression, but Flint didn’t even blink. He pulled out of her grip, hefted his pickaxe, and walked away.

‘What is wrong with you?’ Ivy’s voice rose high, breaking on the final word. ‘Don’t you care about Cicely, or anything? Is this all you can do – bury yourself in the ground and hammer away until you drop dead, and we’re left with no parents at all?’

Flint’s head drooped a little, but he didn’t answer. He kept walking past the stairs and the entrance to the Market Cavern, heading for the trapdoor that would take him down into the diggings.

Ivy stared after him until he was nothing but a blur in the distance. Then she wiped her eyes angrily on the back of her hand, and ran to catch up with Mica.

‘I can’t believe Aunt Betony just dismissed me like that.’ Mica paced around the cavern, kicking at the rug. ‘Cicely’s my sister; I should be the one to look for her. And I was the one who caught the spriggan in the first place. But from the way
she
was acting, you’d think it was my fault he’d escaped!’

Ivy sank into a chair, arms wrapped around her chest to hold the hurt inside. ‘I know,’ she said unevenly. ‘It’s not fair. You’re not to blame.’

‘I can’t understand how he got out of there,’ muttered Mica. ‘The iron was pure – I made sure of that. He couldn’t have got past that pile of rocks in the tunnel, and he couldn’t climb the shaft either, not without a rope…’

Apprehension stirred in Ivy. If she let him go on like this, it wouldn’t be long before he came to the obvious conclusion – that someone had deliberately helped the prisoner escape. ‘What are you going to do?’ she asked, to change the subject. ‘If Betony won’t let you go…’

‘She will. She’s
got
to.’ Mica flung himself onto the sofa across from her, fists clenched on his knees. ‘I know the surface as well as any hunter in the Delve. I’m not afraid of spriggans. And I won’t give up until I find Cicely, however long it takes. Who else can say that?’

I can
, Ivy thought, but she didn’t dare say it. Not until she knew she could trust him. ‘But if she decides not to listen? What will you do then?’

His face creased with anguish. ‘What do you want me to say? That I’d disobey the Joan and Jack, break every rule in the Delve if I had to, just for a chance of finding Cicely again? You know I would. I know you would, too.’

Ivy’s eyes prickled, and she looked down at her lap. So Mica did understand how she felt, after all. If she could only explain to him that she’d felt the same way about finding their mother…

‘Then if someone told you that she was alive, and they knew where she was,’ she said, ‘then you’d do whatever it took to get to her? Even if – if everyone else said it was dangerous, and you shouldn’t go?’

‘Of course.’ His voice sharpened. ‘I’m not a coward. What are you getting at?’

She must be careful now, so very careful. If Mica guessed that Ivy had anything to do with Richard’s escape, he’d turn against her in a heartbeat. ‘I’ve heard stories,’ she said. ‘About our ancestors, and other magical folk. How some of them could change into the shapes of animals, or—’

His face twisted with revulsion. ‘You want me to try and turn myself into an
animal
?’

Ivy hadn’t even considered that possibility; she’d only meant to prepare him for the shock of seeing her change into swift-form. But perhaps it was a good thing he’d misunderstood. ‘Is that so bad?’ she asked.

‘Of course it is!’ He flung himself to his feet and began to pace again. ‘If you’d ever
seen
a wild animal, let alone hunted one—’

‘I don’t understand.’

Mica made an exasperated noise and raked his fingers through his hair. ‘Look, it’s common sense. Piskeys have a special relationship with animals – you know that much?’

Ivy nodded.

‘Well, when we become hunters, we swear to help any sick or injured creature we find, and never kill any animal for sport. But they’re still animals, and we still have to eat. If we started turning ourselves into them, how could we hunt them? That’s why it’s forbidden.’

‘Who says so?’ asked Ivy. ‘I’ve never heard such a thing. And anyway, animals eat each other all the time. Maybe you wouldn’t want to kill the exact kind of animal you become, but—’

Mica cut her off. ‘It’s not just a bad idea, it’s against our nature. We piskeys are solid like the earth, not changeable like air or water. That’s how we’ve survived all these centuries.’

That sounded like something Aunt Betony would say, though it made no sense to Ivy. If shape-changing was impossible for piskeys, then why bother forbidding them to do it? ‘But the droll-teller said that our ancestors used to change shape sometimes,’ she protested. ‘And some faeries still—’

‘Faeries!’ Her brother’s mouth worked as though he were about to spit. ‘We don’t go near their kind. Why should I want to do anything they do?’