The Veil Weavers (11 page)

Lyatha held up a hand to stop me. “You have come a long way. You shall bathe and change, and then share a meal with us. Then you may tell us the needs of the Gathering.”

Eldest and Aloshius nodded in agreement, their smiles sweet and gentle, but at the same time a little withdrawn, as if they weren’t used to company.

Lyatha, Maddy and I collected our jackets and bags, and continued down the hall. Lyatha led us to a curved door set between two tall windows. We followed her down a short flight of stairs into a small room. It was a simple, sparsely furnished room, with two stone ledges piled with beautifully woven bedding to sleep on, a stone shelf under a wall of windows and a small stone fireplace. But out the windows, the sky and the mountains were so huge the room felt enormous.

Lyatha knelt and lit a fire with such ease she must have used magic. The fire warmed the room as she lit candles. She carried one through a small door beside the stairs. When she returned, she said, “The bathing room. I’ll bring robes for you. Take your time. Someone will come when it is time to dine.”

Maddy bathed first, while I lay watching the sky darken. Then, to keep myself awake, I squirmed around so I could see the tapestry covering the wall behind our beds. It was a mountain meadow filled with blooms, but it was so vibrant I wondered if the weavers had woven the flowers themselves into the tapestry.

I’d been consumed by worry, about repairing the veil and keeping Maddy and me safe. Now I started to relax. The weavers could fix the veil, and they would look after us. It felt deeply peaceful here, safe and quiet.

Lyatha had brought woven robes for us to wear, of just the right length. Maddy’s was a pale sky blue, soft but not shining. Mine was pure white. Maddy gasped when she saw it.

“You look...” she said. “You look...”

“What?” I said, feeling silly in a long skirt.

“You look...powerful, like you’re wearing magic.”

We heard a sound at the door, softer than a knock. Maddy opened it to Menolee. “Um, is it time for dinner?” she asked. Menolee yawned.

She led us to a second alcove, warmed by a crackling fire in a stone fireplace. Eldest sat at one end of a long table, with Aloshius the Elder at her right and Lyatha at her left. Maddy and I sat beside them, opposite each other. Menolee stretched out by the fire.

“Will Dorshan be joining us?” I asked, struggling to match the formality of the setting.

“He has returned to guard duty,” said Eldest. “He will eat there.”

I wondered if he would eat as a weaver, or as a spider.

“We have a feast to welcome you,” said Eldest. “We don’t have guests very often. When we do, we try to treat them well.”

The food was simple but delicious, and as long as Maddy and I kept eating, the food kept coming – meat cooked with herbs, delicately cut vegetables, woven pastries. We drank what looked like pale wines, but they didn’t make Maddy and me silly. My favourite tasted of honey and sunshine on a bright spring morning.

Thick candles lit the table, leaving deep shadows around the edges of the room, except where the light from the fire danced. As we ate, the moon rose and shone through the windows, creating new shadows.

The weavers ate lightly, simply tasting each dish, but they encouraged us to have as much as we wanted. When our stomachs were tight and round, we stopped, sighing.

Then, finally, the weavers asked why we were in the magic world and Maddy told them our story.

When she finished, Eldest said, “And what do you need from us?”

“We need to fix the veil,” I said. “I mean, you do. To weave it, to repair the tears.”

“We cannot,” said Eldest.

Maddy’s eyes widened. “What?”

Fear grabbed me, but I pushed it aside.
Of course they can
, I told it.

Eldest sighed. “We are descendants of the Ancient Ones, but we do not have their power. We are weavers, but not of the veil.”

“Can’t you at least try?” I asked, my stomach twisting.

“We cannot cross the veil. We cannot touch the veil.”

“But you have to try!” I cried.

Aloshius the Elder said, “Do you think we have not?” He pushed up the sleeves of his robe, showing dark red scars zigzagging up his arms. “It throws us off. We cannot touch it.”

Lyatha pushed up her sleeves, revealing more scars. Eldest did the same; her arms were the worst, covered in a web of raised red lines.

“We cannot touch the veil,” she said. “We cannot weave it, cannot repair it, cannot even rest a finger on the veil to listen to the song of the Ancient Ones. We can do nothing to help the magic world.” She sounded immensely sad.

“Come,” she said, “and I will show you.”

We walked with her to the end of the hall, to the largest tapestry we’d seen. Holding up a candle, Eldest lit portions of the story, one after another. It showed the Ancient Ones, all together, weaving the veil. I could see magic flowing through their hands, and threads emerging and working their way into the veil, weaving it around the earth. Magic crackled as they wove.

The Ancient Ones were tall like the weavers, but strong and vibrant, full of colour and power. As we moved down the tapestry, we watched magic flow from the Ancient Ones into the veil. They became paler and thinner, as if they were feeding themselves into the veil. By the end of the tapestry, the Ancient Ones sat exhausted, pale and thin like the weavers, except for the joy on their faces as they looked at the veil surrounding the earth in a mantle of magic.

“We are all that is left,” said Eldest. I could hear deep sadness in her voice.

“How awful,” said Maddy.

Eldest smiled. “They were content.” She paused, and added, “As were we. Until now.” She closed her eyes and I could feel the pain of their failure to repair the veil their ancestors had given everything to create.

“So who can fix it?” I asked.

“Only you, Josh. You have something of the Ancient Ones about you, a presence, a strangeness. Only you can fix it.”

I wish I could
, I thought. I’d give anything to repair it. “Teach me how,” I said.

“There is nothing we can teach.”

Then it couldn’t be repaired.

Now I understood how the veil was made,
woven of magic and something of the Ancient Ones themselves, leaving them drained of everything except stillness and a remarkable ability to weave anything except the veil. But they couldn’t repair it, and neither could I.

I went to bed in despair, and didn’t sleep. I watched the moon travel across the sky, clouds move in, and snow begin to fall. The snowfall became heavier, matching my mood and giving me something new to worry about. I ignored the bigger problem, and focused on the immediate one: how were we going to get back to Brox and Vivienne?

After a generous breakfast I could barely
choke down, Maddy and I got ready to leave. Once Lyatha was content that we were well wrapped and our bags properly packed, Eldest stepped forward, fabric draped over one arm.

“These will keep you comfortable, whatever the weather.” She slipped a cloak over Maddy’s shoulders, softly patterned in grey like the back of a young robin. Eldest pulled up the hood and touched a hand to Maddy’s cheek.

Then she handed me mine. It was creamy white, exactly the cream of Dorshan the spider, and it felt as fine as spider’s silk. I shuddered as I took it from her. But it settled over my shoulders as if it had always been there, moving as I moved. When I walked, I forgot about the cloak until it swirled around my ankles in a gentle flourish, reminding me of its presence.

We walked down the hall and out the door. Dorshan and Menolee were waiting. Snow was still falling, and silence echoed in my ears.

“How can we get through the snow?” asked Maddy, her voice small.

Dorshan smiled. “Menolee will take care of that. She’ll be very happy, today!” He turned to Menolee, and said, “Meno, please clear the trail for Josh and Maddy, all the way to their escort at the base of the mountain.”

Menolee yowled, a wild, joyful cry.

Dorshan smiled. “No avalanches, today, Meno. Just clear the path.”

Menolee shook her head, and meowed softly. Then she curled herself into a ball and began to roll. Snow on the path stuck to her; she kept rolling, the ball growing larger as more and more snow clung. Soon she was out of sight, leaving a perfectly clear path for us to follow.

“Won’t she be awfully big when she gets to the bottom?” Maddy asked.

Dorshan laughed. “She’ll shake herself out whenever she gets too big.”

Maddy and I said goodbye, and watched while the weavers returned to their hall. Dorshan stayed outside, on guard duty again.

“Before we go, could we watch you turn into a spider?” asked Maddy.

“Of course. Goodbye, my friends. May the Will of the Gathering keep you safe and help you find your way.” He shook himself and the cloak floated around him. “It’s all in the weaving, and in my intention. Watch closely.”

He seemed to be speaking only to Maddy, so I stepped back.

Maddy watched intently as he twitched his cloak with one hand and a shrug of his shoulders. As it settled, he settled too, smaller and thinner, and suddenly he was a spider again.

Maddy twitched her own cloak as she grinned. “That’s so cool,” she muttered. Then we turned and started down the path.

After all the magic of the weavers and their hall, the beauty of the fresh morning and the joy of Menolee rolling down the mountain, all I could think was a despairing,
Now what?

Chapter Nine

Crow By Crow

T
he crows swarmed us
as we
circled
the lake. “Settle down,” I said. “Settle down. We’re fine.”

Corvus landed directly in front of me, demanding answers. The others clustered nearby, Crowby on my shoulder. She leaned against my ear and murmured softly.

I touched her head. “No, the weavers can’t fix the veil. I have no idea what to do now.” I struggled not to snap at them, not to cry.

Corvus flew off immediately. I called after him to stop, but either he didn’t hear me or he chose to ignore me.
Now everyone will know
, I thought, as we trudged down the mountain.

Maddy and I walked in silence. The trip down was faster than hiking up, but it wasn’t long before my knees reminded me of how hard it is to hike down a mountain.