The Wind of Southmore (14 page)

Her gaze
fell again on the portrait, the picture of before, and the twins
seemed to be smiling at her. What happened to you? she asked
silently. I don’t know how to help you.

It was
then that she saw them, and she bit her lip in a sudden suppressed
excitement. “‘Two perfect spheres’,” she repeated. “You don’t
suppose – look!” and she pointed to the picture.

The
background was of a moonlit night, the twins’ dark hair seeming to
flow and melt into the velvet blackness beyond the silver rays,
surrounded by a golden pattern of stars. A swirling, sinuous
pattern which seemed vaguely familiar, and which pointed back to
the foreground of the portrait, to where two gems, a black and a
white pearl, rested snugly, one in each of the sisters’ palms.
Behind them the strange constellation seemed to swirl and dance,
until they felt that they were no longer in the cold tower room,
but out there in the night sky, dancing with the stars. A gull
cried sharply from somewhere outside and the vision faded and
settled, and once more the girls were staring at a portrait in a
very old book.

“
Twin spheres,” Alice remarked softly, after a few moments.
“But where are they?”

“
And
what
are
they?” Arlen added, grimly. “I wonder – ” she rose and walked over
to the window. “All these jewels. What was he doing with them all?
There’s got to be something there. I just – can’t – ”

“
And the dragon again,” Alice said slowly, remembering the
shimmering scales of gold around her. “It’s the dragon. But what
does it mean? Are there two of them?”

“
I don’t know,” Arlen answered slowly. “I’ve never heard of
two. But then, I don’t really know the proper story behind it.
Nobody will ever tell me anything. I’ve always thought it was a
symbol – you know, like a totem animal or something – a good luck
sign. Everything’s just been left to fall apart.”

“
Since the alchemist left,” Alice finished. “What happened to
him?”

“
I don’t know,” Arlen replied. “He threw the stone away, from
the rock – we know that,” and she traced her fingers once again
over the shining picture, frustrated. “I don’t know any more to
their story.”

“
It’s all very mysterious,” Alice said drily. She didn’t know
what to believe anymore. Or who to trust, and she felt the hairs
rise on the back of her neck as suspicion clouded her face. “You
don’t suppose he – ?”

“
No, no,” Arlen shook her head firmly, as if reading her
thoughts. “He’d done something – I’m sure of that – but I think he
was trying to put it right. He threw the stone away, remember? It’s
– something else – that has it now.” She returned to the ancient
volume, and began to flick the pages as quickly as she dared. The
old paint was crumbling back to powder, and her fingers were
stained in the vivid, ancient colours of vermillion and emerald and
peacock blue. “Something else,” she repeated softly, and her gaze
rested on the bright page of the sister with the tall, fair man, on
the cliff by the castle.

“
He gives me the creeps,” Alice shuddered, moving over to
Arlen’s side for a better look.

“
Yes, he does,” Arlen agreed, slowly.

“
I wonder who he was?”

“
I think,” Arlen replied, apparently with some difficulty,
“that we’re going to find out.” She paused. “It’s still a full moon
tonight.”

“
They’ll be back,” Alice said, in a low tone. “And they know
we’re here. What do we do?” She could not forget the circle,
trapped in the mist, caught by the swirling bars of fire and words
and the heat of the ruby. She looked quickly at Arlen, who was
still staring as if transfixed, at the picture. Alice reached for
the book and drew it away. “What do we do?” she repeated firmly.
“They know about us. They know where we are.”

“
Then I think,” Arlen said again, her eyes still on the book,
“that we should be somewhere else.”

“
Like where?”

“
Like where they’ll least expect us. Like outside.”

“
But – ” Alice stammered.

“
They won’t be looking for us there,” Arlen insisted. “We’ll
have a chance to see – what happens – and escape, if we have
to.”

“
OK,” Alice answered, supposing that her sister should know
best, although her tone and expression admitted nothing of the
sort. Her glance travelled idly back through the book, resting
suddenly on the slender blonde woman handing over the baby at the
castle door. “She’s quite pretty, isn’t she,” she said then, after
a few minutes. She had never seen a picture of her
mother.

“
I suppose so,” Arlen said shortly, and snapped the book
shut.

“
Hey – I was looking at that!”

“
We haven’t got time. We have to work on this poem.”

“
Now
you want to,” Alice muttered, and
Arlen pretended to ignore her, busying herself with finding the
right page. For some reason, the book kept infuriatingly landing on
that picture. She closed it suddenly and stood with her eyes shut,
letting the words of the riddle flow through her head. Coloured
flashes of words – green fingers, rainbow streams, ivory pale,
sealskin dark, images, pictures – but how to put them
together?

“
We
have
to
find them,” she said. “They’re waiting – we – hold the key – ” The
thread was there – she could see the end glimmering but she
couldn’t catch it.

“
We
?” Alice repeated. “What
key?”

“
The gems. We have to find them – before – ”

“
Before what?” Alice was growing frustrated now. Arlen seemed
to know where she was going, but wouldn’t let on.

“
Before – ”

But the
moment was shattered, as Aunt Maud entered the room behind
them.

“
Quick – the book,” Alice hissed, and Arlen did the best thing
she could think of to cover it up. She sat on it.

“
What are you doing in here?” Aunt Maud looked around
suspiciously, her large nostrils flaring, “as if she were
sniffing
for something,”
as Alice said later. “I need some help with those
vegetables.”

“
Yes, Aunt Maud,” Arlen said. “We’ll just – ”

“
You’ll just no such thing,” said Aunt Maud. “I’ve barely seen
you two girls for the last few days. Honestly, you think it just
takes a lick and a wish to keep this place running.” It’s running?
Alice thought to herself, and Arlen nudged her, as if she’d heard.
“Now I need some help and I need it now.”

“
Yes, Aunt Maud,” both girls answered meekly. Arlen raised
herself with a quick, frustrated glance at Alice, and Alice
smoothly slid the book beneath her thick jumper, its pointed edges
resting in the top of her jeans. It wasn’t very comfortable, but it
was better than Aunt Maud seeing it.

It was a
long and silent meal that evening. The darkness fell quickly, like
a heavy drape, and threads of moonlight beamed searchingly through
the thick clouds, shining on the girls’ faces like a spotlight.
Aunt Maud’s face looked particularly bony and corpselike by
moonlight, and Alice found that she could help to pass the time by
studying the skeletal angles of her nose and chin in the
glow.

Arlen
seemed uncomfortable, twisting nervously in her seat and casting
anxious glances towards the window.

However
even the longest meals don’t last forever, and eventually the
kettles were boiled on the fire, the slippery grease was scrubbed
off the pans and plates, and the table was clean and clear before
Aunt Maud had even climbed back up from the cellar where she was
storing the leftover fish.

The wind had started up again outside, whistling down the
chimney like a schoolchild, catching the corners of the crumbling
stone with a sharp claw. The chanting had begun, the voices echoing
in the wind, the moonlight bloodied by the burning glow of the
fire. Arlen was behaving strangely, holding her head as if it hurt
her, rubbing her hands over her ears. For the first time, she
seemed to be able to hear what they were saying, and they entered
her head, creeping like soft fingers, possessive words, tugging at
her thoughts, slipping through her mind. Soul, soul,
soul
. She shook her head
fiercely, her heart pounding. She was beginning to understand them.
She couldn’t let them – she wouldn’t – she didn’t want to. What had
happened? Where had it started? Was this because it had seen her?
Or because she had unwittingly made some sort of contract with it,
letting it draw upon her hatred and her anger? Her thoughts were
sitting thickly now, squatting inside her mind, and she could no
longer find them through the pounding, pounding, wrapping her mind
up with each beat. Ice coursed through her body and beads of sweat
broke into a fragile chain across her forehead. The reaction wasn’t
lost on Alice.

“
Are you OK?” she asked quickly. What now? she wondered,
feeling a ridiculous urge to run back to the train station and jump
on a train – any train – as long as it was away from
here.

“
I – need – to – get – out,” Arlen stammered, brokenly. Give,
give, give. She could feel herself trembling as the words crossed
her mind like black smoke.

“
Come on,” Alice said quickly, her face pale, pulling her
towards the door. “We’ll get out.” She reached for the door handle
and drew back with a gasp as a tall, gaunt shadow blocked it from
view.

It was
Aunt Maud, standing strangely in the darkness of the doorway, still
and silent, eyes glittering.

“
Aunt Maud?” Alice asked uncertainly.

“
Girls, where are you going?” Her voice seemed deeper than
usual, stonier. She made no effort to approach them.

“
We – we wanted – to – to look – at the – moon,” Arlen said
slowly. She seemed to be fighting for each word.

“
You can see the moon clearly from your own room,” Aunt Maud
said reasonably. “I’m not having you running out and catching cold
at this time of night. Now upstairs, both of you.”

“
But Aunt Maud – ”

“
Upstairs,
now
.”

There was
nothing for it but to march back up the winding stone steps and
into the tower room. Aunt Maud marched behind, drill-like, and
ushered them inside. “And don’t think of sneaking downstairs later
on,” she warned, sourly. “Or who knows what trouble you’ll get
into. Goodnight, girls.” She cast a final expressionless glance on
the pair, and left the room.

Alice
glared at her in frustration. Why did she always turn up and
interfere just when they didn’t want her? But it was only when she
heard the faint, dry grate of metal in the door that she sprang
forward furiously, her hand rattling the door knob.

“
She’s locked us in!” she cried angrily. “What’s the
matter
with her
tonight?”

“
I – don’t – know,” Arlen was still struggling to speak, her
voice harsh and jagged. Her heart was pounding with the force of a
mallet firing against her chest. She felt trapped and dizzy, and
she could not think coherently beyond it, much less speak. A circle
danced before her, like a red dot, which shimmered and jumped,
whilst all else around was blackness. The chanting seemed to fade
quietly into the background until it was just a whisper in her
head, and all she could hear was the soft, hungry lapping of the
waves against the shore. The dot grew closer, and larger, and the
fire flickered on her face in dark shadows. She was caught in a
ring, and she was not alone.

She could
see the dancers, cloaks rustling, sandy footsteps slapping around
and around her like moving bars. “We have to get out.” The voice
came from somewhere outside herself. She could barely hear it, and
strained to listen. The red glow became a throb, and she could feel
it pounding, pounding along with her heartbeat and her aching head,
and she could see it before her even with her eyes closed. She
mustn’t – let – it – in. Was this what Alice had seen? she thought
blindly. How could she bear it?

Alice
quietly propelled her onto one of the mattresses. “We have to get
out,” she insisted. “We have to get out.”

She had
been round the room several times, and there appeared to be no hope
for them. They had no key, and the door, although old, was of
thick, solid oak, and would take considerably more than the force
of their two small bodies to break it. There was no route of escape
via the window. Nothing grew near the tower, and the connecting
rooftops had long since crumbled away, or been destroyed, as Arlen
seemed to think. And even if they could have climbed out on to an
adjoining parapet, it would have catapulted them into full view of
the very thing they were trying to avoid. She didn’t know what to
do. She was casing the room as if in a cage, round and round
monotonously, with nothing at all coming into view to provide an
answer.

Outside the chanting swelled, borne on the wind, whistling a
little; an unpleasant chuckle, working its way there, inside her
brain. She shook her head fiercely. Singing, singing, singing,
louder and louder, as the glowing orange reflection of firelight
bounced across and around the walls until the whole circular room
was caught in the middle of it, swirling. Alice’s head began to
hurt, and she covered her ears. But it was Arlen who worried her
most. She didn’t seem to be –
there
.