Year Two
Journal of Bennu, Who Runs
We arrived at the fortress at dawn, descending through a skylight surrounded on all sides by twining, reaching branches. It looked as if we were landing in a great wicker basket with the bottom cut out, but as we neared the ground I saw that the fortress went deep underground, too, a wide, stone spiraling staircase disappearing into the earth. Outside the walls stood a forest so dense and green that it looked like a single, unbroken sea of emerald.
I rolled from the back of the Sky Snake drenched from the rain, but that did not matter. At once, I tended to Khent, pulling him down, helping him limp, bloodied and sagging, toward . . . Well, I did not know where we were expected to go or whether we were expected at all. The Sky Snake departed before I could give it so much as a single pat of thanks, and soon its long black tail was again whipping along among the clouds.
The courtyard seemed deserted, silent but for an incredible racket of frogs. There must have been a swamp or river nearby, for it sounded as if we stood in the chorus of a million singing creatures. I had not noticed that a heavy bronze gate guarded the descent into the earth, and with a noisy clanging it began to move, receding into the wall and opening the way.
“Can you walk?” I asked Khent, but he had long since lost the ability to speak and simply moaned and rolled his head against my shoulder.
I had dragged him but a pace or two when two figures appeared, climbing up out of the depths of the inner fortress. Too tired to temper my response, I stood in openmouthed surprise at the sight of them, for they, like so many things I had seen on my journey, were utterly new to my eyes. They were human from the waist up, young women, each armored in what looked like smoothed wood chased with leaves, the straps of which were secured around their necks and arms with thick white webbing. Their skin was pale pink, and though they had big, pretty eyes as any maiden might, each had six more than they should, four smaller purple eyes curving up toward their white hair. Long plumes in every color were tucked into their braids and they had pieces of bone lodged in their ears and noses. That was all strange, but stranger still were their lower halves, not humanlike but jutting out far behind them to accommodate eight legs. Eight massive, furred legs striped in pink and purple bands.
It was as if some twisted alchemist had taken the top of a woman and mingled it precisely with the body of a tarantula, and where woman met spider hung a long woven cloth painted with an elaborate deer skull with eight eyes. The strange design reminded me of the very book I had carried so far.
Both armored creatures carried wooden spears, and the one on the left, whose hair was longer and braided in twisting ropes over one shoulder, pointed the tip of that spear at me.
“Who is this that rides a Sky Snake into our midst and brings a bloodied companion? Speak, strangers, or be food for the forest.” She did not need to shout, for the threat was more than enough. Her voice was husky, and her lip curled in anger.
“My name is Bennu,” I said, trembling. I carefully pulled the book from its satchel and heard both women gasp. “Mother sent me. I followed the signs over a great, great distance. Please, we have come from half a world away, do not forsake us now.”
“No! No . . . you are welcome here,” the same creature said, giving an impressively elegant bow despite her strange configuration. She nodded to her companion, who skittered back down into the earth. She emerged a moment later with a trio of helpers, who looked much like me but for their entirely black eyes. “We will tend to your friend, and you will give us this precious gift—”
The three assistants took hold of Khent and carried him away before I could say anything. He gave me one last look, fevered and afraid, and I worried then that our tribulations were not yet at an end. As he was led away a commotion erupted below us, and soon a whole group of black-robed men and women arrived in the courtyard from below. Their faces were painted with elaborate designs and tattooed with green spirals. One stepped forward, an elderly man, and elbowed the spiderlike girl out of the way.
He smelled strongly of the woods, of pine and nettles, and when he smiled his teeth were dyed a hideous green. “It will be taken to Father at once. You will join us.”
“What is this? Get back to your swamp, Green Healer; the Mother’s very essence is in that thing and it will go to her priestesses first.”
She leveled the spear at him but he hacked up a laugh and pushed it away. “You have precious little power while she remains on papyrus,” he hissed. He spat when he talked, and his right eye twitched constantly, his round shape and pointed face reminding me of a tick. “Father will know what to do. He is, after all, eager to be reunited with his bride.”
I felt numb all over. Of course I knew the book was irreplaceable, but to think it carried Mother herself? My relief at having safely brought her so far was swiftly extinguished. The Green Healer yanked the book out of my arms and stumbled back, not anticipating its weight. The other robed figures closed around him, and they all oozed as one back down into the fortress.
“This is an outrage,” the other spider guardian muttered. “We cannot allow it, Coszca! Mother will not be herself. She will not have her full strength until she is released.”
“I know, Cuica, I know. You.” The one who had pointed her spear at me, Coszca, pointed her weapon at me again and nodded toward the stairs. “Follow us. I do not trust those druids; their love is for Father and, I fear, for Father only.”
We rushed down the stone stairs, and I was relieved to find the passage lit all the way down with gouts of flame shooting up from gaps in the walls. The entirety of the fortress was painted with murals, most of them forest scenes, but some showed the Sky Snake and the half women, half spiders as they triumphed in battles. I gave the pictures little more than a glance, for the women were much faster than I, and used the walls as naturally as the stairs to travel down. A wider landing came into view, and off that a door that led into a shadowy place I could not yet see.
The women tore ahead, breaking through that archway. I heard them scream an instant later as I stumbled through the opening. The druids had been waiting there. They tossed massive nets over them and pelted them with stones. The women fought, trilling loud, beautiful cries as they thrust their spears again and again. More druids smothered me with their cloaks, picking me up and hoisting me away.
I did not see what became of the warrior women and could only hope they would be shown mercy for doing nothing but demonstrating loyalty to their Mother.
I, too, fought as the robed men and women forced me along an unseen path. The ground changed from stones to mud, and my feet sank deep, sucked down by the wet earth, the mud covering me up to my knees. I smelled the primeval oldness of the forest, the perfume of dense trees and rotting leaves, and then, finally, they released me and pulled their cloaks from my face.
Before me stood a tree. I could not describe it even if threatened with death, for it was both dead and living, black and yet unburned, flourishing with leaves except those leaves were like daggers dripping poison. The druids shoved the book I had carried for so long back into my arms, and I cradled it like a beloved child. Then the robed figures vanished, leaving me to tremble in that place alone.
And then they came.
They emerged from the tree like worms from the earth. More shadow than mass, they slithered out from between the groaning cracks in the trunk before making their way to the clearing. The roots of the tree were as thick around as horses, broad and gnarled, never touched by man and rarely even glimpsed by him. The creatures came out of those roots gradually at first, but as twilight dipped into evening, they arrived at a steadier pace, a slow drip that became a constant stream. . . .
Father was real. Mother was real. It was all real. I reminded myself that I had no allegiance, that Mr. Morningside had been kind but that he had also lied, that the shepherd had been kind but he had also sent his cruel Adjudicators, and that Father had been generous with truth but equally generous with lies.
I had no allegiance, so why was it so difficult to choose the side that counted most: my side.
I needed more. More proof, more assurance that I was doing the right thing. It took no more than passing a note to Lee during lunch to set my plan in motion. He was not necessarily part of it, but I needed one last thing from him, a favor for me that I hoped would wind up being a favor for many. By then, it had gotten around that I had thwarted Sparrow, and that she had not shown her face since the humiliation of a spider popping out of my clothes and evading Judgment.
“Lass, that was pure art.” Chijioke had retold the story at least three different times over the meal. I laughed along, but only half-heartedly, knowing full well that this meal might be the last I shared with them. My heart ached to tell him the truth about Mary, to relieve his worries that she had passed him over. He had been wooing my master deceiver of a father, not the shy, kind young woman we both liked so much. There would be time for that truth later. I did not plan to leave Coldthistle House alone. If Mr. Morningside actually kept his side of the bargain . . .
The thought of reuniting Chijioke and Mary was almost too pure, too good to entertain. And it was a vanishing possibility that still lay at the end of a long, long tunnel filled with spikes and traps and twists and angry gods.
“Just: wham! And a ruddy great spider flies out of your apron! Legendary.” Chijioke doubled over with laughter. Poppy could hardly breathe she found it all so funny. Even Bartholomew, awake for once, snuffled against the girl’s leg.
“Serves her right,” Mrs. Haylam said from the range. She was toasting a last bit of bread for herself, and then turned to the stew pot to fix herself a bowl. “Your powers of transformation have certainly grown leaps and bounds since your father’s arrival. It sounds like he’s taught you much.”
I could not read her tone, so I simply nodded and minded my food. “His presence has been most instructive.”
She glanced over her shoulder at me, staring for a long, long time. “The Court should finish its business this evening. I look forward to a bit more peace and quiet around here once they all pack up and go.”
“What about Mason and his father?” I asked. “Are they staying with us much longer?”
“No, Mrs. Haylam says I should take care of them just as soon as Mary’s well,” Poppy said brightly. “That mean old Samuel Potts did bad, bad things to folks down in Few South Ales and it’s time he paid for it. Right, Mrs. Haylam?”
“New South Wales, Poppy. And yes. I will need to have a discussion or two with Mary, and then she will return to work as usual.”
I nearly choked on my mouthful of stew. Chijioke patted my back, trying to help me overcome the sudden coughing fit.
“Some water will set you to rights,” he said, hopping up and hurrying to the spigot out in the yard.
I took the opportunity to pass a note to Lee under the table, tapping his leg with it until his eyes opened wide and his hand closed over mine. Our gazes met, and I held his for a moment. He frowned, looking worn, frayed around the edges, his eyes no longer so brightly blue, his hair dull and greasy. It was not that he was no longer handsome, but that the strangeness of the new life I had thrust upon him did not suit him at all. What I was about to do was as much for him as it was for me. Or so I told myself.
Lee took the note and smoothly transferred it to his inner coat pocket. When Chijioke returned, I faked a few more coughs and accepted the water from him, drinking deep.
“Thank you,” I said, putting up my plate and cup before giving Mrs. Haylam a quick curtsy. “May I go? The library needs dusting, and Mr. Breen left a mess of books in there yesterday.”
“See to it, then,” she sighed. “But be washed up and ready for the trial. It will commence at sundown.”
Sundown. Right. That was more than enough time. I glanced back once more at Lee and smiled before I left and crossed the foyer, going swiftly up the stairs and up again to the library, which was actually not as dusty as it could have been and tidied nicely. It didn’t matter; I just needed somewhere private to speak to Lee. I might have asked Chijioke or Poppy to help, but Lee was the least attached to the house and to Mr. Morningside, at least in an emotional sense. He was tied to the book forever, yes, but I hoped to change that, and anyway, he did not seem to have any love for Coldthistle.
What I had to say would make Chijioke panic, and Poppy was too much of a loudmouth.
I waited for only a moment or two, pacing nervously in front of the windows. The sun had come out and harshly, leaching all color from the lawn, which needed rain and had begun turning brown in places. Lee entered the library and gave a soft tap on the wall to let me know he had arrived.
“There you are,” I whispered. “Shut the door!”
“What’s going on, Louisa?” he asked, doing as I said but only after hesitating, squinting suspiciously.
“Listen, there are a hundred things I wish I could tell you right now, but there isn’t time to explain it all.” I rushed to him and took him by his cold hands, leading him through the stacks of books to the back of the library, where once we had spoken of our families, of dashed hopes and sins long past. It had been a lifetime and a half since then, or so it seemed, for he did not look at me with hope or joy any longer, only skepticism. “This is going to sound mad, but you must trust me. My father is not who he says he is; he’s an old god, a terrible one, and he’s very, very dangerous. He didn’t come here for me or for reconciliation; he came to start a war. The shepherd and Mr. Morningside defeated him long ago, and now he wants revenge.”
“An . . . old god? Is it possible?” Lee raked his eyes over me as if in disbelief that I could be the daughter of such a thing. I couldn’t blame him. “How do you know all of this?”
“The pavilion; it reveals your true self, and I saw what he was when I met him inside,” I explained, tumbling over my words in my haste. “Everything he told me is confirmed by a journal Mr. Morningside has had me translate. He came here to start trouble, and I’m terrified that all of you will get caught up in it and hurt. Which is why I need you to make sure that you, Poppy, and Chijioke do not go to the Court tonight.”
Lee pulled back, still studying me closely. His brow furrowed and he tilted his head to the side as he said, “Why? What do you think will happen?”
“Something bad,” I replied hotly. “Something bad will happen because I am going to make it happen. I’m not smart or strong enough to get rid of my father, but Mr. Morningside and the shepherd will know what to do.”
“You’re going to stab your own father in the back?” Lee cried. “Isn’t that awfully cruel?”
“You don’t know him,” I said, closing my eyes tightly. “You don’t know him, Lee; he’s not anyone to pity or admire. I don’t care if he’s a god or a ditch digger, he cannot be trusted. He’s been impersonating Mary.”
His eyes blew wide and he shook his head. “No. . . . No!”
“He has. Why is she locked in her room all day? Have you ever seen them in the same place? She spurned Chijioke and forgot her own good-luck charm. These are not accidents, Lee, think.”
“Mary is your closest friend here,” he whispered. “You must have told him all kinds of things. . . .”
“Precisely. But I discovered the deception, and as far as I know, he has no idea that I’m wise to it,” I told him quickly. “He wants the book, the Black Elbion, and in exchange I’m to receive a fortune and freedom from the book’s grip.”
His head sank low and he gave almost a yelp of helplessness. I took his hand, squeezing.
“Don’t do that,” I said, desperate. “I won’t give it to him, Lee. I wouldn’t risk it. But I must know what he intended to do, and I must know that betraying him this way is the best path forward. He is downstairs right now, in the west salon, reading. Can you keep him there?”
“What do you intend to do, Louisa?” he asked, pulling his hand away. “You won’t find the book—they moved it. . . .”
“I know that, Lee. I don’t want it. I need to get in his rooms and have a look around, that’s all.”
“The last time you did something like this you nearly died, and I did die. Why on earth would I let you try that again?”
I threw my head back in exasperation, spinning and pacing from the window and back to him, chewing my knuckle. “Fine. Don’t distract him; I’ll do it on my own. Just please, promise me that you will keep everyone safe in the house tonight. Promise me, Lee—it’s important. Whatever happens, I want to make sure you’re all protected.”
He rolled his eyes and grabbed me, pulling me in for a tight embrace. I made a soft oof sound of surprise, then returned the gesture.
“I won’t let you do this alone. God help me, I believe you. You never lied to me before. I know you tried to save me from Mr. Morningside, even if it . . . didn’t go as planned.” He leaned back, holding me at arm’s length. “Are you sure this is the right thing to do? I’ll be very cross if you go and get yourself killed, too.”
I managed a small smile, and swallowed the urge to cry. “I’m only trying to stop a war and outwit an ancient god of the forest. How hard could it be?”