Moonkind (Winterling) (14 page)

Twenty-Three

Before the pucks told her and Rook their plan, they decided they needed to have supper. Fer told them she was a vegetarian, and after she had explained that
vegetarian
meant she didn’t eat meat, and the pucks had laughed with disbelief at that, one of them found a potato and put it in the coals of their campfire to cook; another brought out an apple he’d stolen from somewhere and gave it to her.

They settled down to eat. Night had fallen and the air grew cooler, and Fer sat close to the campfire to stay warm. Sparks from the fire floated into the darkness and winked out. Her bees darted among the sparks, as if playing a game with them. The pucks roasted rabbit and squirrel meat over the flames. With gleaming eyes they watched Fer dig the potato out of the fire with a stick. Then they watched her eat it.

“Surely you’ve seen somebody eat a vegetable before,” she muttered, and they laughed.

Even without salt or butter, the potato was hot and good, the skin charred from the coals. She saw Rook eat a rabbit leg and toss the bones over his shoulder. Phouka stood behind her, munching on a pile of hay one of the other pucks had brought him.

Strangely, even while worry about her own land gnawed at her, and while she knew the stilth was continuing its relentless spread, she felt happy. She actually
liked
the pucks, especially seeing them all together like this. The baby, Scrap, was toddling around the circle, getting a kiss or a hug from each of his brothers before being sent on. They teased and laughed, and—she could see it clearly—they loved one another. In everything they did, they
stayed true
, just like Rook had told her they did.

Across the campfire, Rook tossed a last bone over his shoulder; then he wiped his face on his sleeve and grinned at her. “Okay, Fer,” he said. “Now Ash is going to tell us the plan.”

The puck Asher stood. The crystals woven into his long braids glinted in the firelight. “Lady,” he said, with a nod to Fer. “You know enough about us pucks to know that we can see through lies, and we don’t like the glamories.”

Yes, she knew that. She nodded.

Asher went on. “We figure that if the Lords and Ladies—all of them, not just the Forsworn—have their glamories stripped away, their people will see what they truly are, and they won’t be able to rule anymore. It’ll turn everything upside down.”

Fer frowned.
Stripping the glamories
. It sounded like what Rook had done to the Birch-Lady with his web-stained hand. Which had been horrible and wrong.

“Tell her how,” Rip growled. In his black-painted face, his orange eyes glittered.

Asher gave a sharp-toothed grin. “Our Pup has told you about the shadow-spinner spider, hasn’t he?”

She gave a slow nod—yes.

“We’re going to kidnap the Lords and Ladies, starting with the Forsworn,” Asher said. “Then we’ll take them to the spider’s chasm and throw them in.”

“It’s brilliant!” shouted one of the pucks. A few other pucks laughed.

Fer shook her head. The weight of worry piled onto her shoulders again. “No,” she said firmly.

The pucks stopped laughing. “What did you say?” Rip asked, his voice low and dangerous.

“You can’t force them like that,” Fer answered.

“We can, yes,” Asher said. He strode around the fire to loom over her like a storm cloud, his flame-colored eyes flashing. “They chose to rule. That means they have no choice about this.”

Fer stood and faced him down. “They
have
to choose, pucks!” She cast a glance at Rook. “You saw what happened with the Birch-Lady, Rook. We could have killed her, destroying her glamorie the way we did. They are our enemies, but even so, we can’t risk killing the Forsworn.”

Rook shook his head. “The Birch-Lady was bad, Fer, but the stilth is worse. My brothers are right. We have to do it this way.”

“This is our plan, Lady,” Rip snarled. “Take it or leave it.”

Pucks! She clenched her fists, ready to argue it out with them, except . . .

Except they
were
right, sort of. The Lords and Ladies and the Forsworn were
not
going to choose to change—she knew that. They were stuck in their glamories, just like flies stuck in a spiderweb. She remembered the second time she’d worn a glamorie—taking it off had been
so
hard. It had set into her skin and bones as if it were made of fishhooks. Ripping it off had
hurt
. It had been the hardest thing she’d ever done, and she’d only been wearing the glamorie for a day.

“Come
on
, Fer,” Rook said, interrupting her thoughts.

“Wait,” she said, holding up a hand as the new thought came to her. “I know the Forsworn are causing the stilth,” she said. “But what if they want to change and can’t?” The pucks stared at her with gleaming eyes, and she went on. “They’ve been wearing the glamories for maybe hundreds of years. Taking them off might be impossible for them.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Rook said. “It’s too late.”

Rip gave her a sullen stare, and Ash shook his head. “We need to use the spider,” he said.

“Ooookay,” she said, thinking. “I agree with that part of it. What if . . .” She smiled. The pucks were going to love this idea. “The nathe is the center of everything. It’s where the Lake of All Ways is, and it’s where the Forsworn have gathered, and so have all the other Lords and Ladies. If we want to stop the stilth, it has to be from there. What if we go and get the spider and bring it with us to spin its webs at the nathe?”

Ash gave her a narrow-eyed glance. “And then what, Lady?”

She went on, thinking it through. “We have to give them one more chance to choose.
All
of the Lords and Ladies, not just the Forsworn ones.” She shot Asher a quick grin. “It’d turn things upside down, wouldn’t it, if they did?”

He barked out a laugh. “It would, yes!”

But Rip still looked fierce and grim. “I like the part about trapping the spider and bringing it to the nathe,” he put in. “But we know the Lords and Ladies. They are not going to take off their glamories unless we force them to do it. Especially these Forsworn ones.” He glared around the fire at the other pucks. “You know I’m right, brothers.”

Fer couldn’t argue with that. If Rip was right and the Forsworn refused to take off their glamories, it would mean death for everyone in all the lands. She would try as hard as she could to convince the Forsworn to fulfill their oaths, but if she couldn’t, she and the pucks wouldn’t have any choice. It wouldn’t be a good choice, but it’d be the only one left to them. “Okay,” she said.

The pucks stared at her. “What?” Asher asked.

“
Okay
means
all right
,” Rook explained.

“Good!” Ash shouted.

The other pucks got to their feet and crowded around her, talking and jostling and laughing. She stumbled as one puck tousled her short hair and another gave her an approving slap on the shoulder. For the first time in a long time she felt light and free and wild, not a Lady with terrible responsibilities, but a kid laughing with her friends. They grinned at her and she grinned back at them, and for just a moment she felt accepted—part of their pack, one of the pucks.

Twenty-Four

Night fell. Rook and his brothers hurried to get ready. All the pucks had something to carry. Six pucks together had the huge net that they’d woven from sturdy rope to imprison the captured Lords and Ladies in; now they’d use it to trap the spider. They strapped the net to two long poles that they hoisted onto their shoulders. Some had spears they’d stolen from various guards and fighters in other lands. Phouka had packs full of food slung over his back. Rook had a coil of rope over one shoulder and a bundle of firewood over the other, and he’d exchanged his lordly, silk shirt for a plain, gray shirt like the ones his brothers wore. Fer, he saw, had turned her patchwork jacket inside out; its lining was brown, and she blended with the night, except for her lighter shock of hair.

As the full moon rose behind a veil of clouds, the ten pucks chosen to carry out the plan, plus Fer and Phouka, tramped through the land of the tree-giants, and out the Way. In the lands there were hundreds of Ways, and pucks knew all the shortcuts and all the secret, little-used Ways, and soon they were standing in a quiet crowd before the Way that opened only at midnight.

It felt good to be with his brothers; he’d been away from them too much lately. Rook was glad Fer had agreed to come too. It made him feel less pulled into pieces to have her here with them.

“It’s an excellent plan, isn’t it?” Ash said, and Rook saw a flash of Fer’s teeth as she grinned.

“The plan is terrifying,” Rook said, and then he laughed. Capturing the muck-spider. A perfectly pucklike plan—and it had been all Fer’s idea.

“You’re doing it again, dear Pup,” Tatter whispered from beside him.

What?

His brother reached out and touched him on the chest, and Rook realized that he was rubbing the spot over his heart where the broken thread was. Quickly he shoved his hand into his pocket.

“It’s time,” Ash said with a glance at the sky. “You’re ready?”

“I am, yes,” Rook answered.

“And you, Lady?” he asked.

“Ready,” Fer said firmly.

They stepped into the Way that led to the land of the spinners.

The moon, a little off full, spilled milky light over the smooth, black stone of the Spinnerlands. Fer kept up with the ten pucks as they trotted, and with Phouka, whose hooves clattered over the rock. She had her bow and quiver full of arrows, and they bumped on her shoulder as she ran. Rook pointed out to her the spire where the moon-spinner spider had woven its glamorie webs. As they passed it, she looked for the spider, but it was nowhere to be seen. Maybe it really was dead. Leaving the spire behind, they hiked way out over the rock plain until they reached a wide hole in the ground that was so dark it sucked the moonlight into itself.

“That’s it,” Rook whispered. The chasm where, he’d told her, the shadow-spinner spider lurked in its stench and muck.

The Way out of this place wouldn’t open again until midnight tomorrow, so the pucks set up camp at the edge of the chasm. They’d wait until tomorrow night to carry out the plan. Fer tried to ignore the nagging worry she felt about the spreading of the stilth, and used the rest of the night and a good part of the next day to catch up on her sleep. Then, as Rook and his brothers practiced with the net and with their stolen spears, she set up a target and took some shots with her bow and arrows.

Finally night came on again and Asher called them all to the edge of the chasm. Fer gathered her bees and told them to wait with Phouka, and then wedged herself into the huddle. The pucks around her were dark shadows with flame-bright eyes. “We’ve got to have the spider captured and back to the Way by midnight,” Ash whispered. “Rook’s been down there before. What can you tell them, Pup?”

Rook crouched, and on the moonlit rock he traced the layout of the chasm. “The path, here,” he pointed, “goes down to a ledge that isn’t very sturdy.” He looked up at her and his brothers. “The spider’s got babies, too,” he added. “Lots of them, all about this big.” He held up his hand to show them.

“Careful of the babies, then,” Tatter murmured. All the pucks nodded at that.

Fer blinked, surprised. She wouldn’t have expected that kind of care from the pucks.

“I know the way down,” Rook whispered. “I’ll go first, if you like.”

Fer’s stomach lurched. To go first was the most dangerous. She wanted to warn Rook to be careful, but she knew that wouldn’t be a pucklike thing to do, so she kept quiet.

“Very good, Pup,” Ash said.

As Rook stood, Rip handed him a spear. Then Rip turned and offered Fer a spear of her own. “This is a sharp one, Lady,” he said. For the plan, Rip had painted himself all black; he looked like a puck-shaped hole in the night, with two spots of flame for his eyes.

“It’s okay,” Fer said, lifting her bow, and shrugging her shoulder to show him that she was carrying her quiver of arrows. “All right, I mean. I have these.”

Rip grinned, and his teeth didn’t flash white in the moonlight; he’d painted them black too.

Asher handed around scraps of cloth—so the stench wouldn’t overwhelm them, he said—and they all tied them over their noses and mouths.

“Ready?” Asher asked, his voice muffled by the cloth.

Fer nodded.

“Ready,” Rook answered.

“Good.” Asher patted him on the shoulder. “Let’s catch ourselves a muck-spider.”

Gripping her bow, Fer followed Rook and his brothers into the chasm.

Rook lay on the narrow ledge overlooking the bottom of the chasm, where the shadow-spinner spider squatted in its swamp of muck. The stench was as bad as ever; he was glad for the cloth covering his mouth and nose.

He and his brothers and Fer had made their attempt on the spider the previous night. They’d gone in with their spears and their net, and the spider had come at them with the sharp pincers at the end of its forelegs, and its babies had darted out and bit three pucks with their needle fangs. By the time he and Fer and the rest of the pucks had dragged themselves out of the chasm, defeated, it was too late to get through the Way. They’d spent all day mending the damaged net, and Fer and Tatter had worked to heal his three spider-bitten brothers.

Tonight they would try again. Just the seven of them, this time, and Fer, while the three bitten ones rested on the rock above.

Rook gripped his spear and peered into the darkness. His ribs hurt, bruised where one of the spider’s long legs had flailed last night and hit him. His fine boots and trousers were filthy with muck, and his gray shirt was torn. His brothers and Fer were no better off, but they were determined to succeed tonight. They had to. The longer they stayed here, the farther the stilth would spread.

A layer of ragged clouds covered the moon, so no light shone into the chasm. That might make better hunting for them, Rook figured. If they were quiet enough, the spider might not hear them coming.

Fer dropped silently to the ledge, then lay down beside him. She had her bow in her hands. “See anything?” she whispered.

No. But he could
feel
it. And smell it.

Last night they’d tried to drop the net down from above. The spider had slashed it with its pincers and driven Fer and the pucks back. Tonight they’d have to try something else.

Rook pushed down the cloth covering his mouth so Fer would hear him. “I think we’ve got to get the net under it,” he whispered.

“Draw it off first, you mean?” she asked.

“I do, yes.” Rook rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes, which burned from the stench of the muck. “It might as well be me that does it.” He pointed with his chin toward the bottom of the chasm, which was dank with shadows. “It’s waiting. I’ll go down and lure it away.”

One of his brothers dropped onto the ledge beside them. “And we lay out the net and lure it back, is that it?” Asher asked.

“That’s it, Brother,” Rook answered.

“I’m coming with you, Rook,” Fer whispered.

He glanced aside at her and nodded. Her blond hair was clotted with mud, and her face was smudged, and she had a bruise on her chin. She’d been as brave as any puck the night before; it’d be good to have her with him tonight. “Once you’ve lured it onto the net,” he told Ash, “be ready to pull it up quick.” If they didn’t, he and Fer would be trapped on the other side of the chasm and the spider would get them for sure.

“Not to worry, Pup.” It was too dark to see, but Rook could hear the grin in Asher’s voice. “We’ll shift to horses up there and tie on the ropes, and we’ve got Phouka to help too. We’ll have the spider out in no time.”

When his brothers had the net ready, Rook slipped from the ledge, then half climbed, half fell to the bottom of the chasm. He heard a glooping sound as Fer landed beside him, and then a gasp as the stench hit her. Muck and mud and shadow-spun web clung to his boots; he gripped his spear to balance. His eyes watered from the horrible smell. He blinked and peered into the shadows.

Lots of tiny, gleaming eyes peered back. He nudged Fer and pointed. She nodded, seeing them.

“Hellooooo, babies,” he breathed.

Moving as stealthily as he could, using his spear as a staff, he led Fer along the edge of the chasm. His boots were heavy with muck. The tiny eyes watched. In the shadows beyond them, the big spider moved. He heard the sucking of the mud as it shifted.

“Do you hear it?” he whispered.

“It’s following us,” Fer whispered back.

Good. The spider had to follow them to give his brothers room to lower the net. He kept going, leading Fer over muck-smeared rocks, ducking under rags of clotted shadow-web. The spider lurched after them.

At last they made it to the other side of the chasm. The clouds over the moon had thinned; it was light enough that he could see the bulk of the muck-spinner spider looming closer. A long, pincer-tipped leg probed out from the shadows.

He and Fer cringed away from it.

“Any time would be good, brothers,” he muttered to himself. They had to have the net ready by now; they needed to draw the spider away from him and Fer.

The clouds thinned even more. A slurp of mud, and the spider eased closer. Its horse-sized body was coated with muck and bristling with sharp spikes. Its jointed legs clicked like bones as it moved. Its stench wafted around him. Rook couldn’t see its eyes, but he could feel it . . . sizing him up.

Pucks were
not
food. “Brothers!” he yelled.

At the sound of his voice, the spider struck out toward Rook with a long, many-jointed, muck-dripping leg. The blow slammed him against the rock wall; the spear slipped from his grasp.

“No!” he heard Fer shout, and an arrow whanged off the spider’s armored back.

The spider drew back its leg again, ready for a killing strike.

Rook flinched away, holding up his left hand to block the blow.

Which didn’t come.

The pincer hung before his face. A stray beam of moonlight glittered along its razor-edge. Rook held his breath. The pincer turned; it came closer. The spider loomed up before him like a spiky wall. Then Rook felt the sharp tip of the pincer touch his hand. It traced the shadow-web that was stuck to his palm.

Rook held himself still and tried not to breathe. What was it
doing
?

“Rook, get down,” Fer shouted. He caught a quick glimpse of her, five paces away, as she stood braced, drawing another arrow from her quiver. She’d put the arrow in the spider’s eye this time, Rook knew.

“Wait,” he gasped. “Fer, don’t shoot.”

The giant spider squatted in the mud, glistening in the moonlight. It was a lot bigger than he’d first thought. It was bigger than a horse. It was bigger than
two
horses. It had that many legs, anyway. Its huge, bulbous, brown-and-black body was suspended between spiked and jointed legs, with a smaller front section where its two glossy, black eyes seemed fixed on him. On either side of its mouthparts were two shorter feelers covered with spiky fur just like its legs.

“Hellooooo, spider,” Rook breathed, keeping his web-stained hand raised.

The spider eased even closer. With its short feelers, it tapped Rook’s hand. Then it patted him all over while its glittering eyes examined him. Its mouthparts clicked and gurgled, and Rook felt a jolt of fright—
pucks are not food!
—and then the spider started growling.

He stumbled back until he was pressed against the stone wall of the chasm. The spider lurched forward and stood over him, still growling. He looked up to see its looming body, its legs arching over him. The growl grew louder, like a low roll of thunder.

“Rook . . .” he heard Fer say. “I’m still not-shooting here.”

“It’s okay,” he said, Fer’s human word. Slowly he edged away from the spider, along the wall.

“Rook, it’s
growling
at you,” she said fiercely, keeping an arrow trained on the spider.

“Not growling,” he told her. It was . . . it sounded like it was
purring
. With a front leg, the spider reached out to touch him, and knocked him against the wall again.

Then, from the other side of the chasm came a shout that echoed from the rocky walls. The spider jerked its leg away, then lurched toward the sound. It dragged itself through the mud. Rook heard a thrashing sound, more shouts, and then a yell of triumph.

His brothers had caught it, then.

Rook let out his breath and leaned against the wall, his legs shaking. His entire right side ached as if it was one giant bruise.

Fer came to lean on the wall next to him. “What just happened, Rook?”

He gave a half laugh and shook his head. The spider hadn’t killed him when it could have, easily. He looked down at his web-smudged hand, which the spider had examined so carefully.

“Come on,” Fer said. “We need to get out of here.”

With Fer at his side, he limped across the muddy swamp of the chasm floor, watched by the many shining eyes of the baby spiders. “You can come out if you want,” he told them, not really thinking they’d understand.

He and Fer helped each other climb up to the ledge. From above, he heard more shouts, then a whinny from Phouka. Wearily he followed Fer up the path. At the top he dragged himself out of the chasm and lay flat on the rock.