Nightspell (6 page)

The ghosts both looked at her, surprised and—she hoped—disappointed. They wanted her terrified. She

was, but she shoved it deep and faced them. Diplomacy had never been among her talents, but right now it

was her only chance.

“I don’t see how that information is of any use to you,” Jano said.

“I don’t see how our deaths wil be of any use to you,” Darri retorted. “Unless you’re trying to give my father

an excuse to at ack your kingdom.”

“That would be fun,” Clarisse said. “Nothing keeps you sharp like the constant threat of invasion.”

Darri glanced at Varis, who stared at her dumbly, then tried again. “Or are you trying to keep us from taking

Cal ie home?”

Cal ie home?”

“Actual y,” Clarisse said, “I thought Cal ie was going to be with you. I guess we’l have to take care of her

later.”

Rage surged through Darri in a wave of heat, harder to hide than the fear. She forced it down—forced them

both down. She had to think.

Jano went red. “I couldn’t find her.”

“Very convincing, Jano. I’m beginning to suspect you actual y like your lit le barbarian amusement. Do you

think she’l never find out it was you who kil ed her siblings?”

Jano brushed twigs out of his hair and scowled. “I don’t want her to have to watch. I find it annoying when

the living cry.”

“Real y?” Clarisse said. “I rather like it.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Darri said.

“Don’t be.” Clarisse jerked her head at Jano, who pul ed a knife from his belt sheath. A silver knife, which

he held gingerly by its wooden handle. “I don’t think I’l be disappointed for long.”

Wrong. Darri stood perfectly stil as Jano approached; out of the corner of her eye, she saw Varis step

forward, but neither ghost so much as glanced at him. I wil not cry. I wil not scream. I wil not disgrace

myself. She would die like a Rael ian princess.

Like a Rael ian . . .

“Wait,” Darri gasped. “If you kil us, won’t we . . . come back?”

“That’s the way it works,” Jano said cheerful y. He put the torch down careful y on a rot ing tree stump,

then turned back to face her with the knife held low.

If she hadn’t already been saturated with terror, that thought would have made things worse. Varis made a

strangled noise, and she heard the hiss of steel as he pul ed a knife from his boot. If he was fast enough, he

would turn it on himself before they got to him.

“If I do come back,” Darri forced out, “I’l avenge myself. I’l come after both of you.”

“You can try,” Clarisse said. “It’s a bit dif icult to destroy a ghost. Somehow I doubt either one of you wil be any more competent dead than you are alive. And no one wil care enough to help you.”

“My sister Cal ie wil ,” Darri said.

There was a startled silence, and then Jano laughed.

“Your sister Cal ie,” he said mockingly, “wishes you had stayed with your horses where you belong. Or

hadn’t you noticed that she’s not exactly tagging about after you the way she did on the plains?” He laughed

again, probably at the look on her face. His laugh was shril and childlike, but also triumphant. “Oh, yes, she

told me about you. Her beloved older sister, so brave and fierce. Who never hesitated to speak her mind, who

once chal enged a warrior to save a lame horse, and yet who made not one move to stop her sister from being

sent away—”

“That’s not true!” Darri shouted, for a moment forget ing her impending death. “I begged him to leave her—I

threw myself at his feet, I threatened him—nothing made a dif erence! What could I have done?”

“You could have of ered to go yourself,” Cal ie said.

They al whirled, ghosts and living alike. Cal ie sat astride a squat roan horse, her gown hiked up over her

knees. She had stopped her mount just at the edge of the trees. If Darri hadn’t been shouting, they probably

would have heard her coming.

“Cal ie,” Clarisse purred. “How nice to see you.”

Cal ie ignored her and looked straight at Jano. “Playing a practical joke on my siblings, Jano?”

There was no way she could believe that. The knife was pointed straight at Darri. Jano looked at Cal ie, and

she looked back, and for a moment the night swal owed up their silence.

“Yes,” Jano said final y. “Sorry, Cal, but I couldn’t resist. They’re such easy targets.”

The knife slipped behind his back. Clarisse hissed between her teeth and rose into the air, floating a few feet

above the ground. Varis backed away from her, so fast he tripped over an exposed root and nearly fel .

Jano laughed jarringly, but Clarisse kept her eyes on Cal ie. “They’re not the only easy targets here.”

Cal ie narrowed her eyes right back. “No. They’re not.”

“Do you have silver on you, lit le girl?” Clarisse’s golden hair flared out around her head. “Obviously not, or

you would have drawn it by now. What did you think you would achieve by coming here?” She turned to Jano

and held out her hand. “Give me the knife.”

“Jano,” Cal ie said.

The boy didn’t look at her. His eyes were fixed on Clarisse.

Clarisse descended slowly, until her shoes barely touched the ground. She glided toward Jano. The dead boy

didn’t move. Clarisse smiled and took several more steps.

Darri threw herself at Varis, col iding into him just as Clarisse turned and struck. Clarisse’s blade passed

through Darri’s hair; she felt a quick, cold tug as a few strands were severed from her scalp, but there was no

time to think of that. She rol ed in a mound of ferns and mud, and was on her feet by the time Clarisse

recovered enough to face her. The steel dagger in the dead girl’s hand was long, thin, and straight.

“I knew you had to have a knife of your own,” Darri said triumphantly. “I knew you were just trying to

distract us.”

distract us.”

“How nice for you,” Clarisse said, her blade tracking Darri’s every motion. “Too bad you don’t have a knife

of your own.”

A good point. Darri drew her dagger at last, ignoring Clarisse’s scornful laugh. She knew it was useless, but it

made her feel bet er to have it in her hand. Behind her, Varis leaped to his feet.

“Jano. Don’t,” Cal ie said. “Please.”

Clarisse glanced at her—an obvious opportunity for Darri to strike, so Darri didn’t. “Don’t bother, Princess.

He might have some sentimental at achment to you, but he doesn’t dare disobey. Do you, boy?”

“Jano!” Cal ie said again.

The boy swal owed hard. “I can’t help you. Cal ie, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be sorry,” Clarisse snapped. “Do what has to be done. Or do you want to explain your failure to the

Defender?”

Jano’s hand emerged from behind his back. It was stil holding the wooden-handled silver knife. Clarisse

smiled like a cat and circled around, pinning Darri and Varis between the two of them. Varis put his back to

Darri’s, and she felt his shoulder blades go rigid.

“I won’t forgive you,” Cal ie spat. “Not ever. I’l hate you forever.”

Jano threw her a stricken look and vanished. The silver knife dropped soundlessly into a patch of ferns.

Darri whirled, just in time to parry Clarisse’s thrust. Varis moved with her, protecting her back. The dead

girl laughed and fel back, undismayed. “I should have known bet er than to count on Jano. Then again, Cal ie,

so should you. Did you real y think he would have the courage to turn on me? If you came to save your

siblings, you should have brought some help.”

“I know,” Cal ie said. “I did.”

Clarisse looked at her in earnest this time, and Darri lunged. Her dagger hit solid skin, slicing right through

the white flesh above Clarisse’s lacy neckline. She dropped back, feeling a surge of triumph that died when she

realized there was no blood on the blade.

Clarisse glanced down at her smooth unbroken skin, then up at Darri. “That stung a bit,” she said. “What was

it supposed to accomplish?”

“It was supposed to sting,” Darri snapped.

“Wel done, then.” Clarisse raised a mocking eyebrow. “Now, I believe Cal ie was in the middle of

pretending there’s someone hiding in the woods?”

“Not someone,” Cal ie said. “And not hiding.”

No, they weren’t. Al at once Darri could hear it: first rustling in the bushes, then distant murmurs, and then

—coming swiftly closer—frantic barking.

The hunt was on its way.

“I drew of some of the hounds,” Cal ie said. “They’re headed straight here. I’m sure some of the hunters are

fol owing.”

“I had bet er make this quick, then,” Clarisse snarled, but Cal ie laughed.

“I don’t think so. My sister may not be able to hurt you, but I assure you, she can keep out of your way for

quite a while. Long enough for the hunters to arrive—and if that many people see you kil her, the Guardian

wil hear about it.”

For a moment Clarisse’s beautiful face was ugly with fury; and it was that, rather than Cal ie’s words, that

gave Darri sudden hope.

Clarisse lifted her arm and threw her dagger. Darri leaped to one side, Varis to the other. Darri heard a

thunk as the point plunged into a tree.

“See what I mean?” Cal ie said, but she was talking to empty air. Clarisse was gone.

With a furious snarl and crashing of twigs, a thin brown dog dashed from the trees, nose low, tail streaming

straight out behind him. The sounds of the hunt were clearer now, hoofbeats and barks and gleeful shouts.

“We should probably,” Cal ie said, “get out of the way.”

Once they had retreated to the thickness of the forest, Cal ie didn’t look at them. She leaned over and

stroked her horse’s neck, calming him as he strained toward the sounds of the dogs. By then Varis had regained

his composure. He whirled on Cal ie. “Why were they trying to kil us?”

“I don’t know,” Cal ie said, not turning.

“How did you know where we were, then?”

“There was a clear trail, if you were looking for it.”

Varis glanced once at the tangled darkness around them. “Why were you looking for it? How did you know

we were in trouble?”

Cal ie hesitated a moment this time. “I was warned.”

“By whom?”

“I don’t know who he was.”

“How can you—”

“Thank you, Cal ie,” Darri interrupted him. Varis shot her a glare, which she ignored. “Thank you. That was

bril iant.”

bril iant.”

Her sister sat up in the saddle and looked straight ahead, at the impenetrable darkness of the night forest.

“Best I could come up with.”

“Why didn’t you bring silver?” Varis said.

Cal ie final y turned and gave him a slow, incredulous look. “You’re right, that was stupid of me. My

humblest apologies.”

Varis didn’t even have the grace to look embarrassed. He just stared at his youngest sister suspiciously—

suspicious of what, Darri couldn’t begin to guess—before snapping, “That ghost said someone cal ed the

Defender was behind this.”

“So she did.” Now that Cal ie was looking at them, Darri could see, by the torchlight, how tight her sister’s

face was. Not angry, or scared, just . . . tight. As if she was holding herself in, away from them. “I’m glad to

hear you were actual y aware of what was happening. From the way you were just standing there most of the

time, it was hard to tel .” Varis flushed, and Cal ie gathered up the reins. “I understand why you would want to

be angry at someone other than yourself. And I would love to be that person, just for old time’s sakes. But we

had bet er start back to the castle.”

“No,” Darri said. She found, somewhat to her surprise, that she was on the verge of tears. “We’re not going

anywhere until you tel us what happened to you.”

Cal ie favored her with a cold look. “What makes you think something happened to me?”

“Because you’re not acting like yourself.”

“Like myself? You don’t know who that is. What makes you think you know how I act?”

“Because I remember.” Darri stepped closer to the horse, twigs crunching beneath her feet. “I remember you,

who you real y are. Four years is not enough to change that.”

“Maybe not for you. For me, it was a very long time.”

“Long enough to make you hate me?” Darri’s voice caught, and she had to pause before going on. Cal ie’s

face was grim and remote. “I spent every second of those years thinking of ways to save you. That’s why I’m

here now. I—” Her voice caught again, but this time she forced the words through it. “I love you, Cal ie.”

Cal ie held stil , eyes wide with an emotion Darri couldn’t identify. Varis looked faintly disgusted. Darri

waited in the rustling silence, her eyes on her sister’s face.

Which, after several long moments, shut down. It was like watching flesh turn to wood: whatever expression

had been in Cal ie’s eyes vanished, her lips flat ened, and she said with a complete lack of expression, “That’s

nice. But we real y should head back.”

She might as wel have hit Darri; the sudden blunt pain, the inability to breathe, was the same. Darri folded

her arms over her chest and said, “No. I’m not going with you until we talk.”

Cal ie raised her eyebrows, turned her mount around, and flicked the reins. Before Darri had time to react,

the horse’s tail disappeared between the trees, taking the light of the torch with it. She and Varis were alone in the woods, the shapes of the trees and of his grim face il uminated only faintly by the moonlight.

“I don’t think you thought this through,” Varis said.

“Be quiet,” Darri said shortly.

“I don’t suppose you know how to get back to the castle?”

“Of course I do,” Darri said, which was an absolute lie. She hadn’t been paying at ention to the trail,