Swift (14 page)

‘Because,’ said Ivy, controlling her impatience with an effort, ‘if you could turn yourself into a bird and fly over the countryside instead of having to search on foot, you might have a better chance of finding Cicely.’

Mica gave a harsh laugh. ‘A bird! Do you have any idea—’ Then he stopped and repeated softly, ‘A
bird
,’ as though it were a revelation.

Had he finally understood what Ivy was saying? It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him he was wrong about piskeys not being able to change – or even prove it, by transforming into a swift before his eyes. Maybe then he’d realise how foolish it was to cling to some old hunters’ superstition, and let her help him look for Cicely.

‘So that’s how he did it,’ Mica went on, gazing past Ivy as though entranced. ‘I wouldn’t have thought he could, but maybe…’

‘Mica?’ asked Ivy, wary now. ‘What are you talking about?’

He focused on her, eyes alight with fervour. ‘I know how the spriggan got out,’ he said. ‘And I know how to catch him, too.’

‘What? How?’

‘Never mind that. This is hunter business. I’m going to talk to Gossan.’ He started towards the door, then paused and turned back. ‘But if I were you, I’d forget all that dross about shape-changing. If the Joan knew you’d even suggested it…’ He gave her a bleak smile. ‘Trust me. You don’t want to know what she’d do.’

When Mica had gone, Ivy slumped in her chair, feeling more drained than ever. For one brief shining moment she’d dared to believe that she might not be alone after all, that she and Mica could put aside their differences and work together. And that if she explained it carefully enough, he might even understand why she’d gone outside the Delve and learned to change shape – because she’d truly believed it was the only way to find their mother.

But she’d been wrong, more wrong than she’d ever imagined. Because shape-changing wasn’t merely unusual, it was forbidden. And if Mica saw Ivy turn into a swift, he wouldn’t just be surprised – he’d be horrified.

And now she’d put Richard in danger, too. She’d never meant Mica to guess that the so-called spriggan could become a bird, much less use that knowledge to trap him again. Now he’d come up with a plan – a plan that might even work – and she had no idea what it was or how to stop it. All she could do was tell Richard what had happened, and urge him to be on his guard.

But how could she, without giving herself away? The whole Delve was buzzing with the news of Cicely’s disappearance, and there’d be searchers going in and out of the Earthenbore all day – not to mention plenty of friends and neighbours coming by to offer Ivy their sympathies. Getting up to the surface would be impossible until tonight at the earliest, and it wouldn’t be easy even then.

A knock at the door startled Ivy from reverie. She got up and opened it, to find Mattock standing there with a basket of flat cakes in one hand and a bottle of cream in the other. ‘My mum sent these for you,’ he said.

‘Did she make the hevva cakes or did you?’ asked Ivy, and he blushed. A few years ago Mica had caught Mattock helping his mother make saffron buns and had never let him forget it. ‘It’s kind of you,’ she added, managing a smile. ‘We’ll have them for tea, if Mica’s back by then.’

‘He’s not here?’ asked Mattock. ‘I’d have thought…well, with everything going on, I expected you’d be together.’

‘Mica doesn’t like brooding over bad things,’ said Ivy. ‘He’d rather be doing something about them. Right now, he thinks he’s figured out a way to catch the spriggan and get Cicely back before—’

Her throat closed up, and she couldn’t finish the sentence. She took the bottle and basket from Mattock’s hands and turned away before her face betrayed her as well.

He followed her to the kitchen, his big frame looming over her as she set the gifts down. She could feel his warmth like a solid wall against her back as he said quietly, ‘Ivy.’

‘I’m not crying.’ She ground the words between her teeth. ‘Cicely is alive, and I’m going to find her, so there’s nothing to cry about.’

‘
You’re
going to find her? How?’

Ivy wanted to beat her head against the table and curse her own stupidity, but she managed to force a laugh. ‘I mean we are. All of us. Working together. Each in our own way.’

And now she was babbling. Why wouldn’t Mattock leave her alone? Surely he could tell she didn’t want anyone’s company, didn’t want to eat his stupid cakes or drink the cream that only Cicely had ever really liked, didn’t want anything except to find her sister, only nobody would give her the chance—

Then Mattock put his hands on her shoulders, and Ivy’s resistance crumbled. She turned around and buried her face against his chest. ‘I can’t believe she’s gone,’ she whispered. ‘I should have known, Matt. I should have seen it coming.’

He didn’t say anything, only held her tight. It felt amazingly good to lean against him, feeling his strength like armour all around her – the last person she remembered ever holding her like this was Flint, and that had been years ago.

But she couldn’t cling to Mattock forever, and surely he wouldn’t want her to. Ivy straightened up, brushing at her cheeks. ‘I appreciate you coming by,’ she said with all the dignity she could muster. ‘Please tell your mum I’m grateful.’

Mattock nodded and bowed out of the cavern, closing the door behind him with such exaggerated care that Ivy had to smile. Simple, honest Mattock. Sometimes she wished he were her brother instead of Mica, but that wouldn’t be fair to him.

And it wouldn’t be fair to involve him in her plan to look for Cicely, either. She could only hope he wouldn’t guess, after her foolish slip of the tongue, that she planned to do anything at all.

It was a grim and mostly silent meal that Ivy and Mica ate that night. Without Cicely’s bright chatter the atmosphere in the cavern was oppressive, and even phrases like ‘pass the butter’ fell with the weight of an anvil. Ivy soon found herself wishing that Flint would come and join them, just so she’d have someone else
not
to talk to.

But she hadn’t seen her father since the morning, and when she’d met Hew coming up grimy-faced and coughing from the diggings, he’d told Ivy that Flint meant to stay even later than usual to make up for the time he’d missed. As though losing Cicely had been merely another interruption to his work. As though it mattered whether he dug any more tin or copper out of that tunnel, or dug any more tunnels at all.

‘He’s a knocker, lass,’ Hew had reminded her gently. ‘He’s only doing what he’s made for. And maybe it’s the best thing for him. Same as your brother, with the hunting. It’s how we menfolk grieve.’

What about me?
Ivy wanted to shout at him.
I can’t sense ore or shape metal. I’m not allowed to hunt. All I want to do is help look for my sister, but that’s forbidden. How am I supposed to grieve?

But there was no answer to that, at least not that Hew could give her. So she’d held her tongue and nodded, and then she’d gone back to the cavern and made about a week’s worth of meat pasties to keep in the cold-hole, since that at least was something she could do.

‘What did Gossan have to say about your plan?’ she asked Mica, when he’d finished his last bite and she could endure the silence no longer. ‘Did the Joan agree to let you start looking for Cicely?’

‘They said I could go out tonight,’ replied Mica, wiping his mouth, ‘if Mattock and Gem go with me. Only we have to stay together and be home by sunrise, so what’s the use of that?’ He threw the napkin down. ‘We might as well not bother.’

‘But you will,’ said Ivy. She knew Mica too well to believe otherwise, no matter how much he complained. ‘When do you leave?’

‘In a couple of hours.’ He walked towards his alcove. ‘But Matt said he’d come by and wake me when it’s time, so you needn’t worry about it. I’m going to sleep.’

Ivy spent a few minutes putting what was left of the food away, then climbed into bed herself. She was drifting in and out of consciousness, too miserable to sleep but too tired to stay awake, when the door creaked and she heard Mattock tiptoe in. Mica groaned, there was a rustle, and a few minutes later the two of them went out.

Now was her chance. Ivy waited a little longer, to be sure Mica and Mattock were well on their way. Then hurriedly she dressed and slipped out into the passage, heading for the Great Shaft.

The sky above the Delve was clear, the moon a neat half-circle among the stars. To the west, a trio of dim lights bobbed along the ground – Mica, Mattock and Gem. Secure in the knowledge that they’d never recognise her in swift-form, Ivy glided over the ruins of the Engine House, then angled off towards the nearby wood.

It wasn’t a large wood: only a scattering of trees and undergrowth, with a well-travelled footpath through the middle. Ivy flew from one end to the other looking for signs of life, then landed in piskey-shape on the far side. ‘Richard?’ she asked, quietly at first and then a little louder. But though she listened until she grew impatient, there was no reply.

‘Richard!’ She was shouting now, not caring if anyone heard her. Surely Mica and the others wouldn’t recognise her voice at this distance. ‘I’m here! Where are you?’

Still no one answered, and Ivy’s restlessness grew. She couldn’t hang about here all night – she had to find Cicely. But she’d wanted to warn Richard about Mica’s plan. Why didn’t he answer?

Surely it was too soon to give up yet. Ivy walked to the centre of the wood, cupped her hands around her mouth, and yelled ‘Richard!’ one more time. Then she sat down on a fallen branch and waited.

Minutes passed, each more slowly than the next. Something rustled in the leaves above her, and Ivy looked up in hope – but no, it was only a squirrel. A little while later a bird began to sing, but it was a liquid, melancholy tune, nothing like the trilling noises Richard had made back in the dungeon.

Ivy rubbed her palms on her thighs, fidgeting with anxiety. What if Richard had decided not to keep his promise after all? What if he’d decided it was too dangerous to stay, and flown off to some faraway place?

‘Richard!’ she called hoarsely. ‘You’d better come soon! I’m not going to wait forever!’

But still there was nothing. Not a word, not a sign.

The faery was gone.

Ivy took a deep breath and let it go. Then she leaped to her feet, snatched up a stick and hurled it into the underbrush. ‘Curse you!’ she stormed. ‘You liar, you oath-breaker, you – you demon blackguard wretch of a
spriggan
!’

There was a long silence, while the wind murmured through the treetops. Then a light, ironic voice said, ‘I see my reputation is at stake.’

Ivy spun around. There on the path, as though he had been there all along, stood Richard – but not Richard as she had last seen him, covered in filth and bruises and dressed in rags. His hair hung straight and clean almost to his shoulders, and his jacket and slim trousers looked new. If not for the purple shadow around one eye and the scab on his upper lip, she would hardly have recognised him.

But before she could speak, he vanished. A tiny bird with a blue-black head, shadowy wings and white underbelly flitted past, landed on her other side, and turned into Richard again.

‘I was a few hundred feet up when I heard you calling,’ he said. ‘And I needed to make sure that you’d come alone.’

Blood rushed into Ivy’s face. She’d been so busy worrying that she might not be able to trust him, it had never occurred to her that he could have similar doubts. ‘You thought I’d betray you?’

‘Not willingly, no. But if your Joan found out that you’d helped me, she might not have given you a choice.’

He had a point. Ivy’s fury subsided, and she gave a reluctant nod.

‘Ready to go?’ Richard asked. ‘It’s a little late, but we should be able to get to Truro in time.’

‘I can’t.’ Ivy passed a hand wearily over her curls. ‘My little sister Cicely’s gone missing.’

He frowned. ‘You mean she just disappeared? Like that other one – Keeve?’

Ivy hoped not, since she suspected that Keeve was dead. But she couldn’t deny the possibility. ‘Yes. Do you have any idea where she might have gone?’

Richard looked sober. ‘None at all.’

No easy answers, then. She’d hoped she wouldn’t have to do this, but she could see no other way. ‘Then I’ll have to say goodbye,’ Ivy said. ‘I can’t go to my mother now, not until I find Cicely. Besides, my brother’s figured out that you can change shape, and he thinks he knows how to catch you. It’s not safe for you to stay here.’

‘What do you want me to do, then? Go back to your mother, and tell her you aren’t coming?’

How could a simple little word be so hard to say? ‘Yes. But,’ she added quickly, ‘don’t leave it at that. Tell her everything that’s happened since you and I met – especially the part about Cicely.’ If Marigold knew that her youngest daughter was missing, maybe she’d come and help with the search. ‘And tell her that if she has any more messages for me, she’ll have to deliver them herself. You’ve done enough.’

The faery’s brows lifted, and he gave her an appraising look. Then he bowed to her without a trace of irony, and vanished. He didn’t even turn into a bird; he was simply
not there
any more. Ivy stared at the place where he’d been standing until her eyes began to burn, and she realised she’d forgotten to blink. Then she shook herself into swift-form, and flew away.