The Doorway and the Deep (14 page)

“Hold on, I hear something,” said Adelaide. She waved for the others to be still. “Something close, in the wood. An animal.”

“It's been tracking us since dawn,” said Dorian, unfazed. “Haven't you caught wind of its footfall before now?”

“I—I—no, I haven't,” said Adelaide. “And if
you
have, why didn't you say something?”

“I didn't want to send you into more hysterics,” said Dorian.

“There!” said Eliot, pointing into the thick of the wood. “I saw something move.”

Dorian rose, drawing his sword from its scabbard. Lottie heard it then: a low snarl from the wood. Dorian strode in its direction, sword balanced neatly in his hand.

“Come on out!” he cried. “Show yourself.”

The snarling grew louder. Glowing eyes appeared in the dark—two silver pinpricks.

“Wait!” Lottie cried, running toward Dorian. “Wait,
wait
!”

Still, Dorian kept his sword drawn. He threw out an arm to stop Lottie in her tracks.

“It's all right,” Lottie said, breathless. “It's a Barghest.”

A familiar black shape emerged from the wood. It growled at Dorian, but Lottie knew it meant no harm, same as she knew this was not just any Barghest—it was
her
Barghest, the very one that had taken her to the Southerly Court and fought valiantly by her side in the Southerly Palace.

Even now, Dorian did not lower his sword.

“Who do you serve, Barghest?” he asked.

The creature stooped into a bow. “Rebel Gem,” it said with a voice like metal dragged against metal. “Rebel Gem and the House of Fiske.”

Dorian's shoulders relaxed. He sheathed his sword. The Barghest trotted forward, and Lottie fell to her knees by its side.

“It's
you
,” she said. “I didn't think I'd see you again, Barghest.”

The Barghest let out a wheezing sound and pressed the side of its face against Lottie's palm.

“My fellow Barghest were pleased,” it said, “to hear of the return of the Heir of Fiske. I have been sent as a representative to provide protection.”

Lottie looked up at Dorian. “Didn't you know?” she asked. “You've met the Barghest before. Why did you draw your sword?”

“You can't be too careful while on the road,” said Dorian. “Barghest knows that as well as I do.”

Here, the Barghest inclined its head, and Dorian returned the gesture—a sign, it seemed, of mutual respect.

“Splinters roam these parts,” said the Barghest.

“They delight in confusing travelers,” added Dorian. “Cast their voices, shift the shadows, play tricks on one's senses.”

“Oh, please don't talk about them,” said Adelaide, shuddering. “It's bad enough we're without hot water and the common niceties of life. The last thing I want to be thinking about is criminals.”

“Come on, Eliot,” said Lottie, waving him over. “Meet Barghest.”

Eliot joined them, grinning. “It's an honor,” he said to the Barghest. “Lottie's told me all about you.”

“Hello, Barghest,” said Oliver, though he made no effort to come closer. His eyes were yellow, and Lottie wondered if he was a little frightened. She didn't blame him; she'd once been terrified of the creature.

“Well, Fife,” said Adelaide, “aren't you happy to see a Barghest?”

Fife shushed Adelaide, waving his hand frantically. He looked unsure of himself.

“You remember Fife, don't you?” Lottie asked the Barghest.

It tilted its head in the affirmative.

“Um. Um, yeah. That's me.” Fife bowed before the Barghest with utmost reverence. “It's very good to, erm, see you again. Sir. Um. Ma'am?”

But the Barghest was no longer paying attention to Fife.

“News has reached us from the South,” it said to Dorian. “Tales brought on the wings of gengas. I came to Wisp Territory to warn you. Then I caught your scent. You've left early, Ingle.”

“We know about the gorge Starkling's attempting to build,” said Dorian, “if that's what you mean. We've seen evidence firsthand: Iolanthe has cut down the wisps' silver-boughed tree. It was her ax that put the speed in our steps.”

The Barghest growled. “Then it is true.”

Dorian nodded, then squinted into the sun. “It's past noon,” he said. “We need to be moving on.”

“So soon?” asked Eliot, and as he did, he broke into a hacking cough. Lottie wrapped an arm about his shoulder

“Can't we rest just a little more?” she asked Dorian. “Eliot's human. He's not used to walking so much, and so fast.”

Dorian shook his head. “Sorry, Fiske. The sailors will be expecting us at dusk, and they wait for no passenger.”

“I suppose that's in their high and mighty sailor rule-book,” muttered Fife, shouldering his satchel.

Adelaide picked up two packs—hers and Eliot's.

“Oh no,” said Eliot. “You don't have to—”

“Sorry,” said Adelaide, “but I don't waste time arguing after I've made up my mind. Anyway, someone once taught
me that you mustn't be too proud to let someone else carry your pack every so often.”

“It's no use arguing with her, Eliot,” Lottie said cheerfully. “Adelaide's as stubborn as they come.”

She and Adelaide exchanged the briefest of smiles.

They set out again on the path. From behind, Lottie heard Fife whisper, “Walking with a real, live Barghest. Someone pinch me, please.”

THEY HADN'T
been walking long when the sunlight disappeared and a drop of water splatted on Lottie's nose.

“I don't suppose anyone brought an umbrella?” she asked.

No one had. The raindrops picked up, and soon even the thick branches overhead could not keep the deluge off of their backs. Minutes into the rainstorm, everyone was sopped through. The path became sludgy, and Eliot tripped more often, but Dorian pressed on.

Adelaide took it the worst, snuffling and occasionally saying things like, “If it just weren't so
cold
.”

It
was
very cold
,
and by the time the rain let up, they were all in various states of shivering and sneezing. Their
one stroke of luck was that the sun came out soon after and slowly, very slowly, warmed them back up. When its light disappeared again, this time it was due to the coming of night.

“We're close to the Lissome,” Adelaide said to Lottie. “I can hear it.”

“Hurry up!” Dorian called. “Our ship won't wait on us.”

So they hurried up, all the way to a muddy clearing and, beyond it, a large dock. The River Lissome coursed ahead, far wider and swifter than it was in Wisp Territory. They saw several figures mingling along the dock—all men, by the sounds of their voices. As they drew nearer to the flickering dock lanterns, a tall, young man waved to them.

“Ingle!” he shouted, jumping down from a wooden post. “Ingle, my dear fellow, we'd nearly despaired of you showing your sorry face.”

Another sailor jogged up to the first one's side. They were both dressed in hide pants and loose shirts, and were boot-clad. They looked to be Dorian's age but they were, Lottie thought, far handsomer. She was glad their attention was fixed on Dorian, not her, or else she felt sure she would've turned red.

“Nash,” said Dorian, heartily shaking the hand of a bearded, blond-haired sprite with bright yellow eyes. Then, turning to the other, who had a mound of black curls atop his head, “Reeve. You're a blessed sight, the both of you.”

“Was afraid those white-veined scum had cast a spell on you,” said the one called Nash. “Or worse yet, the Seamstress had turned you into her personal slave.”

“Ha ha,” said Fife, his face sour. “You didn't tell us what jokers these sailors are, Dorian.”

Nash looked up at Fife, who was floating above his eye level. “Brought one along as a souvenir, did you? How
precious
, Ingle.”

“He's not just a wisp,” Dorian said warningly. “He's a Dulcet.”

“What?” said Reeve, grinning. “
This
is the bastard child?” He grabbed Fife by his right arm, turned his wrist over, and smirked. “Well, I'll be. Looks like a wisp, yet marked like a Northerly. Do wonders never cease.”

“Tell us, Dulcet,” said Nash, “where did your father run off to after marking you? To the next lass over in Thistlebram?”

“Leave him alone!”

Startled, Reeve let Fife's arm loose. The sailors turned toward Oliver, who stood before them, hands clenched, eyes red.

“Let him be,” Oliver said.

Nash pointed at Oliver's eyes. “You. I've heard of you. “You're Wilfer's son. The one with a lethal touch. Is it true what they say? Did you really kill a dozen Southerly guards with your bare hands?”

Oliver's eyes turned from red to black. He paled, stammered, said nothing.

“Don't you have any manners?” Lottie demanded, glowering at the sailors. “We haven't even been introduced, and you've already insulted two of my friends.” She turned to Dorian. “I won't go anywhere with them if they're going to be like
that
.”

Dorian sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“Come on, boys,” he said to Nash and Reeve. “Play nice. You shouldn't upset the girls by talking so.”

“Upset the
girls
?” Adelaide said, a near shriek. “This has nothing to do with us being girls. It's the boys they're upsetting. It's a matter of common decency. Not that I'd expect much from two Northerlies.”

Nash laughed. “What a crew you've brought with you, Dorian. This should be a fun trip.”

“Don't worry your pretty face into a pout,” Reeve said to Lottie in a babying way. “We don't bite.”

“I do,” rumbled a voice.

Reeve and Nash jumped as the Barghest crept into the dock light, teeth bared.

“Do you mock the Heir of Fiske?” growled the Barghest. “Do you dare talk down to her, a child of the upper houses?”

“Titania's sake,” said Reeve, stumbling back. “You didn't say there would be a Barghest in your company, Ingle.”

The Barghest snarled, scraping a paw toward the cowering sailors.

“It's okay, Barghest,” said Lottie, setting her hand on his mane.

The Barghest nodded and hid its fangs. Still, Lottie could feel rumbling vibrations under her fingertips.

“The Barghest has offered us its protection,” said Dorian. “I trust that won't be a problem.”

Nash and Reeve exchanged a look.

“We don't carry
animals
on our ships,” said Nash.

“Even if we did,” said Reeve, “a creature like that is much too heavy. It'd throw the balance off entirely.”

“You're just scared of him!” said Eliot. “That's not fair.”

“It's our boat,” said Reeve, “so it's our rules.”

“Heir of Fiske,” said the Barghest, nudging its nose against her elbow, “I do not trust these sailors. I do not think you should travel with them.”

Lottie frowned. “But Dorian arranged it.”

The Barghest shook its head once, in a jolting way. “There is a foul smell about them. I do not think it safe to be in their company. You can travel north by land just as well.”

“But not nearly as quickly,” said Dorian. “Look here, Barghest, I'm sorry these fellows have offended you, but—”

“It is not a matter of pride,” snarled the Barghest, “but of protection for the Heir of Fiske.”

Lottie felt all eyes turn to her. She toed the splintered wood of the dock, uncomfortable. The Barghest's warning made her uneasy. Why did everyone think she needed protection?

She looked at Eliot. He was already struggling so much to keep up with them by foot. And though Lottie didn't like Nash and Reeve, Dorian had vouched for them. Maybe, like Dorian had said, the Barghest was just suffering from hurt pride. Even if Lottie didn't follow its advice, it couldn't hold that against her. It was bound by an oath to obey her, after all.

“I'll be fine,” she said at last. “This is the quickest route. It's easiest for all of us.”

The Barghest's gaze darkened. “I do not think—”

“Barghest, honestly!” Lottie cried. “I can take care of myself, all right? I'm not totally helpless!”

The Barghest's chest rumbled, but it lowered its head in concession.

“Very well,” it said.

Lottie sighed. She placed a hand on the Barghest's head—a silent apology for losing her temper.

“You sure you'll be all right traveling by land?” she asked.

“I have no need to worry for my safety,” growled the Barghest. “But you, Ingle. You've sworn to protect them. Do the job I cannot.”

Dorian looked offended. “I always see through the job I've sworn to do. I won't start making a muck of things now.”