The Whispering Trees (28 page)

“Did they have a wagon?” asked Safi.

Taff nodded. “A long one, open and flat.”

“They're Gatherers,” Safi said, “chopping down trees in the Fenroot wood. They have permission to leave every day.”

“Maybe we could hide in the wagon or something,” said Taff. “Sneak out that way.”

“It's been tried. The Divide always knows.”

“Could we just climb over?” he asked.

“That's stupid.”

“Why? Have
you
tried it?”

“Of course not! As soon as the Divide senses someone, the arms of those trapped inside the fence will grab you, and then these thorns come out of their fingers like claws on a kitten and—”

“Got it,” Kara said. “No climbing.”

Safi brightened. “I do have a different idea, one I think you'll both—”

“What about magic?” Taff asked. “Can you talk to some big birds and get them to fly us over the fence?”

“It's a thought,” Kara said, “but don't forget, the Devoted will be on patrol, and any birds big enough to carry us over the Divide might be kind of noticeable. We need to keep this a secret. Even if we find Niersook and get the venom onto a knife or something, we still have to stab Sordyr with it, which means getting close to him. If he knows what we're up to, that will never happen.”

“Then let's use my idea instead,” Safi said. Her green eyes sparkled with excitement. “There's this huge tree
on the eastern side of the village that extends over the Divide and almost meets a branch on the opposite side. I think we can climb up, make a short little jump, and climb down into the forest. No one will ever know we left Kala Malta.”

“A short little jump?” asked Taff. “How high are we talking about?”

“If you're afraid of heights, just don't look down.”

“Aren't
you
afraid?”

Safi stared straight into his eyes. “I used to be. But not anymore.”

“I don't know,” Kara said. “From below, what looks like a jump we can make might be really far.”

“We can make it,” said Safi.

Kara flinched at the word
we
but decided not to make an issue of it. Not yet, at least.

She can't come. It's far too dangerous
.

“For now that sounds like our best idea,” said Kara, “but it doesn't solve our other problem. We still don't
know where Niersook is. Once we're outside, I'll ask some of the creatures if they—”

Taff leaned forward.

“We need Mary's toy,” he said. “The rabbit riding the bicycle.”

“Rabbit?” asked Safi. “Bicycle?”

Kara shook her head. “That's not an option,” she said. “I'm sure once Mary got her grimoire she left Kala Malta. That's all she ever cared about.”

“She helped you,” Taff said.

“Because she was following Sordyr's orders!”

“Not always. Remember what happened at the Draye'varg?”

“Yes, Taff. I do. She left us behind to fight those water creatures and we only barely escaped with our lives!”

“Not that part. The part after. She didn't make you kill that . . . thing . . . that looked like me. Mary did it herself, even though Sordyr would have wanted you to do it.”

“Why would Sordyr even care about that?”

“He wants you to turn evil, Kara. And something like that could have really changed you. Killing your own brother? I mean, I know it wasn't really me, but—Sordyr is always trying to get you to do bad things, and what could be worse than that? But Mary, she insisted on doing it herself. And then before you faced Imogen she gave you the clue that helped you escape. I'm sure she wasn't supposed to interfere like that.”

Kara shook her head. “Even if you're right, it doesn't excuse what she did.”

“Wait,” said Safi. “Is this Mary person the old woman who's always carrying a sack over her shoulder?”

“That's her,” said Kara.

“Is she still here?” Taff asked, and Kara winced at the hope in his voice.

After all she's done, why does he continue to believe in her?

“No,” said Safi. “She stayed in an empty hut the first few days you were here, but no one has seen her since then. Her granddaughter says she has some sort of business in
the Thickety, but she'll be back again soon.”

“Her granddaughter?” Kara asked, shaking her head.

Taff burst into laughter.

“That's right, her granddaughter,” Safi said, giving him a strange look. “If you need to find where your friend went, maybe she can help you.”

T
he hut sat off from the others in the village as though it were being ostracized for its decrepit appearance. Kara was considering whether or not she should knock when Taff walked past her and through the front door.

“Mary!” he called. “Mary!”

Nobody answered. Against the far wall a hammock swung gently. A half-burned candle waited on an uneven table. Pressed into the dirt floor were two sets of footprints: one big, one small.

“She's been here,” said Kara.

They stepped outside, where a funnel of smoke swirled into the sky. As quick as lightning it flashed midnight blue before returning to its original color.

Magic
, thought Kara.

Taff started in the direction of the smoke but Kara caught his arm, pulling him back.

“We have to be careful. She has a grimoire again.”

“Mary won't hurt us.”

“Taff, this is
Mary Kettle
. Think about what that name meant before we entered the Thickety. Forget the woman we thought was our friend. That was just a trick. Remember the stories instead.”

“We just have to let her explain.”

“I think you should go back to the hut.”

Taff sat on the grass and stared up at her defiantly. “No.”

The word, only one syllable long, struck Kara as sharply as a blow.

“Taff,” Kara said, speaking slowly now, “go back to the hut. Now.”

“I need to talk to her.”

“Why? Why can't you just accept that she betrayed us?”

Taff took a deep breath and ran a hand through his sandy hair.

“I gave up on you,” he muttered.

Kara sat on the grass next to him.

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“When I was sick, after what happened with Simon. So many days went by. And . . . you had been acting so strange. You were scary, Kara.”

She watched the next plume of smoke spiral into the sky. It flashed the color of overripe eggplant.

Finally, she said, “You know what happened. The grimoire was making me act—”

“I know. I know everything now. But lying there, I was so confused. I felt like you had abandoned me. And
then you saved me, and there was part of me that didn't feel happy like I should have. I felt guilty. I had given up on you, Kara. I stopped believing. And I promised myself that I would never do that to anyone again.”

Kara stretched her feet across the grass. Taff linked his legs over her knees.

“I'm not stupid, Kara. I know that Mary Kettle might just be . . . evil. But she
did
help us. Can't we give her the chance to explain? I think we owe her that at least.”

Kara got to her feet and reached down for her brother. When he grabbed her hands she pulled him into the air and spun him around once, twice, three times. It was a game they had often played back in De'Noran, and his laughter now was a soft reminder of simpler times.

“You win,” she said.

They found Mary standing in front of a bonfire in a field behind the hut. She was no longer a child; gray hair flowed unchecked down her back, and the skin of her
deeply creviced face sagged with age. There was a slight tremor in her right hand, which held the wooden top that could make people forget things.

Mary tossed it into the fire.

The flame flashed yellow, and for just a moment its crackling noise changed to something different.

It sounded like a child's scream.

“Mary?” Taff asked.

The old woman nodded in his direction and smiled. Her gray eyes were distant, seeing them without seeing anything at all.

“Children,” she said.

She reached into her sack and withdrew a tiny porcelain teacup spiderwebbed with cracks.

“I never told you about this one,” Mary said, running her torn and bitten fingernail along one of the chinks. “One of my first creations. In its prime, you could fill it with water and wish any potion at all into existence. Invisibility. Death. Love. There are kings who would
have given their entire kingdom for such a prize.”

She tossed the teacup into the fire, producing a flash of red followed by a high-pitched scream.

“What are you doing?” Taff asked.

“Something that should have been done ages ago,” Mary said. “The only thing I never tried. I was always too afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” Taff asked.

As she replied, Mary dug in her sack. She was able to reach her arms to the very bottom now; the sack was much emptier than before.

“I was afraid that if I destroyed the toys it might also destroy the souls that fueled them. I didn't want that. Or at least, that's what I told myself. Probably I was just afraid of losing what little magic I had left.”

She withdrew a stick with a small cup at its end. From this dangled a wooden ball attached by a frayed piece of string.

“I don't even remember what this one does,” Mary
said. “Something with the weather, I think. But I remember the boy. Chubby little thing, headed for a lifetime of plainness but cute because he was a child. Only five years old. You figured he had what—fifty, sixty birthdays left? But no—I spoke the words, and this toy swallowed them all, every single uneaten birthday cake.” She squeezed the wooden ball between two fingers. “And I
don't even remember what it does
!”

She dropped it into the fire.

“Did Sordyr give you your grimoire?” Kara asked, scanning the area near the bonfire.
I don't see it anywhere. She would keep it close. Maybe it's in the sack?

“Oh yes,” said Mary. “Say what you want about the Forest Demon, but he keeps his promises.”

“Where is it?”

“You're nervous,” Mary said. “You're afraid that I'm not thinking straight. That I might use my new grimoire to do terrible things. But you don't have to worry. The grimoire is useless.”

“It doesn't work?” Kara asked.

“That's right. I needed it to do one thing—one thing!—and it refused.”

From within the sack Mary withdrew the rabbit on the bicycle. She raised her hand, intending to throw it into the fire.

“No!” Taff exclaimed. “Please! Not that one!”

Mary turned to Taff. A long strand of gray hair dangled in front of her eyes.

“I'm sorry,” she said, “I never meant to hurt you. Either of you. But I owed them. I had to at least try.”

And suddenly, Kara understood.

“You wanted to bring them back,” Kara said. “The children trapped inside the toys. That's why you needed the grimoire.”

Mary slumped to the ground as though Kara's words had taken the last of her energy. The toy bicycle rolled down a sharp decline before clattering to its side.

“I'm just a foolish old witch,” Mary said. “I don't know
what I was thinking. I betrayed the two of you on some ridiculous notion that . . . a grimoire can't bring the dead back to life without changing them in horrible ways. Nothing can undo the terrible things I've done!” She stared deep into the flames of the bonfire. “I was good once, you know. I really was.”

Taff threw his arms around the old woman. At first she stiffened, but slowly she placed her wrinkled hand over Taff's.

“You'll be good again,” Taff said.

“Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?” she asked.

“Of course,” Taff said.

Mary's eyes found Kara's.

“And you?” she asked.

Kara shook her head. “You lied to us. You put my brother and me in grave danger. That's not something I can easily forgive. But I understand your reasons. I know that you meant to do a good thing. A noble thing, even.”

“Sordyr told me you were a creature of darkness,” said Mary. “I thought I would be training just another minion for the Forest Demon. I didn't know who you were, Kara—who you
really
were. And I didn't know about you at all, Taff. If I had—”

“It doesn't matter,” Kara said. “We have more pressing concerns. Sordyr is planning to unleash thousands of grimoires upon the World. Do you know what will happen then?”

From Mary's horrified reaction, Kara saw that she did.

“We need your help,” said Taff.

The old witch straightened.

“What can I do?” she asked.

Kara hesitated.
If I tell her our plan, she might go to Sordyr. For all I know, this entire scene could be a ruse to learn the truth. Another test
.