Celyn dismissed this with a gesture. ‘There is no need. Whatever foolish talk may arise, the other Elders are satisfied that no daughter of mine could have taken any part in Garan’s crimes. And we have already taken steps to assure our people that we do not tolerate thieves and traitors, or those who sympathise with them.’ She sipped her wine slowly, as though savouring some private triumph. ‘All we need now is to find the Stone and bring it back.’
‘How can we do that?’
‘I cannot say for certain until I have the support of the other Elders,’ replied her mother. ‘But I know what I mean to recommend. We must send out an armed party to find Garan and his fellow rebels, and make them give us back the Stone…if necessary, by force.’
‘Force!’ Rhosmari’s mouth went dry with shock. She pushed back her chair from the table, trying to put as much distance between herself and Lady Celyn as possible. ‘No! How could we do such a thing, without breaking every law Rhys and our ancestors laid down for us?’
‘We have sworn not to shed blood in violence,’ said her mother. ‘But nothing prevents us from restraining other faeries, or even taking them captive if need be. Why do our people train for the Rhysian Games each year, if not to ensure that we never lose our ability to defend ourselves? Even you have—’
‘The Games were meant to be an alternative to fighting, not preparation for it! I know the Stone is precious, but nothing can be worth taking up arms against our own people!’
‘If Garan is prepared to be reasonable, then neither he nor any of his allies will have anything to fear.’ Lady Celyn’s fingers coiled about the stem of her goblet, turning it slowly on the table. ‘All they need do is hand over the Stone, and we will depart as peacefully as we came.’
‘But what about the Empress?’ asked Rhosmari, pleading now. ‘Linden and Timothy told us that she controls nearly all the faeries on the mainland. How can you send a band of armed warriors into her territory and expect her not to notice?’
‘She may,’ said her mother. ‘But if we are challenged, we will explain that we have no plan to interfere in her conflict with the rebels, and that this is a private matter. If she is sensible, she will let us pass without further hindrance. And even if she chooses to oppose us, I think three hundred Children of Rhys should be enough to withstand any attack.’
Three hundred. Rhosmari felt faint. ‘But…if there is fighting, some of them will die.’ She closed her eyes, seeing in memory the image of her father’s broken body. ‘Mother, you cannot do this.’
‘It is not for you to tell me, daughter, what I should do.’ Celyn rose from the table, a pillar of topaz and obsidian in the firelight. ‘I chose to tell you of my plan because I believed you were mature enough to appreciate its wisdom. Clearly I was mistaken, but that is of no account. My fellow Elders will decide what is best for our people, and I am confident that they will agree with me.’
And without waiting for a reply, she swept out, leaving Rhosmari staring blindly into the flames.
The cottage was dark, darker even than the cloud-veiled sky outside. The servants had left, and Lady Celyn had retired for the night. But Rhosmari paced the floor of her bedroom, unable to sleep.
Would the council of Elders agree to Lady Celyn’s proposal? Would they really endanger the lives of so many Children of Rhys, just to get back the Stone? To Rhosmari it was unthinkable, but if they believed that there was no other way to restore peace and win back their people’s confidence, they might be willing to take the risk. Lady Celyn was not only eloquent and persuasive, but she was one of the strongest leaders the Green Isles had. If she wanted an army, she would very likely get one.
But an army was not just a collection of individuals: it was made up of fathers and brothers, mothers and sisters, daughters and sons. Every loss, every death, would leave a terrible emptiness behind. How could Rhosmari face her young students, knowing what was coming to them? Could she really stand by and allow it to happen?
The thought was intolerable. Somehow, she had to find a way to stop her mother’s scheme. But how? She had no authority or special influence that would make the Elders listen to her. She had no power to hold back an army.
But she might know someone who did.
Pulse quickening, she hurried to the window and peered out across the strait at the neighbouring islands. Most of their coves and inlets were lost in shadow, but here and there gleamed a distant star of light. And if she was not mistaken, one of those lights belonged to Lord Gwylan and Lady Arianllys. Determined to act before she lost her nerve, Rhosmari tugged on her shoes, wrapped a shawl about herself, and Leaped.
two
‘I’m sorry to disturb you,’ said Rhosmari, passing a hand over her rain-beaded hair. ‘But I needed to talk to you and Lord Gwylan right away.’
‘My dear, there is no need to apologise,’ said Lady Arianllys, stepping back from the doorway to let Rhosmari in. Her dark hair tangled about her shoulders and her eyes were shadowed with weariness, yet her expression held only concern. ‘I know you would not have come unless it was urgent.’ She drew her dressing gown closer and called back over her shoulder, ‘Gwylan?’
The door to the adjoining room creaked open, and Garan’s father stepped out. He had a close-trimmed beard and his hair was more wheat than flax, but otherwise he resembled his son so closely that the two of them might have been twins. ‘What is it?’ he asked.
She had never seen Lord Gwylan look so bleak, not even when Garan left. Something must have gone badly wrong for him today – but there was no time to ask about it now. ‘I have something important to tell you,’ Rhosmari said, and went on to explain why she had come.
‘I know my mother means well,’ she finished, ‘but I cannot sit by and see this happen to our people – and if there is any chance at all that you can prevent it—’
‘Be at peace, Rhosmari,’ Lady Arianllys told her. ‘We understand your fears, and indeed share them. And yet…’ She glanced at her husband. ‘I fear there is little we can do.’
‘But how can that be?’ Rhosmari asked. ‘My mother’s scheme has not been approved yet. Surely Lord Gwylan could talk to the other Elders, and—’
‘It is too late for that.’ Gwylan’s voice was heavy. ‘As of today, I am no longer part of the Twelve.’
The breath stopped in Rhosmari’s throat. She could manage only one hoarse word: ‘Why?’
‘Because,’ he replied, ‘in their eyes and the eyes of the people, I am no longer fit to rule. Or as your mother put it, how can I be trusted to govern the Green Isles if I could not govern my own son?’
Rhosmari took a shaky step backwards and sank into a chair. Lord Gwylan had long been the most moderate voice on the Council, and the only Elder she knew with the courage to stand up to Lady Celyn. No wonder her mother had looked so satisfied at supper. No wonder she had been confident that her plan would be approved…
‘But we do not blame your mother,’ said Lady Arianllys. ‘For she only did what she believed was right and best for our people. And though the Elders’ decision was painful, it was not unexpected: as soon as Garan left the Gwerdonnau Llion, Gwylan and I knew this day would come.’
‘But it’s so unfair,’ Rhosmari said. ‘You didn’t help him. He didn’t tell you anything…did he?’
‘He hardly needed to,’ said Gwylan. ‘I read it in his face, the moment we Elders told Linden and Timothy we could not give them the magical help they sought. I looked down from the dais and saw my son standing there, and I knew that he was determined to take the Stone and free the faeries enslaved by the Empress, just as Rhys used it to free our people from tyranny a thousand years ago.’
Rhosmari drew in her breath. ‘Then you agree with him? You think he was right to take the Stone?’
‘That does not matter now,’ said Arianllys. ‘The Stone is gone, and the Children of Rhys are terrified. Something must be done to restore our people’s confidence. But if your mother’s plan is not the answer, then what is?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Rhosmari. ‘I thought…if I came to you…’ She looked up pleadingly at the Lady Scholar. ‘You haven’t foreseen any of this? You don’t know if my mother will succeed, or if we will get back the Stone, or…any of it?’
Arianllys was quiet a moment. Then she said, ‘I have not seen anything that will help you. My visions come rarely, and they are seldom clear or certain.’
Rhosmari dropped her head into her hands. If Lord Gwylan could not stop her mother from carrying out her plan, and the greatest scholar and prophetess in the Green Isles had no wisdom to offer, then what hope was there?
Then a thought came to her, and she straightened up again. Perhaps all was not quite lost. After all, even if Lady Celyn did succeed in convincing the Elders, she would have to present their decision before the assembly and win the approval of the other Children of Rhys as well. And then the Elders would have to choose which faeries would serve in the army, and appoint commanders over them, and supply them all with weapons and provisions before sending them out on their journey. It might be a week, or even two, before all was ready.
So there was still time to find an alternative, a way of recovering the Stone without conflict or violence. It might not even be that difficult. Despite the rash things Garan had done, Rhosmari could not believe he was a traitor: he had only meant to help the faeries on the mainland, not to harm the Children of Rhys. Perhaps, if someone from the Green Isles were to go to him and tell him what the loss of the Stone had done to their people, he might realise his mistake and give it back.
But who could make such a journey? When Garan fled, he had taken all of his closest comrades with him; Rhosmari was the only one left outside his family who knew him well. His parents had already suffered enough on his account, and their wisdom and moderation were needed here. No one else knew the details of her mother’s plan.
Which meant that there was only one person who could do it.
No.
Please, no. Not me.
She had longed to visit the mainland, but not like this. Not alone and unprepared, with nothing to protect her from the evils of which her mother had so often warned. Even if Rhosmari could find the courage to expose herself to such danger, it might take her days or weeks to accomplish her mission. And all the while she would be running against time, afraid that her mother’s army might overtake her at any moment.
Yet what else could she do?
I do not desire evil, Garan had said to her once, but it seems to me that to stand idle while evil is being done is no virtue either. Rhosmari had not understood at the time, but now she did. She had to do this, no matter what the risk to herself, because to allow her people to go to war would be a great evil.
And because one young faery, travelling alone, might escape the Empress’s notice where a troop of armed warriors could not…
Rhosmari closed her eyes, gathering courage. Then she stood up and said, ‘I will go. I will find Garan, wherever he is, and ask him to give us back the Stone.’
Lady Arianllys caught her breath, and Lord Gwylan looked more grim than ever. Rhosmari tensed, afraid they would try to stop her – but then Arianllys moved forward, wrapping her arms about Rhosmari and holding her close.
‘May Rhys and the Great Gardener watch over you,’ she said, ‘and bring you safely to your destination. And when you have found Garan…give him our love.’
Rhosmari dug through the chest at the foot of her bed, pushing past old shoes, half-finished journals and her medals from the Rhysian Games until she found her pack. She would need to dress warmly, for once she left the magical climate of the Green Isles there would be nothing to protect her from the harsh mainland weather. Yet there were no winter clothes in her wardrobe, so she could only bring her grandmother’s cloak and a few extra pairs of stockings, and hope for the best.
She had none of the coins and papers that humans used for currency, but she had a pearl necklace that her father had given her. Surely it would fetch a decent price, if she could find someone willing to buy it. Lady Arianllys had supplied her with a map that showed the nearby towns on the mainland, and a small packet of food to see her through the first day of her journey. Apart from a comb and toothbrush Rhosmari could think of little else that she might need, for if all went well it should only take her a day or two to reach her destination.
And she knew, now, what that destination would be. According to Gwylan and Arianllys, Garan had gone to the Oakenwyld, where Linden and her forty or so sister faeries lived. Rhosmari remembered Linden saying that the Oak was close to the town of Aynsbridge, and that their human friends Paul and Peri McCormick – Timothy’s guardians – lived behind the great tree in a house called Oakhaven. Surely, with that much information, the place should be easy to find.
Rhosmari closed up the pack and cinched it tight, all the while reminding herself not to think about what she was doing. It did not matter that she was leaving behind her home, her family, and the only life she had ever known. It was not important what Fioled and the other scholars would think when she did not appear at the House of Learning tomorrow, or whether Rhosmari’s mother would guess what she had done. She dared not consider the perils that awaited her, or all the things that could go wrong. She must simply go, now, before it was too late.
Yet her feet seemed to have put down roots into the floor, and her chest felt so tight she could hardly breathe. Rhosmari gripped the bedpost as her knees buckled. Had she lost her wits, to believe that she could get away with this? Or even that it was necessary?
But I can’t turn back now, she told herself. No matter what happens, I have to try.
Besides, Lord Gwylan and Lady Arianllys were waiting for her. They had warned Rhosmari that it was too windy for her to fly across the strait, and that the waves were too treacherous for her to take a boat. Nor could she Leap, because magic could not transport her anywhere that she had not set foot before. But if she met them at a certain place when she had finished packing, they would show her a safe way to the mainland.
Rhosmari swung the pack up off the bed and hugged it in front of her, like a protective shield. She was ready now. Any moment—
‘Rhosmari?’
The voice was her mother’s, husky with sleep. The latch of her door began to lift, and with a stab of panic Rhosmari Leaped, throwing her mind across miles of land and water and then hurling her body after it.
She landed on the beach at Ynys y Porth, smallest and southernmost of all the Green Isles. The ocean breeze blew gently and the night air was mild, but as Rhosmari hurried to meet Gwylan and Arianllys, even her hooded cloak could not stop her shivering.
‘My mother knows I’m gone,’ she panted. ‘She’ll start looking for me any minute – and if she finds out you’ve helped me escape—’
But Lord Gwylan shook his head. ‘She will not be quick to assume you have run away,’ he said. ‘She will only think that you have gone for a walk because you could not sleep.’
‘But—’
‘The path to the mainland is not far,’ said Arianllys soothingly. ‘You will be gone before Lady Celyn knows it. Let me show you.’ She led them across the tide-damp sand. At the far end of the beach was a staircase, its steps so worn as to be almost invisible. They climbed to the top of the promontory, then descended on the other side into a pebbly cove Rhosmari had never seen before.
‘Here is the way you will take,’ Lady Arianllys said, touching the cliffside. A crumbling archway rippled into view, mottled with moss and lichen and sealed by a door of carved limestone. Arianllys laid her palm against its surface and the portal grated open, revealing another set of stairs leading downwards.
‘This is Gruffydd’s Way,’ she said, ‘a tunnel built centuries ago for the use of our human friends. It is so little used nowadays that few of our people even remember its existence. But though it is old and neglected it is still sound, and will take you safely under the ocean all the way to the mainland.’
Dread crawled up Rhosmari’s spin
e, wrapping cold fingers around her throat. To climb down into absolute blackness, beneath the damp earth and an unfathomable weight of sea, feeling the walls press closer about her with every moment—
‘No,’ she faltered. ‘Please. I can’t do this.’
‘You must,’ said Gwylan. ‘There is no other way for you to leave the Green Isles without your mother and the other Elders knowing it.’
‘Wait,’ Arianllys said. ‘Let me talk to her.’ Then she turned to Rhosmari and said, ‘May I ask you a personal question?’
Rhosmari managed a nod.
‘Do you love my son?’
She was taken aback. Love? What did that have to do with anything? Certainly she had liked and respected Garan, and his appearance was not unpleasant – though he did have the poured-milk hair and pallid skin common among the Children of Rhys, both of which Rhosmari was glad to have escaped herself. She had seen no reason not to pledge herself to him, knowing that the alliance would benefit both their houses and likely make one or both of them Elders someday.
And yet, though Garan had always been gracious and kind to Rhosmari, he had never touched her, or shared with her the deeper thoughts of his heart. Nor had Rhosmari told him of her own private longings and fears. There had been no reason to believe that their marriage would be any different from the partnerships of most faeries – a practical arrangement that would produce two or three children and bring them respect within the community, but nothing more.
‘Not like that,’ she told Arianllys. ‘I do care for him, but…’
‘Then it was not for his sake that you chose to undertake this journey. But is there not someone in your thoughts that you would like to see again? A certain young human who lives near the Oakenwyld, perhaps?’
Heat flooded Rhosmari’s cheeks. ‘No!’
The Lady Scholar smiled gently. ‘I apologise,’ she said. ‘I was unkind to test you so. Yet on the day when Linden and Timothy came before the Elders…Gwylan may have been watching Garan’s face, but I was watching yours.’