What was she going to do now?
Chapter 3
Quinn, happily oblivious, was preparing to blunder off into the forest for three weeks. It was like a holiday. His parents had been sort of pleased – as pleased as they ever were about anything – it was a chance for him to do something worthy, and it would also get rid of him for a while.
Whistling to himself, Quinn packed a hammock into one of his saddlebags, along with food provisions – mostly sunflower cakes, which sounded much more exciting than they actually were; they consisted of sunflower seeds glued together with salt and honey. To ensure he maintained a varied diet, he took some made with pumpkin seeds as well. There would probably be some fruit in the forest, to count towards his five a day. Really, it didn’t matter, did it? He could always take vitamins.
When he finished packing, he felt sure there was something he’d left out. He paused, and thought.
“A towel,” he said. “I need a towel.” Then he dumped the saddlebags in the corner and went to bed, because it was two in the morning and he was leaving that day. He was organized like that.
***
Lilian tried to think how she could warn Quinn. She couldn’t send him a letter because she didn’t know his address. She couldn’t go to his house for the same reason, and also she didn’t dare escape Lucerna’s house because she might literally get killed.
Then she questioned herself as to exactly why it was necessary to save Quinn from Lucerna’s plans at all. Quinn was not a friend of hers after all. But the idea of anybody dying at the hands of Lucerna because of her horrible moneymaking scheme was just utterly repulsive to Lilian. Also, she felt that preventing someone else’s disaster would somehow alleviate her own personal powerlessness.
Plus, there was no way Lucerna could be taken down from everything else she was doing while she was having people killed and convincing everyone that such practices were okay just because it was for something in a book.
So Lilian couldn’t just forget it; this had to be sorted out.
Lucerna had reverted, highly unnervingly, to a sickly politeness around Lilian. Not a trace of anger remained, yet the priestess was always there, wherever Lilian was she would pop up, conveniently seeing to some task. Lilian was distracted and distressed by this, trying to carry on as normal and think of a plan and not behave suspiciously all at once. It was exhausting, and after three days she hadn’t found a solution. The day dawned when she knew Quinn must have gone, and she felt so revoltingly guilty for not doing anything about it. The more she thought about it, the more she couldn’t bear the idea of an innocent person getting killed at the hands of Lucerna just because she, Lilian, had not had the courage to act.
She had to work incredibly hard to keep her composure all that day, and it didn’t help that Lucerna seemed to be observing her extra closely. The priestess was very preoccupied in her study when she wasn’t tailing Lilian, and that evening she went to meet with somebody, leaving Lilian locked in the cellar ironing sheets.
Lilian forced herself not to release any expression of her fear even then, because she didn’t know who might be listening. She couldn’t gauge how far Lucerna would go to catch her out. When the priestess let Lilian out, there was a triumphant, cat-with-a-mouse look in her eyes that made Lilian want to run away then and there.
***
It was sunny and warm as Quinn set off on his horse, waved off by nobody, glad to leave the uptight faithful fanaticism of this stupid town behind. He hummed to his horse, Daisy, as they went along the forest trail. Daisy was a lovely strawberry roan with creamy yellow hooves and a golden mane and tail, very unusual and Quinn’s best friend for several years. Being much more reasonable than people, horses had been Quinn’s saviour in his snotty family and he was reluctant to believe that a Unicorn, being essentially a glorified horse, could possibly be evil. And luring in children so that they vanished into the forest? Surely that was an old story taken in thoroughly the wrong light. Quinn had read fairy tales years ago about Unicorns only appearing to pure and beautiful girls, who they would befriend, as Unicorns were after all the epitome of all that was pure and beautiful. Quinn didn’t know if that was true, but if it was, simple logic told him that he was very unlikely to find a Unicorn even if they did exist, given that he was not a girl and far from pure and beautiful.
He couldn’t be bothered today anyway. As the afternoon wore on, he dismounted near a clearing and strung his hammock between two trees. He clipped a long line on Daisy’s halter and tied the line to a stick he wedged into the middle of the clearing, so that the horse could graze. Then Quinn built a fire as the sun set, and was very glad he’d remembered to bring a lighter. He was hungry, and five sunflower cakes later he realized they were a finite resource and he ought to eke them out. He would have to do some foraging tomorrow, but it was too dark now.
He sat by his fire, feeding it twigs and singing to himself, until it damped down a little and he began to think about spiders. Quinn crawled into his hammock and stared at the stars through the tree branches until he fell asleep.
***
Lilian sat at the back of the stone Hall, feeling slightly dizzy and lightheaded. The constant fear was taking its toll on her. She could barely sleep at night, haunted by nightmares, the image of Lucerna’s glowingly righteous face.
Lucerna had that look now, as she neared the end of this reading.
“And here, as you will see, this passage reads: ‘devotion must be tested and reconsidered frequently, for to lack genuine devotion is a most punishable crime. Those who persevere and remind themselves of their debt to the Deus shall be rewarded; those who cannot summon enough commitment to their creator must be punished.’ And so, we must provide everything we have today, or I fear I will be called upon to mediate this rule: ‘If one should not show enough devotion, then the one must be the gift they will not give. They must be sacrificed as the gift themselves.’”
Lilian nearly passed out. She was going to be caught this time. How much was enough devotion? How could she lie? Was this Lucerna’s plan? She felt as though that immaculate cherry purple smile was all for her, a smile of absolute delight in the ultimate control.
“So if you cannot give anything…we will know why, and you will know the consequences,” Lucerna concluded quietly.
As usual, everybody went up one by one and placed their offer in front of the eye. Lilian noticed they all turned out their pockets completely, and she wondered just how much Lucerna must have in her safe now. Lilian had long since learnt to bring half her wages in her own pocket, because even that looked very conservative compared to what everyone else gave. Lucerna didn’t pay Lilian a great deal.
Petrified though Lilian was that Lucerna might have planned this specially in order to pick Lilian out and have an excuse to get rid of her, her worries were not warranted.
It was someone else’s call to be an example.
Lilian watched, as though through thick fog, a woman who’s name she didn’t know walk up to Lucerna and begin to talk, as though she was struggling to find words. She was wearing a grubby overall and evidently was both poor and hardworking. White faced, she stammered “Priestess…I beg you. I have nothing. I have been giving all that I have, all I have…is gone…I cannot give anymore, I have nothing left to give.”
Lucerna raised her eyebrows. “If you truly have nothing you will give, you sentence yourself to eternal pain. Or you will die now and be spared that… that is not my tragedy, it is yours. Do you still have nothing to give?”
The woman was speechless. She looked so pale Lilian was sure she would fall down. Lilian wanted to scream out, “It’s not real! She’s lying! Just leave, now!”
Yet Lilian herself could not seem to speak either. Nobody could speak. It was like some kind of horrendous party trick.
As if in a trance, everyone heard Lucerna say, “this woman is the first to lose her life for lack of devotion. Rest assured however, that in sacrificing herself she will surely ascend. Second to the horn of th
e evil unicorn, one’s own life is the greatest gift one can give.”
This didn’t seem to reassure anybody particularly though.
Lilian tried to make herself move. She braced herself ready to leap from her seat, but nothing happened. Move! She thought. I have to stop this, this is crazy, this is…why can’t I move?
And then without a second of warning, somebody dressed in so many layers of cream cloth they were unidentifiable appeared from apparently nowhere. They threw the poor woman to the floor before she even knew what was happening, and stabbed her with a knife.
It was so quick it was silent. All was silent…
“And now we must leave,” Lucerna spoke, suddenly hoarse. “So that…our eyes, should not be – be harmed, by the bright light of ascension.”
Silently, the congregation filed out. Lilian was stumbling, not sure whether there was noise and she couldn’t hear it, or if the shock had truly kept everybody absolutely wordless.
What just happened? What just happened? She kept asking herself. She had just seen it, she knew, but she couldn’t, wouldn’t, take it in.
***
Quinn was having a delightful morning. He had foraged a bunch of plants of various kinds and was cooking them over a re-stoked fire. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was eating wasn’t poisonous, but he figured he’d soon find out.
He realized he was thirsty and dug out the large steel bottle he had brought. It would need refilling, he’d have to find a stream. It tasted rather metallic. Perhaps it wasn’t very good steel.
Quinn sniffed, and remembered a little too late that leaves are simply not as effective as Kleenex.
All of these mild inconveniences were not so much a mere trifle as a minute crumb of one of those foul biscuits people used as a base for one. Because compared to the stuffy, nagging, boring, boring existence Quinn normally had to endure, this small adventure was a glowing star in a sky full of grey murk.
After an interesting and far from risk free breakfast, Quinn packed up his stuff and loaded it on to Daisy, and they were away once more on the trail of the Unicorn.
“Or not, as the case may be,” Quinn said to Daisy, patting her mottled neck. He tried to convince himself Unicorns were real, and found he was failing miserably. Here, this, in front of him was a living breathing horse; all the hype around unicorns was surely an indicator that they were imagined or else overly romanticized. And once again he truly couldn’t contemplate them being evil. That really was ridiculous.
***
Lucerna was trying to sleep.
She wasn’t having much success.
It’s real, she reassured herself. I was right to do that…anyway, I didn’t even do it. And everyone said it was right…they didn’t like it but they said it must be done…
She thought of the secret meeting where they’d discussed the issue of making an example of someone, while Lilian had been ironing in the cellar. The Hall with her chosen people, and how she had felt so triumphant afterwards…so sure it was right…
The woman’s face was imprinted on her eyelids. It was there when she blinked, and closing her eyes for any longer was hideous. A weight leaned on Lucerna’s chest, a tightness that sickened her with guilt. It followed her everywhere, even here in her house, far from any watching eyes.
Is it real? Do I want it to be real? Or does that make it worse?
Lucerna tried to imagine that there were eyes, big overseeing omnipotent eyes that smiled and told her she’d been good.
Deus, she thought. Save me from my decisions. Tell me it was right.
It sort of helped.
Yes, she decided. It is real.
***
Lilian was also awake.
She was at her wits end. Was there any way of getting away? What would happen to her if she did? Surely it wasn’t possible. There was no moment where Lucerna wasn’t aware of what Lilian was doing. Lucerna had never taken any noticeable precaution to prevent Lilian escaping. Apart from the most recent time, but that was only because Lilian had been left entirely alone in the house. Perhaps she just thought Lilian wasn’t brave or clever enough to even think of it. Or maybe she’s got people watching, or something I don’t know about, thought Lilian. It was quite probable that Lucerna knew enough people around here that she could call upon them instantly to track down Lilian, or anybody, should Lucerna discover an absence.
And then, Lucerna had also likely calculated that it would be very difficult for Lilian to escape without being noticed due to the design of the house. The doors were heavy and wouldn’t open or shut quietly. The windows were those horrible stiff sash ones that squeaked like angry rats. The corridors were echoey; the stairs creaked; the front porch faced towards the prevailing wind most of the time, so that a sudden draft through the house would give away it’s opening. The back door was always locked. Worse still, even if you did by some miracle get past all of this, you were faced with an endless gravel drive that crunched like glass popcorn.
Lilian could bring to mind a million other tiny snares and idiosyncrasies of the wretched house that she had never really thought about until they were imperative to her survival. She dealt with them everyday; and all at once she hated that she knew the spots where dust settled fastest; that she knew to wrench the third cupboard from the left in the kitchen because the door didn’t really fit the frame; that she automatically knew the clothes pegs were in the top draw.
She felt angry tears sting as she thought of the idiot who built a house to be so damned unhelpful, of stupid rich people who had to live in gigantic houses in the first place, and of the thorough hopelessness of the situation.
And then she wondered what the time was.
Because Lucerna is used to me waking earlier than her anyway.
Lilian scrabbled under the bed for the rusty old watch she had been given as a perk of the job.
Five o’clock in the morning. In half an hour she would normally dress, go down to the parlour and start preparing Lucerna’s breakfast. Lilian looked out the window. It was a bit light already. She pulled back the curtains as quietly as possible, slipped out of bed and rummaged in the depths of the old chest she kept her clothes in. Pushing aside the silly cream coloured tunics Lucerna expected her to wear, Lilian pulled out some old jodhpurs and her jacket. Scrambling into her clothes, she cast around for anything useful that would fit in a pocket.
The first choice was of course her most secret and prize possession, a penknife. It had come here with her all the way from Felixia and she had kept it hidden from Lucerna’s eyes by keeping it in a pair of socks in the chest with her clothes. She stashed it away in her jacket and looked around for anything else useful. There wasn’t much… she checked the old watch again. Twenty past five. It was good enough.
She eased the door open by minute degrees. Carefully – carefully… She picked up her boots from the corner, and held them in one hand, then tiptoed out in socks. The socks that had housed the penknife, actually. Down the stairs, as lightly as possible. Lucerna would expect Lilian to make some noise by now anyway, so this was her chance…at least that was what she was counting on. She could only pray that Lucerna wouldn’t wake up early for some reason and want breakfast straightaway.
Lilian went into the kitchen. In spite of the situation, she couldn’t help laughing silently at the idea of making a batch of toast as usual and eating like a queen before disappearing. Instead she snatched dried fruit, hazelnuts, some oatcakes and stuffed them in her pockets. She stole a couple of cloth napkins because they were handy and then stopped dead and listened acutely. No sound. Only me.
Then, without a moments hesitation, Lilian sped out of the kitchen into the hall and lifted the bolt on the door with the minimum amount of sound possible. She squeezed through, trying not to open the door too wide and let that telltale draft in. She stepped out into the chill air, drew the door shut and lashed her feet into her boots at high speed.
At last she turned away and sprinted across the gravel, hopi
ng beyond hope that Lucerna wasn’t watching out the window.
***
Quinn reasoned that he should give the whole finding the Unicorn thing a go, and it could only take a week to search the forest high and low. It wasn’t that big, and he felt certain that a Unicorn would be quite difficult to miss if it was there at all. Then he could spend the last two weeks doing whatever he liked. The prospect was enough to motivate Quinn to set to work right away, so he took out his map of the county Stellaria and focused on the forest part. This map was no ordnance survey. A hand drawn, somewhat artistic impression of the landscape, showing the towns, roads, rivers and placement of important features relatively accurately but without much detail. Thus Quinn was finding his whereabouts a little dubious. He found a stick of charcoal in the slightly mouldy pits of the saddlebags and drew lines over the forest to divide it into sections. He wished he’d remembered to bring a biro.
“I knew there was something,” he said absently. Then he added, “I must be kind of in this bit,” pointing to one of the boxes he’d just drawn. “What d’you think, Daisy?” he asked his horse. Daisy thought grass was very interesting. A fine observation, but not hugely relevant to the issue at hand. Quinn looked around; various paths and trails presented themselves. He guessed a Unicorn wouldn’t necessarily stick to a designated footpath, just hanging around waiting for anyone to take selfies with. He decided to take the route which by the map and dead reckoning might lead to the river. There would be streams before, where he could fill up the water bottle and maybe there would be some clues of further directions. He hauled on Daisy’s bridle to drag her eagerly questing muzzle from the verge, then touched his heels to the horse’s sides and they trotted away.
***
Lucerna heard a crunching noise. Sleepily she stared at the ceiling; light reflected down from it. It was day, then. Had she never pulled the curtains? Obviously not. She must have fallen asleep at last. She felt disoriented, too awake to sleep again but too tired to try and be awake. Crunching. Imagined? No…what on Earth made that noise? Lucerna thrashed out of bed and stared out of the window. Nothing. Where had the crunching come from? Inside the house?