On my right the Eskerns rose, looking on this crystal day close enough to run my fingers along their peaks.
A black dot rocketed up from behind a ridge. A fleck in my eye? I blinked but the dot expanded, grew big as a thundercloud, and took the form of—a gryphon!
I gasped and almost choked on the stench of spoiled meat. In its beak, the monster carried a bone that still held bloody flesh. Its greedy eyes bulged. Scars crisscrossed its lion’s hide; bald patches mottled its eagle wings.
The gryphon shrank to a dot again, its proper size at this distance. Halina! Why show me this?
For my next several steps I saw little. When I came back to myself, the ground had flattened into grasslands. I’d reached eastern New Lakti, but I’d lost track of my steps. I could be leagues to the west of Gavrel, leagues to the east. Or I could be close.
Dried grasses poked through a few inches of snow. The magic shell revealed no human sounds. I changed out of my magic boot. A wide stream on my right flowed serenely east-west and might lead me to a village where I could ask directions. A road might even accompany the stream on the other side, but I couldn’t see because of the steep bank. Travelers might come along and tell me where I was. I waded in. Cold!
On the other side there was a road. I continued eastward, because I had to go one way or the other. After running for half an hour, I caught up with an elderly Bamarre, who directed me. Eleven miles to Gavrel.
Now, at last, here I was. In this flat countryside there were no real hills, but I stood at the crest of a knoll under a spreading oak, the only big tree nearby, looking at the village by the light of a full moon. Seven small Bamarre cottages and two modest Lakti houses in a line faced the road and, beyond it, the stream. A wisp of smoke drifted from each chimney. People had banked their fires and had probably gone to bed. No one was outdoors in the chilly dark.
Inside one of these homes were my parents, my true parents. My stomach tightened.
A copse of pine trees grew north of the village. Bushes rimmed the south side of the road but gave out at the village edge.
When I reached the village, I walked its short length and halfway back. No one would be looking out. Why would they?
The Lakti houses lay in the middle of the line. Between them, across the road, stood a whipping post. The sight quickened my breathing until I noticed that the wood was old and cracked and stained moss green. Lashings were probably rare.
The wind changed direction. Barks erupted from every house.
CHAPTER TWENTY
I RAN. In a minute—before anyone had time to leave a bed and look out a window—I was past the houses.
Let the villagers be slow to open their doors. Let the dogs be old or lame or fat. After another minute, they were released, no longer barking but panting behind me. I kept running. Soon, the dogs fell back a little. Another minute and I dared to turn. The pack of hounds bunched together. They’d stopped chasing and resumed barking. I had crossed a boundary that only they knew. I ran on a while, hoping to convince them the threat was over. The barking diminished to silence.
I stopped on the knoll, under the oak. How was I going to get back into Gavrel?
From the sound of their footfalls in my magic shell, the dogs were loping home. Still listening, I started slowly back. After a few minutes, I heard doors open.
“Get in, you cur. It’s cold!” Woman’s voice.
“What could Baka have heard, do you think?” Man’s deep voice.
“Dimwit dog will chase anything!” Man’s voice, not as deep.
Doors thudded shut.
“Baka, you’re brave.” A child’s light tones. “I’m brave, too.” Laughter. “You can lick me!”
“Poppi . . . Mama . . . that could be Perry. I told you she might come.”
Annet!
“Will we be blamed for the noise?” Female. Must be a Bamarre.
I saw the black shape of the first cottage and began to circle behind the buildings, hoping to stay beyond the range of the dogs’ noses.
“Begging your pardon, she’d endanger you again?” My father?
I stopped circling.
“Poppi, pardon me, but if she’s running away, where else can she go?”
It had been my father.
“I have no idea.” My mother? “She’s a Lakti.”
My chest hurt.
“In the morning we’ll see if the dogs brought anything down.” An unfamiliar voice, probably from another cottage.
Annet said, “A Lakti most of the time, Mama. Not always.”
That had been my mother.
Silence fell.
“Wouldn’t the dogs have warned her away, Annet, love?”
She called Annet love?
I wondered where else I could go.
“The dogs might not catch her,” Annet said.
I smiled.
“Perry can outrun dogs?” The child’s voice. Oh! The brother Halina said I had.
“The dogs were probably after a wolf anyway,” my father said.
They didn’t speak again, and the other cottages quieted, too. I guessed people were returning to their beds.
My parents didn’t want me. I’d sleep under the oak tree and set off again tomorrow.
In her annoyed tone, Annet said, “I should see if it is Perry.”
“A wolf will eat you!” My mother’s voice.
The boy said, “I’ll go! Please!”
My father sounded resigned. “If she’s there, we can’t leave her.”
My ears drummed and the sound in the shell vibrated. I should put on a boot and leave if they were so reluctant to venture out for me.
But I didn’t.
He continued. “I’ll take Baka. Drualt, you can come. Between us and Baka, we’re the equal of a pack of wolves.”
Annet said, “I’ll go with you, if you please. She knows me.”
My mother said, “I’ll come, too, but we should let everybody else fall back to sleep first, don’t you think?”
Sensible.
My father said, “You’re right, Shoni.”
Shoni was my mother’s name.
I headed—slowly, softly—back to the road beyond the village so they’d find me. The snail gave me no more conversation. Two village snorers formed a duet, one with a rattle, the other long and smooth.
Maybe my family would like me. Maybe they’d feel our kinship and would be sad I couldn’t stay.
What seemed like hours passed.
A door creaked. A dot of light appeared. They’d lit a torch—dangerous if anyone was awake, but the snores didn’t change nor did the dogs bark.
I thought I might explode by the time they reached me.
A few minutes passed, and there they were. My father lumbered, leaning on a staff. My mother walked easily, her hand on the shoulder of my young brother, enacting a repeated pantomime of him trying to escape her grip, of her pulling him back. And Annet, shorter than my mother, stamped along, closest to my father, the dog moving with her as if on a chain. She wasn’t limping. If Lord Tove had hurt her, she could still walk.
Drualt cried, “Look! A person, not—”
“Sh!”
I dropped the snail shell into my purse.
He freed himself and broke into a run. Baka the dog went after him.
I took a step forward, then back.
He stopped a foot away. The dog jumped up on my cloak.
“Sit, Baka,” Drualt said. “Are you Perry, begging your pardon? I’m your brother.” He yanked off his glove and held out his hand. His grip was strong, though not quite Lakti firm. He smelled of garlic. “Can you really outrun dogs?”
“I just did. I have more stamina than they do.” I was trembling.
Annet and the others reached us. I was a head taller than my mother—Mama—and almost as tall as my father—Poppi. They all reeked of garlic. No one else shook my hand. No one hugged me.
“Annet . . . did Lord Tove beat you? Did he make you walk in chains?”
&n
bsp; “Hello, Perry. He slapped me. That seems to be his preference. I rode in a cart. Lady Klausine sent me here.”
Poppi told me he was my father. “Greetings.” He bowed stiffly.
I curtsied, and Mama did, too.
Drualt asked, “Did you really see a fairy?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t come home with us, begging your pardon,” Mama said.
Poppi said, “Please forgive us. Annet says Lord Tove will look for you here.”
I was surprised he hadn’t come already, but he might be with the king, as he often had to be when he wasn’t fighting.
Poppi continued. “We must think of our children, Mistress Peregrine.”
Mistress. I was one of their children! “Thank you for coming to tell me.”
Mama begged my pardon again. “Where will you sleep tonight?”
“I can stand the cold. I didn’t come to stay. I just wanted advice about where I might go.” And I wanted to meet you and for you to love me.
“Can’t she come home long enough to tell us about the fairy?” Drualt put a wheedle in his voice. “Please, Poppi.”
Poppi sighed. “I shouldn’t have stolen food. We’re here now because of me.”
“That was years ago!” Mama said.
I followed a thread of blame beginning with my fault for coming here, going on to mine for dropping a hint to Lord Tove, Halina’s for revealing my birth to me, Lady Mother’s for taking me in the first place and lying to everyone about me, and Poppi’s for stealing, as he’d just said. Centuries ago, the Lakti’s for bringing the Bamarre to their knees, our knees. Even before then, the Bamarre’s for taking the warlike Lakti in.
I reached in my sack for a boot.
Light whipped in a spiral between us and Gavrel village. The scent of peonies sweetened the air. I heard three gasps and a happy shout from Drualt.
The light dissolved, leaving the fairy in her human form. Her voice rang out. “I am Halina.”
They’d hear her in the village!
“Put your boot away, Perry,” she said.
I did.
“I’m Drualt, Perry’s brother. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” He swept an elegant bow. “Please let my sister stay.”
The rest of my family curtsied and said in trembling tones that they were glad to meet her.
Halina put a hand on Drualt’s head. Her long sleeves draped over his cap and curls. “I have high hopes of you. First, you must help Perry.” She turned to my parents and Annet. “I have high hopes of Perry, too. I want her to free you Bamarre.” She turned and reached toward me.
I backed away uneasily, but—without seeming to move—she followed me and ran her hands over my cap, along my neck, my arms, and down to my feet.
A fire leaped up inside me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
OH, WOE! I closed my eyes, fearing they’d boil over. My skin, my stomach, even my bones, seemed to blaze. I would have screamed, but I didn’t want to belch flame and burn the world.
In the distance I heard my parents and Annet cry out in dismay. Drualt crowed, “Fairy magic!”
Halina snapped, “Don’t go near her!”
Drualt sounded indignant. “Let go of me! Begging your pardon. Why not, begging your pardon?”
“You’d die.”
“Oh.”
At last, I felt the chill air again.
Poppi stared at me and gasped. “Aunt Nadira?”
“Where’s Perry?” Mama added, “Beg pardon.”
I swallowed and tried to speak. No sound came out.
Poppi told Halina, “Aunt Nadira’s dead. I had a letter a month ago. Who’s this, begging your pardon?”
“I’m Perry.” My voice sounded scratchy. Poppi, a yard away, stood taller than I did, and my eyes were level with Annet’s. “I shrank!” But I felt just like myself.
“Fairies haven’t done this in centuries, and we never used to do it often.” Halina touched my arm, and her peace infected me again. “I’ve given you the form of your father’s late aunt. It’s convenient she died. . . .”
Had the fairy killed her?
“Certainly I had no hand in her death. A thoroughly unpleasant woman, however. She lived far from here. It’s perfect.” She smiled her glowing smile.
I looked down at myself. My clothes seemed to have shrunk to fit me. The skin on my hands was looser and my knuckles more prominent. I felt for my hair, but I had to reach higher before finding a lock. When I held it out, only a few strands of black threaded through the gray.
If I found him, Willem wouldn’t recognize me!
Halina added, “Now you can stay with your family.” She addressed them. “Don’t forget to call her Nadira.”
“Why does she have to save us Bamarre?” I heard pity in Mama’s voice. “I’m sorry, but she deserves an ordinary life.”
“She does.” Halina sounded sad. “She’s never had one.”
“Can’t you free us?” Poppi said.
Halina moved to Poppi, her chin an inch from his nose.
He backed away a step.
She followed. “I suppose fairies should make sure nothing bad ever happens. No tragedy. No injustice. No misfortune.”
Poppi bobbed his head. “That would be a kindness.”
“Fairies will not free the Bamarre.”
I felt as if I were hovering apart from everyone. “How long will I continue to look this way?” I wondered how my mouth appeared when I spoke.
“Since she looks just like Nadira, she can stay with us,” Poppi said. Once, he’d been heartbroken to lose me.
“Excellent!” Halina beamed at him.
“How long will I look this way?”
“Fairies are proud of you, Aunt Nadira.”
Answer me!
“You’ve struck fear into Lord Tove.”
I couldn’t have.
“Nonetheless, you have. You’re trained and talented. You escaped from your prison, and you blinded him. Certainly he’s frightened.”
Drualt stared at me, wide-eyed.
“Is Willem alive?”
“He is.”
I smiled and couldn’t stop. “Is he well? Where?”
She didn’t answer. Did that mean he wasn’t well?
Poppi said, “Who’s Willem?”
“A young Lakti. They’re in love.” Annet drew out l-o-o-o-ve, mocking me.
Halina wheeled on her. “Nothing that has happened to you has been your sister’s fault. I’ll thank you for remembering that truth.”
Annet raised her arm to protect herself.
I felt glad, but I defended her. “She did her best.”
Halina sighed, and her peony scent grew stronger. “Nothing was Annet’s fault, either.” She turned to my parents. “Aunt Nadira must grow up a little more and learn to feel that she’s a Bamarre. I expect all of you to teach her.” She smiled. “You’re a fine family.”
“How long will I look this way?”
Halina tipped up my chin. “Don’t begin your task before you’re ready, but don’t miss your opportunities.”
“If we teach Aunt Nadira,” Poppi said, “will you stop the Lakti cruelty?”
Halina pursed her mouth as if she’d eaten something spoiled. “Goodman Adeer, if you help your daughter, there will be consequences, and if you don’t help her, there will be, too.” Her expression softened. “You may be inspired to greatness.” She vanished.
Poppi stared at the space where she’d been. Finally, he said, “Come.” He drew Mama’s arm in his and started off. Annet hurried and clasped Poppi’s other arm.
I was alone until Drualt took my hand in his firm grip. I asked him how old he was. From his height and his determined stride, I guessed eleven, but he said he was nine, which meant he’d been born five years after Lady Mother took me.
He said, “I want to save us Bamarre with you.”
I sang a battle verse, changing Lakti to Bamarre:
“Let arrows fly,
Let spears
thrust,
Let swords slice
The shattered air.
Courage will not crumble,
Resolve will not fade.
Bamarre will triumph.
Bamarre will prevail.”
When I finished, he sang,
“Daring Drualt beside
Proud Peregrine,
Riding to victory.”
I smiled. How unexpected, this brother.
I’d never lived anywhere as humble as my parents’ cottage, only one room with their sleeping loft above. A spinning wheel stood in one corner and a square table in another. Bolts of fabric lay under this table. Was Poppi or Mama a tailor?
A leather-bound book rested atop a long table, the one we’d eat on. I estimated the cottage’s length to be twenty paces, a little less in width. Under the loft, the ceiling grazed Poppi’s head. The cottage stank of mildew, smoke, and garlic.
On the first night, despite my protests, Drualt gave me his pallet and slept, wrapped in blankets, on the rushes by the fireplace.
I kept my eyes open in the dark. The dying fire glowed. Annet and Drualt were dark shapes. Baka lay at my sister’s feet.
Except for Drualt, my birth family considered me a chore, as I had been to Annet. A lump rose in my throat.
I swallowed against it and then made myself sadder. Where was my second family now? Was Lady Mother preparing to fight in the spring campaign, now that I was gone? I knew she must be sad. And probably disappointed in me for giving myself away.
Annet and I both thought Lord Tove would come here, and I believed he’d arrive soon. Not knowing my whereabouts would gnaw at him. He’d suppose me here or with the Kyngoll—because what other choices did I have?—and he couldn’t go to them for information.
Fear gripped me. I imagined him riding through the night, coming ever closer. He could have overtaken me earlier today!
I fumbled for my purse, which I hadn’t removed for sleep, and pulled out the magic shell.
Only peaceful sounds. Snores, people turning over, dogs rumbling in their sleep.
If not on his way, was Lord Tove lying in his bed as I was on this pallet? Might he be thinking of the child he’d loved? Did his loathing ever subside enough for him to miss me?
A tear slid out, but I squeezed my eyes shut against it. Using my Lakti training, I imagined the peaceful village, the blinking stars, a rabbit crossing a snowy field—and slept.