“These. Where will I find some?” she said. She turned the book around and showed it to the birds. They looked at one another and exchanged a few rrrhs. “Tonight,” she said, tapping it. “It has to be tonight.”
The following morning, Rosa returned to the Aunts’ room carrying a tray. On it was a pie, oozing tails of steam from a cross in the center of its pastry crust. Beside the pie were two large spoons.
She knocked the door.
Predictably, a voice said, “Go away.”
“It’s Rosa, Aunts.”
“We know who it is.”
“I’m sorry for my absence. I want to make it up to you.”
“We don’t need you. We’re busy in here.”
“I thought you might be hungry. I’ve cooked something for you.”
“Go away, girl. We can imagineer anything we want.”
Rosa chewed her lip. Not for the first time, she wondered about the wisdom of what she was doing. If it all went wrong, the consequences would be dire. She steadied herself. She must be brave. “It’s mushrooms, real ones, baked in a pie.”
There was silence on the other side of the door. “Mushrooms?” said a voice. One Aunt to the other.
“They grow … erm … at the back of the librarium. I’ve had some myself. They’re very —”
The door whipped open a crack.
“— tasty.”
Aunt Petunia’s dark gaze scanned the tray. “It is a pie,” she hissed back over her shoulder.
“I can smell it,” said Primrose.
Aunt Petunia’s nose began to twitch. Rosa could swear that the old woman’s bow tie was trying to spin.
“Bring it in,” said Primrose.
“Not you,” said Petunia, extending a forbidding hand toward Rosa. “Give me the tray and be gone from here, girl. You can pick it up later and then clean the dish — twice.”
Rosa held the tray out. “Do you need any help? What exactly are you doing in there, Aunt?”
“None of your business,” the old woman snapped. And she snatched up the tray and forced the door shut.
Rosa stared at the blank brown door for a moment. That hadn’t gone quite the way she’d hoped, but the Aunts had taken the bait nevertheless. She wiped her palms, one across the other. “Enjoy,” she whispered with a smug little grin. And gathering her skirts about her knees, she went and sat primly on the stairs.
In the shadows behind her, the firebirds waited.
For several minutes they listened to the greedy clink of spoons. Then there came a loud, rather crude spell of burping. Then a brief spell of silence. Then the most hideous, labored snoring, so potent that it made a loose board on the stairway hum.
“I think that’s done the trick,” Rosa said, jumping up. “OK, guys, how do we get in?”
If she was expecting that the birds would speak some kind of dragontongue and open the door in the way David had done upstairs, she was wrong. This one was locked by a regular key. The only way in was via the outside window. Aleron reached it first and began to pluck out the pieces of paper. But this was all taking too long for Azkiar. With a loud and impatient RRRH! he ordered Aleron out of the way, then launched himself, feetfirst, at the wall of books. He hit them at tremendous speed. With a bang, they collapsed inward. Rosa ran forward and cleared the remainder, then climbed through the window and into the room.
The Aunts were laid out in the middle of the floor, each with a spoon in hand. The pie dish was on its side and empty. Apart from that, there seemed to be nothing amiss. The books were mostly in place on the shelves. And though they’d been moved around or laid down flat, they did not appear to be damaged in any way.
“What are they doing?” Rosa muttered to herself. It occurred to her then that the Aunts might have simply been reading the books and that she had misjudged their intentions horribly. If that was the case, oh, what a trial she had to look forward to. Knocking out a pair of Aunts for no reason was sure to see her banished to the Dead Lands for life.
Rrrh, went a voice across the room. Aurielle had landed on a bed in the corner, where she had found some kind of device. Rosa made her way over, stepping across the legs of both Aunts to get there. (Azkiar and Aleron were perched on the Aunts’ chests, guarding the women, their ear tufts lifting every time the Aunts snored.)
Aurielle nudged the device with her beak. It was a thin flat pad, about half the size of a standard book cover. It had a sleek black screen, which appeared to have a number of thumbprints on its surface. Flashing lights were jumping back and forth across the bottom, as if the device were waiting for an input. Rosa had never troubled herself with elec:tronics and hadn’t sent a single :com in her life. Even so, she picked up the pad and pressed her finger to a likely area of the screen. It lit up at once. A message invited her to scan object. She looked at Aurielle. The firebird frowned. Object? thought Rosa. What object? And then it struck her: the books, of course. She picked one off the bed and slowly brought it into contact with the pad. To her horror, the pad came alive. Numbers. Lights. Menus. Colors. They all appeared on the screen at once. At its center was a window more active than the rest. And though the data stream was moving far too quickly to gauge what it was, Rosa was sure that the device was uploading the contents of the book. A great wave of anger rose inside her. But worse was to come. For that was not the end of the process. Suddenly, the pad gave a little beep and a new question appeared on the screen:
Auma rating: 72% efficient. Absorb?
Rosa pulled the book away in an instant. The device immediately asked if she wanted to cancel the procedure. She screamed and hurled it across the room, then ran to the nearest shelf of books. She pulled one down and opened it. For one moment nothing happened. But as she tilted the book, the periods, the commas, the question marks, and eventually the words themselves all began to slip from their places on the page until they were falling like ash around her feet.
“No,” she wailed. She sank to her knees, clutching the book to her heart.
They were dead, all of them. She knew it at once. Their auma taken. Their power destroyed.
Rrrh! went Azkiar, urgent and loud.
Rosa looked tearfully over her shoulder. The Aunts were waking. She narrowed her gaze.
Good.
13.
Aunt Petunia came around to find Rosa sitting astride her chest.
“OK, here’s the drill,” said the girl. “Don’t try to move or use your fain. Your sister is laid out right beside you, but she’s got a nice big angry firebird perched on top of her to keep her company. I’ve seen him in action. Believe me, he’s mean. I’m sure you know they’re immune to your tricks. One hint of imagineering and he’ll turn poor Primrose to ash. Are we clear?”
“You will die for this,” Aunt Petunia growled, fury reddening her swollen cheeks. “Primrose, dear, are you all right?”
“Shoes,” the twin Aunt squeaked.
“Shoes?” Petunia rolled her eyes sideways. She was slightly surprised to see her sister’s feet, not her head, beside her. What’s more, the feet were bare. “What deplorable villainy is this?”
Rosa gripped the Aunt’s chin and pulled her back. “I hope you won’t have to find out. Now, what exactly are you doing in this room?”
“It’s none of your business,” Petunia snapped.
Rosa curled her lip. “Runcey,” she said, and sent him a tongue click.
The green firebird stepped forward. In his beak was a feather, plucked from his tail.
“What’s that thing doing?” Aunt Petunia said, anxiously rolling her eyes again.
On a nod from Rosa, the firebird dipped his head and dragged the feather over Primrose’s feet.
Aunt Primrose screeched. Her bare toes danced. Her feet clapped together like shutters in a storm. Even Aunt Petunia made an O with her mouth and let out a kind of whistling noise.
“Oh, yes, of course, you’re twins,” Rosa said. “You feel each other’s discomfort, don’t you?” She leaned down and looked Aunt P
etunia dead in the eye. “Confess and I’ll let you leave. Or twinny here feels my feathered friend’s wrath. It’s probably worse if he turns the feather around and scratches the skin with the point of the shaft.”
“Confess!” cried Primrose.
“Be silent, Primrose. I’ll deal with this.” Petunia tightened her immaculate eyebrows. “You’ve nothing to gain by threatening us, girl.”
“Oh, really?” said Rosa. In a flash, she had snatched up Petunia’s bow tie. To her amusement, it was held in place by elastic. She pulled it as far from the neck as it would stretch. “This is my home. These books are my family. I’m not going to see your kind destroy them.”
“Not the tie,” Aunt Petunia begged.
“What’s she doing?” echoed Primrose. “What is the wicked girl doing with your tie?”
“Don’t make me let go of this,” Rosa warned. For good measure, she twisted it once.
“All right!” Aunt Petunia’s gray eyes bulged.
Rosa relaxed and let the tie sag back, only letting go when it was just off the neck. It snapped, making both Aunts gurgle. “I strongly advise you to speak the truth.”
“You were told the truth,” Aunt Petunia said. “We were sent to assess the building. That’s it.”
“You were sent to steal its auma. Why?”
“What use is all that auma here?” piped Primrose.
“Shut up, Primrose!”
“It’s all right for you,” the twin called out. “You’ve still got your shoes and socks.”
“Well?” said Rosa, threatening to play with the tie again.
“Primrose is right,” Petunia said. “This building is an untapped auma source. It has infinitely more than any other structure on Co:pern:ica. Its energy is wasted. The Aunts could put it to much better use.”
“One Aunt, you mean.”
Petunia wiggled her nose. “Are you implying something about Aunt Gwyneth?”
“You trust her?”
“Of course. She’s an Aunt Su:perior.”
“She’s a vile witch.”
“You —”
“Ah, ah.” Rosa wagged a warning finger.
Suddenly, Primrose started to sniff. “What’s that … GHASTLY smell?”
Rosa glanced over her shoulder at Azkiar. “I believe he’s just urinated on you, Aunt.”
“Ugh!” cried both the sisters at once. Aunt Petunia scraped her nails on the floor.
“Tell me about the pad,” said Rosa. Across the room, Aurielle was standing over the device, consumed in concentration. She kept picking up one of her feet now and then as if she were thinking of touching the screen. Despite the impact it had suffered from the throw, it was still blinking steadily.
Aunt Petunia sneered. “A simpleton like you couldn’t hope to understand the complexity of its functions.”
“Wrong answer,” said Rosa. She clicked her tongue.
“No!” Aunt Primrose wailed. Her heels beat a loud tattoo on the floor.
“All right, stop this!” Petunia growled. “I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
Rosa clicked again and Aleron backed off.
“The pad absorbs auma and stores it in cumulative energy cells.”
“Again, in Rosa-speak, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“It takes the power of each book and adds it to the last.”
“How many have you done?”
Aunt Petunia breathed in. “This room is almost complete.”
Rosa allowed herself a glance at the shelves. “What happens to the auma you’ve gathered?”
“That is for the Aunt Su:perior to decide.”
“I bet it is,” Rosa said, gritting her teeth. “Tell me how you reverse the process.”
“You can’t,” shouted Primrose.
“Be quiet, Primrose. I’m concentrating.”
There was something not right about that remark, but Rosa rather foolishly let it pass. “Is she lying?” she snarled. The woman stared deep into Rosa’s eyes, as if she were scanning her for some kind of weakness. “I said, is she lying?” Rosa demanded. And grasping not only the tie but the collar, she lifted Aunt Petunia’s head off the floor.
“No,” the Aunt snapped. “The books have only low-level consciousness. They’re not able to accept a contrary input. They would return as nonsense, a jumble of marks. I should warn you, girl, the pad is extremely dangerous. Think about that before you do something foolish.”
Rosa glanced at Aurielle again. The firebird was cautiously tapping the screen. “I’ll take my chances,” she said. “What can be done with the auma that’s stored?”
That stare again.
Rosa tightened her grip.
“It can only be transferred.”
“To what?”
“To anything — if you know what you’re doing.”
“What does Aunt Gwyneth want with it?”
Aunt Petunia closed her eyes.
“Answer me, you freak. What would she do with the auma from this building?”
Aunt Petunia’s eyes flickered open. Her face had a strangely confident look. “She’d use it to take control, I imagine. So the Aunts could rule over all Co:pern:ica, without being bound by limits — or the Higher.” She flicked her gaze sideways. From the direction of the window a voice said, “Rosa?”
“David?” Rosa gasped, and turned to look.
That was her undoing.
In the moment it took to realize she’d been tricked, Rosa’s hold on Aunt Petunia was gone. With a strength well beyond the composition of her body, the old woman shifted her weight and threw Rosa across the floor, into a space between two shelves. At exactly the same moment, guided by her twin’s tele:pathic impulse, Aunt Primrose raised her hands and stabbed her fingernails into the soft tissue under Azkiar’s beak. The red firebird squawked in rage. He lifted off and let out a bolt of fire. It missed Aunt Primrose (she’d been quick to roll away) but swallowed up one of the books. The book exploded in a shower of ceiling-high sparks, igniting a therma:sol sheet on the bed. Within seconds, the bed was a raft of fire.
Aurielle, watching this, had difficult choices. Azkiar wounded. Rosa winded. The threat of fire raging through the aerie, already too wild for three birds to contain. Rrrh! she cried urgently to Aleron. But the green firebird was already flying. With a whoosh he was through the window, away to bring help from the rest of the flock.
Suddenly, Aurielle found herself caged. The bars had simply appeared from nowhere. It took her just a fraction of a sec to realize it was a temporary construct, created by one of the Aunts. As such it had no control over her. But to be able to pass through it and therefore escape, she needed to lock her geo:centric sensors onto a stationary part of the image. Rather cleverly, the twins had made the bars revolve. And the cage itself was turning in the opposite direction from the bars. It was impossible to get a fix. Aurielle looked in hope at Azkiar. But he was likewise trapped. Aunt Primrose had made certain he would suffer by wrapping his head in a tight metal helmet that clamped his beak shut and clanked loudly every time he crashed against the bars.
Their only chance was Rosa. She was on her feet, clutching her ribs low down. In one hand she held the auma pad. She saw Aunt Petunia’s eyes flick to it. “Let the birds go or this gets toasted.”
Aunt Petunia smiled.
“I mean it,” Rosa shouted, finding it hard to breathe through the heat.
Aunt Primrose came to stand beside her sister. Behind them, a lick of flame roared up the wall, igniting another column of books. Eerily, they both held out a hand.
“Never,” said Rosa, and hurled the pad over them. It was half a sec away from hitting the bed when it stopped in midair and rose again. The twins had captured it, using their fain.
Rosa screamed and launched herself at them.
Sadly, her petulance was short-lived and foolish. Aunt Petunia, always the quicker of the pair, grasped the girl’s forearm and used her momentum to twist her to her knees. At the same time she gouged three sc
ars into her flesh, drawing up three hot streams of blood.
For Rosa, the pain was horrendous. Her mouth opened, but she fainted in absolute silence.
“Oh, dearest, how could you?” Primrose said. “Now you’ve got her blood on the ruff of your sleeve. You’ll have to imagineer a brand-new blouse.”
“Shall I finish her?”
The auma pad dropped into Primrose’s hands. “I think the fire will do that. Time we were going.”
Aunt Petunia let go of Rosa’s arm. The girl slumped to a heap on the floor. But just when it seemed that the balance of power was firmly with the Aunts, the auma pad started beeping loudly.
“What’s that?” said Petunia, focusing her irritated gaze on the device.
“I … I don’t understand,” her sister stammered.
“What don’t you understand?” Petunia said impatiently.
Aunt Primrose ran her thumbs across the screen. “The pad’s been set to discharge.”
“Impossible. Only an Aunt could know the encryption code for that.”
“I’m telling you, Petunia, it’s about to unload every shred of auma we’ve gathered. And I can’t override it.”
Aunt Petunia stiffened her spine. “Have you betrayed me, Primrose?”
“Of course not, Twin.”
“Then how has it been primed?”
“Dear, I don’t know.”
“Well, the girl couldn’t do it.”
“Then it has to be …” Both Aunts stared suspiciously at Aurielle.
“That’s ridiculous,” said Petunia. “Give it to me.” She made a move to snatch the pad from her sister’s grasp.
Primrose held it out to one side. “Why should you have it?”
“Because I’m senior.”
“One micro:sec between our births doesn’t make you any better than me!”