‘Me?’ Ivy was startled. ‘Why?’
The spriggan straightened, brushing the sweat-darkened hair from his brow. ‘Because,’ he said, ‘your mother sent me to find you. She’s alive, and safe. And if you let me go…I’ll take you to her.’ four
Ivy stood still, wide green eyes fixed on the spriggan. For a moment there was no sound except the slow drip of water down the Great Shaft and the creature’s laboured breathing. Then she said in a strangled voice, ‘You’re lying.’ She didn’t even know if spriggans could lie, but what other explanation could there be?
‘I’m not lying.’
‘Yes, you are.’ She spoke quickly, almost gabbling in her panic. She had to stop this before it got out of hand — before she was tempted to believe him. ‘You heard me say I was looking for my mother, and now you’re using that to try and trick me-’
‘Her name is Marigold.’
His quiet certainty shook her, but Ivy wasn’t about to give in. There were any number of ways he could have learned her mother’s name — including under torture. ‘Why would she send you to me?’ she demanded. ‘If my mother was alive, if she wanted to see me so badly, she’d come and see me herself.’
‘I didn’t ask about her motives. Marigold asked me to deliver a message to you, and I agreed because I owed her a debt, nothing more. If you want an explanation, you’ll have to ask for one when you see her.’ His look turned sly. ‘Unless you don’t want to see her.’
Ivy barely resisted the urge to hit him. ‘Of course I do,’ she snapped. ‘Or would, if I believed a single word of what you’ve told me. Where did you see my mother, then — in the bottom of your stewpot?’
‘Actually, it was in Truro.’ He paused and added with a hint of condescension, ‘That’s a human city and not a recipe, in case you were wondering. I don’t eat piskeys, even irritating ones.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ Ivy said, folding her arms so he wouldn’t see her hands shake. ‘My mother would never live with humans, not when she could be here with us. And even if she couldn’t come back to the Delve for some reason, she’d never make a bargain with a — a filthy, lying spriggan.’
She expected an angry retort, but the prisoner only pinched the bridge of his nose, as though she had given him a headache. Then he said with infinite weariness, ‘I don’t even know what a spriggan is.’
Ivy’s legs wobbled. ‘What? But then…what are you?’
‘A faery. What else?’
What else, indeed. Between the dirt and blood that smeared his body, the ragged clothes and unkempt hair, she would never have taken him for one of the so-called Fair Folk. Yet now that he mentioned it, he did look more like a faery than he ever had a spriggan…
‘Oh,’ she said faintly.
‘Marigold warned me to be careful about showing myself to anyone. She said your people had been living underground for a long time, and that they didn’t take kindly to strangers. But even so-’ He touched his injured arm and grimaced. ‘I wasn’t expecting quite this level of hostility.’
He sounded reasonable now, even sane. But Ivy wasn’t ready to let her guard down yet. ‘Is it broken?’ she asked.
‘Out of joint.’ He moved his hand, revealing the ugly swelling around the elbow. ‘Your brother seemed to think he could make me talk by trying to rip my arm off, but I can’t say it inspired me to much more than yelling.’
Ivy almost asked how he’d known Mica was her brother, but then she remembered: he’d seen the two of them arguing outside the Engine House. ‘So why didn’t you tell him you knew my mother?’ she asked.
‘Because I was too busy yelling, perhaps?’ He spoke mildly, but the words were tinged with sarcasm. ‘Not to mention fighting for my life.’
Even Ivy’s distrust couldn’t keep her from feeling a twinge of sympathy. Faeries might be deceitful and self- centred as the legends claimed, but the stranger was clearly in pain. Maybe that was why he’d been raving earlier.
‘Mica…doesn’t always think before he acts,’ she said, resisting a traitorous impulse to add, I’m sorry.
‘I got that impression, yes,’ said the faery dryly. ‘I don’t suppose you have some kind of magical healing elixir that would put my arm right?’
‘Not really,’ said Ivy. Yarrow’s herbs might ease the pain and bring down the swelling, but they wouldn’t solve the underlying problem. ‘And even if I did, don’t you think the Joan would notice that someone had healed you?’
‘I doubt it, unless she can see through rock.’ He jerked his head at the ceiling-high wall of rubble behind him. ‘She hasn’t bothered to look at me once since I woke up in here. And it seems she’s not planning to give me any food or water either, unless I start talking.’
Ivy was silent, troubled by the revelation. Did Betony really mean to starve the spriggan — or faery — until he confessed to killing Keeve? But what if he hadn’t?
‘I don’t know what you’ve heard about faeries,’ said the prisoner, ‘but if there’s one thing my people honour, it’s a bargain. Help me now, and I’ll do you a favour in return.’
‘Like you did for my mother?’ Ivy asked, moving a little closer. After all, he could hardly overpower her with only one working hand. ‘What exactly did you promise her, anyway?’
‘To tell you that she was alive, and wanted to see you,’ he said. ‘And if you were willing, to bring you back to Truro with me.’
Ivy had no idea how far away the city of Truro was. But she’d never heard Mica or any of the other hunters mention it, so it must be out of their usual range — at least a day’s journey on foot, if not more. How could she possibly travel so far from the Delve without anyone noticing that she was gone?
And yet, if her mother was truly alive…how could she not go?
She was still wrestling with the question when she noticed the stranger extending his injured arm towards her, wincing all the while. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked.
‘I told you. Help me, and I’ll help you. Just do as I say.’ He hesitated, then added with obvious reluctance, ‘Please.’
Ivy sighed. ‘What do you want me to do?’
‘Take my hand, and slide your other hand under my elbow.’
Suppressing her distaste, Ivy reached out and took his limp, white fingers in her own. She had half-expected to find his skin cold and slimy, as a spriggan’s ought to be — but his hand was warm, even feverish, in her grip. Gingerly she slipped her other hand beneath his swollen joint, feeling the dislocation. ‘What now?’ she asked.
‘Hold my elbow steady,’ said the prisoner between his teeth, ‘and pull my wrist towards you. Not too fast, but — aaaaah! ’ There was a sickening pop beneath Ivy’s palm and he staggered against her, gasping. But when he lifted his head again, the relief on his face was close to ecstasy.
‘You have my profound gratitude,’ he breathed, flexing his arm. ‘So does this mean we have a bargain?’
Ivy’s thoughts and feelings were in a tangle, and she had no idea how to reply. Had she really just helped one of her people’s oldest enemies? What would happen to her, if anyone found out? She sat down heavily on an outcropping. When she’d left the cavern looking for answers about her mother, she’d never imagined it would turn out like this. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what to do.’
‘Yes, you do.’ He dragged his chain across the floor and crouched beside her. ‘It’s perfectly simple. You get me out of here, and I take you to Marigold.’
He made it sound so easy. ‘But how would we get there? And when would we leave?’
‘As soon as you like, or near enough. As for how…’ He tapped a finger against his teeth. ‘It would be easiest to travel by magic, but you’ve never been to Truro before, so that won’t work. And you haven’t got wings, so…’ He shrugged. ‘I’ll just have to carry you on my back.’
‘ Carry me?’ asked Ivy, in baffled outrage. ‘I can walk perfectly well, in case you hadn’t noticed! What kind of-’
‘Of course you can walk. But you can’t fly, which is more to the point.’
‘And you expect me to believe that you can?’ Faery or not, he had no more wings than she did. Was the stranger mad after all, or did he really think she was that stupid? Disgusted, Ivy pushed herself to her feet. ‘I’ve had enough of this. I’m going to bed.’
‘Wait.’ His voice sharpened. ‘You can’t leave me here.’
‘I don’t see why not,’ Ivy said. ‘You’ve had your fun, and got your arm fixed into the bargain. What else do you need me for? Wait a few days, and you should be thin enough to slip out of that manacle and fly out of here.’
