at least now she knew she could visit the upper world without getting caught by spriggans or blundering into some unforeseen disaster, so perhaps tomorrow…
Something dark flashed across her vision, and instinctively she whirled to follow it. A little bird with wings like a bent bow, body tampering smoothly to a two-pronged fork of a tail. It swooped over the valley, moving so fast that Ivy’s eyes barely had time to focus before it was out of sight.
Swee-ree, swee-ree, swee-ree, came its song from the distance, a piercing call that plucked at Ivy’s heart. ‘Wait!’ she cried. ‘Come back!’
And to her amazement, it did. Rounding the treetops, it soared towards her and flew a circle above her head, bright eyes watching her all the while. She’d heard that piskeys had a special rapport with animals, but she’d thought that was something only hunters did. She’d never guessed that she could do it, too.
‘What are you?’ she asked, her voice soft with wonder. The bird didn’t answer, of course, but it dipped a little lower. And then a second bird of the same kind came flashing across the hillside to join it, and the two of them chased each other in dizzying spirals across the sky.
It was like magic, and music, and dancing, all at once. And as Ivy’s heart soared with them she knew, as surely as she knew her own name, that this was the bird she wanted to be.
‘Are you sure?’ asked the faery that night, tearing a piece off the loaf Ivy had brought him. ‘Small, forked tail, dark all over? And it stayed aloft the whole time, without coming to land?’
Ivy nodded. She’d stayed as long as she dared studying the little birds, so late that she’d nearly bumped into Mica and Mattock coming back from their trip to Redruth. A quick invisibility spell had protected her, but she still felt sick every time she thought about how close she’d come to being caught. ‘So what kind of bird is it?’ she asked. ‘Does it have a name?’
‘It’s a swift. They’re not resident birds. They winter in Africa and stay here only four or five months of the year. You’re certain that’s the one?’
‘Why do you keep asking me that?’ asked Ivy. ‘I thought you’d be pleased. If I fly then so do you, remember?’
‘Believe me,’ said the prisoner, ‘I haven’t forgotten for an instant.’ He chewed another mouthful before going on, ‘It’s just a bit unusual. I’ve never met anyone who shaped a swift before. So are you ready for the next step?’
‘Of course,’ said Ivy.
‘Then tell me. What do swifts eat?’
‘I’m…not sure. Insects?’
‘Well, you’d better find out, because you’re going to be eating it yourself.’ His gaze held hers, relentless. ‘How does a swift drink? Where does it sleep? How long can it fly, how high, how far? What predators does it fear, and how does it avoid them? How does it behave around other swifts?’
She had no answers for any of those. ‘Why does any of that matter?’ she asked. ‘All I want to do is fly.’
‘Because,’ he said, ‘swifts are communal birds. If you don’t behave like a proper swift the other swifts will sense it, and instead of welcoming you into their midst, they’ll attack. Predators will notice too, and come after you because you’re easy prey. At best you could be driven miles off course, or end up injured and never reach your destination. Do you want to take that chance?’
Ivy blew out a frustrated breath. ‘But I don’t know how to find out all of that,’ she said. ‘I can’t spend all day chasing swifts around the countryside-’
‘Then find out as much as you can. But there’s no way you’re going to be able to turn yourself into a swift until you know a lot more about them than you do right now.’
It wasn’t what she’d wanted to hear. But he had no reason to lie about it, especially with his own freedom at stake. So she nodded, and held out her hand for the water bottle.
‘You’re going already?’
‘Why not? What else do we have to talk about?’
His mouth flattened. ‘What indeed.’ He handed her the bottle and turned away.
‘Richard…’ began Ivy, then faltered as he shot her an incredulous look. ‘You mean that isn’t your name?’
The prisoner started to laugh, a dry and horrible laughter like bones clattering down a mineshaft. ‘ I am justly served with mine own treachery,’ he gasped.
Disturbed, Ivy started to back away, but he held up a hand. ‘No, don’t run. I’m not angry with you. Richard… ’ He rolled the two syllables around in his mouth. ‘Why not? It’s as good a name as any.’
But not his usual name, obviously. ‘So what do the other faeries call you, then?’
‘It doesn’t matter. Richard will do.’ He stretched his arms above his head and yawned. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to sleep.’
Ivy’s gaze travelled across the back of the cavern, taking in the rough-hewn floor without so much as a heap of straw to soften it, the chain that restricted the prisoner’s movements to no more than two small steps in any direction, the iron band clamped around his ankle. Not to mention the acrid stench from the corner — if it was unpleasant now, in another day or two it would be unbearable.
Yet she didn’t dare do anything more to help him, not yet. Bringing him food and water was risky enough.
‘Good night, Richard,’ Ivy said quietly, and left.
‘You’re awfully brown,’ said Cicely in a tone that was half puzzlement, half admiration. ‘Have you been rubbing something into your skin?’
Ivy looked up from the water-channel, the wash-cloth still in her hand. ‘I…no, I haven’t,’ she said, too flustered to think of a better answer. She’d returned from her second trip to the surface in plenty of time, and taken care to brush off her clothes and comb her wind-blown curls. But she’d never realised what all that sunlight had done to her complexion. ‘Why would I want to do that?’
Cicely blushed. ‘I…I thought you might be trying to make yourself look pretty. Not that you aren’t — I mean, I know you don’t usually fuss about that sort of thing, but you’ve been away from the cavern a lot these last few days and Jenny said — I mean, I was wondering-’
‘Jenny said what, exactly?’ Ivy dropped the cloth and put her hands on her hips. ‘And when did the two of you start talking about me behind my back?’
‘It wasn’t like that!’ said Cicely, indignant now. ‘I was feeding the chickens when Jenny came to get some eggs, and she asked me where you were and I said you were at home, and she said you weren’t because she’d knocked and got no answer, and then she said she hadn’t seen Mattock either and maybe…’
So Jenny thought she and Mattock were sweethearts, sneaking away together. Well, Ivy couldn’t blame her for that, even though the idea was laughable — not only because Matt was Mica’s best friend and Mica would probably thump him for even considering it, but what piskey-boy would want a mate with no wings?
‘I’m not prettying myself up for Matt, if that’s what you’re asking,’ Ivy said. ‘I’ve been…working on something.’
Cicely’s face lit with excitement. ‘Is it a surprise? Will I get to see it when it’s done?’
For one wild moment Ivy was tempted to tell her the truth. Keeping secrets was a lonely business, and Marigold was Cicely’s mother too. But then she’d have to explain about her night-time visits to Richard, and that was too much dangerous knowledge for any ten-year-old to carry.
No, it was too soon. Better to leave it until she’d learned to fly, until she’d found Marigold. There would be plenty of time to share the good news with Cicely and Mica then.
‘Maybe,’ she said, smiling at her sister. ‘Wait and see.’
‘I’m ready,’ Ivy told Richard as she dropped to the floor of his cell. ‘And I’ve brought your supper.’
Richard’s lips moved, but only a croak came out. He had to take a long draught from Ivy’s water bottle before he could speak. ‘Lovely,’ he rasped, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. ‘I trust you’ve been enjoying plenty of sunshine on my behalf.’
Ivy took a loaf from her pack and set it down beside him, along with a hunk of cheese she’d saved from her own supper. ‘Ask me what I know about swifts,’ she said. ‘Anything you like.’
‘I’ll take your word for it,’ said Richard. ‘Why don’t you ask me some of the things you don’t know?’
That was better than Ivy had expected. In truth she knew the answers to fewer than half of the questions he’d originally asked her, but she couldn’t think how to learn more on short notice. ‘Do they ever land?’ she asked. She’d watched a swift skimming over a river to scoop up water with its beak, and seen another snatching insects
