back of her hand, and ran to catch up with Mica.
‘I can’t believe Aunt Betony just dismissed me like that.’ Mica paced around the cavern, kicking at the rug. ‘Cicely’s my sister; I should be the one to look for her. And I was the one who caught the spriggan in the first place. But from the way she was acting, you’d think it was my fault he’d escaped!’
Ivy sank into a chair, arms wrapped around her chest to hold the hurt inside. ‘I know,’ she said unevenly. ‘It’s not fair. You’re not to blame.’
‘I can’t understand how he got out of there,’ muttered Mica. ‘The iron was pure — I made sure of that. He couldn’t have got past that pile of rocks in the tunnel, and he couldn’t climb the shaft either, not without a rope…’
Apprehension stirred in Ivy. If she let him go on like this, it wouldn’t be long before he came to the obvious conclusion — that someone had deliberately helped the prisoner escape. ‘What are you going to do?’ she asked, to change the subject. ‘If Betony won’t let you go…’
‘She will. She’s got to.’ Mica flung himself onto the sofa across from her, fists clenched on his knees. ‘I know the surface as well as any hunter in the Delve. I’m not afraid of spriggans. And I won’t give up until I find Cicely, however long it takes. Who else can say that?’
I can, Ivy thought, but she didn’t dare say it. Not until she knew she could trust him. ‘But if she decides not to listen? What will you do then?’
His face creased with anguish. ‘What do you want me to say? That I’d disobey the Joan and Jack, break every rule in the Delve if I had to, just for a chance of finding Cicely again? You know I would. I know you would, too.’
Ivy’s eyes prickled, and she looked down at her lap. So Mica did understand how she felt, after all. If she could only explain to him that she’d felt the same way about finding their mother…
‘Then if someone told you that she was alive, and they knew where she was,’ she said, ‘then you’d do whatever it took to get to her? Even if — if everyone else said it was dangerous, and you shouldn’t go?’
‘Of course.’ His voice sharpened. ‘I’m not a coward. What are you getting at?’
She must be careful now, so very careful. If Mica guessed that Ivy had anything to do with Richard’s escape, he’d turn against her in a heartbeat. ‘I’ve heard stories,’ she said. ‘About our ancestors, and other magical folk. How some of them could change into the shapes of animals, or-’
His face twisted with revulsion. ‘You want me to try and turn myself into an animal?’
Ivy hadn’t even considered that possibility; she’d only meant to prepare him for the shock of seeing her change into swift-form. But perhaps it was a good thing he’d misunderstood. ‘Is that so bad?’ she asked.
‘Of course it is!’ He flung himself to his feet and began to pace again. ‘If you’d ever seen a wild animal, let alone hunted one-’
‘I don’t understand.’
Mica made an exasperated noise and raked his fingers through his hair. ‘Look, it’s common sense. Piskeys have a special relationship with animals — you know that much?’
Ivy nodded.
‘Well, when we become hunters, we swear to help any sick or injured creature we find, and never kill any animal for sport. But they’re still animals, and we still have to eat. If we started turning ourselves into them, how could we hunt them? That’s why it’s forbidden.’
‘Who says so?’ asked Ivy. ‘I’ve never heard such a thing. And anyway, animals eat each other all the time. Maybe you wouldn’t want to kill the exact kind of animal you become, but-’
Mica cut her off. ‘It’s not just a bad idea, it’s against our nature. We piskeys are solid like the earth, not changeable like air or water. That’s how we’ve survived all these centuries.’
That sounded like something Aunt Betony would say, though it made no sense to Ivy. If shape-changing was impossible for piskeys, then why bother forbidding them to do it? ‘But the droll-teller said that our ancestors used to change shape sometimes,’ she protested. ‘And some faeries still-’
‘Faeries!’ Her brother’s mouth worked as though he were about to spit. ‘We don’t go near their kind. Why should I want to do anything they do?’
‘Because,’ said Ivy, controlling her impatience with an effort, ‘if you could turn yourself into a bird and fly over the countryside instead of having to search on foot, you might have a better chance of finding Cicely.’
Mica gave a harsh laugh. ‘A bird! Do you have any idea-’ Then he stopped and repeated softly, ‘A bird,’ as though it were a revelation.
Had he finally understood what Ivy was saying? It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him he was wrong about piskeys not being able to change — or even prove it, by transforming into a swift before his eyes. Maybe then he’d realise how foolish it was to cling to some old hunters’ superstition, and let her help him look for Cicely.
‘So that’s how he did it,’ Mica went on, gazing past Ivy as though entranced. ‘I wouldn’t have thought he could, but maybe…’
‘Mica?’ asked Ivy, wary now. ‘What are you talking about?’
He focused on her, eyes alight with fervour. ‘I know how the spriggan got out,’ he said. ‘And I know how to catch him, too.’
‘What? How?’
‘Never mind that. This is hunter business. I’m going to talk to Gossan.’ He started towards the door, then paused and turned back. ‘But if I were you, I’d forget all that dross about shape-changing. If the Joan knew you’d even suggested it…’ He gave her a bleak smile. ‘Trust me. You don’t want to know what she’d do.’
When Mica had gone, Ivy slumped in her chair, feeling more drained than ever. For one brief shining moment she’d dared to believe that she might not be alone after all, that she and Mica could put aside their differences and work together. And that if she explained it carefully enough, he might even understand why she’d gone outside the Delve and learned to change shape — because she’d truly believed it was the only way to find their mother.
But she’d been wrong, more wrong than she’d ever imagined. Because shape-changing wasn’t merely unusual, it was forbidden. And if Mica saw Ivy turn into a swift, he wouldn’t just be surprised — he’d be horrified.
And now she’d put Richard in danger, too. She’d never meant Mica to guess that the so-called spriggan could become a bird, much less use that knowledge to trap him again. Now he’d come up with a plan — a plan that might even work — and she had no idea what it was or how to stop it. All she could do was tell Richard what had happened, and urge him to be on his guard.
But how could she, without giving herself away? The whole Delve was buzzing with the news of Cicely’s disappearance, and there’d be searchers going in and out of the Earthenbore all day — not to mention plenty of friends and neighbours coming by to offer Ivy their sympathies. Getting up to the surface would be impossible until tonight at the earliest, and it wouldn’t be easy even then.
A knock at the door startled Ivy from reverie. She got up and opened it, to find Mattock standing there with a basket of flat cakes in one hand and a bottle of cream in the other. ‘My mum sent these for you,’ he said.
‘Did she make the hevva cakes or did you?’ asked Ivy, and he blushed. A few years ago Mica had caught Mattock helping his mother make saffron buns and had never let him forget it. ‘It’s kind of you,’ she added, managing a smile. ‘We’ll have them for tea, if Mica’s back by then.’
‘He’s not here?’ asked Mattock. ‘I’d have thought…well, with everything going on, I expected you’d be together.’
‘Mica doesn’t like brooding over bad things,’ said Ivy. ‘He’d rather be doing something about them. Right now, he thinks he’s figured out a way to catch the spriggan and get Cicely back before-’
Her throat closed up, and she couldn’t finish the sentence. She took the bottle and basket from Mattock’s hands and turned away before her face betrayed her as well.
He followed her to the kitchen, his big frame looming over her as she set the gifts down. She could feel his warmth like a solid wall against her back as he said quietly, ‘Ivy.’
‘I’m not crying.’ She ground the words between her teeth. ‘Cicely is alive, and I’m going to find her, so there’s nothing to cry about.’
‘ You’re going to find her? How?’
Ivy wanted to beat her head against the table and curse her own stupidity, but she managed to force a laugh. ‘I mean we are. All of us. Working together. Each in our own way.’
And now she was babbling. Why wouldn’t Mattock leave her alone? Surely he could tell she didn’t want
