been since I’ve had a real cup of tea? I don’t remember. The scent almost makes me forget what I’m here for, so when Ms. Adelaide clears her throat, I have to force myself to look at her. “Oh. She said to ask you about the dzoonokwa.”
She frowns. “Why would she say that?” Her voice has lost its customary friendliness.
“Because they’re watching me.”
“How do you know?” She narrows her eyes. “You seen them in spirit?”
“No. I think they’re in the forest, just behind the cottage. Madda said to talk to you about them.”
Her teacup rattles on its saucer as she sets it down and looks out the window. “Good thing Helen’s off at the orchards this morning…” Her voice trails off. “Well, this changes plans.”
“Plans?”
“Yep. If the eyes are on you, sleeping alone isn’t such a good idea. I’ll stay with you tonight, to see what’s what. I’m no Madda, but I’ll do my best. Besides…” She smiles at me. “I killed a chicken and I baked a blackberry tart this morning. Chase them down with a glass of my parsnip wine and you’ll forget all about the eyes. I’ve got a few things to do here, and then I’ll bring them along this evening.”
“And Helen?”
Ms. Adelaide frowns at her teacup. “I’m not sure. She might need some time, see? Madda took her in after her stepdad kicked her out, and Helen-well, Helen needs a mother. Her own didn’t do a very good job.” Ms. Adelaide picks at a loose thread on the tablecloth. “I never had children-never wanted them at first, and by the time I did, it was too late. I guess if that’s what Helen needs me to be, I’ll be that, because you aren’t ready yet, Cass. Not for this. You got enough on your plate, don’t you think? Oh, and by the way, the Elders are meeting at the longhouse right now. Figured you’d want to know.”
“Thanks,” I say. I’m about to head out, but I stop and turn back. “Ms. Adelaide? Would you tell Helen…” I pause and draw a deep breath. “Would you tell her that she’s always welcome at the cottage?”
Ms. Adelaide smiles. “Sure, Cassandra. I sure will.”
The first time I entered the longhouse, I was summoned. This time, the watchmen salute me as if we have been friends for a very long time. They’re on my side, and they’ll back me if anything goes wrong.
The men are sitting on the benches in the great room, clustered around the fire. They don’t notice me at first. They’re bent over a map, pointing at this and at that, talking about rebuilding the outpost at the edge of the lost lands. It’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard. The land has made it clear that it doesn’t want us there.
Henry Crawford is the first to notice me standing in the doorway. He sits up and nods. “What can we do for you?”
I take a step forward. “The lost canoe-I want to know what’s being done about it.”
The rest of the men look at me as if they’re seeing a ghost. Good. They should fear me. Cross me, and I’ll dance those stories right out of the longhouse walls, line up the supernaturals and get them to dance too, right over these men who think they know what they’re about.
“We’re not doing anything,” the heavy-jowled man that I now recognize as Cedar’s father says. “Not the first time a canoe’s gone missing.”
“And if it had been Cedar in that canoe?” I say. “Would you be saying the same thing?”
“Look here,” Henry Crawford says, rising and coming to stand by my side, blocking the other men from my view. “I know you’ve had a hard time. You’ve gone through a lot. We haven’t forgotten-it’s just that other things have got to happen first.”
I look at him and the angry river on his face. Rage wells in my gut, and I only have one response for him. “No.”
He drops his voice. “You aren’t making this easy for yourself.”
I whisper back. “You aren’t either. You’ve forgotten I know those men had Plague. Have you told the other Elders that? That you’ve risked everyone’s life? And for what?”
He rocks back on his heels. “You were sick. Delusional.”
“Don’t you dare try that with me,” I spit. “I know. I stayed away. I waited until I was sure I wasn’t sick. But what about you? Did you tell the others from the boundary to quarantine themselves? To not go near anyone until you were sure? Did you hug your wife? Kiss your children?” I lean toward him. “What kind of man would do that? What kind of chief does that?” He takes a step back. “Help me bring Paul and Bran and those other men home, because they’re still alive. I’ve seen them. Please, help me.”
Henry Crawford doesn’t say another word. He just stares at me for a good long minute, turns, and goes back to the other men. They return to what they were doing, pointedly ignoring me as if to say,
A line has been drawn in the sand. A line that I have no fear of crossing.
As soon as I get back, I start making plans, beginning with laying out all the contents of Madda’s medicine kit on the table, making careful note of what’s missing, what’s depleted, what’s stale. Once that’s done, I head outside to the garden to replenish my stock. Bran and Paul might be hurt, or sick, or both. This time, I will be prepared. This time, I won’t fail.
I’m in the middle of picking lemon balm when someone says, “I heard you were back.”
I sit up so suddenly that my head spins. Avalon stands on the other side of a trellis, laughing at my reaction. “So, this place is yours, huh?” she says, rounding the end of the trellis to give me a curious smile. “Pretty lucky.”
“I’d hardly call it that.” Lucky that Madda’s dead? I wonder if Avalon is aware of what she’s saying.
She isn’t. She picks a daisy, tucks it behind her ear, and turns to regard the cottage. “Well, this should be fun.”
“Fun?” I peel off my work gloves and suck out a thorn that’s found its way through the stiff leather. “Not really. Just a lot of hard work.”
“Depends on how you look at it.” She whirls around, her skirt fanning out around her. “Are you hurt?”
I almost laugh, but catch myself. She means my hand, not the burns, or Paul, or Madda. What must it be like, I wonder, to only see the surface of things? “Just a scratch,” I say.
“Let me see.” She takes my hand into her own and examines the drop of blood, and then presses the flesh around it.
“Hey,” I say. “That hurts.”
She shrugs. “My father says that’s the only way to get the germs out. You’re not the only one who knows about healing, you know.”
“Right.” I pull my hand away. She’s up to something. “Come inside. I want to put some salve on this,” I say.
Avalon smiles, and I’m pretty sure those words are exactly what she wanted to hear.
She pokes around while I dig out a jar of salve, and as I dab some on my finger, she sidles up to the door to Madda’s bedroom and sets her hand on the knob.
“Don’t go in there,” I say.
“Why not?” Her smile is innocent and beguiling, but I can hear the challenge in her voice.
“Because.”
She shrugs as if she doesn’t care and turns to pick at a bundle of sage that sits on the hearth. “So, how is Cedar?”
“Cedar? I don’t know. Why?”
“No reason.” She puts the sage back and moves to inspect a basket of speedwell. “Grace was glad to hear you’re back.”
“I’m sure.”
“She’s been making me read to her, but I’m not a very good student.” Avalon flops down into the battered armchair in the corner. A cloud of dust frames her like a halo. “I mean, I like to read well enough but not those stories. And not to her. She has some strange ideas. She’s decided I’m her student.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Student? Of what?”
“Oh, this and that.” She yawns and stretches out. “I like it here. Maybe I should study with you instead. Madda was teaching me before you came.” She picks up a bundle of pennyroyal. “She said a tincture of this stuff can get rid of a baby. And other stuff can help you get one.”
