Too well to risk his life all over again. “You needn't come,” I said.
He ran a hand over his hair, making it pull loose around his ears, as if he were just the quiet, smiling boy who'd come to say Father was looking for me. Who'd offered to face Father with me. “I'm going with you, Liza. So there's no point in arguing, unless you want to waste time.”
“Do you even know where we're headed?”
“I assume you'll tell me on the way.”
Samuel came from the kitchen and handed us slices of brown bread thick with butter. Someone knocked at the door. I feared I'd find Caleb there and was relieved to see only Karin.
She smiled and took my hands. “There's no use telling you to be careful, Liza. You know that well enough. I'd offer warnings about Faerie, but I haven't been there since the War. I do not know what you'll find.
“Listen to your magic. That's the first thing I tell the children here. Don't fear it—but don't expect it to be safe, either. Don't expect it to be one thing or another at all. Magic is never simple. And it flows in both directions: a shape-shifter can return to human form, a healer can wound with her touch. Because I can draw trees to me, I can also push them away.”
I felt Caleb's metal disk beneath my sweater.
Karin's smile turned sadder. “I think that story is not mine to tell. Ask your mother when you find her.”
Matthew and I shouldered our packs. Outside, dawn was brightening to orange and light shone through scattered clouds. Karin and Samuel walked us to the Wall along a path made damp by last night's rain. Allie was nowhere in sight. I wondered if she was still angry at me for failing to make promises I didn't know I could keep.
Tallow was missing, too. I longed for her weight on my shoulders but said nothing. If I couldn't keep Matthew safe, at least I could protect Tallow. Allie would care for her well enough. She'd probably let the cat sleep on feather beds all she wanted.
At the Wall we stopped a moment more. Karin looked at me. She looked away before I could drop my gaze. “Stay to the path, don't travel at night if you can help it, and return when you can.”
“Let us know that you're safe,” Samuel said.
I nodded, not promising, not refusing to promise. I turned from them, and I stepped through the Wall's parting branches.
A moment later Matthew emerged beside me. The dirt path continued beneath our feet, just as it did on the map, so we walked on. Matthew limped a little, but he matched my pace easily enough.
If any shadow followed us, the morning was too bright for us to see it. I took off my jacket and tied it around my waist. Forest soon surrounded us, tall oaks and hickory, but the path beneath our feet remained clear, with only bits of black rock poking through here and there. Blackberry and wild plum kept to the undergrowth. Ragweed and wild grape held close to the trees.
Beside me Matthew said, “Now, Liza, where exactly are we headed?” I looked at his face, pale as if after long illness, at the way his fair hair fell around his ears. He rubbed at his scarred wrist. That and his limp seemed to be the only things Caleb hadn't healed.
I should have felt uncomfortable, alone with Matthew on the path, but I realized I was glad of his company, for all that I'd have been gladder if he'd stayed safe. One of the oaks threw an acorn at us. It grazed my ear. “We're going to find my mother, like Karin said.” I picked up the acorn and flung it back into the forest.
“Good.” Matthew nodded, as if finding Mom made perfect sense, as if he wanted to find her, too. “Did you see Tara? Did your magic … show her to you somehow?”
“Is it really so clear?” I hadn't told anyone but Karin about my magic, but everyone else seemed to have figured it out on their own.
“I'm not stupid, Liza. I saw you grab at hot metal, at a knife's blade. Anyone could tell you saw something. And it's not as if you're the first person I've known with magic.”
He'd said that before. I'd assumed he meant his brother, or maybe Rebecca. But Samuel said all children had magic, and in his sleep Matthew had talked about protecting the others. “Who else?” I demanded. If anyone else in my town had magic, I'd have known, wouldn't I?
The wind picked up, carrying the scent of rain. “I made a promise,” Matthew said uneasily. “But perhaps one day I'll be released from it.”
Matthew ducked his head, and I knew I was right. The clouds thickened. I pulled on my jacket again. How much did my mother know? How much had
A butterfly flew across the road. Matthew held out his hand and it landed there. He stared at the iridescent wings as if debating whether to speak. “Before Tara left, she spoke to Gram. I didn't hear all of it. But Gram told her not to be stupid. Gram said there was nothing left for her to find. She said Tara wouldn't be welcome, even if there was. I don't know what Gram meant. You're not the only one they keep secrets from, Liza.” Matthew shrugged awkwardly and changed the subject. “The things you didn't see in the cooking pot and the knife. Did they tell you where Tara is?”
Smoke rose from the butterfly's wings. I drew out Caleb's disk and pointed. “She's beyond this Arch. In Faerie.”
The butterfly burst into flame, as butterflies often did. Matthew shook warm ash from his fingers. “Well, then, we'd better get walking,” he said, as if going to Faerie held no more danger than heading down to the river for water.
As we walked on, the clouds closed in and the sun disappeared behind puffs of charcoal. Matthew and I drew the cloaks from our packs. By midday rain began to fall, lightly at first, then harder.
Lightning flashed. A maple stretched toward the light. Thunder rumbled. Another flash of light. This time the bolt met one of the maple's branches. The tree seemed to draw the lightning into itself and to stand taller than the trees around it. Matthew and I ducked against the boom that followed, then walked faster, hunched against the rain and growing wind. Mud pulled at my boots. Water trickled in around the edges of my cloak.
A bluff rose to the west. Oaks and maples and elms all reached toward the rain, sighing happily as water soaked through their leaves and into their roots. The rain continued into late afternoon, then gave way to cold drizzle. The wind let up. I heard sounds that the wind and rain had hidden: the scrabbling of claws, the scream of some small rodent, low wails like a baby's cries.
Footsteps on the path behind us, squishing in the mud.
I slowed my pace and quieted my steps, listening. Matthew sniffed the air. The clouds grew thick around us, the road dark. It was still afternoon, but I couldn't tell how late.
“We should make camp,” I said.
Matthew nodded so quickly I knew he'd had the same thought. Whatever followed us, we'd do better with a fire at our feet and solid stone at our backs. We found a spot at the base of the bluff where the dirt road widened into a broad flat space. I set the tarp up against the bluff, fitting together the hollow metal poles Samuel had provided. Matthew gathered what dead wood he could find near the road, and beneath the shelter we coaxed a small fire from the dry undersides of the fuel. All the while the footsteps drew nearer and the sky grew darker. I untied the bow from my pack, stepped out from beneath the tarp, and nocked an arrow. Matthew moved to my side, his eyes flashing with each distant flicker of lightning.
A figure rounded the corner, cloak splattered with mud, a bundle wrapped in her arms. I drew the arrow back, then caught my breath as the figure looked up, lightning illuminating her features.
“No,” I whispered. She was supposed to be safe. Safe with Samuel and Caleb and Karin. Safe behind the Wall that her town had built to protect its children.
I set the bow aside as Allie stepped into the light of our fire. The bundle squirmed. Two damp ears poked out from beneath oiled leather. Allie reached out, handing the bundle to me.
“You forgot your cat,” she said.
