The blue flames, p.45
The Blue Flames, page 45
“Then why had she come? What did she want?”
He fell silent again, reluctant to continue. She took the moment to finish wrapping the bandage around his hand, then held it gently between both of hers.
“Please, don’t feel you must hold anything back for my sake. Even things I wouldn’t wish to hear.”
He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, but laced the fingers of his bandaged hand through hers and took a deep breath before answering.
“She said I don’t have much time left.”
Her face fell. “What? What did she mean?”
“The curse she put on my heart is catching up to me. I can’t recover as quickly as I once could. The pain lingers like it never did before. And today, for the first time in many long years, the Spektor escaped me. I couldn’t expel him.”
“But that might only be age. We all begin to feel such things when—”
“It isn’t age.”
“Well, then it’s lies! We know she is a liar! We know she will do or say anything to cause an uproar! She cannot be relied upon!”
“She doesn’t always lie,” Caradoc said, keeping his voice even-toned to calm her. “She acts according to how much pain she can cause. If lies hurt the most, then yes, she will lie. But if the truth will cause the most injury, she’ll use it. And after what happened this morning, I don’t think it was a lie. I felt . . . broken.”
Harriet shook her head. “No. I cannot believe it. I won’t. You’ve survived so much. Overcome what no others could. You will overcome this, too. I know it. Only you mustn’t give up hope.”
“I don’t say it’s hopeless. But we must face reality. If there’s even the smallest chance my time is truly limited, we can’t stay here waiting for Daniel. We have to get to Mastmarner, as soon as possible. And we can’t rely on the Key any longer to get us out of trouble. There’s no guarantee it would work properly.”
“But are you even well enough to make such a journey? What if that’s the very thing to put more strain on your heart than it can bear?”
“I’ll be careful. I can deal with the strain, all the aches and pains. What I can’t abide is the thought of leaving you alone out here.”
She dropped her gaze, fighting back tears. Her right hand continued holding his, but her left slipped into her coat pocket. “We . . . don’t have to go to Mastmarner.”
She held out the spyglasses. Caradoc looked at them in amazement. He took one and looked it over, hardly believing his eyes. “Saints above! Where did these come from?”
“A wolf, of all things,” she replied. “It came up to me last night wearing them around its neck. One of Mavie’s creatures, I think. I . . . I had meant to show you . . . as soon as you returned with the firewood.”
“This is wonderful!” Caradoc said, brightening. “We can summon home straight to us! They could be here in a matter of days!”
“Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t activate them sooner.”
“Well, that was my fault. If I hadn’t gone off and frightened you half to death—”
“No,” she interrupted, then dropped her gaze again. “No, that wasn’t it.”
He frowned, curious, but waited for her to answer without pressing.
“I’ve missed Riverfall. I do want to go home. But . . .” A look of anguish filled her eyes. “There’s also a part of me that can’t bear the thought of going back to the way things were.”
He sat forward and gripped her hand tighter. “Martin loves you, Harriet. So much that he can’t bring himself to imagine life without you. That’s why he’s so terrified the Spektors will come back for him. They did their best to drive you apart. Made him believe he didn’t deserve you, that he’s only fit to love you from a distance. He hides that pain in anger, but there’s no true contempt in it. Far from it. So don’t despair going back to him. Not for a moment. It may take a bit of time, but things will be better than ever before. I know it.” He lifted the spyglass. “So come on. Let’s send up these signals and go home.”
She wiped at a corner of her eye, then held up her own spyglass and tried to smile. It barely broke through the sorrow.
“Together,” she said.
He nodded with a smile of his own. “Together.”
Chapter 43
Goodbye
Six days later, Caradoc was chopping wood near the front of the house. His wounds had healed quickly, though Harriet still made him promise to take it slow with physical labor. There was the smallest twinge of an ache in his ribcage as he swung the axe, but it felt so good to be useful again that he did his best to ignore it.
Just as the last glow of dusk vanished, throwing a cloak of shadows across the foothills, he stuck the axe head into the stump with a final heave and bent to collect the scattered wood.
“Need any help?”
It was a young man’s voice—but not Daniel’s. Caradoc froze, wondering who might have found the safehouse, and how.
He turned. There was Evering with his hands in his pockets and grin on his face. Margaret stood a dozen steps behind him. With a cry of joy, Caradoc dropped the pile of wood and rushed forward, taking the young man in a tight embrace.
“Evering! Oh, thank God, you’re alive! And Margaret!”
“Good to see you too, Mr. Rawlings,” she said, approaching with a smile.
He turned to embrace her but still held Evering with one arm, unwilling to let go. Tears of joy shone in everyone’s eyes.
“Are you all right? Is everyone all right?” Caradoc asked.
“All right,” Margaret replied. “And you’ll be happy to know we picked up Simon a month ago. He was with his family in Mardale.”
“You must’ve been harder for the wolves to find, way back in these trees,” Evering said.
Caradoc grasped the young man’s shoulder. “Evering . . . I am so terribly sorry about your father. He deserved so much better. There’s not a day I don’t think of him. And you.”
Evering nodded. “It’s been . . . difficult. But I only have to take things one day at a time. Getting the rest of our family back together doesn’t hurt, either.”
Caradoc hugged him again. The front door of the house slammed open.
“Margaret! Evering!”
Harriet raced down the steps and flew into their waiting arms.
“Oh, thank God! Thank God! You’re really here!”
“We’re here,” Margaret said, laughing.
“Oh, you can’t begin to imagine how much we’ve missed you! Evering. Dear Evering. I’m so sorry. We’ve been utterly heartbroken for you. Abner was one of the best souls I ever knew. It was such a tragic thing to happen, and for you to suffer. I’m so sorry.”
“I appreciate that,” he said. “But at least things will be much better with the two of you home again.”
Margaret smiled at Harriet. “We got Simon back as well.”
“Oh, thank Heaven! How is he? How is everyone?”
“They’re all right,” Evering answered. “But Riverfall will be a bit different than you remember. A little worse for the wear.”
“We’ve had to start taking shifts in the pipeworks to keep everything together,” Margaret said. “It was our turn tonight. We didn’t even tell the others when we arrived over the signal. We just had to come down as soon as we could.”
“Was it Mavie’s plan to send the wolves?” Caradoc asked.
Evering nodded. “It was. Margaret went to speak with her at Mastmarner. The woman’s being watched by an army of Colonist-hunters but she still managed to devise a rescue plan for us right under their noses! There’s still two more wolves looking for the others.”
“God willing they’re found soon,” Harriet said.
“And that they’ve fared as well as you two.” Margaret reached for their hands and stood back to survey them. “I daresay you look even better than when you left for Harroway. Harriet, I adore what you’ve done with your hair. It’s very becoming.”
“Thank you.”
Evering grinned. “Martin’s gonna be over the moon to see you again. He’s had to stay up in the navigation room lately. With all the systems going to pieces, we start to drift if someone isn’t up there to keep us steady.”
“So much has happened,” Margaret said. “It’s going to take a week to tell you everything.”
“For us too,” Harriet replied, exchanging a knowing look with Caradoc. “But let’s worry about getting home first.”
“Right this way!” Evering said, starting off across the lawn. “The Drifter’s not far. We set it down just there at the edge of the tree line.”
“Wait!” Harriet called out, stopping everyone in their tracks. She glanced at Caradoc with an expression that was at once worried and determined. “We’re not leaving Annabelle and Bessie.”
Evering raised his eyebrows. “Who?”
“The horses,” Caradoc said. “Yes, of course. Drifter One is perfectly able to take them both aboard. Come on, Evering. Let’s load up their gear first.”
After the horses were saddled and their bridles put on, Caradoc and Evering carried as many supplies to the Drifter as it could reasonably hold. Margaret declared she had never seen prettier mares, and Evering pointed out the advantage of having them in the village to help with chores. There was a brief moment of concern when they remembered that most humans fainted after passing through a shroud enchantment for the first time, but Caradoc realized that since neither Oswald, Nyssa, nor any of the chickens had ever lost consciousness, it must not have the same effect on animals.
“Good,” Harriet said. “Then I want them taken up first.”
Evering stepped closer to Caradoc and lowered his voice. “Are they like her children or something?”
“Close enough,” he answered.
“We can do that,” Margaret said. “But there will only be room enough for two of us to go up with them.”
“Well, it ought to be you and me,” Evering replied. “Since we know right where Riverfall is. It’ll be quicker that way. Besides, they still need to pack their things.”
Harriet nodded. “That’s perfect. But don’t go up too quickly. And don’t frighten them with the burner. Maybe get them used to it a little before you start off.”
“Bessie is a little skittish at night,” Caradoc said. “Wearing that blanket calms her down, but keep a close watch on her all the same, and a hand on her reins if you can manage it.”
“We’ll manage it,” Evering answered.
Margaret gave Harriet another hug. “We’ll be careful. And we’ll be back as soon as we can. Within the hour. We promise.”
Once the Drifter was away, and they were reasonably assured the horses were taking it well, Harriet and Caradoc returned to the house to gather their things. Caradoc wrote a letter to Daniel explaining the situation, then left it where it was sure to be seen once he arrived. After packing, they swept out the rooms, put all the pots and pans away, doused the lanterns and hearths, and put the tarpaulin back over the old piano. When everything was done, Harriet sat on the steps of the front porch and rested her prized cane against her travel pack. Though they had only lived at the house for a few weeks, there wasn’t a corner of the place that didn’t have some memory attached to it. Closing it up felt like a kind of death—one that she’d long been dreading.
After Caradoc had showed her the basic principles of training the horses to take voice commands, she’d spent most of the past week trying to distract herself with the task, even well into the night. But she knew she couldn’t avoid the truth forever. A happy life she had lived was coming to an end, the countdown begun as soon as they’d pressed their thumbs to the spyglasses. From that time on, the house had been quieter. Less cheery and bright. It couldn’t have been otherwise, really. There was too much to think about. Too much to feel and to worry over, not least of all the Mistress’s dark prediction about Caradoc. Even taking Annabelle for rides through the valley had done little to lift her spirits. Her only hope was to think that returning home would soon restore all to rights. But even that no longer seemed a certainty.
“You forgot something.”
She turned to see Caradoc coming around the corner of the house. He carried the rifle she’d been using for target practice. A sad smile lifted the corner of her mouth as she took it.
“Won’t Martin be pleased to learn why I’ve been practicing.”
“He’ll understand. And he’ll be impressed to see how good you’ve become. Delia even more so. She’s the weapons expert.”
She set the rifle beside the cane. Caradoc hefted his own pack to the ground and leaned back against the porch railing. The night sky was full of stars. The moon had risen so large and bright that the shadows it cast through the trees made an intricate pattern of intertwining shapes across the frost-covered lawn.
“It feels strange, doesn’t it?” he said. “Now the moment is finally here.”
She nodded. “Like an entire lifetime is coming to an end. First it was slavers and bandit chiefs, and that horrid Madam Maxley. Then a terrifying wagon ride to the Boathouse. And you frightening me half to death—”
“Uh, I believe it was you who did that to me, Chief. With that iron poker of yours.”
A hint of a smile crossed her lips. “Then it was north through the terrible weather and treacherous roads. Full of dodgy inns and newspaper articles about us on every doorstep.”
“Then Sparrowhaven,” he continued. “With dear Beatrice Babbin and her vast treasure trove of secrets and revelations.”
“And Cora and Lucas. And baby Caroline. Then finally here, to a place that once looked as though it would fall down in the next storm.”
Caradoc cast his eye over the house and grounds they’d worked so hard to restore. “Sounds like two lifetimes to me.”
She drew in a quiet breath, trying to quell the rising dread in her heart. “Will you tell them what the Mistress said?”
He looked up at the stars and nodded. “I think I must.”
Tears pricked at her eyes. She glanced away and brushed a hand across them. “Why does it have to be so . . . desperately unfair? Not only the message itself, but that you must bear it alone. And I can’t . . .” She closed her eyes, letting the rest of the words fade into the night.
A breeze rushed over the trees. By the time the limbs and tops had grown still again, she could hear music in the distance—a cello and two violins giving life to a song, sweet and clear. It was the opening of the festival at the little village down the road. As she looked in its direction, a trio of fireworks sailed up over the trees and burst into colorful showers. The deep popping sounds echoed over the valley moments later. The strings played on, changing from a bright, merry tune to a slow and gentle waltz.
Caradoc stood from the railing. “These are Anne and Tom’s last few minutes, I think. They’ve been good to us. Served us well.”
“They have indeed,” Harriet replied, more downcast than ever. “In all things.”
He removed his hat, tapped it against his gloved left hand, then tossed it onto his pack.
“Almost all.”
He stepped in front of her and extended his hand. She frowned, confused but curious, and took it. He drew her off the steps, across the lawn, and into a patch of moonlight which shone like silver on the frozen ground. Once there, he moved closer, still holding her hand, and put an arm around her waist. She looked at him, stunned.
“You don’t dance.”
“No,” he said. “But Tom’s been wanting to for some time now.”
They began to dance. It was a ‘rocking statue’ waltz, full of the slow and subtle movements Chester so despised but Harriet loved. Her heart swelled until she thought it might burst. She relished every moment. Every step. Every measure of the music. Even the touch of his hand on her back and the feel of his shoulder beneath her hand.
And then, before she knew it, she had leaned into him, and he was resting his cheek against her brow. The warmth and tenderness of the moment scattered the darkness, easing every ache of pain and sorrow. She closed her eyes and relished the feeling, hoping to hold onto it for as long as possible, hardly daring to breathe for fear of breaking the spell. She no longer even noticed the chill winter air swirling around them.
“How long has it been for you?” she asked, barely speaking above a whisper.
There was a somber moment of silence before he answered.
“Nine years.”
A pang of grief flickered in her heart for him.
“What was she like?”
When he spoke again, his voice was even softer.
“She was lovely, too.”
She pulled back just far enough to look into his eyes. Fear and hesitation threatened to choke her words, but she willed them out with all the strength she could summon.
“There are . . . things I need to tell you. Things I’ve been wanting to say for a long time but never dared. And now I think I must, before it’s too late.”
“I know,” he said. “Me too. And we can say them, here and now. But this is where they must stay. Under this patch of sky, in the shadow of these mountains. When we step onto that Drifter we have to be Isaac and Harriet again. They have things to do. Different lives to live. Anne and Tom must stay behind.”
Her eyes grew wet before she could stop them.
“But they can go on living, long after we’ve gone,” he continued. “Right there in that house. And he can spend the rest of his life telling her what an honor and privilege it is to be married to her. That he treasures every hour, every moment. And that he hopes she’ll know nothing but happiness for the rest of her days.”
A tear spilled down her cheek. She slid her hand from his shoulder to his neck, nearly touching the side of his face. “And she would say that he fills her heart with joy, when it might have otherwise withered away. How grateful she is that he is always so good . . . so deeply kind to her. And how she would’ve brought him the sea if she could.”
