nasty old woman did no more than snatch up a book, tear out several pages and stuff the gaps at the window with crumpled paper. Rosa ran from the room in tears, the Aunts’ laughter chasing her through the building.
In time, the twins did tire of such cruelty and began to leave Rosa to her own devices. She could be alone, she was told, but she could not hide. This she knew all too well, of course. She remembered the ease with which Aunt Gwyneth had tracked her down on Floor 42.
Oh, Floor 42. On several occasions, Rosa had stood outside the door there, trying in vain to replicate the dragontongue David had used to open it. If
there was any kind of sanctuary from this madness it was going to be found higher up the building, surely? But the door just would not open for her. And fearful that the Aunts would catch her there and quiz her and maybe breach the upper floors themselves (the idea simply mortified her), she gave up and confined herself to her own company. Hours she spent, barefoot in a window recess, knees drawn up to her graceful chin, staring helplessly at the horizon, always wondering if she dared run away, not knowing where she would go to if she did, knowing in her heart that the building needed her, remembering her happiness when she was twelve, remembering Mr Henry and the undemanding joy of ordering the books, remembering the rain that had ceased to
fall ever since David had gone away.
She tried very hard not to think about
David.
It truly was a miserable time,compounded by the feeling that even Runcey had deserted her. She had not seenthe lovely green firebird for days and hadstarted to wonder if the birds had actuallyabandoned the eyrie following the death of Mr Henry. But this was not so. Unbeknown to Rosa, Runcey
had
been tosee her. What’s more, he had not comealone. Aleron (to give him his propername), along with Aurielle and the grumpy Azkiar, had visited her hammock one nightduring sleep. They were there to verify Azkiar’s claim that an image of Rosa wasstitched on the
Tapestry of Isenfier
.
By the light of the strong Co:pern:ican
moon, they had examined and measured and recorded her face. When Aurielle saw
the changes in Rosa, she was stunned. Yet, she was not convinced. For of the two
humans shown on that part of the tapestry, the woman’s features were the harder to distinguish. In the picture, ‘David and Rosa’ were kneeling and he was holding her head to his chest, protecting her from the Shadow of Ix. Only half the woman’s face could truly be seen. But the hair, the eyes, the shape of the head, the long slender arms. It did look a positive match. There was only one problem.
The mark
, Aurielle said to the other two birds.
She doesn’t have the sign of Agawin on her
arm
. In the tapestry, the three-lined mark (the one Rosa had discovered in the dragon book) was clearly visible on the
girl’s arm. It was one of the most potent signs on the whole picture. For it not to be present on Rosa’s skin left serious holes in Azkiar’s theory. Azkiar puffed his feathers out and said Aurielle was simply making excuses. The humans had got through the door, he reminded her. But Aurielle refused to be swayed.
The girl was inconclusive
, she said.
The only way to be sure was to check on the grown-up David as well
.
But that would not be easy now that David had left. Yes, they could seek himout well enough; few humans (construct orreal) possessed an auma trail like his. Butif they went to him, together, in a less
secure environment, it might cause problems. Aurielle drummed her claws in
annoyance.
Why
, she wanted to know,
had
the boy been dismissed from the building in the first place when the books had clearly warmed to him so?
Aleron, who’d been carefully observing the situation downstairs, said it was the work of Aunts, two of whom had been installed in place of the old curator. Azkiar made a sound
like Aurielle’s knee joints. He didn’t like Aunts. He’d crossed paths with them before.
They’re going to be trouble
, he said. Aurielle, looking at the moon through Rosa’s window, agreed. Over the last few days it had not been difficult to sense a decline in the general intensity of auma in the eyrie. Some of it was due to the loss of the curator, though his spirit still floated over the daisies. But there was also a crippling moodiness present that seemed to be leeching right out of the stones. And
in all this time, the rain had not fallen. And that was very wrong indeed.
Aurielle folded her wings and assessed the situation. A mysterious time shift, two intriguing humans, and an egg that was not of the firebirds’ making. And still no one had seen Aubrey. She glanced at the sleeping Rosa. And here was plausible evidence that the story of the Isenfier tapestry was unfolding. Something must be done. Guidance must be sought. There was nothing else for it.
She must speak with the Higher.
11
Up a hundred floors she flew that night. Ahundred? Well, that was just a tokennumber. No firebird had ever really takenthe trouble to measure how many floorsthere were between the designated cut-offpoint for humans and the great glass domeat the top of the librarium. The countwould not have meant much anyway. Forto reach the roof (and this is what humansdid not understand) it was not so much aquestion of how far one travelled, more ofhow much one needed to get there.
So it came to pass that after
some
time, Aurielle set down on the circular balconythat ran around the whole circumferenceof the dome. The dome was surrounded by
thick cloud, as always, but the air was calm with no hint of a chill. This close in, it was easy to spot an open window, which was the only requirement necessary for a firebird to gain entry. Aurielle selected one and flew straight in, pulling it to as tradition dictated. (Such an annoying task when all you had was feet!) But it was the custom and that was all that mattered. Before she’d finished fixing the latch, a hushed voice swept into the centre of her mind. “Hello, Aurielle,” it said.
It always made her feathers shake, the nature of that voice. Despite the dizzy height she was at, there was nothing particularly ‘lofty’ about it. It was gentle and caring and really rather welcoming. She had tried to describe it to Azkiar once
(who had always shied away from coming
up here for fear that he’d pass out in the watery air and kill a thousand daisies in his plummet back to ground).
Like a wind from another world
, she called it, because no matter where she hovered or
tumbled or flew she could always hear the voice, all around her, like a whisper.
Yet she had never seen what produced
it.
(
That
, she suspected, was the
real
reason Azkiar never went near the roof.)
Apart from the billions of tiny fire stars that twinkled on and off, off and on, in the dome, only once had Aurielle seen
anything
here. Strangely, that had been on the last occasion when she’d gone to report on the time rift the firebirds had sealed above David. As she’d entered
through her chosen window, she had seen
what she’d thought was a length of ribbon, twisting and curling in the glittering space. But when she’d followed its movements closely, she had seen that it was, in fact, some kind of object, shaped like a slender tube. The only thing she could equate it to was a fragment of bone. It was half the span of her knees to her toes and etched with a number of unusual marks. As it
twizzled it produced three uniform contrails, which eerily reminded her of the ancient symbol that opened the door to Floor 43. But what would a piece of
bone
be doing here? She had asked herself that many times of late. It made no sense. No sense at all.
She was thinking of this when the voiceof the Higher invited her to join them. Spreading her glorious cream-coloured
wings, she closed her eyes and launched herself towards the stars, into the sensory matrix the Higher called the ‘Is’. To be in the Is was just like flying without wings. (In fact, spreading her wings had no effect on her movements, it simply felt more natural to do it.) She knew she would never fall within the Is, but simply float where the power of the Higher wished to take her. The more she let go of what she knew about flight, the better the experience became.
In the Is, there was no need for speech (though the movement of the mouth, like the movement of the wings, always felt more appropriate). All Aurielle had to do to communicate was
be
. For the Higher knew precisely what was in her mind from the very first moment she entered the
dome. They knew what she’d discovered on the floors downstairs. They knew of her concerns about the future of the books. They acknowledged her excitement about the
Tapestry of Isenfier
. And in that one full moment of knowing, they also considered all the probable outcomes which might arise from those discoveries and concerns. And this is how they responded to her: “Aurielle, what will be,
will
be.”
With a whoosh, they swept her to thetop of the dome as her concentrationlapsed into fragments of worry. “Do notbe concerned by these developments,”they soothed her. “The Higher will alwaysseek order in the eyrie. When there isorder in the eyrie, there is order in theworld. Whatever actions you take to aid
our task will always be correct. This is a result of your purity of spirit.”
“There was a time shift,” she commingled, relaxing a little.
The Higher let her spiral down within the Is. “We are aware of this,” they said. “You were not at fault. We allowed it to
happen.”
Aurielle felt herself roll. “May I know why?”
There was a pause. They let her glide for a moment. “Isenfier is upon us,” they said.
Whoosh! That made poor Aurielleplummet as her mind grew heavy with adaisy field of questions. Once again the Iswas there to support her. As she calmed,she rose again.
“She is coming,” they said.
“She?” said Aurielle.
“You are tending Her closely.”
The egg on the table.
“Yes,” said the Higher, reading her thoughts. “She will lead you to Isenfier. David will prepare the way.”
“Then it’s him?” said Aurielle, thinking of the tapestry.
“Aurielle, you always knew,” they said.
Aurielle gulped. She found herself floating motionless now. Yes, in her heart, she had always believed that the boy was special. Trust your intuitions, the Higher had always taught her. Intuitions, they said, were the future calling.
Daringly, she opened her eyes. The strange fragment of bone was dancing about her, looping her body in figures of eight, wrapping her in its lengthy trails.
The sun was shining through a parting inthe clouds, making all the fire stars dance. And the rain was falling. The
rain
wasback, making a rainbow over the dome. Suddenly, Aurielle knew what she mustdo. “I must find him,” she said. “I mustdrive out the Aunts and bring Davidback.”
“He will be the new curator,” they said.
The rainbow illuminated Aurielle’sheart. She soared. Courage flooded herbreast. She would need it, for the Higher’snext words were a caution: “We have onlyone warning.”
Oh. Aurielle faltered a little.
“Beware the thread,” they whispered.
Thread?
she commingled.
“Of time,” they said. “The thread oftime.”
Aurielle twizzled her ear tufts a little. “But the birds are the guardians of time,”she said. Hadn’t this always been so?
“That is your vulnerability,” theywarned her. “But only She can decide thefinal outcome.”
She. There was a pause. The fire starsblinked. “Is She like us? A bird – from anegg?”
“She is what you see on the tapestry,”they said.
A girl, dressed in white.
“Yes,” said the Higher.
“And you?” Aurielle asked ratherboldly. She had floated this question inher mind many times and the Higher hadalways let it do that – float. Now, Auriellepressed for an answer. At last the Higherreplied.
“We are Fain,” they said.
Aurielle drew a breath and looked all
about her. Pure fain? No physical body?
“We are everything – and no thing,” the Higher whispered.
The piece of bone twizzled as it whipped past her face. It was starting to make her go cross-eyed now. “This is
s ome
thing
,” she gulped. But what exactly?
The Higher paused before replying. “This is your possible future,” they said.
“My… ?”
I’m going to be a piece of bone?
she thought.