The Witch's Daughter (Lamb & Castle Book 1) (9 page)

Again, Amelia shook her head, her eyes wide and her imagination at work. “Will… will I ever see a Flying City?” Recovering from the shock of their flight, the marvel of the sleek skyship and its brilliant yellow sails remained burned into her mind. She had to admit a certain curiosity as to what a Flying City might be like.

Her tentative enthusiasm took Meg by surprise, but then the older woman smiled and patted her hand. “That’s my girl. We’ll find you a Flying City to visit, if not along the way, then after…” she tailed off, and the reminder of their quest poured cold water on Amelia’s newfound keenness for adventuring.

“Where are we going to now?” asked Harold. “There’s nobody to drive the snails.”

Meg waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, they’ve enough sense to go in a straight line, at least.”

As the smothering weight of water plunged them deeper into darkness, the only light came from Stupid the fire sprite, casting an ever bluer light as he became more and more anxious.

“Everybody take a deep breath,” Meg warned as she grasped the cord for the staircase, and hesitated a moment before yanking it down. A cool draft washed down into the hot crowded parlour, but no more than a few drops of water dripped from the edges of the hatch. The water that had swamped their feet had drained away to who knew where, leaving behind a layer of silt on the legs of the furniture and the bedraggled wet rug.

“Well that’s a relief,” said Meg. “I was afraid the spells at the top might not hold, but that buys us a little more time.”

Amelia felt she’d better speak up, as much as she didn’t honestly want to know. “How
much
time?”

Meg looked as reluctant to answer as Amelia had been to ask. “Suffice to say, Mimi and Tallulah can stay submerged for months if they’ve a mind to.
We
can’t.”

“How long?” Amelia asked again.

Meg looked cross. “A few hours. More if we can all keep our heads. Less if anybody panics.”

“And the snails will take us to shore before that?”

“Mimi and Tallulah aren’t stupid. They know to come up when the coast is clear.”

Amelia nodded, satisfied that Meg was telling the truth. The witch might be brusque, even blunt to the point of rudeness, but Amelia trusted that she was at least not the deceptive type. And Father trusted her… She looked out of the porthole again, but no light breached the darkness all around and above them. The shadow of the skyship had vanished from the watery heavens long ago, and she believed that it would be difficult for the Black Queen to guess where the snailcastletank might resurface. Amelia only wished
she
had some idea of where they might come up, and what would happen when they did. If the skyship found them again – and it would probably be more a matter of ‘when’ than ‘if’ – she knew the snailcastletank would have little chance of outrunning it a second time. She looked up to find Meg staring at her oddly.

“Come on, dear,” said Meg, briskly. “About time you had another magic lesson.” She’d given Amelia a book of spells and found a few opportunities along the way for her to learn one or two, although they were scarcely more than parlour tricks. Amelia took out the set of rings that Meg had given her, placing them on the correct fingers without help, and slipped on the bracelets while Meg took off her own rings and placed a cold cup of tea in the middle of the table. The rings fitted well and looked quite pretty, although Meg wouldn’t let her wear them except during lessons. “Now pay close attention, Amelia: this is a small space to make a mess in.”

Meg took her time in showing Amelia the gestures without rings – subtle, fluid, and gentle – and when it was her turn, Amelia drew a deep breath to steady her nerves. Soon, as she performed the spell, the tea in the cup began to bubble and spit.

“Slower, Amelia,” Meg warned, her voice low, and Amelia blushed, aware of Harold watching in silent awe. The light in the living room grew gradually, almost imperceptibly brighter, and the cup began to rattle. Amelia pulled away with a little shriek as the snailcastletank broke the surface of the water, and the cup jumped so violently it overturned and spilled steaming hot tea all over the table. Rivers of seawater dribbled down the sides of the snailcastletank, over the windows, and bright sunshine shone in.

Meg grinned as she threw the hatch to the driver’s seat open and took a deep breath of fresh air. “There, I knew you could do it. You’ll get us there yet, won’t you, my good girls!”

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Meg,” said Percival. “We were lucky once, throwing the Black Queen off at the shore. We can’t count on such luck in the future.” The snails were simply too slow, incapable of outrunning the skyship over any distance, and they all knew it.

To their surprise, Meg only sighed and said, “You’re right. I’d hoped we’d get away with it, but we have to reach the finish line before the Black Queen.”

“More to the point, I don’t enjoy being shot at,” Percival persisted. “Meg? What are you going to do about this?”

“All right, Perce, don’t push it. I’m thinking.” She climbed out onto the driver’s seat and jumped down, walking briskly alongside the snails a while. They re-joined a road, white chalk winding through the green of the countryside, and Meg paused at a signpost. “Little Whittingby. Left please, ladies,” she called out, raising her arms and waving the snails down the left hand of the fork in the road. “We’re not too far off course, and I think there’s a node twenty miles or so north of here.”

“A node?”

“A place where leylines meet. A place of great magical power, where Flying Cities dock, and traders from all over the world gather. We’ll get ourselves a skyship there.”

~

Most nodes had towns or cities grow up around them, fed by the constant flow of trade, but Little Whittingby was one of the smaller ones. Perhaps the locals had longer memories than in other places, and feared setting up permanent habitation for thousands in the shadow of the huge, impossible Flying Cities.

Still, despite Little Whittingby’s small size, Meg skirted around the town, more wary now of drawing attention with their unconventional mode of transport, and soon they came back to the shoreline. They left the snailcastletank in a copse that evening, with the snails happily munching the damp cool undergrowth, the spreading branches of the trees obscuring them from a bird’s eye view, and the four of them continued on foot. Further along the coast, the grey pebble beach had changed for a broad stretch of sand, slightly damp under the low grey sky, and all along the beach they saw ships. Most of the skyships at Little Whittingby were small and flat-bottomed, so that they could land easily enough almost anywhere. Their owners were nowhere to be seen. Amelia guessed that the elaborate designs painted on the sides of the small vessels must be their names, but couldn’t read the swirling calligraphy.

The largest of the skyships, easily as big as the Black Queen’s vessel with the yellow sails, leaned awkwardly to one side, and Amelia could see a lean figure in a broad-brimmed hat walking carelessly on the steeply slanted deck as he went about his business. Meg made a beeline for this particular skyship, pulling herself up a rope ladder on its side as easily as she had climbed the tower of her mobile castle. She beckoned for Amelia to follow.

“Hello,” Meg called out brightly as she reached the top of the ladder. “We’re looking to hire a skyship. Are you available?”

“For you, Madam, of course,” said the skyship sailor, courteously giving first Meg and then Amelia a hand up over the edge and onto the deck. It was only when the three of them stood on (comparatively) level footing that his extraordinary height became apparent. Amelia couldn’t say for sure exactly how tall he was, but seven foot at the absolute minimum, and probably closer to eight. He had freckled brown skin and hair almost as long as Amelia’s, dyed bright blue and woven with black thread and silver beads.

Meg eyed the skyship critically. “This’ll be no day trip. It’ll be a long voyage and there may be danger along the way,” she warned. “Are you man enough for it?”

“Danger, you say?” said the tall man, his light brown eyes sparkling as he smiled. “What nature of danger?”

“An Argean ‘ship pursuing. We’ll pay you five gold pieces per month.”

His smile had broadened at the mention of the Argean skyship, showing two gleaming gold eyeteeth, but he was not to be distracted from his fee. “City pieces or trade pieces?”

“City, of course.”

“Captain Avrenon Dunnager at your service, Madam,” he said, removing his hat and bowing so low that his long hair brushed the deck.

“Glad to meet you, Captain Dunnager. You may call me Meg, and this is Amelia. We have two other companions, and a… quite a large piece of luggage. I trust that won’t be a problem?”

~

Keen as he might be to race superior Argean skyships through the skies, Captain Dunnager drew the line at stowing two giant snails and an entire castle on board, but this didn’t seem to surprise Meg much, and her mood was still sunny as they headed back to fetch their ‘luggage’.

Amelia had noticed the name of the big skyship as they’d scaled the rope ladder up its side:
Storm Chaser.
“Is Captain Dunnager an Argean, then?” she whispered to Meg.

Meg grinned. “No, I’d say the good Captain is as human as you or I. Got you into the spirit of adventure though, haven’t we?” she teased. “Don’t worry; you may get to meet Argeans yet before we leave here.”

Amelia had been thinking more practical thoughts. “You said the Argeans had all the best skyships.”

“Yes, but you’ve seen what we have to choose from. We’d be safer sticking with Mimi and Tallulah than we would be in one of those little fishing boats.” They reached the copse, where the two snails had almost completely cleared the ferns, and dozed, replete. “Hmm. We’ll take Tallulah. Mimi always has been the more timid.”

Amelia hadn’t yet determined which of the two identical giant snails was Mimi and which was Tallulah, but when Meg went to remove the harness from them, she paid special attention to one of them, speaking softly to the great beast. Amelia moved closer, curious to hear what spells Meg used. To her disappointment, though, Meg was only gently telling Mimi how she
‘must be a good girl and stay put, safe and sound until Mamma comes back’
. And even though the snail had no face to speak of, Amelia swore for a moment that it looked sad. Its eye stalks waved slowly, moving from Meg to the other snail, then retracted. The whole body of the snail lowered as it began to burrow into the soft, damp earth.

“Come along now,” said Meg, as she moved the unresisting Amelia bodily away from the snail, “Mimi wouldn’t hurt a fly, you know, but that’s a lot of earth to shift. Wouldn’t want you getting caught up in it.” Slowly, Mimi began to disappear from sight. “Speaking of a lot of earth to shift… Well, I’d get you to have a go at this yourself, but the heavy elements really take it out of you, and you’ve had enough excitement this morning.” She took a deep breath, rolling up her sleeves with a jangle of bangles.

“Heavy elements?”

“Earth and water. Lot of weight to ‘em.” She spread her arms, breathing in deeply through her nose, blowing out through her mouth. Amelia followed her line of sight to where the snailcastletank stood. Around it, the loose-packed soil and pebbles began to jump as if some giant fist hammered on the land. Standing at a safe distance, Amelia barely felt the vibrations in her feet. The remaining snail – Tallulah – slid slowly out of the way, apparently finding nothing particularly alarming about events. The loose rich earth gathered itself, leaping up around the wheels of the snailcastletank, soon covering them, until it looked like only a funny little house built on a slight hill.

“Phew,” said Meg, wiping her brow exaggeratedly, although she did actually have a slight sheen of sweat to her ruddy cheeks, “is mud getting heavier year by year, or is it me? It’ll take some doing to get it all out of the tracks when we come back. But that’s a long way off yet, and there’s Tallulah to get on board the
Storm Chaser
yet.”

Amelia was sorry to leave the peculiar folly of the snailcastletank behind. Tucked away into the shade of the trees, and with its wheels out of sight, it looked a safe and cosy little home. She imagined she could have settled there happily enough, quiet and out of the way, with Little Whittingby nearby for provisions. Perhaps, with Harold for company, it could have been very pleasant indeed…

Getting Tallulah into the hold of the
Storm Chaser
took almost as much effort as hiding the snailcastletank, but to Amelia’s relief, Meg would allow no-one else to magically manhandle her beloved snail. Tallulah wouldn’t be able to fly without being strapped safely in, packed with straw. Meanwhile Captain Dunnager prepared for flight, and Percival and Harold ferried their few belongings from the snailcastletank to the skyship, Amelia helping out with the smaller items. Then, as they waited for Captain Dunnager to make the final preparations for flight, she sat on the beach and watched Stupid swooping and diving, carefree and green as sunlit grass as he chased the screaming seagulls. He seemed to enjoy the familiarity of the seaside. The clockwork dragonette in its gilded cage sat beside Amelia on the damp sand, chirping pitifully from time to time.

“Poor little thing,” said Amelia, picking it up and resting it on her knees. “Are you hungry, I wonder? Do you eat?”

“Amelia!” Meg shouted from the deck. “Stop playing around down there – we’re all set to go!”

Amelia picked up the clockwork dragonette and ran across the sand, Stupid following after her. At least
he
would be happy travelling by skyship. Free to fly, he could easily keep up with them.

“I’ve never flown before,” Amelia said to Harold, when she was quite sure Meg wasn’t close enough to hear. “Aren’t you frightened at all?” He’d never seen a skyship before either, but evidently he found it more exciting than frightening. Still, she saw the moment of doubt on his round face.

Before he could answer, Captain Dunnager called out “All ready to lift!” and Meg came hurrying over to the two of them.

“Come along, Amelia,” Meg said, all but dragging Amelia by the arm. “You too, boy. Best if you’re not on deck when she lifts.”

Overhead, the sails unfurled, striped cream and sky blue. Below their feet, the angle of the deck began to tip, making Amelia lose her balance. Harold gallantly leapt to support her, nearly tripping over his own feet as he did so. Meg tutted, and ushered the two of them into the deckhouse and down a short flight of stairs, closing the door behind them.

“Hold tight, now,” said Meg, although they scarcely needed telling, as the whole cabin tilted dizzyingly.

Amelia squeezed her eyes tight shut, one hand gripping the handrail of the stairs, the other clasping Harold’s free hand. “Oh, no, no, no,” she murmured, huddling closer against the rail as the room swayed and boards creaked. “I don’t think I like this at all…”

Harold shuffled closer to her side. “There now, Amelia, it’ll be all right,” he said, quiet and earnest. “It’s easing off now, see?”

It was true: Amelia could feel the room gradually steadying, until the floor levelled out completely beneath their feet. When she opened her eyes again, Meg was examining the cabin, trying and failing to suppress her amusement at something.

Amelia blushed. “Have we landed again already?” she asked.

“I should hope not. We’ve got a long way to go yet, my girl. But we’ve levelled off now, so you won’t go getting seasick on us, at least.”

Amelia almost protested that she’d never been seasick in her life, but then she’d only ever been from the tower to the shore, and only that far in calm weather. She looked around the deckhouse, her heart sinking at the sight of the cramped living conditions. Crates everywhere, for the
Storm Chaser
was a merchant ship. The galley looked only slightly better suited to cooking than that in the snailcastletank, and a heavy curtain gave some privacy to what turned out to be sleeping quarters for one. The five of them would be sleeping in shifts, unless the
Storm Chaser
had other cabins hidden away somewhere. Another flight of stairs led down into a dark compartment strewn with more crates and loose straw – the hold where Meg had stowed Tallulah.

“Where’s Percival?” Amelia asked.

Meg shook her head, still smiling wryly. “Don’t you go worrying yourself about him. Perce worries enough about himself for everybody, even with that ridiculous armour of his.” Then, when she saw this did little to soothe Amelia’s fears, she added, “He’ll be up front with Captain Dunnager, I expect. He’s flown before, so if he can impress the good Captain with his knowledge, we’ll have two skysailors on hand, and that’ll speed things up no end.”

Amelia nodded. Although she still didn’t know quite where they were going, speed was of the essence with the Black Queen at their heels. Percival and his apparent disregard for the normal human need for sleep had enabled them to travel long hours at a stretch in the snailcastletank. On board the skyship, with Captain Dunnager or Percival at the helm, they might sweep through the skies without ever stopping for rest, unhindered by any obstacles, until they reached their destination. Wherever
that
might be…

“Since we’re on a skyship, perhaps you can learn a little about how they work,” said Meg. “Of course, these lessons will be purely a matter of theory,” she added sternly as she opened the door and looked out on deck. “For the time being at least. Soul magic is heavily regulated, and with very good reason. I’ll let Perce bore you with the legal side of it another time.”

As Amelia rose up into the good fresh sea air and heard the distant whisper of waves, she knew immediately that they were very high up indeed. White clouds loomed much larger and lower than she was accustomed too. She didn’t need to look over the railings to see just how high the
Storm Chaser
had climbed, although her blood ran cold as Harold hurried to look over the side, and she saw his mouth fall open in amazement. Amelia kept as close to the middle of the deck as she could, far from the frankly inadequate railings. Percival held the wheel steady, and she couldn’t even feel any tilt or wobble to the deck beneath her feet, but the sight of lowlying clouds rushing past them at speed made her heart race with fear. Behind them, the coastline already looked distant as they headed out to sea.

Meanwhile, Meg strode across the deck as happily as she might on solid ground, taking in the view. “Captain, might Amelia take a look at the soulchamber?” she called out. “I’m teaching her magic, and skyships are an interesting case.”

Captain Dunnager beamed, his long golden eye teeth flashing in the sun. “But of course. This way please, ladies,” and he swept past Amelia with the clinking of tiny beads and a whiff of salty sea air.

Meg and Amelia followed the Captain down through a trapdoor in the deck, deep down into the belly of the skyship, into a windowless corridor lit by a blue-tinged lamp. In the strange half-light it cast, his eyes shone bright in such a way that made Amelia doubt Meg’s assurance that he was quite human.

“You must be quiet, now,” the Captain whispered as they progressed. “I’ve just put in a new soul, and they always take a few months to settle.”

Up ahead, metal double doors filled the end of the corridor. A faint blue light flickered behind dark glass panes, protected behind a sturdy grille, and the doors were barred and locked with a complex series of dials. Amelia trod softly as they came to it, straining her ears in the eerie quiet. She’d expected the roar and blaze of an engine, like the steam trains she’d read about in her fairy tales. Instead, the soulchamber seemed to have more the reverent, contemplative air of a chapel. Even at a distance, though, she could feel heat radiating from the doors. She became aware of Meg and Captain Dunnager watching her expectantly.

“Well?” said Meg. “Any observations?” Her eyes too had a glow to them. It must be something about the strange light of the blue lamp, too cool a flame to be natural. Their skin had taken on a faint bluish tinge that made Amelia’s eyes ache to look at it.

“It’s quiet,” said Amelia, pulling her attention back to the lesson with difficulty. Did she glow too, under that same light? She supposed she must do. “And hot. And dry.” Again, what observations did Meg
expect
her to make? She looked to the blue light that danced behind the darkened glass, and thought of Stupid. A sign on the door plainly warned of powerful magic contained within. “It’s… um. Is it a fire sprite or something like that?” Looking at the more arcane signs and symbols marking the double doors, she recognised one of them immediately – she’d seen it only a few minutes ago elsewhere. “Oh, it’s the same as the writing on the dragonette’s cage!” she exclaimed. “It means amaranthine, doesn’t it?”

“No, but a good guess,” said Meg. “It’s a warning sign for dangerous magic. You’d do well to learn it.” She turned to Captain Dunnager. “Can we open the soulchamber while we’re in flight? It’s been a good few years since I flew by skyship.”

“It’ll be all right for a little while,” he said, and pulled down a second grille behind them, blocking them into a space scarcely big enough for the three of them.

“Now, you see,” Meg shuffled round to let the Captain squeeze past in the narrow corridor. “You see, skyships use soul magic to fly. A suitable soul is contained in the soulchamber with binding spells and the like, and provides all the energy the skyship needs. What have you got there, anyway?” she asked the Captain.

“Eagle.”

Meg looked relieved. “I should have asked before we hired you, but that’ll do very nicely, I’m sure.”

The Captain drew back the heavy bars with a clang, turning the dials on the lock, and finally pulled open the doors. “Stand back of the white line,” he warned, indicating the boundary marked on the floor, walls and ceilings of the vault within, where the white line seemed to faintly glow in the darkness with a light of its own. All along its length was annotated in the language Amelia had come to recognise as magic.

She peered in at the glowing blue form huddled shivering and flickering in a far corner of the vault. It took her a moment to see exactly what it was, but when she
did
recognise it, all she could do for a moment was stare at the ethereal form of the ship’s soul, the remnants of its downy plumage still sticking out at funny angles. “How could you
do
such a thing?” she demanded, breathless with horror.

Meg and Captain Dunnager exchanged glances over her head.

“It’s just a fledgling!” Amelia cried, and Meg – anticipating her next move – grabbed hold of her to keep her from overstepping the white line, into the soulchamber. Amelia pushed her away: even in her horror she remembered the array of warning symbols on the doors. “But it’s just a baby! How
could
you?”

Meg rolled her eyes, but in her discomfort avoided meeting Amelia’s betrayed, wounded gaze. “I did say soul magic is –”

“Horrible! You said soul magic was immoral!” Amelia looked again at the shivering form of the fledgling soul, trapped in the dark, perhaps never to see the sky again… “You said before when we caught the dragonette, and it is – it’s immoral and horrible!”

“This is different,” said Meg.

“Why?”

Amelia thought for a moment that Meg was going to give her a proper answer. Then Meg took a deep breath, the look of sad resignation in her eyes hardening. “Because I said so. We don’t have time to debate the rights and wrongs of the matter. Not with the Black Queen and her men coming after us.”

“I’m sorry,” said Captain Dunnager, speaking to Meg rather than Amelia. “I should have guessed she’s the sensitive type.”

Meg shook her head. “That’s all right. End of lesson, Amelia. Let’s go up and get some fresh air.”

~

Meg tried her best to explain away the barbarity of the soulchamber, but Amelia remained unconvinced. Meg had admitted that soul magic was a dubious art, best taken very cautiously and with a case by case approach. There existed only the finest of lines between legitimate use and cruelty. Amelia sat alone in the cabin, trying to put her thoughts in order on this new subject, but found it difficult when every time she pictured the poor little bundle of downy fluff, tears of pity sprang to her eyes. Meg had compared the eagle soul to her snails – a tenuous comparison at best. The snails were beasts of burden, yes, but even on the run, Meg had ensured that they had copious amounts of time to wander in meadows and munch the flowers. The eagle spirit might still soar the wide blue skies – might do so for hundreds of years longer than its mortal brethren – but it wasn’t the same. Captain Dunnager was making the eagle soul a tame bird by cruelty, keeping it locked up in the dark like that…

“Amelia!” shouted Harold from behind the curtain, making her jump. “Amelia! Are you in there?”

She wiped her eyes and shouted, “Go away! I’m trying to sleep!” Captain Dunnager had given up his cabin to the two ladies, but with a hammock hung up opposite the bunk, it was scarcely any bigger than the upstairs of the snailcastletank. Amelia hadn’t liked to complain, though, especially on learning that Harold, Percival and the Captain would be sleeping in rougher hammocks, hastily arranged in the dingy cargo hold.

“Sorry to wake you, but I reckon you’d like to see this.”

Reluctantly, Amelia got up and pulled aside the curtain. “What is it?”

He only shook his head, grinning like a child on his birthday. “It’ll ruin the surprise if I tell you. Hurry up – we’re missin’ all the fun!”

He hadn’t seen the dreadful soulchamber; had given no thought to what fuelled their marvellous journey. Seeing his bright smile, his joy as pure as any eagle’s flight, she didn’t want to ruin it for him. He ran up the stairs onto the deck, and pointed into the clouds, where dark figures flapped lazily. At first, she mistook them for birds, but not for long. Her skin crawled as the dark figures flapped closer, wingbeats thumping loud as drums. “What
are
those things?”