Unwritten, page 23
So despite the freezing cold that had taken everyone by surprise, Beatrix had ventured to the greenhouses. Huge glass buildings reminiscent of birdhouses, inside them the air sagged, thick and humid, with traces of rot, and for a moment she was transported to the jungle in her room the day of Emma’s arrival.
Beatrix found the ghost working to repot a strange plant with succulent black flowers.
Neradola took off her gloves and glided to her, grasping the horn with reverence. “You should have told me you had something this powerful. I can mix a regular healing potion for Roamer’s and add a few shavings. Or we can have the apothecary distill an oil for you.” Her husky voice faded. Neradola surveyed Beatrix, touched her nape, then assessed the shining arrow under her own skin. “I will try both. The dose will need adjusting.”
“Thank you,” Beatrix said with feeling. After such a painful night, she was willing to try anything. These Roamer’s episodes had turned debilitating. She hated the way they punctuated her days, stealing whole chunks of them in which she could do nothing but writhe.
Neradola nodded softly. “I will prepare a vial today. Look for the oil tomorrow.”
But the ghost proved more efficient than her predictions. Later that same afternoon, after working with Cassandra and Lucy in the Caladrius salle, Beatrix returned to her bedroom to find a small package tied with string.
Inside was a tiny vial with a cork stopper and a note from Neradola with dosage instructions.
“Wonderful,” Emma said, who’d joined Beatrix in her room to deliver the required spring water for the potion. “You can already take your first dose.”
Beatrix didn’t lose a moment.
After filling the horn with water, she measured three drops from the vial and drank the draught. It tasted bitter but not disgusting. Like liquid licorice.
She assessed herself but didn’t feel different in the least. The room did of course, but she’d expected that, given the horn’s abilities to reveal magic. The crispness, the bright colors, the superimposed illusions in her bedroom didn’t surprise her. But as her eyes settled on the desk where the letter lay atop the notes she’d been making in the Caladrius salle, an idea formed.
The Alicorn showed magic. She had tested it on the message once before—and it had worked. But the letter wasn’t the only enchanted object about.
Beatrix hadn’t tried the horn on the decoders themselves.
“So you have news,” William said that evening.
Beatrix lifted her eyes from the book she’d been reading. The guesthouse lounge was deserted but for an old lady dozing in a corner and a strange dog with triangular markings sleeping by the fireplace.
“Did Jane tell you?”
“I had a feeling you were looking for me.” He wore regular clothes today, in dark colors. Only his coat looked odd, a cross between a trench and a many-caped cloak of old.
“Not really,” Beatrix said. She had wanted to share her discovery but hadn’t known how to locate him. And she wasn’t going to ask Jane to reach out. “Where are you staying anyway? If I did want to find you?”
“So you were searching for me.” He smiled, wide, teeth and all, and she rolled her eyes.
“The Fantasy Guild. The dorms.” William looked around the room. “I want to show you something. But it’s cold. Outside.”
Beatrix pushed her book aside. “Too much longer, and I would’ve fallen asleep too. I have a thermal suit Emma got for me when we went mask shopping for the ball. Akos-Stellaris tech. I’ll be right back.”
They left less than ten minutes later and walked in a silence that felt not uncomfortable but expectant, as if the night too were waiting for something.
“Let’s sit here,” he said, setting the blanket he’d insisted on bringing over the top step of the staircase leading to the docks.
This late in the evening, the marina was almost completely dark. A few amber globes floated along the boardwalk, leaving the rest the realm of the Fogges.
William sat, his legs stretched out, and she settled next to him, her back against the right post of the staircase. The ocean purred around them, and she lifted her face, tilted it up to the sky dominated by an orange, crayon moon.
“I thought you might want to see it,” he said. “Since you asked me about the moons.”
She had. Because the strange-colored moons of the Zweeshen had her wondering about the reality of this whole world.
Maybe it was the sickness that had forced her to stop and think. To reassess. And to realize that everything had shifted. Beatrix couldn’t be sure about Grandpa or Mom anymore. Increasingly she doubted what she knew anything about Martin. About her Furie. About herself. With two more days in the Zweeshen, even her successes felt tainted by her lack of understanding and by the layers of secrets that she failed to reveal.
“Is it changing?” she asked, watching the edges of the orange moon.
“A lunar metamorphosis, yes.” His breath fluttered over her ear. “Some consider this one of the most magnificent spells to ever be cast, the one that rules the wheel of the Zweeshen moons.”
Despite the warming suit that kept her at a cozy temperature, Beatrix shivered. Her hand hovered next to his and when two of his fingers grazed hers, then entwined, she stilled, unwilling to move and break this different kind of spell.
“Now,” he said a few minutes later, gazing up to the sky.
In awe, she watched the clouds part like a mythical sea, dissolving around the edges in fraying tassels. In the space they opened, the moon swooped in, beaming shadowy and cratered, and then as she blinked, it exploded in an eruption of flames that lit the ocean. Hidden by the blazing burst, the stars faded away.
One, two, she counted three seconds while the darkness blanketed everything. Three more and the moon flashed back, neon-lit, full and round. And royal purple.
Beatrix beheld it, mesmerized. Then she looked at William. His face was relaxed, no hint of a scowl in sight, and it drew her in, everything in her thrumming with need.
“Do you want to show me now?” he asked, studying her expression.
His intensity sank underneath her skin.
She looked away. Sighed. Of course he knew. “Not that I’m trying to hide anything, but my friends would make horrible spies.”
He laughed, tried to stop himself, and the sound turned into a chuckle. “They’re really excited.”
Beatrix scoffed. “I assume they told you we’ve uncovered a new clue.” He’d pulled his hand away, and this time he hid behind the charm of his smile. But the skin he’d touched still throbbed. Beatrix grabbed the feeling and stored it away. She dug into her pouch and retrieved the battered letter.
It was too dark to see, so William took out his hexagonal crystal, tapped it to produce a soft light, and set it on the paper. Like he’d done the very first time at the Bookends Café, he inspected the writing with care, his eyebrows knitting together. “How?”
“The thimble. I used the Alicorn for my potion today and that got me thinking about its ability to expose magic. I guessed it could help me see through the enchantment on the decoder.”
“And it worked.”
She bit her lip. “It did.”
“How?”
She laughed. “Let me show you. It’s my favorite so far.” Beatrix retrieved the thimble from her pouch. She’d been drinking off the alicorn all day long, so her eyes were already attuned to magic. Besides, she knew what to search for. “First, I put it on, and then, do you see the thistle? That’s what the Alicorn showed me.” Beatrix pushed on the tiny flower with her thumb and on the opposite side with her index finger. The thimble glowed red, and the swirls and curves on it began reorganizing themselves to create a crown. The moment the last scroll shifted into place, with a click, a thin blade pushed out through the top of the thimble.
William laughed. “A lancet!”
“Quite sharp. And then…”
Then she’d done the only thing anyone who knew stories would and stabbed her finger. Only, instead of blood, a single drop of black-blue ink dropped out of the wound and onto the letter. It spread into a runny stain that covered all the verses, and for a second, Beatrix feared she’d undone everything. But soon the ink retreated, leaving behind brand-new writing.
“Then?” William asked again.
“I played Sleeping Beauty and the next clue appeared. Wanna see?”
William took the paper and read,
“Enter through the Gate Untold.
At its darkest the veil is naught.
The Goddess Rephait the question begs.
For the answer search your strength.”
“I think the key here is the Gate Untold,” Beatrix said. “If we can figure out what that is, the rest might become clearer.”
When William didn’t respond, she pivoted to him. “What is it? Don’t you agree?”
“About this Gate? Yes, of course. I was just considering you’ve run out of decoders. Unless there was something else in your grandfather’s box.”
“Nothing. Other than the chest itself. And I checked that with Alicorn sight—no enchantment there.” Beatrix sighed. “We’ve deciphered so much, and I still understand so little. The Gate Untold rings a bell too. Like I should know what it is. Does the veil part tell you anything?”
“Never heard of either. A veil in the sense of the separation of the realms, perhaps. Not sure how that would be relevant here.” He stared straight at her, and in the orange shadows, she couldn’t read his expression. “You should be proud of yourself. Do you realize how far you’ve come with this?”
“Not far enough.” Beatrix unhooked her new hair clip and redid her bun, the humidity from the ocean exacerbating her hair’s natural frizz. She huffed in frustration. “I’ll be leaving soon, and I still haven’t found Mary. I haven’t figured out what the riddle is about. We suspect it’s a spell, but what kind and what for is a mystery.”
William shook his head. “You’re terrible at accepting praise and taking compliments, do you know that?” He moved toward her and for a moment Beatrix thought he would pull her into his arms. He didn’t. He shifted back and remained sitting just far away enough that their bodies didn’t touch. But so close she felt the warmth emanating from it. His scent mixed with hers and the ones from the night and the sea around them.
“Don’t worry,” William said. “We’ll figure out the riddle. Maybe someone in the Eisid will recognize the Gate Untold. We’re almost there.” The way he said the last words, with both vehemence and hidden fear, made her wonder.
“Do you know something I don’t?”
William stared at her with that intensity of his that unsettled her. “I would tell you if I did.”
“I wasn’t doubting you.”
“It’s just—this feeling.” He looked to the ocean. The ever-moving water tore the reflection of the sky apart, decomposing it in glinting shards. “My teacher used to say our fears feed our curses. So no, there’s nothing. I’m eager to get out of here and see you safe in the Eisid Naraid. That’s all.”
He smiled. A lovely, open grin as bright as the moon above.
But for some reason, Beatrix couldn’t smile back.
27
LEYNA
“Nothing,” Cassandra said the next afternoon, dropping herself onto an overstuffed chair in the Caladrius salle. “They all clam up. I checked with the bardic experts, the cartographers, and even the pageturner masters.”
“No luck either,” Lucy said.
“How about you, Emma?” Beatrix asked.
“Nobody has ever heard of this Untold Gate.” Emma pulled her satchel over her head and set it on a dainty side table. “Did you ask Jane? She seems familiar with lore.”
Beatrix grimaced. “She had no idea. Suggested I speak to the historical experts. Which worked about as well as the last time we tried.”
“It’s so frustrating.” With a huff, Emma plopped onto a green settee in front of the fire. “Not a single mention in the library geographical records either.”
Beatrix sat next to her, stretching her legs onto a threadbare ottoman. She glanced casually at the multitude of mirrors, all of which showed the gruesome picture of the dead bird, albeit from a different angle today. She turned away.
“My life’s doomed to disappointment.” Emma’s hair fell in droopy burgundy strands. “I thought we were getting somewhere.”
“We are.” Cassandra sifted through the stack of papers on the table and forced a smile. “Let’s not be pessimistic. We’ve deciphered clues A through E. So this one is the last one.”
“True.” Beatrix pulled on one of the settee’s many loose threads. A Cheshire cat’s favorite, or so went the explanation.
“But we haven’t found Mary.” Emma pouted, her shoulders hunched.
“We have new information,” Lucy said. “We should count our wins.”
“It’s true. We’ve made progress.” Beatrix realized she might be trying to convince herself as much as them.
Leaving her seat, Cassandra walked to a large mirror and began writing on it with a glowing marker.
“Let’s approach this scientifically.” Under the title “Known data,” she began to write a list of numbered bullets. “In recap, we know: One, that Beatrix’s mom gave her a map to the Sacred Valley region in the Eisid Naraid. Two, that the letter contains a Craxtan-encoded set of instructions, likely for a spell, of which we’ve decoded four.”
Beatrix straightened in her seat, logic beginning to dispel the sense of helplessness. “Three, that the destination for Mary Brandt is the temple of Rephait, marked by the Evermoon rune.”
Cassandra nodded and took that down.
“Four,” Lucy said, “that we can assume the Pioneers are involved because ‘May the Words’ is their telepathic call for help, and Mary must be one of them.”
Beatrix looked down at her journal, skimming through her own notes. “Five, that the whole letter is either a spell of disguise or one of revelation. Selda was quite convinced of that.”
“I agree,” Cassandra said and wrote that additional point on the board.
Emma pulled on her cameo. “Don’t forget what Beatrix learned during the hearing. That her mom was the keeper of the Soul of Rephait.”
“And that according to the council she stole it.” Beatrix’s voice trembled toward the end. Her chest tightened. She still couldn’t accept that of Mom. She wasn’t convinced she could rely on the council’s allegations. Their accusations of Beatrix had been bogus. Why would their statements regarding her mother be trustworthy? So much about the Zweeshen was contradictory. Dyøt had explained that the loss of the Soul would kill the Eisid. It wasn’t a secret. So how could Mom have stolen the winged dagger? Taken the most sacred artifact and condemned her land? After being entrusted to protect it? It made no sense. Beatrix refused to believe it.
She needed to know more… The thought snuck in that Grandpa would have been able to help. She cast it aside.
“If only we could find Mary Brandt.” Emma’s tone dragged with defeat. “Maybe she’d be able to explain how it all fits together.”
Beatrix massaged her temples, the action repeated in the idiosyncratic mirrors on the walls, which chose what to reflect at their whim and now showed her alone in the garden practicing the Taming Sphere. “Our search for Mary has been so unsuccessful I wonder if we were wrong about the Pioneer connection. Maybe that path was a dud.”
“Maybe,” Lucy said.
Across from them, Cassandra dropped her head with something akin to guilt. She opened her mouth and hesitated. “I’m sorry, Bea. I should have told you earlier.”
Cassandra shifted in place with uncharacteristic hesitation.
“There’s no doubt the Pioneers are involved,” she said after an intake of breath. “At the time, I didn’t deem it worth sharing, no point in hurting you, Beatrix. When I checked the Criminal Rolls, Mary Brandt didn’t appear on them. But Leyna Yoru did. She was a Pioneer. Inner circle, high leadership. The records show the nuclear attempt on the council hall as her last known sighting.”
Leaving the guesthouse through the back door, Beatrix followed a green gravel road into the woods. The freshness of pine and firs was a welcome reprieve. She needed air. And quiet. And the chance to readjust her memories to the reality of who Mom and Grandpa truly were. To mourn them anew, this time as the strangers they’d become.
She let herself in through the gate to the sculpture garden and navigated around the familiar marbles to the always-in-spring corner where a swinging bench was nestled among bluebells and delphiniums.
That’s where William discovered her half an hour later, as the last remnants of dusk faded and the sprite lanterns lit up. Emma must have told him where to find her. Again. But he didn’t seem to be wearing the sympathetic, bordering on pitying expression of everyone else. Instead, his stride was purposeful.
“I wanted you to be the first to know,” he said as soon as he reached the tree that held up the swing. “Your trip’s notice has been posted on the outgoing trips board at the Bureau. Six a.m., two days from now.”
He seemed to expect a reaction, but she just nodded.
William leaned against the trunk. The leaves that rustled around them sounded like murmurs. Like stories-to-be. “I saw you all hard at work in the Caladrius salle on my way to meet Jane. Did you guys discover anything else?”
Beatrix rubbed her hands on her pants, a chill suddenly flowing through her. “I wish I could stay a little longer. Maybe with a few more days we could locate Mary, and I wouldn’t have to show up in the Eisid empty-handed.”
William tilted his head, a newborn frown bisecting his brow, and slid both hands in the pockets of what she’d learned were high-tech all-weather pants. “You collapsed twice in two days. It’s time to go.” His voice had gained that annoying edge, the one he used when he was about to turn bossy and tell her what to do.
“You don’t need to become all pushy. I get it.” Frustration spilled into Beatrix’s tone. She massaged her brow. “I just wish I were further before I left.”
