‘He’s a knocker, lass,’ Hew had reminded her gently. ‘He’s only doing what he’s made for. And maybe it’s the best thing for him. Same as your brother, with the hunting. It’s how we menfolk grieve.’
What about me? Ivy wanted to shout at him. I can’t sense ore or shape metal. I’m not allowed to hunt. All I want to do is help look for my sister, but that’s forbidden. How am I supposed to grieve?
But there was no answer to that, at least not that Hew could give her. So she’d held her tongue and nodded, and then she’d gone back to the cavern and made about a week’s worth of meat pasties to keep in the cold-hole, since that at least was something she could do.
‘What did Gossan have to say about your plan?’ she asked Mica, when he’d finished his last bite and she could endure the silence no longer. ‘Did the Joan agree to let you start looking for Cicely?’
‘They said I could go out tonight,’ replied Mica, wiping his mouth, ‘if Mattock and Gem go with me. Only we have to stay together and be home by sunrise, so what’s the use of that?’ He threw the napkin down. ‘We might as well not bother.’
‘But you will,’ said Ivy. She knew Mica too well to believe otherwise, no matter how much he complained. ‘When do you leave?’
‘In a couple of hours.’ He walked towards his alcove. ‘But Matt said he’d come by and wake me when it’s time, so you needn’t worry about it. I’m going to sleep.’
Ivy spent a few minutes putting what was left of the food away, then climbed into bed herself. She was drifting in and out of consciousness, too miserable to sleep but too tired to stay awake, when the door creaked and she heard Mattock tiptoe in. Mica groaned, there was a rustle, and a few minutes later the two of them went out.
Now was her chance. Ivy waited a little longer, to be sure Mica and Mattock were well on their way. Then hurriedly she dressed and slipped out into the passage, heading for the Great Shaft.
The sky above the Delve was clear, the moon a neat half-circle among the stars. To the west, a trio of dim lights bobbed along the ground — Mica, Mattock and Gem. Secure in the knowledge that they’d never recognise her in swift-form, Ivy glided over the ruins of the Engine House, then angled off towards the nearby wood.
It wasn’t a large wood: only a scattering of trees and undergrowth, with a well-travelled footpath through the middle. Ivy flew from one end to the other looking for signs of life, then landed in piskey-shape on the far side. ‘Richard?’ she asked, quietly at first and then a little louder. But though she listened until she grew impatient, there was no reply.
‘Richard!’ She was shouting now, not caring if anyone heard her. Surely Mica and the others wouldn’t recognise her voice at this distance. ‘I’m here! Where are you?’
Still no one answered, and Ivy’s restlessness grew. She couldn’t hang about here all night — she had to find Cicely. But she’d wanted to warn Richard about Mica’s plan. Why didn’t he answer?
Surely it was too soon to give up yet. Ivy walked to the centre of the wood, cupped her hands around her mouth, and yelled ‘Richard!’ one more time. Then she sat down on a fallen branch and waited.
Minutes passed, each more slowly than the next. Something rustled in the leaves above her, and Ivy looked up in hope — but no, it was only a squirrel. A little while later a bird began to sing, but it was a liquid, melancholy tune, nothing like the trilling noises Richard had made back in the dungeon.
Ivy rubbed her palms on her thighs, fidgeting with anxiety. What if Richard had decided not to keep his promise after all? What if he’d decided it was too dangerous to stay, and flown off to some faraway place?
‘Richard!’ she called hoarsely. ‘You’d better come soon! I’m not going to wait forever!’
But still there was nothing. Not a word, not a sign.
The faery was gone.
Ivy took a deep breath and let it go. Then she leaped to her feet, snatched up a stick and hurled it into the underbrush. ‘Curse you!’ she stormed. ‘You liar, you oath-breaker, you — you demon blackguard wretch of a spriggan!’
There was a long silence, while the wind murmured through the treetops. Then a light, ironic voice said, ‘I see my reputation is at stake.’
Ivy spun around. There on the path, as though he had been there all along, stood Richard — but not Richard as she had last seen him, covered in filth and bruises and dressed in rags. His hair hung straight and clean almost to his shoulders, and his jacket and slim trousers looked new. If not for the purple shadow around one eye and the scab on his upper lip, she would hardly have recognised him.
But before she could speak, he vanished. A tiny bird with a blue-black head, shadowy wings and white underbelly flitted past, landed on her other side, and turned into Richard again.
‘I was a few hundred feet up when I heard you calling,’ he said. ‘And I needed to make sure that you’d come alone.’
Blood rushed into Ivy’s face. She’d been so busy worrying that she might not be able to trust him, it had never occurred to her that he could have similar doubts. ‘You thought I’d betray you?’
‘Not willingly, no. But if your Joan found out that you’d helped me, she might not have given you a choice.’
He had a point. Ivy’s fury subsided, and she gave a reluctant nod.
‘Ready to go?’ Richard asked. ‘It’s a little late, but we should be able to get to Truro in time.’
‘I can’t.’ Ivy passed a hand wearily over her curls. ‘My little sister Cicely’s gone missing.’
He frowned. ‘You mean she just disappeared? Like that other one — Keeve?’
Ivy hoped not, since she suspected that Keeve was dead. But she couldn’t deny the possibility. ‘Yes. Do you have any idea where she might have gone?’
Richard looked sober. ‘None at all.’
No easy answers, then. She’d hoped she wouldn’t have to do this, but she could see no other way. ‘Then I’ll have to say goodbye,’ Ivy said. ‘I can’t go to my mother now, not until I find Cicely. Besides, my brother’s figured out that you can change shape, and he thinks he knows how to catch you. It’s not safe for you to stay here.’
‘What do you want me to do, then? Go back to your mother, and tell her you aren’t coming?’
How could a simple little word be so hard to say? ‘Yes. But,’ she added quickly, ‘don’t leave it at that. Tell her everything that’s happened since you and I met — especially the part about Cicely.’ If Marigold knew that her youngest daughter was missing, maybe she’d come and help with the search. ‘And tell her that if she has any more messages for me, she’ll have to deliver them herself. You’ve done enough.’
The faery’s brows lifted, and he gave her an appraising look. Then he bowed to her without a trace of irony, and vanished. He didn’t even turn into a bird; he was simply not there any more. Ivy stared at the place where he’d been standing until her eyes began to burn, and she realised she’d forgotten to blink. Then she shook herself into swift-form, and flew away. nine
Ivy searched for her sister all night, gliding low over the uneven ground. She glimpsed a badger digging in the underbrush, and fox cubs tussling at play; she passed a field where rabbits browsed in the grass, and watched an owl wing silently by. The twin lamps of a human vehicle wound through the landscape, turned into the drive of a little farmstead and winked out, while in the distance hundreds of similar lights marked the boundaries of some great city. Yet she found nothing to suggest that Cicely had passed this way.
She turned westward and winged along the coast, skimming over sweeping curves of sand and coves where foam-capped breakers smashed upon the rocks. The sea-cliffs were riddled with holes, many of them adits from abandoned mine workings that likely connected to the Delve at some point. But still she could find no trace of Cicely.