Sarah turned and saw Wharton slide through the door and shut it with a gasp. He smiled at her.
“Sarah! Thank heavens!”
She stared. “George? What on earth are you doing here?”
“Good question! Venn came after you and I came because . . . well, I was worried about you.” He turned and stared at the smooth white wall behind him. “What happened to the door? What is this place? What the hell is going on?”
“I wouldn’t trust him,” the bird breathed softly in her pocket. “Ask him a question only he knows the answer to.”
Sarah sat on a cushioned sofa. “We seem to be trapped in Summer’s house of mysteries. When you met me at the British Museum, George, what sandwiches did you buy me?”
He stared at her as if she had gone out of her head. “Good Lord, Sarah, how am I expected to remember that? And what on earth does it . . .”
“Just try.”
Annoyed, he blew out his cheeks. “Egg? Definitely egg. Egg and cucumber.”
She smiled.
“Was that some sort of password?” He came forward, light on his feet. “Sarah, we have to get out of here, we have to find Venn and Gideon. Why on earth did you come here anyway? What are you looking for?”
“Don’t say.” The bird’s words were less than a breath on the air, but Wharton tipped his head instantly. “What was that? Did you hear something?”
“No. So you want to know why I’m here? Why not make Gideon tell you?”
“Gideon?” he gazed around, baffled. “I left him with Venn. What . . . ?”
“No wonder you’re puzzled.” Sarah stood, wandering along the row of sumptuous sculptures, her feet sinking into the deep carpet. “You don’t know what would make me come so deep into the Shee country, do you? What could be so important. That’s what worries you. That’s what’s tormenting you. Because you’re not Wharton at all, are you. You’re Summer.”
George Wharton giggled.
Then he began unraveling before her, his arms becoming slim and white, his boots shriveling to bare feet, his coat blanching to a turquoise-and-purple feathery dress with panels of lace. For a moment he was a patchwork being, part man, part woman, inhuman, un-Shee. Then he was Summer, and she was throwing herself full length on the sofa and giggling with glee.
“Oh your face, Sarah! And I thought I was doing so well! Such fun! Tell me, what did I get wrong?”
Sarah felt only a weary irritation. “If you must know, it was the cucumber.”
“Really! Your mortal food is all very confusing, I really don’t know why you bother about it at all.” Summer stretched bare toes and pointed them. “So, do you like my house, Sarah?”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Sometimes it is. Sometimes it’s a cobwebby, dark, damp hovel. Sometimes a cave under the sea or a temple on a hot green island. It can be anything I want it to be.”
Sarah kept her hand on the box in her pocket. “It must be boring. Always changing, always staying the same.”
For a moment she was scared; a sliver of venom crossed Summer’s face. She said, “Oh I’m never bored, Sarah. Now. You have something of mine. I want it back.” She held out her hand.
Sarah was calm. She had rarely felt so alert, her mind sparking with plots and lies. It was like the day they had broken through all the wire fences and electrified corridors into Janus’s lab and entered the mirror, not caring if they were caught; the sheer audaciousness of it exhilarated her. She took the box and held it out to Summer. “I came for this. The prophecies told Jake about it, and I came to find it, because I thought it would help me defeat Janus. But I can’t reach what’s inside it.”
Summer raised a perfect eyebrow. She snatched the box and opened it and the bird unfurled itself, preened a green feather, and uttered a burst of tuneful song. Summer laughed. “You! I had forgotten all about you!” She extended a white finger and the bird hopped from its perch and gripped on, a tiny thing of string and feathers.
Summer glanced in at the bottomless abyss of stars and treasure. “Is everything in there? All my lovely things? Nothing missing?”
The bird slid a sidelong look at Sarah. She held her breath.
It would betray her. Surely. The Shee could never be trusted.
It said, “Gold and gems. Diamonds and dewdrops. Rubies and robins. Marcasites and the moon. Everything is here that should be here.”
Summer looked into the depths of the box. She gazed a long moment, as if she could see all that it contained, and in that instant Sarah’s heart almost failed her, because the powers of the faery queen must be immeasurable. But the bird winked at her and she tried to hold hope like a bright flame in her mind.
“Well.” With a flick of her fingers, Summer snatched the bird, tossed it in, and snapped down the lid. “My box won’t help you against Janus. And trespassers in my house need to be punished.” She lifted her head and pointed a fine fingernail. “As you see.”
And Sarah saw Wharton.
He was frozen, mid-step, in a cell of glass. It slid and protruded into the room like a great ice cube. His face was hard, caught in panic.
“What have you done to him!” She ran to touch him, but her hands slid only on a flat cold surface.
“I’ve stopped him.” Summer came and stood by her, gazing critically. “How very ugly some of these mortals are, Sarah. Such ungainly animals. Wrinkled and heavy and weighed down by the world. Not Venn, of course. Venn is a sleek white leopard. Fierce and adorable.”
“Let him go.” Sarah’s voice was a growl. Wharton’s face, caught in this rictus of ridiculous surprise, annoyed and upset her. She felt humiliated for him. “I’m the one you should be punishing.”
Summer smiled. “Well, yes. That’s true.”
She did nothing, but the glass suddenly slithered down and became four silver-haired Shee in white satin coats who hauled Wharton by the arms and legs into the room. He came alive like a fury, struggling and swearing terrible army oaths as they threw him down before Summer.
He landed on hands and knees.
Then he saw Sarah.
His astonished relief made her smile. But as their eyes met, she knew he had realized what she was here for, and his relief became wary and cold, and she felt a sudden, unexpected pang.
Of something that might have been shame.
Don’t betray me! she thought.
Don’t.
23
Once—before he met his wife—I asked Venn what he loved best in the world.
“Freedom,” he said.
After Katra Simba, after he was married, I asked him again.
He looked away into the distance. “Leave me alone, Jean,” he said. “You know the answer now.”
Jean Lamartine, The Strange Life of Oberon Venn
“DON’T HURT HIM. He’s my son.”
Jake felt il signore’s surprise jerk the knife tighter. He tried not to breathe.
“Your son, dottore?”
“Yes. Come from England, as he says.”
“I do not believe the lies of devils. I saw the girl vanish. Through that black portal of hell.” The warlord backed, dragging Jake away from the mirror. It leaned like a slant of darkness in the hot room. Flies buzzed in the window.
“Listen to me.” David took a step forward. “You know me. I’ve served you now for four years. I delivered your children. I bound your wound after the battle with the Sienese and nursed you through the fever it brought. I saved your life.”
No answer. The grip just as tight. Jake made himself hold still. Sweat soaked his forehead. He tried not even to swallow.
“If that’s not enough, I have something to give in exchange,” David said. “Something of great power. Only you should know of it.”