Torch Page 9

  “Not Timothy.” Thorn’s voice was sharp. “He’ll ask questions. And probably guess the answers, too.”

  Broch appeared in the doorway, his dark hair even more rumpled than usual. “Rob, then.”

  “Rob hates Martin. He won’t help him—or you either, once he gets a sight of that treasure.” Thorn folded her arms. “Besides, what human’s going to do business with him? He looks even more like a ruffian than you do.”

  “What about that woman who used to be a faery?” Ivy asked. “The one you called Knife?”

  Thorn turned pale and then very red. “Absolutely not,” she said. “And don’t you go blabbing to her either.”

  “About what?” Ivy asked, surprised. She’d only met Peri McCormick briefly, but she’d seemed like a decent person.

  “Anything,” Thorn snapped, and stormed out.

  Broch waited until the study door slammed behind her, then sighed. “I apologize,” he said. “But my wife doesn’t want Knife to know she’s having a baby. Or any of our fellow Oakenfolk, either.”

  Was that why they’d come to Cornwall? Ivy had wondered why the faeries seemed so determined to throw in their lot with her, especially when she had so little to offer in return. She’d guessed they were staying to keep an eye on Martin, and Valerian obviously hoped they’d be able to make peace with the piskeys as well. But neither of those things explained Thorn’s odd behavior.

  “Why?” Ivy asked. “Did they not want the two of you to marry?”

  Broch shook his head. “Most of our people would not care, and the few who did would be only too pleased for Thorn’s liking. But Knife is barren, and Thorn cannot bear to hurt her by revealing that she is not.”

  Finally, an explanation that made sense. But for Thorn to leave the Oak and flee all the way to Cornwall . . .

  “So,” Ivy ventured, “she must love her very much.”

  Broch gave a half-smile. “With all her tough, stubborn heart. So I ask you to be patient with my wife. She can’t hide the truth from Knife forever, and deep down she knows it. But for now, she is determined to try.”

  When Ivy stopped by the barn the next morning, all was peaceful. Thrift and two of the other children sprawled across Dodger’s back, brushing him. Copper and the old uncles were playing dice in one corner, while Yarrow carded wool for Teasel and the other women to spin. The younger men all seemed to be out patrolling or hunting, except Hew and Feldspar who were guarding the door—though Feldspar’s lazy posture and the casual way Hew leaned on his thunder-axe made clear they weren’t expecting trouble.

  It was as though Matt had given all the piskeys a dose of his own calm, steady nature. Ivy had never fully appreciated how important a good Jack was to their people, until now. She nodded to her fellow piskeys and went outside to look for him.

  She found Mattock trudging across the pasture, with the collar of his coat turned up and his cap pulled low over his rusty hair. His face lit when he saw her, and Ivy felt a flicker of guilt, but she suppressed it. She’d been honest with him about her feelings, and she couldn’t do anything about his.

  “I need your help,” she said, and explained about the provisions. “I can give you the money, if you don’t mind where it came from.”

  Mattock sighed. “I do mind, but I don’t see we’ve got much choice. All right.”

  “Then let me teach you how to leap. I know Mica doesn’t like it, but—”

  “I don’t give two bits of slag for what Mica thinks,” Mattock said firmly. “But it’s not how we do things, Ivy.”

  “It’s not faery magic,” she insisted. “The droll-tales say piskeys used to do it, too. We’ve just forgotten.”

  “With good reason, maybe. Ivy, you can’t keep pushing our people to change, not when we’ve had to sacrifice so much already. You need to be patient.”

  Ivy folded her arms. “That would be fine, if I was only trying to spare you a bit of walking. But what happens when Gossan attacks, and our people can’t get away because they all followed your example?”

  That hit home. He looked troubled, and Ivy pressed on. “You have power now, Matt. If you take the lead, they’ll do what you do. And we’re not asking them to change for nothing. We’re trying to keep them safe, and isn’t that more important than keeping them comfortable?”

  Mattock rubbed a hand over his face. “How do you do that?”

  “What?”

  “You see something you want, and you refuse to give up until you’ve got it. You don’t stop to doubt or ask questions, you just keep pushing until all the obstacles fall down.” He grimaced. “You and Mica aren’t as different as you think.”

  That stung, but she couldn’t let it daunt her. This was too important. “Tell me I’m wrong, then. Our people call me Joan because they don’t have anyone better to follow, but they made you the Jack because they believe in you. Give me one good reason you can’t do this, and I’ll listen.”

  “You’re not wrong!” His voice rose loud enough to shock her, and cracked. He reddened and continued more quietly, “I hate it. But you’re not wrong.”

  “Well, in that case—”

  “But one day you will be, Ivy.” Mattock’s eyes held hers, accusing. “You’ll push too hard, and our people will break. And I don’t want to have to pick up the pieces when that happens.”

  “You will, though,” she insisted, shaken but trying not to show it. “Because you’re my Jack.”

  She didn’t realize how that had sounded until hope flared in Mattock’s eyes. He stepped closer, reaching for her hand.

  “Ivy!”

  It was Cicely, waving madly out the kitchen window. Ivy turned, glad for the interruption and embarrassed at herself for needing it. “What is it?”

  “Phone for you,” said her sister, holding it up. “It’s Molly.”

  “You sound out of breath,” Molly said when Ivy answered. “Made you run, did I?”

  Her voice was cheerful, curious, and utterly human. Grateful for the distraction, Ivy leaned back against the kitchen wall, cradling the phone. “Yes, but it’s all right. How are you?”

  “Dying of homework. I have three massive projects, and they’re all due next week.” Molly gave a soulful sigh. “Can I run away and join the piskeys?”

  “Only if I can run away to theater school,” said Ivy, trying to keep her voice light. “You wouldn’t believe what’s been happening here.”

  “I might, if you tell me. How’s Martin?”

  Ivy hesitated, watching Cicely help herself to bread and butter. Then she walked down the corridor to her bedroom and shut the door behind her. “That’s the most unbelievable part,” she whispered, and told Molly about the barrow.

  The other girl gave a tuneless whistle. “Thirty kids! That’s brilliant, but he must be going mad. How’s he going to look after them all?”

  It was a pleasure to finally talk to someone who not only knew Martin, but liked and cared about him. “I don’t know,” Ivy said. “I don’t think he’s had a lot of experience with children. But the older ones will probably help.”

  “And you’ll help too, I’m sure.” Molly sounded wistful. “I wish I could.”

  That was twice now she’d had hinted at running away. “Is something wrong, Molly? Do you not like the school?”

  “I love it,” said Molly fervently. “It’s just . . . I’m supposed to go to Dad and Marigold’s wedding party this weekend. And I’m happy for them, I really am. But I can’t help thinking about Mum and wondering . . .” She broke off with a wet laugh. “Sorry. I know she was awful. But she was still my mum.”

  “It’s all right,” Ivy told her quietly. “I understand.”

  “I wish you and Cicely were coming, but she says you’re too busy looking after your people. It sounds like you and Martin both have your hands full.”

  It was tempting to confess all her struggles, but Ivy restrained herself. Molly might be a good listener, but she was only fourteen, and it wasn’t right to fill her head with worries she
could do nothing about.

  Yet there was one thing the human girl might be able to help with. “Molly, do you know of any shops that buy old treasure? Coins, jewelry, that kind of thing?”

  “In Cornwall, you mean?”

  “No, in London,” Ivy said, and went on to explain what Thorn had told her. “Martin used to sell to a dealer named Thom Pendennis, but he’s closed up shop now, so . . .”

  “Ivy,” Molly broke in, sounding fond and exasperated at once. “I know magical folk aren’t very imaginative, but honestly! Do you have any idea what my dad does?”

  She knew David Menadue did a lot of traveling, but she’d never paid attention to the details. “Something to do with pictures?”

  “He works for a documentary film company,” Molly said. “And he knows loads of people. I’m sure he can help Broch find somewhere to sell that treasure, and probably make up a brilliant story about where it came from. Do you want me to ring him now, or ask him on the weekend?”

  When she finally hung up the phone, Ivy’s spirits felt lighter. David Menadue would surely be glad to help Broch, especially since he owed the faery man for saving Marigold’s life. She glanced about to make sure Cicely wasn’t in earshot, then knocked at the door of the study and told the faeries the good news.

  “Hm,” said Thorn. “That’ll do, I suppose.” But she looked more pleased than her tone let on, and Broch seemed gratified as well. Ivy left them to talk it over and went to fetch her coat.

  “Where are you going?”

  Ivy clutched the coat stand, heart hammering. She’d thought Cicely was in the barn. “Just . . . out for a bit.”

  “Are you going to see Martin?”

  “Cicely!”

  “Are you?”

  Well, she could hardly do it now. “No,” Ivy said, flat with the effort of hiding her disappointment. “I’m just going to fly.”

  Cicely’s eyes welled. She thumped down into the armchair and hid her face in her hands.

  “What is it?” Ivy asked, but the younger girl only shook her head. Suppressing impatience, Ivy patted her shoulder. “You can tell me. It’s all right.”

  “Why should I?” Cicely’s head jerked up, cheeks blotchy with anger and tears. “You never tell me anything. You haven’t taught me how to fly like you do, either—”

  “Cicely, you already have perfectly good wings of your own.” Or at least at piskey size she did, though between the house and riding Dodger, she spent most of her time in human shape these days. “And I taught you how to leap, didn’t I?”

  “What difference does that make? You won’t let me go anywhere by myself, and nobody wants to go with me.” Her voice wobbled. “Not even M-Mica.”

  Ivy’s heart softened. When they all lived together in the Delve, Mica had been Cicely’s hero and champion. But like Ivy, he was too busy to pay much attention to their little sister these days. “I’m sorry,” Ivy told her more gently. “But it’s not forever, it’s just for now. Things will get better.”

  Her sister pulled away. There was a hectic color in her cheeks, and she didn’t look at Ivy when she spoke. “I heard. About you and Matt.”

  “Yes?” Ivy asked cautiously.

  “You don’t deserve him!” Cicely burst out. “He’s been in love with you practically forever, and everybody wants him to be your Jack except you! And you haven’t even told him you can’t make fire!”

  Oh. Oh no. “I am going to tell him,” Ivy said hastily. “I just haven’t had the chance. Cicely, it’s not like you think—I didn’t mean to trick you or Matt or anyone, it just happened—”

  “Does he know about you and Martin? Are you going to tell him that too?”

  Ivy was speechless.

  “I’m not stupid, you know. It’s so obvious how you feel about him. And I know we owe Martin a lot, and I don’t want him dead, but Mica’s right, he’s nothing compared to Mattock, and I don’t understand you at all!”

  I’m not the only one who’s obvious, thought Ivy sadly. How could I not have seen it before? “I do care about Matt, but . . . not the way you do. And I can’t change that.”

  “You haven’t even tried!” Cicely flung herself out of the chair, glaring at Ivy. “But you’d better. Because Matt doesn’t deserve to be treated like this. And if you don’t tell him the truth . . .” She took a deep breath. “Then I will. I’ll tell everyone.”

  Ivy’s stomach turned over. “Cicely, no. Matt knows how I feel, he even knows about Martin, I’m not trying to hide any of it!”

  Her sister gave a little, hysterical laugh. “You think that makes it better?” She moved for the door.

  “Stop!” Ivy jumped up, desperation flooding her. She grabbed Cicely’s arm. “I’m not going to see Martin, all right? I—I’ll let him go and keep my distance from now on.”

  She’d never wanted to make this sacrifice, and it felt like her soul was dying. But Ivy knew it was the only way. If the truth came out like this, it wouldn’t just destroy the piskeys’ confidence in Ivy, it would make Matt look like a fool as well.

  And then they’ll go back to the Delve and die with Betony, because they think they’ve got no other choice.

  “I won’t see him again,” Ivy repeated, willing Cicely to believe it. Willing herself to mean it, with every broken piece of her heart. “I’ll stay here with you and Mattock and our people.”

  “And you’ll tell Matt everything? Right now?”

  Ivy’s eyes burned, and her throat felt like she’d swallowed a rock sideways. But she nodded.

  Cicely chewed her lip, watching Ivy. Then she stepped back from the door. “Go on, then,” she said. “Prove it.”

  When Ivy came out Mattock was still in the yard, waiting for her. Like a true piskey, he didn’t give up easily.

  “I’m sorry,” she told him, but he shook his head.

  “Don’t be. We do need to learn new tricks if we’re going to beat Betony and Gossan, and as your Jack I ought to be helping you, not holding you back.” He straightened up, determined. “Teach me to leap. And I’ll teach the others for you.”

  Ivy’s chest felt like it was being crushed by a millstone, and she had to blink back tears. But his words only confirmed the choice she’d made already. “You’re a good man, Matt,” she said. “And more patient than I deserve. I . . .” The words scorched her throat, but she had to speak them. “I need to tell you a secret. Something I should have told you long ago.”

  “No, you don’t.” His big hands folded around hers, like a gentle embrace. “Remember what I said before? Whatever happens, I’m on your side. You don’t need to prove anything to me.”

  “But you ought to know I can’t—”

  “Make fire?” He spoke softly, meeting her wide green eyes with his blue ones. “I know.”

  Ivy dropped her gaze, flustered, as Mattock kept talking. “I mean, I didn’t at first, obviously. But I could tell you were afraid, especially after Yarrow came and told us about Betony. Then Mica told me he’d put petrol on the wakefire, and that’s why I hit him. Because I knew you’d never want to trick your people that way.”

  So he hadn’t just guessed or found out. He’d understood, and he’d fought his best friend to defend her. Ivy stood still, barely breathing, as Matt raised her hands and pressed them to his heart. “But you’re still the true Joan, Ivy. I believe that. Even if you can’t make fire now, you will when you really need to.”

  The same way she’d learned to become a swift, then a falcon. Maybe he was right. “Then . . . you don’t think I should tell the others?”

  “Not right away. Let’s wait until things quiet down a bit. And when we do tell them, we’ll do it together.” He leaned closer. “I’ll make sure Mica owns up to what he did, too.”

  That was some comfort. Ivy spread her fingers, feeling the steady beat of his pulse. “I don’t understand what Mica wants. I don’t understand him at all.”

  “It’s not that complicated. He wants you to be the Joan, and he wants you to marry me. That’
s all he’s ever wanted.”

  Her head jerked up, incredulous. She’d known the second part, but the first?

  “Ivy, he’s always thought there was something special about you. He just didn’t want to say anything until he was sure.”

  Her brother believed in her that much? The thought was bewildering. He knew Ivy couldn’t make fire, no matter how hard she tried; that was why he’d poured petrol on the wood before the Lighting, so the other piskeys wouldn’t be disappointed too. He’d lectured her, argued with her, pushed her to choose Matt with no care for her feelings whatsoever . . .

  Or maybe he’d been trying to help her, in his own high-handed way. Maybe he still was.

  “But I’m sure,” Mattock said huskily. “I’ve always been sure about you.”

  Ivy stared at his shirt buttons, hot with shame. Cicely was right: Matt deserved so much more than the few crumbs of trust she’d been giving him. But how could she tell him about her promise to Cicely without raising false hopes? “I’m sorry,” she said at last. “I haven’t been very kind to you.”

  “You’ve only been honest, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But . . .” He squeezed her hands a little. “You know you can’t be with Martin and lead our people at the same time. Don’t you?”

  Once more he’d guessed the truth without her having to tell him. Feeling more wretched than ever, Ivy nodded.

  “And by now he must know that, too. If he loves you as much as I love you, he’ll understand.”

  She gave a ragged laugh. “Easy for you to say.”

  “I’d still say it if I were the spriggan, and he was the piskey standing here. You belong with your own people, Ivy. You’ll never be happy until we’re safe, and you’re the only one who can save us.”

  The only one. The weight of it felt so enormous, she could hardly believe it. But if Ivy didn’t think she could save her people, where would she find the courage to try?

  And if she and Matt couldn’t depend on each other completely, how would they succeed?

  “Please.” His hand cupped Ivy’s chin, feather-light. “I don’t blame you for loving Martin. But you have to let him go.”