by This statement disconcerted Indira, who, of all those present, probably understood me the least.
‘It’s okay,’ Jay reassured her. ‘This is Ves. Her idea of evil is making people eat too much cake. Or turning your hair fabulous colours without telling you.’
I frowned. ‘I’m sure I could think of something more diabolical than that.’
‘When you do, I’d be delighted to hear about it,’ said Jay. Words that would, probably, haunt him someday soon.
Indira just shook her head. I think the gesture meant “I give up trying to understand this” more than an utter rejection of my entire personal worth, but one never knows.
‘I, for one, am entirely in favour of Evil Ves,’ said Zareen. ‘I see honorary membership of the School of Weird in your future. School tie and and everything.’
‘Hey. Weird and Evil aren’t the same thing, Zar. Haven’t you kept saying that.’
‘Maybe I was lying.’ She shook out her green-streaked black hair, smiling with cat-like satisfaction. ‘I’m Evil like that.’
‘Anyway,’ said Emellana, mildly intervening. ‘Shall we go?’
‘Onward,’ I said. ‘Right after I pick up our picnic from Kitchen.’
‘Ves,’ said Jay, with a faint sigh, ‘we aren’t delving into the frozen wastes, battling for survival against the uncaring elements. There’ll be food.’
‘You said that so beautifully.’
‘And it made not the slightest difference to you, did it.’
I beamed at Jay and exited stage left, en route straight to the pantry.
***
I met up with the rest of Team Unstoppable outside the House. Not at the front door, obviously. That would be far too mundane. I found them skulking in the cellar, as befit such a shady mission. They were gathered around the Way-henge, Zareen leaning casually against the wall, Indira standing stock-still and tense in a corner, Emellana apparently thinking of something else entirely, and Jay pacing up and down, his phone in his hand. Everyone looked up sharply as I barrelled through the door, then relaxed when they saw it was me.
‘Okay,’ I panted, having done a wee bit of running on my way downstairs. ‘I’ve got something for everyone.’
‘Samosas?’ said Jay.
‘Check. Bhajis for Indira.’
Indira actually smiled, a bit. Nothing like food to cheer people up.
‘Halva for Zareen.’
‘Pistachio?’
‘Of course.’
I was instantly divested of the article in question, Zareen snatching it out of my hands like a greedy child, and disappearing it with a flick of her fingers. Only a swirl of shadow remained where the halva had been, and that soon dissipated.
‘And since I love you,’ I added. ‘I also got sholeh zard.’ I handed her a Tupperware container, within which a golden and fragrant pudding lurked.
Zareen eyed me suspiciously, though she snatched the container. ‘I begin to think you’re buttering me up for something. What’s the catch?’
‘You’re welcome,’ I said, ignoring that. ‘Em, I wasn’t sure what you’d like but they told me these spiced honey pastries are popular at Court right now.’
‘There are people manning the kitchen at this hour?’ Emellana looked either impressed or appalled, I couldn’t decide which.
‘Well, there’s Magnus. Nobody can persuade him to sleep.’ I handed her a waxed paper bag. ‘And for me, Bakewell tarts.’
‘I smell something deep fried.’ Jay ostentatiously sniffed the air.
‘Chips for Addie. If we need her, I don’t want to have to explain why I didn’t bring her a picnic too.’
‘Right.’
‘Again.’
Jay inclined his head. ‘Okay, enough dawdling, we’re going.’
He said that ringingly, and with purpose, so I was puzzled when he returned to his phone and remained deedily occupied.
‘I’m sure she’ll wait,’ I said, when a few minutes passed.
‘Who?’ Jay didn’t even look up.
‘The, uh, person you’re dating.’
He did look up, then, but only to crook an eyebrow at me. My cunning attempt to find out more about Jay’s mystery woman (about whom he had been notably tight-lipped) went unanswered. ‘I’m finding the way,’ he said.
‘With the Wapp!’
‘The— the what?’
‘The Way-App. The Wapp. You know?’
He stared at me, and blinked.
I began to feel uncomfortable. ‘What?’
Jay shook his head, a gesture remarkably similar to his sister’s quarter of an hour before. I might be the death of these Patels. ‘I’m wondering,’ he said, putting his phone away in a pocket.
‘Wondering what manner of merciful death I deserve?’
‘Wondering why I didn’t think of that name myself. Come on.’
I was grabbed, and firmly escorted into the henge. Zar and Em and Indira came forward, and we did a circle-of-hands thing. The Winds of the Ways began to swirl around my feet, the sense of building magick grew, and honestly the whole thing seemed very Captain Planet to this child who’d always wanted to summon the power of Heart. And there were five of us. Coincidence? I think not.
Jay’s obviously the power of Wind. Emellana is Earth, with her solid-rock steadiness. Zareen is as changeable as Fire, so that leaves Water for Indira. Not a perfect fit, but Indira’s good at literally anything that doesn’t require her to talk, so she’ll run with it.
I was mentally casting Alban in the role of the Captain when the Winds reached screaming-pitch, and we whirled away.
***
‘It’s funny you should have brought Bakewell tarts,’ said Jay, once he’d got his breath back.
The comment passed me by, at first, for we emerged into a darkness so blank I felt a momentary panic. Rarely does one encounter such pitch blackness; there’s usually light somewhere, even in the depths of night, even if it’s only a faint glow. But tonight, the moon lay sulking behind a thick cloud cover and wherever we’d fetched up was obviously far from civilisation.
I collected my wits, always rather scattered after a jump through the Ways, and mustered a glowing ball of light. The ravenous darkness swallowed its soft, genteel glow, and I hastily summoned several more. Only once I had the place properly floodlit did I register Jay’s remark.
‘Why’s that funny?’
‘Because we’re not far from Bakewell.’
I took a long look around.
We had appeared in the midst of a proper, proper henge, none of those underwhelming types where there’s nothing to see save a slight mound or two. Several ancient, craggy stones over half a metre tall surrounded me in a wide circle, dark and moss-covered. Beyond them stretched a ragged moor, scrubby with grasses greenish and tawny-brown.
Bakewell. Derbyshire.
‘We’re in the Peak District?’ said Zareen.
‘We are. And this is Hordron Edge, otherwise known as the Seven Stones of Hordron.’
I shivered as he spoke, mostly because of the brisk midnight winds sweeping over the moor. Maybe a little bit with fear. I hadn’t forgotten the impenetrable, blinding dark. ‘That sounds suitably mystical,’ I said, hoping, as I often do, to ward off fear with flippancy.
‘Head west a bit and you’ll hit Ladybower Tor.’
‘Charming.’
‘And for Zareen’s interest, Cutthroat Bridge is over there.’ Jay pointed off into the darkness.
Zareen grinned. ‘Already I’m liking this place.’
‘And Silvessen?’ said Indira, all business as usual.
Em hadn’t spoken. I noticed she had taken up a station by the largest of the visible stones, a great, mossy outcropping fully a metre tall. She’d placed one hand against the stone, and stood with her eyes closed.
I drifted that way. So did Jay. ‘Found something?’ I asked.
‘Wouldn’t be surprised,’ Jay put in. ‘They call this the Fairy Stone.’
‘For good reason,’ said Em, without opening her eyes. ‘Whatever magic once flourished here is long, long faded, but I can feel traces of it, still.’
I hesitated, then laid a hand against the Fairy Stone myself. I’d tried this trick before, without much effect. Whatever arts Emellana (and my mother) employed to sense long-past magick, I didn’t have them at my disposal.
But now I was a walking reservoir of incredibly ancient magick and things were different. The stone thrummed under my fingers, a faint, distant pulse, like the echo of a failing heartbeat.
Realisation struck. ‘This was once a gate.’
‘The gate to Silvessen, specifically,’ said Jay. ‘And our first objective is to figure out how to get through it.’
I realised he was looking at me.
So was Emellana. And Indira, and Zareen.
I felt a stab of regret. If I hadn’t mentioned my borrowing of Merlin’s powers, maybe I wouldn’t be so thoroughly on the spot now.
I didn’t have the faintest idea what to do.
‘It’s not like I can just, tell it to open,’ I tried to explain. I could say this with authority, because I’d been trying.
‘I don’t know how these things work,’ said Jay, shrugging.
‘Me neither.’ Zareen sat down with her back against the Fairy Stone, and shut her eyes. Maybe she needed a nap. It was pretty late.
Indira hovered nearby, patently deep in thought, but since she said nothing I concluded that she, too, was stumped.
I stared, pleadingly, at Em.
‘The gate is long closed,’ she said. ‘Sealed. I would say it has been hundreds of years since it was last opened.’
‘And there’s no magick left here,’ I put in, gloomily. It wasn’t magick I was feeling in the stone; only a memory.
Jay stood with his hands in his pockets, frowning at the problem. ‘Could you maybe… add some?’ he said, looking at me.
‘Me personally?’
He shrugged. ‘You’re full of lyre-magick from the Fifth Britain, and Merlin’s powers to boot. If anybody can, it’d be you.’
True, that, but I couldn’t say I had a great deal of control over it. Odd things happened when I touched things, sometimes, and of course there was the whole turning-into-a-unicorn thing. But the things I touched had to have some kind of magick or potential of their own before anything much would happen, and the unicorn thing only came about when I was in Addie’s glade.
The Fairy Stone may have enjoyed a glittering past, but today it was dead as a dodo.
‘I’m not fully trained,’ I apologised. ‘If there’s any reviving-of-ancient-gates in my curriculum, we haven’t got to it yet.’
Jay looked disappointed. I could understand why. If you’ve brought the embodiment of ancient British magick along on your quest, only to find that she can’t open an ancient magickal gate, that’s a bit of a downer, isn’t it?
‘Maybe… if we use the regulator.’ That was Indira, so softly spoken that the wind almost whipped the words away.
‘Good thought,’ I allowed, cautiously. ‘If it’s the loss of magick that turned this gate into a dead lump of rock, maybe a revival of magick could reverse the effect.’
‘But we were supposed to deploy that in Silvessen,’ Jay disagreed. ‘This isn’t Silvessen. We’re right out in the regular world, in the open. It’s risky. And I’m not sure it would even work.’
‘Then it will have to be Ves.’ That was Emellana, sounding vaguely amused, I wasn’t sure why.
Jay and Indira both looked at me, and waited.
I thought I heard a faint snore from Zareen.
‘I can’t do it,’ I said, trying to sound calm. ‘At least, not immediately. I need some time to think about it.’
And maybe call Ophelia. I didn’t really want to have to call for help five minutes into our mission, that was embarrassing, but going home in defeat because we couldn’t pass the first obstacle would be significantly more so.
Jay nodded, agreeably enough, but I noticed he’d begun to shiver. ‘How long do you think that will take?’
‘Too long for us to stand out here while I do it. I’ll make you a deal.’ I took my hand off the Fairy Stone, though my fingers continued to thrum faintly. ‘Take us to Bakewell. Let’s find rooms for the night, get some sleep. In the morning, feed me sumptuously on Bakewell tart — the proper, authentic kind — and I promise to come up with the answer.’
Jay held out both of his hands. ‘All aboard the Patel bus, leaving for Bakewell in three minutes,’ he announced. ‘Or, close enough.’
Clinging to the prospect of sweet, almond delights to sustain me, I permitted myself to be whisked away, trying not to quail too badly under the foolhardy promise I’d made.
Idiot.
