The Thirteen Treasures Part 17

'A fairy saved him?'

'It was a funny little thing, really odd to look at almost like a rodent of some kind. Followed me everywhere . . . I never knew why. And the strange thing was that it never bothered me not like the others. It was almost like it was . . . looking out for me. When the accident happened all I could think about was protecting James, and it seemed to realise that. It sort of swelled up on the moment of impact and cus.h.i.+oned him from everything.'

'Where is it now?' Tanya asked.

'It died in the accident,' Red answered, and her voice was sad. 'It gave its life to save my little brother. Afterwards, we were placed in the care home in Tickey End. We'd been there for about a month when I noticed what was going on. Children were being switched the younger ones, babies and toddlers and changelings were being left in their places. I tried to tell them, but they wouldn't listen. But then the fairies got more daring. They took a couple of little kids without even bothering to leave a changeling replacement. Understandably, there was uproar and a huge investigation. Arrangements were quickly put in place to close the place down and transfer all the children to other care homes. But on our last night, one more child was taken. James.'

'What did you do?' Tanya asked.

'What could I do? No one would listen to me. I was transferred to London. As soon as my arm was out of plaster I ran away. It was easy to disappear. They didn't try very hard to find me. This is what I've been doing ever since. And hoping that maybe one day I'll get my brother back.'

Tanya shook her head. 'I don't get it. How is this going to get your brother back?'

'Because it's a trade. I don't just give the changelings back. The fairies have to give me something in return.'

'You mean human children that have been stolen?'

'Exactly.'

'But what if the fairies don't want the changelings back?' Tanya asked. 'If they've been switched because they're unwanted in the first place then surely the fairies would be reluctant to give back the human replacements?'

Red nodded. 'They'll only willingly return the changelings that have been switched out of mischief or spite. If they were taken for any other reason then it's more complicated.'

'What does that mean?' asked Tanya.

'It means that not all of them can be returned easily . . . but there are still ways. There are always ways.'

Tanya fell silent. Suddenly it all made sense. 'You're hoping that one day it will lead you to your brother, aren't you? That you can trade one of them for him.'

Red's eyes glazed over. She seemed lost in a daydream.

'If I could only find a way in . . .' she said softly.

'A way in?' Tanya asked. 'Into where?'

'Into the fairy realm,' Red said, still with the same dreamy look on her face. 'I'm sure . . . I'm sure I could find him.'

'Wait . . . you're saying you actually want to get into the fairy realm, knowing what goes on there?' Tanya asked, incredulous. 'Even if you did find him, you'd probably never find your way out again!'

Red said nothing, but the sadness in her eyes answered for her. She didn't care, Tanya realised. All she cared about was finding her brother.

'Have you tried to find a way in?'

'Yes. But it's complicated. It seems the more you look for it, the more elusive it becomes. The conditions have to be right to get in.'

'What do you mean?'

'If you're not tricked into going in you have to be invited. Or bargain. Or answer riddles. It's never simple. They know I'm looking for him. That's reason enough for them not to want me to get in. James would be three by now.'

A note of stiffness had entered Red's voice. Tanya knew then not to push the matter any further. For what remained unsaid was something they both knew: that the chances of Red ever finding her brother were very slim indeed.

'So what will you do after tonight?' said Tanya. 'Where will you go?'

Red began to pack methodically.

'There's a circus that'll be pa.s.sing through tomorrow night, in a village a few miles from here. I have a contact who travels with them, a fey man who arranges the trade. Last year, after much persuasion, the circus folk allowed me to travel with them too. After I've traded the child they'll give me food and a place to sleep in return for me working for them, looking after their animals and such. They don't ask questions, and neither do I. It's perfect.'

'Perfect for what?' Tanya asked.

Red crammed the last of her belongings into her bag.

'Disappearing,' she said softly.

17.

T RAINED FOR THE NEXT TWO days. The third day dawned to a grey drizzle that reluctantly eased off around lunchtime and by late afternoon a hazy sun had begun to break through the clouds. Tanya stood by the window in the kitchen, staring out at the swollen, marshy fields stretching towards the forest beneath a leaden sky. An image of Red and the changeling huddled cold, hungry and wet somewhere presided in her mind. Red had promised to send word to her once she had safely taken cover with the circus folk. Tanya had checked the post thoroughly every day since they had left. So far there had been nothing.

She sat down at the table and changed the station on the radio yet again, fiddling with the tuner until she found another news bulletin. Beneath the table, Oberon grunted and fidgeted, before settling heavily on her feet. She listened nervously, but there was no mention of anything connected to Red or the changeling. Nor had there been anything further in any of the papers. She allowed herself to relax a little. It seemed that the trail had gone cold.

Fabian entered the kitchen, yawning widely. Since Red had left, Tanya had seen hardly anything of him. Warwick had been present almost constantly, leaving them unable to speak properly except for a couple of s.n.a.t.c.hed moments in which she was able to tell Fabian that she'd successfully destroyed the hair.

He sat down, pouring some tea from the pot. 'This is cold,' he said in surprise.

'Make some more then,' said Tanya, vaguely wondering where the hearthfay was. It was unusual for a pot to go cold.

'I don't know how,' he confessed. 'I've never made tea before.'

'You start by boiling a kettle,' said Tanya sarcastically. 'I'm sure you can figure out the rest. You've got books in your room on Einstein's Theory of Relativity, for goodness' sake.'

Fabian shrugged. 'I'll wait for Florence to come back.'

'You'll be waiting a while, then,' said Tanya. 'She's lying down with a headache. She sent Warwick to Tickey End for some groceries.'

'Oh, good,' said Fabian, rubbing his hands together. 'About the food, I mean. Not the headache. Warwick always gets nicer food than Florence.'

'Does he?' said Tanya, unwilling to acknowledge that Warwick had any favourable attributes at all. 'I don't think so.'

'Well, he must've bought nicer tea last time,' Fabian said. 'It usually tastes of stewed socks. I reckon Florence buys those cheap teabags and thinks no one notices.'

Tanya rolled her eyes but said nothing. Instead she got up, lifted the lid of the tea caddy, and raked its contents over lightly with her fingers. What Fabian had described was nothing to do with the tea of that she was certain. It was more to do with the old brownie that lived there. Her fingers found the bottom of the caddy, yet no teeth bit her, and no cane rapped her knuckles. All it contained was teabags. The brownie was gone. She replaced the lid and frowned. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen it. Maybe it had moved on . . . or even died.

'Are they the decent sort or not?' Fabian asked. 'The teabags?'

Tanya sat back down at the table. 'I can't tell the difference.'

Fabian grabbed the tea caddy and removed the lid, inhaling deeply. 'You can smell it.' He stuck it under her nose. 'Go on, have a whiff.'

Tanya took a couple of half-hearted sniffs. 'If you say so.'

He moved across to the window and gazed out towards Hangman's Wood. 'Warwick's going hunting tomorrow,' he said quietly. 'He probably won't be back till the following afternoon.'

Tanya stared at the table. Already, she knew where the conversation was heading, and it was one she wanted to avoid.

'I was thinking that we should take the opportunity to go back into the forest, like we planned.' He cleared his throat pointedly. 'Unless you've changed your mind.'

'I didn't say that.'

'You didn't need to. It's written all over your face.'

'I haven't changed my mind. It's just . . . I don't see what we can achieve by it, that's all. Amos is old. Whatever he did or didn't do, he's surely paid for it. Maybe it should be forgotten.'

'How can I forget? It's all I can think about! You know as well as I do that there's something strange about all this I want to find out the truth. I thought you did too.'

'I did . . . I mean, I do-'

Fabian was already walking to the door. 'I can't believe this. I can't believe you're backing out.'

'I'm not!' Tanya insisted.

'I thought we were friends,' he said.

'We are,' said Tanya. 'Which is why we should think about this some more we were nearly caught last time. Your father doesn't need any more reasons to hate me.'

'Well, you don't have to worry,' Fabian said coldly. 'I'll go alone. I'll probably have less chance of getting caught without you anyway, you're just a . . . a stupid . . . girl.'

Tanya froze at his words, unable to speak. All she could do was listen as his footsteps faded. When the hallway was silent and empty, she too made her way miserably to her room. As she pa.s.sed the grandfather clock on the landing, its slow, steady ticking was all she needed to realise that, like the tea caddy, the clock was empty.

She climbed the rest of the stairs and went to her room, perturbed. The absence of the fairies was troubling her; something odd was afoot. It was only after she sank down on her bed that she noticed the envelope on her pillow. There was nothing written on it, not even a name. Tanya s.n.a.t.c.hed it up, her heart thudding. It had to be from Red. Hurriedly, she broke the wax seal and removed a single sheet of paper, folded once.

It was a poem, written in black ink in a neat hand. Fleetingly, Tanya wondered if the poem was some kind of clever code Red's way of covering her tracks but the notion was over before it had ever really begun. Red was blunt and direct, with an urgency about her. She simply wasn't the type to write poems.

Tanya began to read.

In a wood of secrets whispered only by the trees, The tale of a missing girl began one warm Midsummer's Eve.

Her eyes were the colour of midnight, her skin was pale as the moon, Her hair was black as a raven's wing, her name was Morwenna Bloom.

Though warned, she played a dangerous game and walked the woods alone, So came the eve she disappeared, never to come home.

The forest held few answers, for all that was found there Was a single braided lock of Morwenna's long black hair.

Ten years and four was she the day she vanished with no trace, As weeks stretched into months the townsfolk soon forgot her face.

Some said the girl had perished, having fallen to her doom, Where others died below the earth in the winding murky gloom.

Some said that she had run away to seek a better life, Or been murdered in a rage by he who sought her as his wife.

As truth got lost in legend it was clear for all to see Morwenna the reverend's daughter was a fading memory.

Now most do not remember though those who have the sight Avoid the path the doomed girl walked that warm Midsummer night.

For in the woods where foxgloves sway and shadows softly loom It's said Morwenna roams still, dancing to the faeries' tune.

The poem was unsigned. Gut instinct told Tanya that there was truth in it. She hastily stuffed the piece of paper back into the envelope and then tucked it into the red scarf beneath the loose floorboard, her head spinning with the sickening revelation.

Morwenna had been taken by the fairies.

For fifty years she had been trapped in their realm, unable to escape, nor tell anyone what had really happened to her.

That's what she was trying to tell us, Tanya thought helplessly. And if Warwick hadn't found us in the woods that day she would have succeeded.

For half a century Amos had lived under suspicion for a crime he had not committed, descending into madness.

Amos was innocent.

There were now two questions in Tanya's mind that needed answers. Firstly, who had left the envelope in her room? And secondly, whom could she confide in? She gripped the edge of the bedclothes and twisted them in frustration. If only Red were still there. If only she had told her about Morwenna Bloom. Red would have known what to do. But 'if only' was no use, and Tanya knew it.

As she went to replace the floorboard, the glint of the compa.s.s caught her eye. And that was when the thought came to her.

The forest was silent, but for the whispering of the breeze in the trees and the bubbling of the brook. Tanya stood on the edge of the woods, the compa.s.s in her hand, the iron nail in her pocket and every item of clothing turned inside out. This time, she was taking no chances. Oberon stood beside her, looking up at her in a puzzled way as if he didn't understand what they were waiting for.

She exhaled shakily. Less than an hour earlier she had felt certain that she never wanted to set foot in these woods again, but the poem had changed everything. She knew that it had come to her for one reason; she was the only person who could help Morwenna now. Gathering her courage she stepped over the brook and into the trees and began to walk, with no idea where she was going. The only thing that was keeping her calm was the knowledge that the compa.s.s would lead her safely home.

'I won't get lost,' she told herself, aware of how small her voice sounded. 'I won't get lost.'

She continued to walk further into the woods. The twigs and moss crunched and rustled lightly under her feet, and once she had to sidestep to avoid treading on a decomposing mouse. A couple of times she stopped and looked around, unable to shake the eerie sensation that she was being followed. The second time she even called Fabian's name, suspicious that he might be spying on her again, but no one answered. She continued, ears straining for any telltale sound, but there was nothing. She had just started to relax when the first catacomb came into view.

Tanya eyed the missing part of the railing, recalling the desperation she had experienced the day Oberon had disappeared. She averted her eyes and hurried past.

Soon they came to a small clearing, where there was a thick fallen tree trunk in the middle. Oberon snuffled in the long gra.s.s, sneezing repeatedly as he disturbed a dandelion clock. She decided to sit for a while, to try to get her bearings and take a mouthful of water from the bottle she had brought with her. When she checked the compa.s.s, it was a shock to see that the house was in a totally different direction to what she had thought it would be.

Eventually she got up. She knew that she did not have much time if she was going to get back before anyone missed her, but she had no idea which way to go. It was hopeless and she knew it.

'Come on, boy,' she said to Oberon. 'We'd better get back.'

She had barely taken a step when she saw a small movement ahead of her within the trees. A glimpse of a hand.

'Morwenna,' she called. 'Morwenna Bloom . . . is that you?'

A grubby, rugged face peered out from behind a nearby tree. Its expression was one of terrible fear. Oberon crouched behind her, whimpering. Tanya took a slow step forwards.

'Brunswick?'