Willow and Oswin both made horrified faces. To be honest, until then Willow hadn’t wondered how he’d got his eye out.
‘Anyway,’ carried on Holloway, not noticing their dismay, ‘now I see all the colours of things, no clouds at all. I’d say that’s worth it!’ He beamed.
Willow could see how that might be possible. It couldn’t have been fun to have every day seem clouded.
‘But why did Rubix want it?’ she asked. ‘Doesn’t seem like the kind of thing a person would have a use for.’
‘Beats me,’ said Holloway. Then, running a gloved hand through his hair, he shrugged and said, ‘But why does a witch do anything?’
‘Practical makes perfect,’ said Willow, thinking of Moreg and how she always seemed to be a few steps ahead of everyone else.
Holloway gave her a puzzled look. ‘What’s that?’
Willow shook her head. ‘Just something a witch once told me.’
‘Nutters, the lot of ’em,’ muttered Oswin from within the bag.
The queen looked up as her servant arrived. He looked different, changed somehow. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes, and he was thinner than he had been. The queen noted this with some interest.
The servant held her gaze. ‘The witch has arrived. She is with your wraiths …’
The queen sat back in her throne, satisfied. ‘That is good news indeed. You have done well.’
The servant hesitated.
The queen narrowed her eyes. ‘What is it?’
‘I-I just worry this seems …’
‘Wrong?’ asked the queen.
He nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘The fate of the world depends upon this. You know that. You knew it when I asked you, and you know the rewards,’ she said, waving a hand. A smaller throne appeared by her side.
He frowned and the queen said, ‘You will have a place here. A home.’
He nodded. It was what he’d wanted for so long. He turned to leave, adding, ‘The girl is on her way.’
The queen looked satisfied at this. ‘See that she is.’
8
A Conspiracy of Ravens
Willow had just come back from the end cabin, where she’d changed into dry clothing, when it started to rain, the sound heavy on the copper roof.
Holloway got excited. ‘Grab a pot – hurry!’
Willow did as he suggested with a puzzled look on her face. ‘What? Why?’
‘No time to explain! Quick,’ he said, opening up the window in the galley kitchen and leaning far out with a pot to catch the rain. ‘C’mon,’ he said, and Willow fetched a blanket from the armchair (no point in getting wet again, she reasoned), and put it over her head before she stood on the table and shoved a copper kettle out of the window. It didn’t take long for the pots to fill and, when they brought them back inside, the old wizard’s lined face was lit up with happiness.
‘We’ll be able to make rain biscuits with this! Best ship’s biscuit around,’ he promised.
Willow blinked. Rain biscuits? She shot a look at Oswin, who was peering at them from the green armchair where he’d set up camp, a blanket tucked up to his chin. The kobold shook his green head and whispered, ‘The gizard’s lost the plot.’
Willow blinked. It did sound a bit impossible. ‘Erm, Holloway, how will we make biscuits with water?’
To her surprise, the wizard began to laugh, slapping a knee in his mirth. ‘Not water, lass. Rainwater. And rainwater that has bounced off the Knotweed River – which is particularly delicious, you’ll see. The weed might be deadly if it strangles ya, but it tastes great.’
Then he started rooting around in the cupboards, bringing out a big mixing bowl, flour and something that looked like powdered butter. Next, taking a copper spoon, he started to mix everything in with the rainwater they’d collected. ‘Well, don’t just stand there gawping – make yourself useful. First rule of the sea: no idling.’
And Willow grinned as she helped him to shape the dough into large, spurgle-sized pieces before they popped them on to a baking tray and into the oven. Half an hour later, the fresh scent of rain and something sweet like vanilla perfumed the air.
Twenty minutes after that, Willow placed a piece of warm golden biscuit on her tongue, and her eyes closed in bliss. It tasted sweet, and fresh, like a rainstorm mixed with honeysuckle. ‘That’s amazing,’ she said.
‘Yep,’ said Oswin, who’d been drawn to the kitchen by the promise of food. He stood on the counter to gather up six of the warm biscuits, which he shovelled into his wide mouth, treating them all to a rare, cat-like grin. ‘Very tasties.’
‘Old sailor recipe,’ said Holloway. ‘We’ve all had to learn to make food virtually from air or water when we’re out at sea.’
As the afternoon drew on, Holloway leant back in the green armchair with a smile on his old, worn face, a cup of pepper tea steaming in his hands, and said, ‘Nothing tastes as good as freedom.’
‘Mebbe chocolate cake,’ considered Oswin. ‘Wiff sprinkles.’
When they looked at him, he shrugged. ‘Wot? I means … almost as good.’
Holloway snorted, then looked around him with a puzzled look on his face as he picked up his mug. ‘Where’s the spoon?’
Willow’s heart started to thud.
‘Ah, here on the floor. Never mind,’ he said. Though, seeing her ashen face as he sat back up, he asked, ‘What’s wrong?’
Willow swallowed. ‘I-I thought for a moment that I’d made it disappear.’ She explained about what had happened with the spoons in her village, and that it was because of her, though she had no idea how she’d done it.
‘Ah,’ said Holloway. ‘Ya know, I’ve been thinking about this problem you’ve been having with yer magic, and I wondered if maybe you’ve considered that it’s something else?’
‘What do you mean?’ Willow asked.
‘Well, ya say that yer ability has always been to find lost things, right?’
‘Right.’
‘Well, it doesn’t make sense. I mean, first of all, ya seem perfectly healthy to me. No cough or sniffle, right?’
She nodded. ‘I had a little cough, but that’s been gone for weeks. I think it might be because I went to Wisperia.’
‘You’ve been there before?’ exclaimed the wizard, sitting up in surprise. He looked at her more closely, perhaps to see what sort of a person she really was. As Granny Flossy had said, only those who were mad or desperate went there … and she had been desperate to find the missing Tuesday.
‘Yes,’ said Willow, and she explained a little about meeting Nolin Sometimes and the dragon, Feathering.
To her surprise, Holloway shook his head. ‘I doubt it was that to be honest. People only tend to get magical maladies from Wisperia when they start experimenting with the forest, or spend too long there. A day or two wouldn’t do much. I think—’ Then he paused and gave a small shake of his head. ‘Never mind. Not me place really. Maybe I imagined it.’
‘What?’ asked Willow. ‘You can tell me.’