Chapter 18 #2
His silence tells me all I need to know.
As the girls row in silence, casting curious glances between us, I let the shock settle.
Atlas is communicating with Hollingsworth.
All this time, we were trying to figure out what she wanted us to ask of the wyverns and if the rebels had a back-up plan .
. . and he never once said he could reach her.
He knew she hadn’t been arrested or tortured, but he let us believe she might have been. Cool realisation dawns on me.
Who else would have ordered him on a secret mission?
‘I take it she does want to use the wyvern echolocation to fight the Bolgoriths?’ I say to him. ‘That’s all you’ve been able to talk about these past few days.’
‘Viv,’ Atlas says miserably. ‘If you come with me to Canna House, she’ll—’
‘Canna House?’ I erupt. ‘Hollingsworth is on the island? What was the point of going for Chumana, if the answers to our questions are waiting in the bay?’
‘She wants to see you,’ Atlas says. ‘And all this will be explained. You think you’ve failed in your mission, Viv, but you haven’t. Not yet.’
‘My plan to translate Cannair to convince the wyverns to help us was doomed from the start,’ I say. ‘So if we can’t win without them, then—’
‘Come with me to see her,’ Atlas says. ‘Please!’
He clutches the crumpled piece of paper to his chest and for a moment I think he might cry.
‘Otherwise . . .’
His fists clench as he swallows the rest of his words. I frown, alarm building in the pit of my stomach.
‘Otherwise what, Atlas?’
‘Just . . . just say you’ll come,’ he pleads shakily.
I stare at him, the waves lapping ominously against the boat. Where is the boy who was joking with me earlier?
‘Fine,’ I say. ‘We’ll go there now.’
Ruth rows us to a small cove further along the coast, away from Wyvernmire’s camp. I turn to her as Atlas steps out of the boat. ‘Ruth, if the rebels lose the war then Canna will be overrun with Bulgarian dragons. You and the other kids will need to leave, sail back to the mainland.’
She laughs and shakes her head. ‘Don’t fret, Featherswallow. Where we’re going, not even a dragon will be able to sniff us out.’
I want to ask her what her plan is but the girl behind Ruth is tugging on her furs, casting anxious glances at the sky. They’re exposed here, I realise, to both the dragons above and the Guardians on the ground. I nod.
‘Thank you for saving us.’
Atlas reaches out a hand to help me off the boat but I ignore it and step out on to the wet sand. My clothes cling uncomfortably to my skin but I barely feel the cold any more. As we set out on foot, not saying a word to each other, my body is hot with both curiosity and dread.
What am I about to discover in Canna House?
When we reach it, the front door has been entirely kicked away. The first rays of sun caress the front garden and I steal a glance at Atlas.
‘Are you sure she’s here?’ I whisper.
He looks at the slip of paper in his hand. ‘It’s dated four days ago.’
Glass crunches beneath our boots as we walk down the hallway, peering into each of the rooms.
‘Empty,’ I say, my voice echoing through the gloom.
Shadows loom across the floorboards in the slow sunrise and I try not to think about what they could be hiding. What if Guardians are waiting to ambush us? What if the dracovol post is fake?
‘Atlas, I don’t like this.’
‘She must be up here,’ he whispers, disappearing up the stairs.
I hesitate. Anyone could be waiting at the top. As I stare at Atlas’s back a chill runs down my spine. He’s been in contact with Hollingsworth and hiding it from me this whole time. What else is he keeping secret? Can I even trust him?
I shake myself and follow him. Things have to be classified in war, that’s what Marquis said. Despite his dishonesty, Atlas is still a rebel and Hollingsworth is still the leader of the Human-Dragon Coalition.
We pause by the nursery where Ralph found me last time. It’s empty, too. We continue down the hallway, scanning each room.
‘She’s not here,’ I whisper. ‘We should find the others, then wait for Chumana.’
‘There’s another staircase,’ Atlas says.
He’s right. At the end of the hallway is another set of stairs.
I move aside and gesture him up them with a glare.
There’s a door at the top. Atlas pushes it open and candlelight falls over his shoulder on to the steps.
A chemical smell fills my nose as I follow him inside.
The curtains are tightly closed and the blue flame of a portable gas burner flickers in the corner.
Food tins are stacked in neat piles and behind them is an armchair.
Someone is sitting in it.
I hear a match strike.
The person lights the lamp by the chair and the room fills with a yellow glare, illuminating a puff of hair and a creased, familiar face.
‘Dr Hollingsworth,’ Atlas says.
Hollingsworth gives him a weary smile, then looks at me. ‘Hello, Vivien.’
I stare at her, heat blooming across my cheeks.
I can’t speak. If I do, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep myself from screaming.
I look at the rebel uniform she is wearing in the place of her usual fur coat and feel like I’m part of a terrible trick.
I haven’t seen her since that last morning in her office, back when the wyverns were just a story in Clawtail’s journal.
‘What are you doing here?’ I say.
‘That’s hardly a way to apologise for leaving me behind in London, isn’t it?’ she says with another smile.
‘How about an apology for letting me believe Atlas was dead?’ I spit. ‘For never telling me what you wanted me to ask the wyverns for? For demanding that I learn an impossible language?’
As my voice gets louder, I see Atlas shift uncomfortably.
And suddenly I hate him.
‘How long have you two been conspiring together?’ I say shakily. ‘You didn’t think you could trust the rest of us, is that it? And why is that? Because you’re Hollingsworth and King, the original Bletchley Park rebels?’ I glare at them both, unable to keep the venom from my tone.
‘Atlas,’ Hollingsworth says with a raised eyebrow. ‘Would you care to explain?’
Atlas blushes an even deeper shade of red. ‘It’s true that I had a secret mission,’ he croaks. ‘A mission to tell you what you didn’t know about the Hebridean Wyverns, and why they were the key to winning the war.’
‘Then why didn’t you?’ I say. I turn to Hollingsworth. ‘Why didn’t you send me a dracovol?’
‘Because you needed the information fed to you slowly,’ Hollingsworth says without flinching.
A low laugh escapes my lips. ‘I’m sorry?’
Hollingsworth stands up. ‘You know now that wyvern echolocation has the capacity to save us from the Prime Minister and her Bolgoriths, yes?’
‘So Atlas keeps saying,’ I reply. ‘How? And why didn’t you tell me that back in London, instead of telling him?’
‘My plan was to inform you gradually, Vivien. That is why I didn’t send you to Canna straight away, and why I was devastated when I found out you had been arrested and taken here.’
I frown and Hollingsworth folds her hands together, her silver rings glinting in the candlelight.
‘What you went through at Bletchley Park was dreadful,’ she says.
‘I know the bravery it took to refuse to translate echolocation for the Prime Minister, how difficult it must have been to see the truth about who she is and change allegiances, so to speak. At the time I had recently confirmed what I had long suspected to be true – that the echolocation of a group of Scottish wyverns could help the Coalition. Except you had just learned from Chumana of the danger that the human exploitation of this hidden tongue poses to dragons. So how could I then ask you to do exactly that in the name of the rebels you only barely trusted?’
‘I sure as hell didn’t expect you to be the one advocating for it,’ I say icily. ‘I told Atlas that you would never endanger dragons in such a way. You, the leader of the Human-Dragon Coalition.’ I look at Atlas, who is still staring at the floor. ‘It seems I was wrong.’
Hollingsworth nods as if agreeing with me and I feel my mind spinning out of control. What is going on?
‘I knew you wouldn’t take kindly to the idea. So I had Atlas feed you the information piece by piece, so that you might come to a gentler realisation of why this unexpected new avenue is crucial to winning the war. Of why I sent you to communicate with the wyverns in the first place.’
I blink.
Feed me the information?
Atlas looks miserable.
‘What . . . what do you mean?’ I breathe.
‘I told you, back in London, about how Bulgarian dragons communicate primarily in echolocation, did I not? That is why they speak fewer tongues than most dragons, why their fighters are sorted into bonded family groups. That sounds a lot like the Hebridean Wyverns, doesn’t it?
When my spies informed me Wyvernmire was in possession of a loquisonus machine and that you had escaped with it, I had Atlas suggest you use it to listen to the wyverns.
And then I told him where Clawtail’s grave was, so he could take you there. ’
I stare at him, my whole body hot. He doesn’t move, doesn’t look at me.
‘How did you communicate?’
‘I assigned the secret mission to Atlas before he was sent to Canna,’ Hollingsworth says.
‘And she sent a dracovol telling me to keep the loquisonus machine close, which reached me when we were searching Canna House the first time,’ Atlas says. ‘Then I stole Serena’s radio in the tunnels and got a signal—’
‘Which is how you knew about the grave,’ I finish weakly. I look at Hollingsworth. ‘You’re the one who wrote that memory scroll? How do you know the wyverns can heal humans?’
‘When I received warning from Clementius that Guardians were on their way to my offices to arrest me, I was able to escape and begin the journey to Canna. I knew how angry you would be when you found out about Atlas’s second mission. And I wanted to be the one to tell you the full truth myself.’
‘The full truth?’