Chapter Twenty-Four
Kiela ran up the cliff stairs—her sides hurt, her lungs hurt, her legs hurt, and her heart hurt to think that she’d ruined everything. If she hadn’t shared her spells with anyone . . . If she hadn’t experimented on the apple trees . . . If she had just left the books alone . . . But she hadn’t, and now she’d endangered not only herself but Caz, Larran, Bryn, Eadie, Ulina, and possibly everyone else on Caltrey, depending on how hard this inspector decided to come down on the island for harboring a “rogue sorcerer.”
What else would Radane’s investigation expose?
Who else have I endangered?
Panting, she reached the top of the stairs. What about Ivor? He’d said he wanted to talk to her about remedies. She’d assumed he disapproved, but what if she had it backward? He was the island healer. Perhaps he slipped in some illegal “remedies” of his own to save a patient. In Alyssium, it was universally known that no one looked too closely at what healers did so long as they kept healing the rich and powerful, but what about on an island in the outer region? Would they still look away? Radane had specifically mentioned healers, so she might not look away. As an imperial inspector, she had the authority to enforce the laws against non-approved magic use to their fullest. She could call a legion to Caltrey to comb through their houses, observe their activities, question everyone . . . and then levy fines, make arrests, dole out punishments. She could, if she chose, strip Caltrey of every resource and call it justice.
Outside the waterfall, Kiela called, “Ivor!” She bent over, hands on her knees, and tried to catch her breath. Straightening, she shouted louder, “Ivor!”
He stepped out from behind the spray of water. Wet, his magnificent antlers gleamed. “Who needs help?”
“You do.”
He blinked at her.
“There’s an imperial inspector in town,” she said. “You may have nothing to hide, but if you do . . . hide it.” She turned without waiting for him to reply.
“Kiela, I know what you did for Larran’s merhorse.”
She froze.
And then he said, “It was a true kindness.”
With a nod, Kiela set off toward the greenery. She held her side as she ran. Every breath felt as if it were scraping her throat. She wasn’t used to running. Not much need in the Great Library. She didn’t see the point unless something was chasing you.
Well, now something is.
Consequences.
Consequences were chasing her, and even though a good, upstanding citizen of the empire might choose to face those consequences . . . I have a spider plant, a cactus, and a chicken to think of.
And the books.
She couldn’t let Radane claim the spellbooks. An imperial investigator wasn’t a librarian. Radane wouldn’t know how to care for them, how to protect them, how to return them safely to where they’d be guarded and valued. At best, she’d confiscate them, and they’d languish in a warehouse for illegal magic. At worst, she’d destroy them, deeming them the instrument of illegal activities. She might not believe they were library books. Or care.
It’s not a risk I can take.
Stumbling onto the green in front of the cottage, Kiela collapsed onto her hands and knees. Her voice croaked as she called, “Caz.” She tried again. Louder: “Caz!”
“Meep?”
“Get Caz, please,” she told the cactus as they peered at her from around the side of the cottage. “Tell him it’s an emergency. Tell him . . .” Tell him it’s all gone wrong. Tell him I failed. Tell him I’m sorry.
Before she could say any of it, Caz spurted out over the garden wall and toward her. “What happened? Are you hurt? Oh seeds and soil! You’re dying!”
She shook her head hard. “Radane—she’s an imperial inspector. She knows there’s illegal magic on Caltrey. We have to hide the books.”
“Gah!”
He bolted into the cottage, followed by the cactus. “Meep, meep, meep!”
She got to her feet and puffed after them into the bedroom. Throwing the quilts off the crates, she piled the research books she’d been reading back inside and closed the lids. She then began tugging the first crate out of the cottage.
“Where to?” Caz asked.
“Boat,” Kiela said.
“How?”
“We pull it down the stairs? I guess?” As she maneuvered the first crate to the top step, she heard the rustle of bushes near the path. Her heart hammered inside her rib cage. “Hide,” she ordered Caz and the cactus.
There was no hiding the crate. She couldn’t just drop it down the stairs, not safely, not with water at the bottom of the steps. She had to guide it down, but there was no time—
Larran burst out of the greenery. “Kiela?”
“Over here,” she said, and then thought she should have stayed silent. Of course, he would have seen her in a second, just standing at the top of the steps with an enormous crate. She braced herself as he crossed to her—this wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation. She expected questions. Or a demand for an explanation. She knew he’d seen her flee—there was no way to hide that. She only hoped she had enough of a head start on Radane, that Bryn would keep her busy in the bakery for long enough—
But he didn’t demand anything. He merely asked, “What do you need?”
Kiela wanted to cry. That was the most— No, fall apart later. “I need help with the crates. I have to hide them. Caz and I . . . We need to get the crates to our boat and then . . . somewhere.” She didn’t know where. Out to sea. Along the coast. She didn’t know, but she’d figure it out. First, she had to get the books away from here. Maybe she could find another cove, one where no one knew to look for her. Or better yet, a cave. Yes! There were caves riddling the cliffs. She didn’t know where any were, but if she searched for long enough . . . I just have to get the books away.
He didn’t ask what was in the crates.
He didn’t ask why they needed to be hidden.
He simply helped. Grabbing the crate, he muscled it down the stairs himself, while she, Caz, and the cactus dragged the second crate from the back bedroom to the top of the steps.
Larran jogged back up the steps and hefted the next crate into his arms. She saw the strain in his arms and the sweat on his forehead. She knew the crates were painfully heavy, even for him, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t slow.
She went for the third crate.
The fourth.
The fifth.
By the last one, her arms were aching so badly that they shook. But she helped him carry the final crate down the steps, both of them grunting and wheezing. They positioned it onto the scow next to the others, and Kiela covered them all with the tarp.
“Kiela?” Caz called from shore. He was holding the bag of pine cone remedies in his leaves. The cactus was beneath the bag, helping support it.
“Caz, wait there. I’ll carry you over the dock. Cactus—”
“I’m staying,” Caz said.
Staying? Here? “You can’t. If she saw you and misunderstood . . .”
“There’s nothing illegal about me,” Caz said. “My creation, yes. But after my creator was punished, the head librarian did the paperwork to ensure I would be protected.”
“If Radane doesn’t believe you—”
“Meep!”
“They want to stay with me,” Caz translated.
This was a terrible idea, for both of them. She remembered how Fenerer had reacted when he’d just seen the spider plant. He hadn’t paused to ask about paperwork. “It’s dangerous. You don’t know—”
“Meep, meepl”
Kiela didn’t need a translation for that. The cactus wanted to stay with Caz, which would normally be sweet but right now was just plain reckless. If Radane saw either Caz or the cactus, she’d be convinced that Kiela, not some elderly villager with an herbal remedy, was the source of the magic—and she’d be right. Kiela tried another tack. “I need the two of you to guard the books wherever I hide them. I can’t just stash them somewhere unguarded, and I can’t stay with them myself. It’ll be suspicious if I’m not at my shop.”
“What if she comes while you’re gone?” Caz argued. “Someone needs to delay and misdirect her—”
Larran spoke up. “I’ll do it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kiela said. He wasn’t involved. He had no idea what was going on or what was at stake. He shouldn’t have to—She suddenly realized with horror that she’d said the word “books.” A second later, she realized he hadn’t flinched. He hadn’t asked, “What books?” Or worse, “Whose books?” Maybe . . . No. This wasn’t his responsibility. He didn’t owe anything to her, no matter what he’d said before with Sian. I’m not his . . . anything. He had no reason, except this was Larran, and this was what he did and who he was.
Still, though, she couldn’t let him. He’d be accused of obstructing an official investigation, and he couldn’t afford to be arrested—his merhorses needed him. Besides, he didn’t deserve to be pulled into this mess. He was a good person, kind to a fault. Kiela shook her head. “No, I won’t be responsible for ruining your life. Go home, and be innocent. You rescued her, so she should leave you alone—”
“I brought danger to you, however unintentionally, by bringing her into your life,” Larran said. “Don’t argue. Just go. Take Caz and . . .” He hesitated.
“Meep,” the cactus said.
“Take Caz and Meep with you, and I will delay Radane, if she comes.”
She half laughed and half hiccupped. “Meep is an excellent name,” she told the cactus as they waddled down the dock toward the boat. Carrying the bag of pine cones, Caz followed the cactus. He kept to the middle of the boards, but he didn’t falter. Both of them jumped onto the scow, and Caz climbed on top of the crates, as far from the water as possible.
Following her to the edge of the dock, Larran asked, “Where will you go?”
“Better if you don’t know.” Kneeling, she untied the line from the dock and then stepped onto the scow and pushed off. “What will you do if she comes before I’m back?”
“Sell jam,” Larran said simply.
Caz snorted.
“Thank you,” Kiela said. She wanted to say more: she was sorry for not telling him the truth, she was in awe of how kind he was, she really liked his eyes, but she couldn’t find the words. Maybe she’d have another chance to say them later, when she knew how to say what she was feeling churning inside her. Reaching for the pole, she pushed her way through the cove toward the waves. He then turned and ran up the steps, two at a time, while she propelled the scow out of the cove.
Outside the shelter of the cove, waves slapped at the hull, and wind tangled her hair. She untied the silver sail and raised it. Overhead, the sky was bright, blue, and cloudless, as if it hadn’t a care in the world and would never allow a storm or even a drizzle—in other words, lying. Seagulls circled above them, hoping they’d stop and fish, but Kiela ignored them.
“Where to?” Caz asked.
She should have asked Larran . . . No, he’s doing enough. “Look for caves.” She remembered visiting several caves around Caltrey with her father when she was a child. There were a few that had thousands-of-years-old paintings inside them, animated by magic—proof that there had been magic on the Crescent Islands long before the emperor and his greedy laws. Kiela’s father had been fascinated by caves of Caltrey. He’d never have imagined she’d need to hide in one. She felt a sliver of anger coil inside her. She shouldn’t be punished for what she’d done. Protecting the books was her actual job description, as well as her life’s mission, and as for using what was in the books and sharing the knowledge they contained . . . well, that should be her job and her mission.
Books should be shared with everyone who wants to open their minds and hearts to them.
Keeping them, keeping knowledge, from people who needed it, that was the real crime. The words belonged to the people, all the people, not just the wealthy and powerful, even if that led to a few disasters due to magic in the hands of inexperienced spellcasters . . . Well, the current laws weren’t keeping anyone safe. In fact, the status quo was only making everything worse. If it was up to her, she’d share the spells with everyone.
Of course, all that was true but unhelpful. Whether she had the moral high ground or not, she still had to find a cave, hide the books and the plants, and then make it back to Larran before Radane came snooping around, which was definitely going to be soon, especially if Radane had indeed spied on them through the greenery. Caz’s lie about an old villager with an herbal remedy wouldn’t delay her for long. She’ll be coming soon. The faster they could find a place to hide, the better.
A splash beside the boat caught her attention.
Kiela looked into the water and saw the mermaid from the cove with her merbaby swimming beside them. She couldn’t help but smile as the merbaby leaped like a dolphin through the waves. He giggled as he waved his webbed hand.
Caz leaned over the edge of the crate. “Excuse me. We’re in a bit of danger. Do you know a cave we can hide in? Large enough to hold the boat and everything on it, but small enough not to be noticed? You see, there’s an imperial inspector on the island, and she’ll take the spellbooks if she finds them and arrest us, which would mean prison or worse.” He shuddered and shed a leaf.
The mermaid popped higher out of the water. “Danger?”
“Yes, danger,” Caz said. “Can you help us hide?”
The mermaid disappeared under the waves.
“Meep?” the cactus said. They stabbed the lost leaf with their needles and offered it back to Caz, who let them plant it in his soil ball, even though that was hopeless.
“I don’t think she understood,” Caz said.
Their needles drooped. “Meep.”
“Well, I doubt that merfolk have issues with imperial inspectors,” he said. “They certainly don’t have books underwater. She might not—”
Popping up near the prow, the mermaid ordered, “Come.”
Kiela adjusted the sail, and they bounced over the waves, following the mermaid and her baby. They sailed past the orchard on the edge of the cliff, and Kiela wondered if the tree was still singing. If it was, she didn’t doubt Fenerer would show the inspector and share all his suspicions. Frankly, it was sheer luck that Radane hadn’t begun her search at the jam shop. No, it’s not luck, she thought. It’s Bryn.
She wondered what Larran would say when Radane finally came, whether she would search the cottage, and whether she’d guess what they’d removed from the bedroom—Kiela hadn’t had time to reorganize the furniture. What would she make of the pile of quilts? Would she notice the boat was gone from the cove? If she discovered Kiela had come by boat, she’d demand to know where the boat was.
A good inspector would crack through Kiela’s lies in a heartbeat.
I didn’t hide well.
She hadn’t been trying to hide; she’d been trying to escape. And once she was here . . . well, she’d thought she was too far from Alyssium for anyone to care what she did. She’d let herself be lulled into an illusion of safety, and look where it had gotten her.
“I’m sorry,” Kiela said to Caz.
“For what? You came back as quickly as you could.”
“For all of this. If I hadn’t touched the books . . . If we’d just left them behind . . .”
Caz shook his tendrils at her. “They’d have burned.”
“Then I should have just left them hidden. I shouldn’t have—”
“Meep!”
If she hadn’t cast spells, then Meep wouldn’t exist, the forest spirits would be treeless, the merbaby and Sian would have succumbed to storm sickness. It wasn’t all a mistake. Ahead, the mermaid swam toward what looked like a shadow in the cliff wall. Kiela pulled the sail tighter, and they shot through the water, following her. They sped toward the rocks.
Caz rustled his leaves. “Kiela?”
She wasn’t certain where the cave was, if there was a cave, but the mermaid—
“Kiela!”
“I trust her.”
And there it was: the cave. It was a trick of how the cliff wall was angled, combined with the color of the rock. She’d never have seen it at all if not for the mermaid. Loosening the sail, she let the boat drift toward the opening.
They slipped inside between the silent stone. Shadows closed around them, like a mother’s arms, to protect them. The lap of waves echoed within the cave. I know this place. It was her father’s favorite.
On the ceiling and the walls, painted flowers sparkled around them in a magical light show, courtesy of a spell that had been cast thousands of years ago. Marveling, Kiela turned in a slow circle as the petals of ancient roses, lilies, daisies, and flowers twinkled in every color of the rainbow, and she felt, for a brief moment, safe.