21. In which there is a silly goose and another hole in the ice
IN WHICH THERE IS A SILLY GOOSE AND ANOTHER HOLE IN THE ICE
The more time that passed, the more the thought of Septimus sleeping out on the ice made her stomach turn.
He had been out there for two nights now.
Had not changed his mind and come inside, as she had hoped.
And yes, she had told Charlotte that he should sleep with the dogs, but she hadn’t meant it. Not really.
Hester paced the dimly lit cabin. She stopped in front of the knife mark on the wall that he’d made so many months ago.
What if he froze to death? Or got frostbitten?
And then there was the terrifying thought of a siren out there.
She owed Septimus a life debt, and though she was still furious that he’d tried to out her secret in front of everyone, she couldn’t sit idly by and not offer shelter to him. Not any longer, anyway.
She blew out the candle, shrugged her fur-lined coat on and stalked from the cabin.
Hester stood on the ice in front of the canvas tent, the blackness wrapped around her. Snowball had joined her, and she laced her fingers through the dog’s white fur, wondering how to announce herself. She shivered in her coat, the cold creeping into her skin.
The tent flapped open, and Septimus crawled out, then started when he saw her, his eyes darkening. He rose to his feet, towering over her.
“What do you want?” he asked, his voice gravelly. He looked like shit.
“For you to come inside.” And for everything to go back to how it was.
“No. Go away. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to see you ever again.” He said it through his teeth, didn’t even look at her.
“That might be difficult, seeing as I’m one of twenty people down here.”
“I’m not in the mood for your quips. Leave me alone.” Sooty appeared from the tent and pressed herself against Hester’s legs, clearly much more delighted to see her than Septimus.
“If you won’t come inside then I’ll have to stay out here until you change your mind,” Hester said, placing her hands on her hips and returning Septimus’s scowl with one of her own.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He went back inside his tent, but Sooty remained outside.
Hester sat down in the snow and petted the two dogs.
She recalled a time when Fliss had called her as stubborn as a mule, and her lips tugged at the corners, then she scowled again when she remembered that Fliss was barely speaking to her, their friendship in tatters, more interested in Emlyn than her.
Fifteen minutes passed, and Septimus emerged from the tent when Snowball and Sooty started to whine. “What—in all that is Holy—are you still doing here?”
She tried to grin, but her face wouldn’t move. “I told you, if you won’t come inside, I’ll sit here until you change your mind.”
“You’ll freeze. Go inside,” he growled, pointing to the ship. “Now.”
Hester shook her head. Couldn’t let him order her around. “No.”
“You’ll get frostbite. Don’t be stubborn.”
“Well, you’d better come inside if you don’t want me to get frostbitten, hadn’t you?”
He clenched his fists, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “I don’t care if you get frostbite.”
“Alright. Let’s see about that, shall we?” Hester lay down on the snow. The wind was picking up, pinching at her cheeks and nose. She pulled her scarf up over her nose, and the dogs stood over her, wagging and licking at her. Snowball started to whine more incessantly, her tail between her legs.
“Even your dog thinks you’re being idiotic. Go inside.”
Hester closed her eyes and pressed her teeth together to stop them chattering.
Septimus let out a frustrated snarl and shut the tent flaps.
Was this such a good idea? She had been fairly sure he’d cave before now, and her fingers and toes felt…
well, she couldn’t feel them. She could no longer stop her teeth chattering, and the wind was rising, snow starting to fall, the white flakes swirling all around in a mesmerising dance.
The minutes stretched out until she lost track of time.
She blinked once, twice, and on the third, the world shifted.
The flakes of snow vanished, replaced by black ash floating down from onyx clouds.
Grass met her fingertips, slightly damp.
The cold wind had ceased, warmth caressing her cheek, the change in temperature stinging her skin.
The smell of bonfires stung her nostrils.
What on Earth was happening? Hester sat up quickly.
Too quickly, the strange world spinning around her.
A hand landed on her shoulder, and she looked into the face of the angel who had come to her when she had lain dead on the Intrepid’s deck.
Angel, or…the winged being from Charlotte’s book of myths? The aquiline?
“No.” The woman’s face was aghast. “You cannot be here.”
Was she dreaming? “Where am I?”
“The underworld.” Tears brimmed in the woman’s green eyes.
“The—what?” Hester scrambled to her feet. “This cannot be. I didn’t—did I? Did I freeze to death? For that wretched man?” Her jaw hung slack.
More figures were approaching now. Some humans, but others were strange figures. Winged people. A person with no wings, but branched antlers sprouting from their head. One with pointed ears like a wolf, furry tail swaying gently behind them. Just like the people in Charlotte’s book.
Hester backed away. This couldn’t be real. Surely. “I have to get back. How do I leave?” Out of the corner of her eye, feathers gleamed, and a heavy weight hung at her back. “I cannot leave them. My crew. You don’t understand. Help me. Please.”
The winged woman said, “There is nothing you can do. You must hope that help comes from the other side.”
The other side. Septimus. Would he help her? Or would he still be sitting in his tent, ignoring her, while her body became colder and colder, frost creeping over her?
The green-eyed woman spread her wings and stepped closer. “He must not see you.”
“Who?”
“The Lord of the Underworld.” She turned to the gathered people. “Help me. I beg you. Once he sees her, he will keep her.”
A man with pale hair and wolf ears and tail stepped forwards. His leather coat bore a leaf emblem. “We will help.”
Hester wrung her hands together. “I have to wake up. Please.” Feathers rustled behind her head.
Good Lord, she had wings, too. She stretched them out, then snapped them shut again.
What was happening? Underworld. Wings. These strange people.
Dead people. Hester’s throat constricted, panic lancing her heart. A dream. It had to be.
“He comes.” The wolf man looked over his shoulder, out into the wasteland.
The woman curled her wings around Hester, trying to shield her from view. “He will not stop hunting you. As a child you were meant to die, but my mother saved you and cast her protection over you until a few months ago when she was killed. In any case, Orcus believes your soul is his.”
“Tell me how to wake up,” Hester said, stepping behind the woman’s wings. It was all too strange to take in. She’d do anything to get out of this awful nightmare. Back to the Valour and Fliss and Charlotte, even Septimus.
The wolf man stepped forward, gesturing for the others to surround her. “Listen carefully.”
A cold voice boomed, “I smell a new soul.”
Hester stilled, her heart beating faster. It was the same voice that had spoken into her head twice before. The voice of the giant orca. She pinched her arm, desperate to wake. It did no good.
The wolf man spoke, “Take from Orcus a weapon that he has touched. It is the only way to harm him.”
“Take a weapon from him?” She needed more information. Needed to know who these people were.
“There she is! You keep evading me, little bird,” the cold voice said. Hester could see wolf people being dragged out of the way, and then the dark world faded to white.
She gasped in a breath, her mouth filling with snow. Someone was carrying her over their shoulder. That someone was in a hurry.
Her body was totally numb. All she could do was spit snow from her frozen lips. She groaned, tried to move. Couldn’t. “Septimus,” she croaked. Her depleted magic—it was back, warm and bright in her chest. But oh, she couldn’t use it. The orca—no—the Lord of the Underworld—would sense her.
He stopped, hefting her from his shoulder and into his arms. His eyes were wide. “What have you done to yourself?”
“I have to get a weapon from the orca.” God, her lips were numb. She gripped his shoulder. “I was in the underworld. I had wings.”
“You are a lunatic.” Septimus stalked to the ship.
Perhaps he was right. A terrible dream. But it had felt so real.
He walked up the ramp and down into the galley. She would have protested, but she was too cold to do anything but let it happen.
“Have my cabin,” Hester said, trying not to bite her tongue as her teeth clashed together.
“No. I’m going back to the tent.”
“Alright. I’ll only follow you.”
He set her in front of the stove and pressed her into a chair.
She tried to smirk. “Oh, goody. Are you going to tie me down?”
He snarled and yanked a length of rope from his coat pocket. “Yes.”
“Someone will let me out, and then I’ll follow you,” she said. Damn, if only she could stop shaking. Or feel her body.
He rumbled a growl and yanked off her gloves. “Shit. Your fingers are white.”
Fliss walked into the galley and halted, frowning. “What happened?”
Hester closed her eyes. Did not need Fliss to see her in such a state.
“Your captain is a fucking idiot,” Septimus said, not taking his eyes from Hester.
Fliss huffed and folded her arms. “What has she done this time?”
This time? There was a time when Fliss would have been outraged at Septimus referring to her in such a way. “It’s none of your business.”
Fliss’s lips pursed, and she opened her mouth, then closed it again. She turned and left the galley without saying anything more.