Jack and Jill went up a hill
To bring a pail of water;
Jack fell down and broke his crown,
And Jill came tumbling after.
We’ve got to let Mary know we found a star map in Boggen’s secret lab,” Wren told Jack and Simon as they hurried back the way they had come. It hadn’t taken nearly as long to return through the rock formations, and now they raced up the tunnel. “Or at least find Baxter and Liza.” Wren led the way across the bridge over the Opal Sea. She had decided to try the amphitheater first, and so intent was she on looking for Mary that she didn’t see Elsa beelining toward them until it was too late.
“Apprentices! Stop!” Elsa’s face was creased with displeasure. “Who gave you permission to leave your work? Why are you in the Council’s quarters?” She narrowed her gaze at them. “Alone.”
Wren managed a weak “Um,” her mind whirling fast to think of a believable reason, while Jack choked out a nervous laugh. Simon said nothing at all, and Wren wondered how long they had before Elsa started talking about floggings.
Instead, Elsa began to list the new rules she was proposing to the Council, limiting apprentice activity even more. “For your own protection, of course.” Her mouth creased into an unpleasant smile. “Until I speak to them, why don’t you come with me. I’d like to see what these other Fiddlers are teaching you.”
“Or we could go talk to the Council now,” Wren said desperately. If they were lucky, Mary might be in there.
“Apprentices disturb the Council?” Elsa raised one eyebrow. “I think not. I will take charge of your training this afternoon.”
“But you have that meeting.” It was Jill who came to their aid, popping out from behind Elsa. “With the cook, remember?”
Elsa scowled at her. “Blast the cook.”
“Beg your pardon, Fiddler Elsa,” Jill said from Elsa’s side, giving a perfect little bow. “But perhaps these apprentices could join my work detail until you are available. I will keep an eye on them.”
“Yes,” Elsa said thoughtfully. “You could watch them. An excellent idea, and one I can’t believe I haven’t thought of before.” She pinched Wren’s ear in one hand and Simon’s in the other and pushed them toward Jill, barking at Jack to follow close behind. “The old observatory, Jill. Don’t forget the deep-cleaning supplies, and work there until I come for you.” She pointed toward a green door. “Well? What are you waiting for?” she hissed. “Only undisciplined apprentices take their time.”
No one said anything until a whole level was between them and Elsa’s furious face. Jill led them to an exterior door and cracked it open, pausing to listen back the way they had come, and then hurried through. “The observatory is at the top of the Crooked House,” Jill said. “It’s ancient. Hardly anyone goes there now. Not since the new one was built on the other side of the cliff.” She hooked the bucket of cleaning supplies she was carrying over one arm and began climbing a rough switchback stairway that cut across the face of the Crooked House. She smiled at Wren, the first genuine smile Wren had ever seen from her. “You can talk freely out here. None of Elsa’s spies to overhear what we’re saying.” She told them how most of the upper floors were abandoned, left over from when Magicians and Alchemists together filled up all the lodgings in the Crooked House. It seemed to Wren that the fresh air had worked some kind of magic on Jill. Her expressionless eyes became animated. Her cheeks flushed with a more healthy-looking color, and that smile kept blossoming across her face.
“Why are you helping us?” Simon’s voice was very quiet. “You don’t even know us.”
“I know Elsa,” Jill said. “I know what she’s capable of, and I know what she’ll do to you if she can get away with it.” She paused, her fingers hovering around her collarbone as if she was remembering something that she once wore on her neck. She shook her head. “But that’s not why I did it. I want you to help me.”
“What can we do to help you?” Jack asked. “We’re only apprentices, too.”
“Yeah,” Jill said, and her voice suddenly sounded brittle. “But you came from out there. You’re not from the Crooked House.” She clenched her jaw. “I’ve seen you get flying lessons. I’ve heard you talking about gateways. Elsa forbids me from knowing anything that I could use to escape. I want you to teach me what you know.” She gathered her unruly curls into one thick bundle and tugged on it. “So that I can leave this place and be free in your land.”
“We can’t promise anything,” Jack said, giving Jill a half smile. “All we can do is try.”
“We can do more than try.” Wren reached out to squeeze Jill’s hand. “We’ll figure something out. There’s no way we’ll leave you here with that woman if you want to go. Where did you used to live anyway?”
“Here.”
“No, I mean before you came here. Like when you had a family.”
“Here,” Jill said, and some of the deadness was back in her voice. “I was born here.”
“I didn’t know that someone could be born a Fiddler,” Wren said, carefully picking her way over a crumbling part of the path. Simon stopped to jot something down in his notebook, but Jill picked up the pace, almost as though if she walked faster, she could avoid the questions.
“Well, you can,” she said in clipped tones. “Most of us are. I only know one other apprentice who came in from the wild before you three.”
“Hmm. So Fiddling has a genetic link?” Simon was somehow able to navigate the narrow path and take notes at the same time. “Is everyone in your family a Fiddler?”
“I don’t want to talk about my family,” Jill said, and shut her mouth with a snap.
“Hmm.” Simon chewed on his pencil eraser. “It must be a recessive gene, because neither my dad nor Wren’s parents have any idea what a Fiddler is.” He squinted out over the valley. “But my mom? Hmm, I wonder.”
“Hmm,” Jack said. “I wonder if the sound of all your wondering is getting annoying. Hmm. Oh, wait! No need to wonder. It is.”
“What’s your problem, Jack?” Wren jumped to Simon’s defense. “Don’t be a jerk.”
“What about your parents?” Simon said as if Jack hadn’t been rude. “Either of them Fiddlers?”
“Don’t know, don’t care.” Jack stumbled and reached out for the cliffside to catch his balance. “And before you get all wondering about them, don’t bother. I sure don’t.”
Wren chose her words carefully. Jack hadn’t ever talked about his parents before. Maybe that was why he was being so snappish with Simon. “Wouldn’t your relatives have told you, though?” Wren asked, making sure she stepped around the uneven spot Jack had stumbled on.
“I don’t have any relatives,” Jack said.
“I mean your grandfather. Wouldn’t he have said something?”
“My grandfather?” Jack said, and he sounded confused for a moment as he paused in front of a small gap in the stairway. Jill was already out of sight around the next switchback. Jack took a step back and then hopped over the opening.
Wren followed, stopping on the other side to make sure Simon didn’t try to walk across it with his nose buried in his notebook. When he had joined them, she turned to Jack. “Yeah, your grandfather. Maybe that’s why he’s such a conspiracy theorist. Maybe he knows something.”
“Oh, right,” Jack said. “Grandpa. He knew stuff all right, but not about Fiddling being genetic.” He took a deep breath. “Hey, look, we’re nearly at the top!”
The uppermost stairway ended with a rickety old ladder that dumped them out onto a grassy hilltop. Jill was waiting for them, and Wren plopped on the grass next to her to catch her breath. From where they sat, a knee-tingling view of the entire valley spread below them. Peering down, Wren couldn’t make out the exterior entrances to the Crooked House, but she could see the falcon mews way below.
Above, the first stars began to twinkle in the dusky twilight. Wren strained her eyes to see if she could recognize any of the constellations, but they all looked strange. Thin streaks of aqua played near the horizon, the first faint glow of the aurora that had become an everyday sight to her now.
Jill sighed and got to her feet, picking up the bucket of cleaning supplies and interrupting the stillness of the moment. “Break’s over. Time to get to work.”
The old observatory looked like it belonged in a collection of historical monuments. The crumbling limestone foundation, chipped and worn by many years on the cliff top, stretched up into a faded cylindrical tower that was topped with a glass dome. Even from where Wren stood, she saw places where the windows were cracked and broken. A stone balcony protruded from one side, with a stand that held a monstrous old telescope.
Wren felt glad Elsa didn’t know how much she loved astronomy. Otherwise, there was no way she would have given her a punishment that actually felt like a prize.
“I can’t wait to see what’s up there,” she said as Jill wrestled open the warped door. “I bet there’s all sorts of ancient equipment from—well, how long has the Crooked House been around, anyway?”
“No one really knows,” Jill said, leading them up a narrow stairway. “The Crooked House has expanded over the years, of course, but the main part—the summoning room and Opal Sea—it’s always been here. Ever since the Crooked Man built it. Or that’s what legend says, anyway.”
“The Crooked Man?” Wren said, but forgot what she was going to ask when she followed Jill into the glass enclosed room, where a giant gyroscope perched in the center.
“Amazing,” Jack said, sliding onto the tottering stool in front of it and reaching up to spin the frame. “It’s still functional, even.”
“And there’s an armillary sphere.” Wren pushed past Simon, who was sketching the equipment in his notebook, to examine something that looked like a globe balanced inside of a star. “Astronomers in medieval times used these to make models of the heavens.”
“Sapiens dominabitur astris.” Jack poked his head out from behind the gyroscope. “‘A wise man can rule the stars.’” He brushed the hair back from his forehead. “Maybe they did.”
“We really should start cleaning,” Jill said, nudging Simon, who was now copying down the markings on a huge compass. “Elsa won’t be happy if she doesn’t find us working. Here.” She shoved a can of wood polish and an old rag at Jack and a bottle of glass cleaner at Wren. “Clean while you look. I stuck my neck out for you, and whatever else happens, Elsa has to find this room spotless.”
“Right.” Wren grabbed a rag out of Jill’s bucket and began wiping things down. At first, she tried to hurry through the cleaning so she would have extra time to explore, but then she found that she could do both at once. She squirted some of the cleaner on a leaded-glass bookcase where someone had cataloged astronomical tools.
Wren wiped the moisture off, examining each item as it came into view. She’d seen some of the equipment before, at amateur astronomy meetings back home. Some, she’d seen online or in journal articles. And some, she’d never seen at all.
“Check this out,” she said to no one in particular. “They have a backstaff.” She leaned closer. “And a celestial globe. This is amazing.” The cabinet was locked, but she could see gyroscopes and sundials and something that looked like a cross between a candelabra and a microscope. Brass scales and a stone mortar and pestle. “No wonder people used to think Fiddlers were magicians.” She read the little placards that talked about ways the equipment was used by early astronomers. A few items were unlabeled, their white cards blank but for an estimated date and the italicized words No known use. That and the flame of the Magicians.
“Look at this!” Wren called Simon over to show him the markings.
Simon lowered his voice. “I think we should ask Jill about the star map.”
Wren glanced over at Jill, who was vigorously polishing glass lenses on a large telescope. “Why? How would she know anything about the Magicians?”
“Why would an apprentice not want to talk about her family?” Simon said.
Wren shrugged. “Tons of reasons. They could be mean or dead or something.”
“Or something,” Simon said. “Or Magicians.” He leaned closer, his cloth making a little squeaking noise on the glass as he worked. “Why do you think everyone is always talking about her and whispering? Why doesn’t she have any friends?” He stopped scrubbing. “There has to be some reason she’s stuck with Elsa as a mentor.”
Wren chewed on her lip. Simon could be right. “Do you really think we can trust her?”
“Are you kidding?” Simon said. “She’s confided her escape plan to us. She’s probably the only person in the Crooked House besides Mary, Baxter, and Liza who we can trust. Besides that, we are wasting time cleaning up here, and for what? To wait for Elsa to come punish us?” He gave Wren a rare direct look. “You know we should be trying to find Mary. If we tell Jill, maybe she can help.”
Wren looked back at the display of alchemist tools. It wasn’t that she had forgotten what they had found earlier; it was just that it was nicer to not think about it for a few moments. Climbing the Crooked House had given her a break from worrying about how she was going to tell Mary about Boggen’s lab without everyone thinking she was in league with the Magicians.
“I suppose it’s worth the risk,” she said, holding out her hand for Simon’s notebook. “Besides, we have a bargaining tool. Imagine what Elsa would do if we blabbed that Jill wanted to escape.” She flipped to the map she had copied earlier and walked straight over to Jill. “Any chance you can see these stars through that scope?”
“This Fiddler must have witnessed a gamma-ray burst.” Jill bent close, one chewed-down nail running along the rumpled edge of the notebook. “Someone has marked a new star here.”
Wren told her about her discovery in Boggen’s lab. “We think whoever made this wasn’t simply identifying stars but was navigating a route through them.” She took a deep breath. “We think they might have made a gateway.”
Jill flipped back and forth between the pages. “Wren, this is unbelievable.” She peered closer, gathering her bushy hair to one shoulder so she could see the paper unhindered. She paused at the same spot that Wren had deliberated over in Boggen’s lab. “Travel at the speed of light?”
“Yup.” Wren could barely keep the grin off her face. This was big. Bigger than finding out she was a Fiddler. Bigger than flying through an aurora on a falcon. Bigger than the biggest thing she had seen stardust do. Fiddlers didn’t just fly through the night sky. They flew through the universe.
“What if the Magicians are out there right now?” Jack walked over and looked out the large glass window at the front of the room. “What if there are Magicians looking at us from a galaxy far, far away?”
It was a clear night, and the Milky Way had never appeared more beautiful to Wren. “What do you think about that theory, Jill? Do you know anything about gateways? Or the Magicians?”
“I don’t know anything about the Ms,” Jill said too quickly, and Wren exchanged glances with Simon. Perhaps he had been right about Jill’s family.
“You mean the Magicians?” Simon asked with a frown.
“Stop saying the M-word,” Jill said, glancing over her shoulder like she expected one to pop out and flog her right then.
“Call them something else, then,” Wren pressed. “But tell us what you know.”
“So much of Fiddler lore was lost after the Civil War,” Jill continued. “The worst part of the Ms leaving is that we’ve lost all their knowledge.” She kept her gaze fixed on the map. “Or most of it. Elsa’s studied it some, and when she’s asleep, I sometimes read her notes. The odd thing is, lately she’s been researching stuff about gateways, too.” She gave a little gasp of discovery. “That’s why she sent me hunting for candles, so she could see the star map.” It came out like a whisper, and then she looked up at Wren, blinking, as though she’d just remembered the others were there too. “I mean, space travel—” She cut off midsentence. “Amazing.”
Wren exchanged a glance with Simon.
“Elsa’s studied the Magicians?” he said just as Wren said, “You need candles to see a star map?” The one she had found in Boggen’s lab now felt heavy in her pocket.
Jill glanced over her shoulder as though a spy might spring from the forgotten observatory cupboards. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Wren laid a hand on Jill’s arm. “We’re on your side, Jill. But we need to know what sort of things she’s studied.” She squeezed Jill’s arm. “Anything about Boggen?”
“I’ve seen his name,” Jill said slowly. “It’s mostly just history. How Boggen was killing people and animals to make living stardust.” She fidgeted with her shirt collar. “I got nightmares the night I read that bit.” She gave Wren a guilty look. “I mean, it’s not forbidden to learn about Boggen. Or the Ms. It doesn’t mean I care about them.” Her cheeks were very red. “Or that I even want to know anything about them.” She peered at both Simon’s and Wren’s faces. “That’s what you think, isn’t it? That Elsa and I are somehow connected to the M—” She stumbled over the word. “Magicians? That we’ve been doing dark magic?”
“Mary told us the Council thinks someone’s been in contact with the Magicians. That they might even be trying to help Boggen,” Wren said, hurrying on when she saw Jill was about to protest. “I don’t think it’s you, Jill. But could it be Elsa?”
“Whoa.” Jill’s eyes grew wide. “That is big news. Is that what that summoning was about when you first arrived? No wonder the Council has been in secret meetings ever since.” She shook her head. “But I think you’re wrong. I don’t think even Elsa would do that.”
“Why not?” Wren pressed, and then gave a little laugh. “She seems pretty interested in sucking the life out of apprentices to me.”
“Don’t joke, Wren,” Jill said. “Elsa’s family died in the Civil War.” She stood and folded her arms across her chest. “All of them. Why else do you think she hates Mary?”
“Oh,” Wren said as pieces of the puzzle fell into place. “Because Mary was Boggen’s mentor, and he’s the one who turned on everyone.”
“Are you going on about your dreams again, Wren?” Jack poked his head out from behind the gyroscope. “Come on you guys, history is b-o-r-i-n-g. Have a look at the stars instead.”
“Do you know why all the Magicians followed Boggen?” Wren asked, ignoring Jack.
“Well, he was part of the Council, I know that,” Jill said, screwing her face up as though she was trying to remember. “I think the other Ms thought that Fiddlers should run the world, that it was stupid the Fiddlers were trying to help ordinary people who kept messing everything up. In apprentice lessons, they always tell us the Alchemists would’ve won for sure, but I suppose we’ll never know, because the Ms all just disappeared.”
“Through the gateway,” Simon finished for her.
Jill leaned in close. “If what you say is true, I bet I know why Elsa’s studying all this stuff. She wouldn’t be communicating with the Ms to help them, but to get her revenge.”
Wren leaned back against a stool. No wonder Elsa hated her. If she couldn’t get revenge on the Magicians, would Elsa settle for taking it out on Wren, the infamous Weather Changer who everyone was sure was connected with Boggen? She felt sick to her stomach. And the funny thing was, she wouldn’t blame Elsa a bit. Everything pointed to Wren being Boggen’s pawn. The strange dreams with their messages. The way the wings had led her to his old lab. Even the fact that she knew how to read a star map.
“What would it take to have a look at Elsa’s notes?” Simon was asking Jill as Jack came over to join them.
“Are they still going on about this?” Jack pushed himself up to sit on the table. “Magicians. Alchemists. Who cares about the difference? We can use stardust to travel through space!” He waved his hands wildly around the room. “Look. You can see Jupiter through that telescope. If we can figure out what those Magicians knew, maybe we could see Jupiter up close.”
“If we could figure out what the Magicians knew, we could do a lot of things,” Wren said.
Jill had flipped through Simon’s notebook, and now they both were bent over the sketch of the mysterious evaporating fungi, debating its healing properties.
“Well,” Jack said, “we know some of what they knew. Maybe we should go back and search Boggen’s lab again. See if there’s something we missed. Get a closer look at that star map. This is what stardust is all about! New discoveries! New adventures!” He leaned in close, his eyes shining with excitement. “Space travel, Wren.”
Jack’s energy was contagious. The worry she’d been feeling about what the Council would say paled in comparison to the significance of their discovery. She got to her feet, feeling a bit reckless. Jack’s talk about the room they had found had given her an idea. Before she told the Council and they locked her up forever, or whatever it was Fiddlers did to punish apprentices they thought were traitors, she wanted to see it for herself.
“I did find something else down there.” Wren pulled out one of the candles from her pocket. “Jill said the candles have something to do with the star map.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “There’s a rooftop balcony.” He pointed to a door in the corner. “I saw it from outside. Let’s light it there.”
Wren set the midnight purple candle on the widest area of the balcony, sending crumbles of wax down into an ashy circle.
Jack bent, and the starlamp he’d made flared with energy the closer it got to the candle. “All set?”
Wren felt like it was the Fourth of July, with Jack lighting the first firework. “Get ready to run,” she said, pressing back a few steps.
But when Jack lit the candle, there was no explosion. No sudden shooting off of sparks. No burst of light. Instead, a thin trickle of stardust smoke trailed up and out into the twilit sky. The evening’s first constellations were visible, and soon the wisps of stardust dissipated in the midst of them.
“It smells nice,” Jack said, noting the incense-y aroma coming from the candle. “Maybe Fiddlers used it like perfume.”
“More like deodorant. People back then stunk,” Wren said with a bitter smile. She didn’t know what she expected the candle to do, but absolutely nothing was a huge disappointment. Maybe they needed to light it back in Boggen’s lab.
“Looking at the stars is like looking back in time.” Jack leaned back on his palms, tilting his head to take in the expanse of the heavens. “Didn’t Einstein or somebody say that?”
Wren joined him, letting her gaze soak up the myriad stars. Because the Crooked House was out in the middle of nowhere, no neon lights muddied the view. She felt her face relax, and the knot of nerves in her chest loosened a tiny bit. She’d been so busy learning about stardust and fighting off dreams and worrying about what the Council thought about her that she’d forgotten how lovely it was to just be. How calming it was to see the infinite expanse of outer space and realize that she was spinning along in the middle of it, part of a whole that was more complex than she could possibly imagine.
One distant star pulsed, outshining its neighbors, and Wren watched it for a while. Perhaps it was worth taking a closer look. When would she get another chance to use an ancient telescope? She rose, deciding that it was probably best to blow out the candle, which was now nearly melted into a flat puddle of purple, but she froze halfway to her feet. Because she’d been looking in the opposite direction, she’d nearly missed it. The steady stream of stardust smoke hadn’t dissipated after all. Either that or she was seeing things. She squinted her eyes, and it was clearer now: a spiraling web of the darkest stardust radiating up and out from the candle like a silver pathway in the purpling sky.
One star near the end of the pathway shone blindingly bright, blurring her vision, and the next moment she was back in the black-and-white dream world. She stood on the edge of a quarry, with hundreds of small shapes bent low to chip away at the earth. Mostly young children, it seemed, though some appeared to be closer to Wren’s age, or even teenagers.
One after another they raised their faces, a chorus of oohs and ahhs as they pointed beyond Wren to the night sky above. Wren looked up and saw a tumultuous funnel, spinning out in a Milky Way–like swirl that took on a diamond shape. A loud cheer erupted from the children in front of her, their hands raised high, ragged clothes fluttering in the wind.
A little girl near the front spied Wren. “Look at her!” she exclaimed, eyes wide. A taller form drew near—the younger girl’s sister, perhaps?—and placed a protective arm around her shoulder. The second girl looked up at Wren, and despite her dirt-smudged face, Wren recognized her. The shepherdess from the first vision.
“Dreamer!” the shepherdess shouted, but her voice was soon lost in the cheers of the others, who one by one were staring up at the strange phenomenon in the stars. “Dreamer! Tell them to find the out—” Her words were cut off. The scene flared blindingly white and then Wren was back on the astronomy rooftop with Jill, who was yanking hard on Wren’s shirt sleeve.
“Do you want us to leave you behind?” Jill pulled Wren back into the observatory. “Now you have to leave, and you have to take me with you.” Jill sprang across the room, Wren stumbling after, the hope on the shepherdess’s face flashing through her mind. What was it the girl was saying? Something about finding something outside, maybe? Something Wren should tell someone. But what? And to whom?
Simon was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairwell.
“Not through the Crooked House,” Jill gasped, herding them over to the cliff face. “All those questions about Elsa and the Ms, like you didn’t know.” She gave Wren a wild-eyed look. “And then you go and write their name across the sky?”
“What?” Wren tried to get Jill to stop, so that she could make sense of what she was saying, but Jill scrambled over the precarious-looking ladder hidden in the bushes. “What are you talking about? And where’s Jack?”
Just then, Jack came puffing up, his cloak bunched up in his arms. “Almost forgot this in the tower.” He scuttled past Wren and down the ladder after Jill.
Wren turned to Simon. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing good,” Simon said, preparing to back down the ladder. “Jack told us you lit one of Boggen’s candles. That pathway it made? Look at it now.”
Wren didn’t have to search long. The silvery web arched across the sky, and there at the top of it, where the pulsing star used to be, was the glowing, unmistakable mark of the Magicians.
Wren had little energy for further conversation as she slipped and slid her way down the cliff face. Whenever they passed close to the green doors, she could hear the sound of the summoning gong, the reminder that she hadn’t just said the M-word, she’d written it across the sky. She wondered fleetingly what would happen to Mary now or where Liza and Baxter were, but it took all her concentration not to fall off the mountainside. She would have to figure out how to find them later.
They raced past the door they had first exited what felt like ages before and sprinted down the narrow path. It was in worse repair here, and the places where it was in good condition, where a stone stairway curved down, were soon outnumbered by spots that had been left untended, some so badly crumbling that Jack began muttering that he thought they should brave the inside of the Crooked House.
They reached one such gap and Jill came to a full stop. The rock had eroded so much that there was a wide gap across to the other side.
“We can go back up to the next level,” Jill said. “It’s near the greenhouse, and I think I could bluff our way through. From there we could go straight down to the laundry. The apprentices there are usually the last to hear what’s going on, and even if they have heard, they won’t think it’s us that lit the pathway.”
“Too risky,” Wren said, thinking of how Elsa’s spies were everywhere. “We should jump.”
Simon made it across easily. He barely needed a running start. Wren stood at the edge of the gap, pressing one side up against the solid wall of the mountain. Now that it was her turn, it looked awfully far to jump. Her knees tingled at the shadowy blackness of the ground far below.
“C’mon, Wren,” Simon said, one foot braced down the edge and his hand outstretched. “Jump.”
Wren took a deep breath and sprang forward, her heart throbbing through the breathless moment, and then she was toppling into Simon and sending him stumbling backward. Jack and Jill followed right behind. Wren’s knees ached with the pounding descent. She and Simon were near the bottom when she heard Jack’s cry of alarm from behind. He’d misstepped, or rather the mountain was giving way, or there was a rockslide. It was hard to tell, but a billowing cloud of dust mixed with the sound of falling gravel, and when Wren could next see, Jack and Jill were gone, and the cliffside was smooth.
“Jack!” Wren cried, sprinting past Simon down the final feet of their descent. Together they circled around to the site of the rockslide. Dust filled the air, and Wren pulled the front of her shirt up over her nose so she wouldn’t have to breathe it in. “Jill? Are you okay?”
“Over here.” Jill’s answering groan led them to her. Jill was sitting up, flexing one ankle, her face smudged with dust. “I think I sprained it,” she said.
“Jack!” Wren bent down over the still form. He was still breathing, but the large gash near his temple had started to bleed.
“Can you hear us, Jack?” Simon bent low. “Don’t move your neck.”
“Ohhhh,” Jack groaned. “That was . . . not good.” He opened his eyes, and the whites were bright against his dirt-covered face. Bracing his hands under him, he sat up. “What happened?”
“You slid down the last bit of the Crooked House,” Wren said, pulling Jill up to a standing position. She limped forward, her mouth twisted in pain.
Simon braced his arm under Jack and helped him to his feet. Together they made their way across the valley floor to what, for the first time in her life, Wren found to be a happy sight: the falcon mews.