TEN

THE MOUNTAIN OF THE WINDS

Veronica slept, and when she woke the carriage was still bumping along. It was morning, and the sun was balanced on the eastern horizon. To her right, forested hills rolled down to the road. To her left gaped the Hollow Sea.

From here it looked like the most enormous canyon in the world, so wide the other rim wasn’t visible, so deep it appeared bottomless. Despite its name, there was no water to be seen. But once she had sailed the Hollow Sea on a silver boat, along with Errol, Aster, and Dusk. Where the boat traveled, water appeared before them and vanished in their wake. But more than that, she could feel the water there, or the ghost of it at least. Indeed, it called to her, and part of her wanted to leave the carriage, leap into the void, discover what lay beneath the mist that obscured it depths.

But she resisted, because she had to find Errol.

Or did she? Aster’s comments bothered her more than she was willing to admit, at least to Aster. Once before, she thought Errol had chosen Dusk over her, and it had nearly been the end of her. But he’d come back for her, made her believe that he cared about her, that they weren’t just two freaks, clinging to each other because no one else would have them.

And yet, he hadn’t been able to say he loved her, even when she said it first. Maybe especially because she said it first.

And now Errol was off with Dusk, the woman who had chopped off Veronica’s head, while another fellow had called her a goddess, of all things, and offered to make her a queen.

She wasn’t used to thinking about such things, and she didn’t like it. She had spent so long thinking only of prey, of feeding, of sleeping on her bed of bones. Uncomplicated things. Simple needs, easily dealt with. She sometimes wished things could be like that again.

Except that she wanted to find him. And her. In fact, she realized, it was possible she wanted to find Dusk even more than Errol.

Because Dusk had no business breathing. Whether Errol had gone with the other woman willingly or not made no difference at all when it came to that little matter.

She shifted in her seat and felt something hard against her bottom. Searching with her hand, she found a little silver sphere, about the size of a shooter marble, the one Aster had found back at the carousel.

“Keepsies,” she said.

She knew she was getting close when she saw that all the trees were leaning away from the direction she was going, as if a great wind or an explosion had pushed them all over.

The light began to dim, and she realized her breath was coming shorter and shorter—which was weird, because the sun had only risen an hour or two before.

She looked east and saw the sun had not only not risen any further in the sky, but it had begun to sink again.

“Well,” she said aloud. “That’s weird.”

Soon it was dark, and she was dead again.

Without a clock or a properly behaving sun, it was hard to say how long it was before she reached the Mountain of the Winds.

It wasn’t a mountain so much as a large hill that rose in tiers. The rocky, top part of it was riddled with doors and windows that appeared to have been carved by natural forces, and she knew from experience that there were caverns beneath it. Aster had brought them here, searching for a giant, and they had found a lot more than they bargained on.

By the looks of things, the same was true this visit. To make matters worse, a slight reddish glow was beginning in the east, and with that strange dawn she felt her heart strike a beat. Her blood was moving; her powers weakened, right when she might need them.

When she’d been here before, the plain around the castle had been empty. But now it was filled with campfires, tents, and people. It looked to Veronica like an army camp.

“Horses,” she said. “I think we’d better go someplace else.”

But she’s hardly got the words out when she realized they were already surrounded both by people on foot and horseback.

A boy about her age stepped up to the window.

“Come on out of the carriage, miss,” he said.

She stared at him for a moment.

“I’m just passing through,” she said. “There’s no need to bother me.”

“We’re supposed to stop everyone,” he said. He sounded a little apologetic, but firm.

“Horses,” she said.

But she saw the beasts were held fast by at least half-a-dozen armored figures.

“Miss,” the boy said. This time his voice was rougher.

“I’m coming out,” she said. “No need to be unpleasant.”

The Hollow Sea was only about a hundred yards away, and she knew there were things there that could help her. If it was night. But it wasn’t; everything now had the rosy glow of morning. If they cut her or stabbed her as she was, she would bleed.

But if things continued as she had observed, the sun would soon go back down. Then things would be different. She only had to wait.

“May I ask where we’re going?” she asked.

“The princess will want to see you,” the boy said.

“Well,” she said. “I’m always happy to meet a princess.”

She slipped the little sphere into her pocket and stepped out of the carriage.

The last time Veronica had visited the castle, she had reached it by air. This time she was conducted up a long, narrow staircase carved into the stone. Six of the soldiers escorted her though the high, airy halls, until they came at last to the princess.

She had hoped the princess would turn out to be either Mistral or the Brume, both of whom had lived here when last she came.

Instead, when the woman in the robes turned to greet her, she saw Dusk.

But only for an instant. Their faces were similar, but not identical. This woman was paler and a little rounder of face, and the star glittering on her forehead was silver, with only five points. Her eyes were almost white, with huge black pupils. Her hair was so black it looked like it had shoe polish in it.

“The Princess Nocturn,” one of the soldiers said.

The woman smiled.

“You thought you knew me, didn’t you?” she said. “I saw it on your face.”

“I was just surprised by how pretty you are,” Veronica said.

She was pretty, and dressed well, in a long black gown and a wide-sleeved robe embroidered in silver stars and comets that fanned out in a train behind her.

“Or perhaps you were sent by one of my sisters,” the princess replied. “Or a brother. We all resemble very closely. You were sent, perhaps, to assassinate me?”

“Nope,” Veronica said. “Just going about my business. I’d be way gone from these parts if your guys hadn’t held me up.”

“Your name?”

“Veronica Hale,” she said.

“An odd name,” Nocturn said.

“I’m named after my great aunt,” she said. “Crazy old lady, but I always liked her.”

She realized as she said it that it was true. She had forgotten her Geegant, but now she could see her face clearly in her mind’s eye. The old lady had been full of stories of her travels in China and South America and all sorts of other places. Always full of jokes. She had never married. The consensus in the family was that most of her adventures were imaginary, although they allowed she had gone missing for a few years at a time here and there.

“So you remember your elders,” Nocturn said.

“I guess so,” Veronica replied. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” she said. “But the memories are diminishing. The curse is growing stronger.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Veronica said.

Nocturn shrugged. “There is enough to deal with without growing sentimental,” she said. “Or wasting time. You say you’re merely a traveler, with no interest in my affairs?”

“Yes,” Veronica said.

“And you were not sent by one of my siblings?”

“Don’t even know them.”

“Or by Him?”

“I don’t know anyone name ‘Him,’” either,” Veronica said.

“The Abomination,” Nocturn said. “The Elder. Scratch.”

“I thought the old people were out of the picture.”

“They were, and are, for the most part. But my sister brought Him, and it has changed things. Do you truly not know of this?”

“I’m not from around here,” she said.

“He took my throne,” she said. “He destroyed half of my army. I barely escaped with my life. I came to this place because I heard my sister had been here. Despite everything, I hope to make an alliance with her. So if you were sent by Dusk—or Dawn, or any of them—there is no reason to fear me. I stand ready for alliance.”

“Sorry,” Veronica said.

Nocturn nodded. “Very well,” she said. “Brume?”

Veronica felt a chill, a wave of cold, wet air, and saw a little girl had entered the room. She was dressed in a dirty pink dress, and her green-black hair hung in a tangled mass.

Well, hell, she thought. This was a bad twist.

“Do you know this one?” Nocturn asked.

“She was here with Dusk,” the Brume said. “That was ages back.”

Nocturn nodded. “Thank you, Brume,” she said. “You may return to your play.”

“Thank you, princess,” the Brume said.

Nocturn returned her gaze to Veronica.

“Now do you have anything to say, now that I’ve exposed you as a liar?”

“Your sister is a bitch,” Veronica said. “I see the family resemblance.”

“And yet you lied to protect her. Curious.”

“Not her,” Veronica said. “I honestly don’t give tiniest damn about her. She tried to kill me.”

“One of her other companions, then? I’m told there was a wooden boy, and another girl with a star on her brow. And a giant, in human guise? What became of them? Are they still with my sister?”

“I don’t know,” Veronica said.

“Maybe you’ve forgotten,” Nocturn said, granting her a smile that would have been at home on a pageant queen. “Maybe with the correct prompting, you’ll remember.”

She waved her hand and the soldiers grabbed hold of Veronica.

“Hey!” she yelped. But Nocturn was already walking away.

They took her deep into the living rock, to a little chamber with no windows and only one door closed by an irregular but apparently sturdy iron door. Like every room in the place, her cell might have been worn into its shape by wind or water rather than by human hands and tools. It wasn’t tiny, but it was small, far too small for her liking. She had once been buried head-down in a stone shaft no wider than her shoulders and since then, she had—issues—with tight spaces.

But it got worse. They put shackles on her arms and legs, passed the chains through holes bored in the stone in such a way that she could not sit down. She could hang by her arms, with her knees almost touching the floor, but that hurt.

She couldn’t help it. She screamed, and once the first one tore out of her throat, more screams came from deeper inside of her. The boys locked the door and left.

She yanked at the chains, she pounded her heels on the floor, and she screamed some more.

Meanwhile her heart slowed and stopped. The blood in her veins ceased coursing, her lungs stopped inflating.

At the same time, her senses grew, which only made her panic worsen. But then she closed her eyes, and let her nighttime senses go, and she seemed to leave the shackles and the little cell behind. She heard the guards talking, far away, sensed the pulse of their lives, each following a slightly different cadence. She smelled the water below the stone floor and felt it like a distant skin. She searched for voices, for snakes and crawfish or any number of much stranger aquatic creatures which might be bent to her will. But she found the waters beneath the castle to be oddly silent, as if everything was asleep.

The lock on her door rattled, and a boy stepped in.

He looked like a boy, at least, perhaps nine years old. He had strange green eyes that were a little unfocused, a shock of snow-white hair. With him was a girl a few years older, and several guards now stood in the hall outside.

“Hey,” the boy said.

“Hi,” Veronica replied. “Nice day, wouldn’t you say? I’d offer you some iced tea, but, you know.” She rattled her chains.

The boy came closer and pulled a little knife from his belt. He held it up so she could see.

“Got some questions to ask you,” he said.

She was trying to think of something to say when he quite casually brought the knife up to her cheek and cut it. For a second, she couldn’t believe he had really done it. And it hurt, awfully, which was also new. Back when she had been dead all day, a little cut wouldn’t have bothered her.

“Look at that,” the boy said to the girl. “She don’t bleed.”

“Why would that be?” the girl asked.

“Reckon she’s dead already,” the boy said. “Or half dead.” He grinned. “But you can feel it, can’t you?”

“Don’t,” Veronica said.

But the boy grinned.

“I’ll bet I can cut you quite a lot before you can’t talk anymore. This ought to be real interesting.”