“What good would that do?” asked Moth. “Besides, that’s not how it works. The Reach doesn’t go on forever, it just looks that way. Leroux says you just have to keep on going. He says if you believe it, you’ll find it—the whole world on the other side.”
“That’s hooey,” Fiona snorted. “If that was true people would be crossing through it all the time.”
“Leroux says most people get lost in the Reach because they don’t have faith. Or maybe they’re afraid to go through. Maybe people believe like your grandfather does, that it’s dangerous over there. Anyway, I don’t want you to go.”
Fiona’s cheek turned up in a half smile. “No?”
“Not until you give me my present!”
Fiona rolled her eyes. At last she unclenched the sack from her hand. “Here,” she said, placing the sack into his waiting palm. “Happy Birthday.”
The velvet bag felt soft in Moth’s fingers, but inside it was something hard and weighty. He reached eagerly into the sack. When he saw Fiona’s gift his breath caught.
“Whoa…”
It wasn’t just a knife, but the knife of a Skyknight, with a folding blade and a burl wood handle studded with bronze rivets. Moth held it up to the moonlight. Stamped into the handle was a likeness of a dragonfly. He had seen knives just like it on the belts of every Skyknight at the aerodrome, the only weapons the flyers carried other than the guns of their aircraft. They were precious and they were rare, and Moth couldn’t believe Fiona had gotten him one.
“To get you started,” she explained. “It’ll remind you of your dream.”
“How’d you get it?” asked Moth. He grimaced at his friend. “You didn’t steal it, did you?”
“What?” Fiona erupted. “What a brainless question! Of course not!”
“All right, I’m sorry,” offered Moth. “But how?”
“It belonged to one of the flyers that died. It was for sale in one of the shops down in the square. Cost me a pretty penny, too. But if you don’t want it…”
Fiona reached for the knife but Moth whipped it away.
“I didn’t say that,” he said, grinning. He studied it, then bit his lip. “Whose was it? No, don’t tell me! It’s better I don’t know.”
“They didn’t have a sheath for it, but maybe you can find one.”
“Leroux can make me one,” said Moth. He pulled open the blade, admiring its shine, then snapped it closed. He didn’t know how to thank Fiona. Instead of words, he leaned over and kissed her.
“You’re welcome,” said Fiona softly.
Moth slipped the knife into his pocket. “It’s late. I should go now, see how Leroux is doing.”
Disappointed, Fiona nodded. “See you tomorrow, maybe?”
“After my job. Come around for supper if you want.” Moth slipped down from the wall, landing on the side away from the mansion. He looked up at Fiona, who lingered there as if she didn’t want to go. “Fiona?”
“Yeah?”
“About what you said before. It won’t work, you know. You can’t just run and hide. You can’t just go live in a castle somewhere far away.”
Fiona thought about that but didn’t answer. She swung her legs over the other side of the wall. “Good night, Moth,” she whispered, then dropped down out of sight.
LEROUX’S GIFT
MOTH RETURNED HOME nearly an hour past midnight, climbing the creaky steps of the building and nudging open the apartment door. Leroux remained asleep inside his bedroom, snoring comfortably. Outside on the balcony, Lady Esme rested in her makeshift nest of sticks and straw, stirring as Moth entered. He put a finger to his lips to keep her quiet as he tip-toed inside. The glass door to the balcony had been left open a crack, giving the kestrel entry to the apartment. Empty bowls and cups lay strewn across the small living space, the remnants of Moth’s party. He would clean up in the morning, he decided; he was far too tired to do it now.
There had never been enough money to buy Moth a proper bed, and the apartment was too tiny for another anyway. Moth cleared the debris from the small sofa and found his pillow and blanket in the chest they used for a table. He kicked off his shoes and fell into the lumpy cushions, exhausted. With a twinge of sadness he realized his birthday was over. Closing his eyes, he remembered his flight in Skyhigh’s dragonfly. If he was lucky he would dream about it…
Instead he dreamed of Fiona. She had run into the Reach and he was chasing her and telling her not to be afraid. He heard his name being called and thought it was Fiona’s grandfather, but when his eyes fluttered open he saw Leroux looming over him.
“Moth? You awake?” asked the old man. His gray nightshirt looked ghostly in the moonlight. His bony head hovered above Moth’s face.
“Leroux…?” Moth sputtered. “It’s nighttime…”
“I have to tell you something,” said Leroux. His eyes were wild, his body shaky. Moth sat up in alarm.
“What’s wrong?”
“The story!”
“What?”
“The story I have for you. Remember?”
Leroux’s complexion glowed a sickly white. Moth reached out to feel his clammy forehead.
“You’re hot…”
Leroux batted his hand away. “Don’t mother me, boy. It’s time to tell you.”
“You’re sick.” Moth blinked hard to clear his sleepy mind. “I should get the doctor. What time is it?”
“Are you listening to me? You have to listen, Moth.”
Leroux seemed desperate, completely unlike himself. Moth studied his face, wondering if he was sleepwalking. “All right,” said Moth calmly. “Just go back to sleep and tell me in the morning. You can tell me in the morning, all right?”
“Now,” Leroux insisted. He came in close enough for Moth to feel his breath and whispered, “Lady Esme isn’t a kestrel.”
Moth sat up. Leroux was frightening him now. He’d never seen the old man so badly off. “I think we should both go back to sleep,” he said gently.
“Listen to me!” Leroux shrieked. “It’s time to tell you the story! Lady Esme isn’t a kestrel. She’s a person, not a bird! Do you hear?”
“A person.” Moth nodded. “Okay.”
“Yes.” Leroux grew calmer. “A woman. Not a regular woman, Moth. She’s a woman that I loved… from over the Reach.”
A grin of relief broke over Moth’s face. It really was just one of his mad tales. “So the women across the Reach are birds?”
Leroux frowned. “What? No! She’s not a bird at all. She’s a woman, Moth. The Skylords changed her into a bird. And you have to help me change her back.”
“Who is she?” Moth asked, playing along.
“I can’t tell you that.” Leroux put a finger to his lips. “Secret things.”
“Oh.”
“If I could tell you everything, I would. How I wish I could! But now you know the truth about Esme, and that’s what’s most important. She needs your help, Moth, to get back.”
“Uh huh.” Moth turned to sit upright on the sofa. “You sit down,” he urged Leroux. “Tell me.”
Leroux sat beside Moth, his shoulders slumped from his mad burden. “I’ve tried for years to change her back, but I could never figure out how. It’s the Reach, you see? It’s damnable once you cross over. I’d be lost.” He shook his head, looking sick with grief. “My poor Esme. I’m too old to help her now. But I tried, Moth. I did try.”
His story made no sense at all, yet Moth pretended to understand. “You’ll feel better in the morning. Just sleep.”
“No,” Leroux whispered. “It’s too late.” He turned, staring intensely. “Moth, I have to hand this all to you now. You have to save her. You have to take her back across the Reach. Find Merceron. He’ll help you.”