‘Where do you think she’s heading?’ Nymph asked. She seemed to be able to avoid obstacles by instinct, for she never took her eyes off the trail.
Pyrgus, who found himself struggling to keep up, said breathlessly, ‘Haleklind for sure.’ He slowed slightly and Nymph slowed with him. ‘She was created in Haleklind. You might say that was her birthplace.’
‘Maybe she just thinks she’s going home,’ Nymph suggested. ‘You know, to live in a forest or something.’
But Pyrgus shook his head firmly. ‘No such luck. This is trouble, Nymph. Big trouble.’
The vineyard’s southernmost fencing marked almost four miles of the border with Haleklind. From one point it was actually possible to see the towers and checkpoints of an official crossing post. Outside of such posts, the wizards maintained the integrity of their borders with magical protections – usually force fields – the most extensive and sophisticated in the known world. Indigenous wildlife could cross and recross without hindrance. Anything else was repulsed. The force fields extended deep beneath the earth and high above the skies of Haleklind. Without the necessary papers, nothing could enter the wizards’ country.
Nymph and Pyrgus trotted through the copse, then stood side by side staring at the point where the manticore’s luminous trail crossed the final limits of their estate. The high fencing was smashed as if it were matchwood, little problem for a creature that had burst through a solid wall. The trail continued deep into Haleklind, passing through the invisible force field as if it did not exist.
‘The spell must have categorised her as wildlife,’ Nymph murmured with a trace of awe in her voice.
But Pyrgus shook his head. ‘She was made over there,’ he said. ‘All the component parts are Halek. As far as the spell is concerned, she’s practically a native. ’
They continued to stare gloomily for a moment. As the glow of the trail began to fade, Nymph said, ‘What are we going to do?’
‘I’ll have to go to Haleklind.’
‘We’ll both go,’ Nymph said at once.
‘There isn’t time to arrange your documentation,’ Pyrgus told her. ‘As a Prince of the Realm, I have automatic entry.’ It was one of the few perks of royal birth, maintained even after his abdication. ‘Besides, one of us has to stay here to run the place.’
The marvellous thing about Nymph was she never argued about the inevitable. Still staring at the vanishing trail, she said, ‘Do you think she can find the laboratory?’
‘Given time,’ Pyrgus said grimly. ‘They’re amazing creatures.’
‘How much time?’
‘Hard to say. I’m hoping I can head her off.’
Nymph licked her lips. ‘If you can’t, are you going to warn them?’
‘I don’t know,’ Pyrgus told her honestly. ‘There’s part of me thinks they deserve anything they get.’
‘But the manticore might be killed. Or hurt.’
‘The manticore certainly will be killed. That’s a given. But not before she takes a few of her old tormentors with her.’
‘You can’t let her die,’ Nymph said. ‘Not like that. You’re going to have to head her off and bring her back.’
‘If I can find her,’ Pyrgus said.
Twenty-Two
‘Look what you’ve done!’ Aisling squealed furiously.
Mella opened her eyes and stood up. She felt groggy, but something seemed to have burned most of the drug effects out of her system. Aunt Aisling was waving the portal control under her nose; or what was left of the portal control. Half of it seemed to be missing. What remained was trailing wires with bits of electrical gear attached. The thing was broken beyond repair.
‘Where are we?’ Mella asked.
‘How are we going to get back?’ Aisling demanded.
Mella looked around. They were standing halfway up a narrow, twisting, wooden staircase in some gloomy place with wooden – or wood-panelled – walls. The stairs were so steep that they almost formed a sheer drop, yet there was no balustrade on either side. In its place was a thick length of knotted rope hanging down from a distant ceiling.
‘Where are we?’ Aisling asked Mella crossly, as if Mella hadn’t just asked her the same thing. She looked at the control in her hand. ‘This stupid thing blew up. Did you hear the explosion? Why did you tell me to press the button?’
‘I don’t know where we are,’ Mella said. Her mind was still woolly from the tea, but not that woolly. They’d obviously passed through a portaclass="underline" it was the only thing that made sense. So they were presumably back in the Faerie Realm. But where in the Faerie Realm she had no idea.
‘You must know where we are,’ Aisling insisted. ‘You knew how to work the control!’
The woman was her aunt, but it was like dealing with a petulant child. ‘Keep your voice down,’ Mella told her urgently. Until she found out where they’d ended up, it would be as well not to draw attention to themselves. Not everywhere in the Faerie Realm was friendly.
‘I will not keep my voice down!’ Aisling snapped furiously; but at least she snapped it in a whisper. Mella suddenly realised her aunt was frightened.
‘It’s best you don’t talk at all,’ Mella said quietly, but very firmly. She looked around again. There was no one else on the staircase, no one at the bottom so far as she could see, and no sound of other voices. ‘Now listen. Where the portal takes you depends on how the control was set. Did you do anything except press the button?’
Aisling shook her head. ‘No.’
‘Then it’s taken us to wherever it was last set for.’ She took a deep breath and asked something she’d wanted to ask much earlier. ‘Where did you get the control?’ She knew from her father’s journal that Aunt Aisling had never been to the Faerie Realm, didn’t even know about it, especially didn’t know that Henry went there. And her aunt absolutely loathed Mr Fogarty, so it was very unlikely she’d got the portal control from him.
Aisling hesitated. Eventually she said, ‘It’s your father’s.’
‘Yes, but how did you get it? Did he give it to you?’
This time the hesitation was even longer. ‘No, I found it in his room. He’d hidden it in a drawer under some of those magazines boys read for the pictures. I thought it might be for the television set. I mean, it looks like a TV remote. At least a bit.’
‘So you took it?’
‘Yes.’
‘You stole it?’ She was beginning to think some of the things her father said about his sister in the journal might be all too accurate. Mella was starting to build up a dislike of her aunt as well.
‘No, of course I didn’t steal it. I borrowed it.’
‘But you never gave it back.’ Mella made it as much a flat statement as a question.
‘I didn’t have a chance,’ Aisling protested. ‘He kept going off places.’
‘Did you ever use it?’
‘No,’ Aisling said too quickly.
Mella stared at her. ‘I thought you said you borrowed it for your television thing: what did you want it for if you weren’t going to use it?’ Aisling said nothing. Mella said, ‘Are you sure you never used it?’
Aisling’s mouth formed itself into the hint of a pout. ‘Well, I might have. Once. Once or twice.’
‘Indoors or outside?’
‘Outside in the garden.’
‘So you knew it wasn’t a television control?’
Aisling suddenly sat down on the stairs. ‘I knew he was up to something – him and that old pervert Fogarty. I knew they were doing things together. Mummy and Daddy never suspected, but I did. It was really creepy. He was always slipping out and staying away longer than he should. Fogarty made things, you know. Electrical things. In his back kitchen. Henry never found out, but I followed him twice and I know he went to see Mr Fogarty and I watched through the window and he made some really strange stuff. I wouldn’t be surprised if he made this.’ She tossed the useless control on to the step beside her.
He certainly did, Mella thought, but said nothing. She continued to stare at Aisling in silence for a moment, then said, ‘What happened?’