I didn’t know how to answer him. He closed his eyes and a moment later we heard his gentle snores.
We rose and quietly left the room.
When we got to my room, Delph, his eyes as big as saucers, said, “Blimey! Bloody Maladons. War and killin’.”
“And hiding,” I added. “Like mice in a hole.”
“What?”
“Don’t you get it, Delph? They created Wormwood as a hiding place. Because these Maladon blokes were trying to hunt them down. And they conjured the Quag around it to keep them out.”
“And to keep us in,” Delph added. “Like the Wall round Wormwood.”
We looked at each other. I’m sure what I saw in Delph’s features mirrored my own — complete and utter despair.
I said, “Astrea wanted to know about Virgil. What he was planning, whether I had talked to him.”
“How could you when he’s been gone since you were a wee thing?”
“He’s a powerful sorcerer. An Excalibur, in fact. Which means he’s always known everything, including things Astrea has withheld from us.”
“Blimey, I guess that explains a lot. So what do we do?” asked Delph.
“Keep learning things. It’s all we can do, for now.”
“But if we’re never to leave here, what does it matter?”
“The truth always matters, Delph.”
That night during a sumptuous meal that Delph and I lingered over, I drew up the courage to ask Astrea a question.
“Can you show us Wormwood? In your Seer-See?”
“Why?” she asked suspiciously as she took a sip of her tea.
I glanced at Delph, who immediately attended to his custard. He might’ve been thinking about Astrea sticking him to the ceiling.
“Well, since we’re going to be here forever and everything, it would be nice to see our home.” I added quickly, “I don’t suppose you’d let us go back there. We’d promise never to enter the Quag again.”
I was lying of course. I would never stay in Wormwood, not now.
She set her cup down. “Let you go back to Wormwood? Knowing what you do now? Do I look barmy to you?” She glanced down at her wand, which lay beside her plate. “Although, I could wipe away your minds of course. Then you could return. Would you like me to do that?” She raised her wand.
“Er, no,” I said quickly.
“I l-like my m-mind where it is,” added Delph.
Well, I thought, she had certainly called my bluff.
“But can we at least see our village?” I pleaded.
She contemplated this for a few moments and then rose.
A sliver later, we were in the room with the two cups on the table. Astrea did what she had done before, only this time with the other cup. I had to hold Delph back when the flaming liquid shot across the table.
“Wormwood,” said Astrea simply, with a wave of her hand.
And there it truly was.
The cobblestones, the old buildings. There were Wugs I knew walking along. Hestia Loon, her shopping bag in hand. Herman Helvet at his window. With a rush of excitement, I saw mighty Thansius marching purposefully along.
He passed by another Wug I knew, Julius Domitar, who ran Stacks. He was tottering along seemingly full in his cups. He raised a hand in greeting to Thansius. Then another Wug came into view.
“Me dad,” cried out Delph.
Sure enough, there was Duf Delphia making his way on his two timbertoes. A whist pup was striding next to him, tethered to a leather cord that Duf gripped.
I brightened and looked at Delph. “He looks good. Happy.”
But my smile faded, for Delph didn’t look happy, only homesick. I reached over and took his hand and squeezed it. He looked down at me and attempted a smile, but I knew his heart wasn’t in it. It was a lot — to be kept from your family, and didn’t I know that.
I glanced back at the tabletop when I heard the clattering sound of hooves on cobbles. The blue carriage! I drew closer, wanting desperately to see who was in it. As I watched, the driver, Thomas Bogle, reined the sleps to a stop.
The carriage door opened and out stepped Morrigone.
“Cor blimey,” exclaimed Delph, who was looking over my shoulder. “She don’t look like herself, does she?”
Morrigone had always been tall and queenly, perfect in both mind and body. Before our differences had been made clear to me, I had always admired her. I had wanted to emulate her. But this Morrigone was far different.
She didn’t seem as tall. Her hair, normally bloodred with every strand in harmony with its neighbor, was now disheveled and thinning, the luster gone. Her face looked sessions older, with lines and sags prominent. Her tall, well-shaped body had a sunken appearance — fragile where she had always been robust.
I glanced at Astrea. She had a puzzled look on her face. This was startling to me because it’s the first time I had ever glimpsed uncertainty in her features.
“What’s wrong with Morrigone?” I asked.
She shook her head slightly. “She... she looks a bit tired is all.”
I looked back at the image and saw him step out of the carriage.
It was my brother, John. And though Delph and I had not been gone from Wormwood very long, John also looked different.
His step was brisk, his manner authoritative and supremely confident. And, dare I even think it, cruel? But then again, he had been cruel to the Wugs working on the Wall.
I said, “My brother became very different under Morrigone’s tutelage.”
“Different how?” she asked. But when I looked at her, I could tell she already knew the answer.
“He was sweet and innocent. And then he wasn’t,” I said bluntly. “What did she do to him?”
She didn’t answer right away. “ ’Tis complicated.”
“ ’Tis my brother,” I shot back. “The answer should be simple.”
I looked back at John, my thoughts whirling so fast I thought I might simply pass out. Instead, fierce emotions building large in my chest and head, I walked out. Then I started to run. I sprinted through the cottage and out the front door. I sped down the crazy-angled path, across the lawn, and, with Destin around my waist, I took to the air and flew straight at the emerald dome.
I don’t remember anything after that.
Viginti: Words
Whenever I’d been knocked out before, Delph was always there.
This time he wasn’t.
Instead, Astrea stared down at me.
I blinked and slowly looked around. I was in my room on the bed.
Astrea didn’t look unduly worried. “I suppose you had to try it.”
I sat up and rubbed my head. “What happened?”
“You hit the dome and the dome did not give. You did.”
I said nothing to this, both my pride and a rising anger making me mute.
I wanted to ask her again about John. And Morrigone, why she looked so different. But I had a strong feeling that my questions would go unanswered. Before I could say anything, she broke the silence.
“I understand that you talked to Archie?”
“You said we could go where we wanted,” I said testily.
“And what did he tell you?”
Ignoring her query, I said, “I feel sorry for him.”
“Why? He’s lived a good, long life.”
“He’s lived a long life. I’m not sure how good it’s been.”
She looked like I’d slapped her, which bolstered my spirits greatly.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she said icily.
“Archie spoke of sacrifice. Whose sacrifice? His? Because he didn’t really have a choice, did he? Or his father? You made the decision for all of them. Just like you’re doing with us.”