The Pearl Quest Read online

  Thora bobbed a curtsey. ‘Whatever you wish.’

  The girl’s polite answer made Tia feel mean. ‘What I’d really like is something to eat,’ she said. It was almost evening and she was hungry. ‘And please don’t curtsey to me. I’m nobody special.’

  ‘You’re special to the Lady Ondine,’ Thora said.

  ‘I don’t know why.’ Perhaps, Tia thought, it was because the High Witch was on the lookout for a Trader child and, now she’d found one, meant to keep her close. Though that was dangerous, it suited Tia. She could find out all about the pearl, which would make it easier to steal.

  Thora was worse than a limpet on a rock. She hung rich clothes in the cupboard in Tia’s bedroom. She showed Tia the bathing room and when she’d finished her bath, there was Thora in the main chamber setting a table with food.

  Thora pulled out a chair for her. Tia plumped down, wondering how she was ever going to get rid of the maid. ‘I’m tired,’ she said. ‘I think I’ll go to sleep after I’ve eaten.’

  Thora bobbed one of her irritating curtseys, rushed into the bedchamber and turned down the covers.

  She curtseyed again when she came back. ‘I shall be sleeping in the outer room. Please call me if you need anything.’

  ‘I won’t,’ Tia said. ‘You don’t have to stay with me.’

  ‘It’s what the Lady Ondine has instructed me to do.’ Thora left the room and closed the door. Tia was sure she’d locked it. She tried the handle and the door opened.

  Thora sat bolt upright on the small cot she’d been lying on. ‘What can I do for you?’ she asked.

  Tia hadn’t expected that. ‘Um, what time does the Lady Ondine want to see me tomorrow?’ It was the only thing she could think of, though she really wanted to ask why Thora wouldn’t go away and leave her alone.

  ‘She rises at dawn to study her magic. After that she has breakfast and then goes to the white room to do her sewing.’

  Sewing! Tia couldn’t imagine anything worse. She went back to her bedroom feeling like a prisoner. She was never going to be left alone to steal the pearl.

  Chapter Four

  The Pearl

  Tia tossed and turned. Thoughts of Ondine raced around her head, mixed up with the few shadowy memories she had of her mother: a snatch of song, a warm hug, the sound of delighted laughter. How could these memories be true? Ondine was a cruel High Witch. She and her sisters only wanted to rule Tulay and become rich – that was why they’d stolen the dragons’ jewels of power.

  Tia turned her pillow over and pressed her hot cheek into its cool surface. How could her beloved father have married such a woman? And why hadn’t her father kept his promise to find her and bring her home? Had Ondine done something terrible to him? After all, she had abandoned Tia to the dragons. She could have abandoned her husband too. Or done something even worse.

  Tia sat up and hurled her pillow across the room. She hated Ondine. And now she was the High Witch’s captive, with Thora acting like a jailer.

  Tia needed fresh air. She got out of bed and stamped towards the open window, and a faint green glow caught the corner of her eye. Curious, she turned and found herself in front of a mirror. In the pale moonlight from the window Tia’s face was only an indistinct blur but on her chest, just beneath her neck where the emerald had rested, was a small, hazy patch of luminous green.

  Tia snapped a flame onto her finger and her image appeared clearly. But the green glow was gone. There was no sign of colour on her skin.

  She clicked the light off and the green patch reappeared.

  Thoughtfully Tia picked up her pillow and went back to bed. Four of the High Witches had worn the jewels in a gold or silver setting, only touching them to make use of their power. Skadi had set the sapphire in a bracelet designed to keep the jewel in contact with her skin, but she didn’t wear it all the time. She took it off each night. Tia didn’t know what Ondine did with the pearl.

  Tia had worn the emerald continuously for many weeks. In all that time it had lain against her skin. She must have absorbed some of its power. That was why she was still able to talk to animals and birds.

  Tia snuggled down into the bed and smiled. She’d be able to talk to Loki after all. They could make plans with Finn.

  She fell fast asleep until Thora shook her awake in the morning.

  ‘Hurry, the Lady Ondine is waiting for you.’

  After a quick breakfast Tia put on her new tunic and trousers while Thora hopped impatiently from foot to foot.

  ‘Be quick. The High Witch is anxious to see you.’

  Ondine was supervising work in a room overlooking the lake. Seamstresses, milliners and fan makers were seated under the windows, making use of the light. In the middle of the room was a long table. Quill makers sat at one end, trimming and cutting feathers to turn them into writing instruments. At the other end, plume makers assembled falls of feathers for helmets.

  ‘Lady, I’ve brought Patia.’ Thora bobbed. ‘She slept in late – I had to wake her.’

  ‘I expect she was very tired,’ Ondine said. ‘She’s been journeying for a long time in search of her parents.’ She laid a hand on Tia’s shoulder. ‘I’m going to teach you a special skill. Thora, you may work with the seamstresses for now.’

  Ondine guided Tia into another room. It was simply furnished with a table under a window and a chair on either side. Tia’s heart sank when she saw what was on the table: a pile of fabric, a heap of tiny white feathers, needles and thread.

  Sewing. Tia had never sewn anything in her life. She was sure she’d hate it. She was right.

  First she learned how to stitch each minuscule feather onto a scrap of cloth. When she could do that without stabbing her fingers or breathing too hard and making the feathers fly away, Ondine showed her how to stitch them into neat rows.

  Why can’t I make plumes for helmets? Tia thought as she finished yet another fluffy row. Or quills? That would be a bit more interesting.

  Ondine inspected Tia’s work. ‘Hmm. This is good enough for you to stitch a trimming.’ She gave Tia a narrow band of cloth and told her to cover it in feathers.

  Tia stitched resentfully for the whole morning. Outside the sun shone on the blue waters of the lake and the swans sailed by.

  Ondine sewed away without speaking. Tia sneaked a glance at the pearl resting on her brow. She decided that the witch wouldn’t wear the diadem while she slept: it would be too uncomfortable. If Tia could discover where it was kept at night, then she could work out how to steal the pearl.

  Ondine began to hum softly. It was a sweet melody and despite herself, Tia found it soothing. She relaxed into her chair. Then she remembered. It was the melody that had haunted her dreams. The song her mother had sung to her as a tiny child.

  Tia’s needle slipped, stabbing into her finger. Blood dripped onto the swan’s down.

  Ondine leaned forward and took Tia’s hand. ‘Clumsy child.’

  She closed her eyes and the pearl on her forehead glowed. Tia’s small wound healed instantly and the pearl dimmed. Ondine opened her eyes.

  ‘The trim is spoiled,’ she said frowning at the red splashes on the white down.

  Tia snatched her hand away. ‘I’ll do it again.’

  Ondine shook her head. ‘You’ll be more use collecting the swan’s down I need.’

  ‘Thank you!’ Tia said, clasping her hands together in gratitude.

  Ondine threw back her head and laughed. ‘You are a creature of the wilds,’ she said. ‘You belong outside. Come.’

  Tia was so relieved she almost fell over her own feet in her eagerness to escape the sewing room.

  Chapter Five

  Storm

  Ondine ordered Grimmar to summon the Swan Keeper. While she was waiting for him she took Tia to the dining room. As they ate Ondine questioned Tia about her life with the Traders. Once or twice Tia almost tripped up and contradicted herself. She was relieved when the meal was over and Grimmar arrived with Orn.

  Ondine
spent some time talking to the two men. They kept glancing over at Tia then turning back and nodding to Ondine. Tia wondered what the High Witch was telling them.

  At last Ondine left with Grimmar, and Orn came up to Tia.

  ‘The Lady Ondine wishes me to instruct you in the ways of swan-keeping. You are also to collect down to replace the feathers you spoiled.’

  Tia thought that didn’t sound too bad – and certainly better than sewing fiddly little feathers onto slippery fabric.

  Swan-keeping was hard but Tia loved it. Three times a day she helped Orn and his assistants feed the birds. They filled buckets with grain from the barrows they trundled out to the lake and used a scoop to hurl it onto the water. Some food sank and the swans dived for it. Most floated and the swans picked it off the surface with clattering bills.

  Tia was astonished to see sneaky little coots walking their great big feet over the swans’ backs to get at floating grain. She grinned as she listened to them chittering to themselves: ‘This is good! Ooh, there’s more over there! Move closer, swan…’ The dignified swans just ignored their small friends.

  While the birds on the lake were busy feeding, Orn, Tia and the other assistants took grass, weeds and cress to the nesting swans. Orn wrote down how many eggs there were in each nest and the day on which they were laid.

  Although Tia worked non-stop Orn never let her out of his sight.

  After several days, Orn told her to gather feathers for Ondine. ‘The little ones,’ he said. Tia pulled a face. This was the part of her work she disliked. Tiny feathers were difficult to collect. Wind scattered them quickly and water snatched them out of reach.

  Grumpily, she ran after a ball of down bowling along the edge of the lake. She pounced and the elusive puff of feathers blew away over the grass.

  The familiar dark shape of a jackdaw zoomed over her head, swooped on the down, picked it up and flapped back to Tia. It was Loki.

  Tia bent down and the jackdaw pushed the swansdown into her hand.

  ‘Thank you. That should help keep the High Witch happy – for today at least.’

  Loki hopped back in alarm. ‘You’re speaking to me! You can’t. You haven’t got the emerald – have you?’

  Tia laughed at Loki’s confusion. ‘No, I haven’t got it.’ While she pretended to search the ground for more feathers, she explained about the emerald and all that had happened to her since she arrived in Holmurholt.

  ‘I’ve written it down for Finn.’

  ‘I thought you might,’ Loki said.

  Tia glanced round. Orn was busy with his tally of new eggs. She wriggled into a thick patch of reeds. ‘Quick, before Orn notices I’m missing,’ she hissed.

  She quickly took the note she’d prepared and tied it to the jackdaw’s leg.

  ‘I’m tired of being a messenger,’ he grumbled.

  ‘Never mind, when I’ve got the pearl I can take all the jewels back to the DragonQueen and everything will go back to normal.’

  Tia wondered if that was true. The dragons wouldn’t need her as a hostage once she’d returned the jewels of power to the DragonQueen. Where would she go? What would she do? Would Freya, her DragonMother, let her stay?

  A cry rang out: ‘Patia!’

  ‘It’s Orn. I have to go.’ Tia wriggled backwards out of the reeds. Loki flew off, buffeted by a flurry of wind.

  Tia waved her bag of feathers at Orn. ‘It’s full,’ she shouted.

  The Swan Keeper loped over to Tia. ‘Don’t disappear like that!’ he said. His face was white. ‘The Lady Ondine would be angry if I lost you or you came to harm.’

  ‘Why?’ Tia asked.

  ‘Because…’ Orn’s face went red. ‘That’s none of your business, little Trader girl.’

  A powerful gust of cold wind blew by, making Tia shiver and threatening to snatch away her bag of feathers. She clutched it to her. She wasn’t going to spend the rest of the day chasing after more feathers no matter what the High Witch wanted.

  Orn watched gathering clouds scud across the sky. ‘There’s going to be a storm. We need to check that the cygnets are penned in.’

  Tia glanced at the darkening sky. There was definitely going to be a storm. It’s a pity I don’t have the topaz, she thought. I could change the weather and make it safe. But that was impossible. The best she could do was help make sure the orphaned cygnets were safe in their secure pens.

  The storm raged all night.

  Wind howled and shrieked outside Tia’s room and rain thrashed against the window panes. It was hard to sleep until the noise died away in the early morning.

  When she looked out of her window the next day Tia caught her breath. Houses had gaping holes in their roofs. Fences lay broken, trees were torn up by the roots and debris was scattered everywhere. People were trying to round up stock that had escaped from broken pens. Others were attempting to clear up the mess or sat hopelessly among the wreckage of their homes.

  Thora came bursting in, dressed in sturdy work clothes and stout boots. ‘Hurry. The Lady Ondine wants everyone to help.’

  As soon as Tia had jumped into her old Trader clothes Thora grabbed her by the arm and rushed her down to the palace kitchen. It was abuzz with purposeful activity as soldiers gave work gangs instructions on where they’d be most useful.

  ‘But what about the other islands?’ a man asked. ‘I’ve got brothers and sisters there.’

  ‘You don’t need to worry about them,’ a soldier said. ‘Their houses are stone built – they’ve not taken much damage. It’s our island that got hit the worst.’

  ‘Here.’ Thora thrust a flask and packet of food into Tia’s hand. She grabbed the same for herself. ‘The Lady Ondine wants you to work with her.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know. You can ask her yourself,’ Thora snapped as they set off out of the palace.

  Tia didn’t reply. She was sure Thora was bad-tempered because she was worried about the damage the storm had done to the island.

  Chapter Six

  Mending and Unmending

  Tia had guessed right. Thora sped through the shattered houses outside the palace and stopped at the most devastated one of all. A man and a woman were sitting on a heap of wood that had once been the walls of their house. They clutched each other tightly. Thora scrambled towards them over broken furniture and crockery. There was even a carved wooden horse, its legs missing and one ear hanging by a splinter.

  ‘Mama! Papa!’ Thora cried and threw her arms round her parents.

  The three of them clung together.

  ‘It’ll be all right,’ Thora cried, wiping the tears from her mother’s face. ‘The Lady Ondine will help us.’ She hugged her parents. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Tia said to Thora and wished more than ever that she could have used the topaz to stop the storm.

  Thora ignored her. They hurried on past broken houses and silent, shocked people to a place where the houses seemed untouched by the storm.

  ‘How did these houses escape?’ Tia asked.

  ‘They didn’t.’ Thora pointed. ‘Look.’

  The High Witch stood next to a house with a gaping hole in its roof. Grimmar was by her side together with a group of servants and guards,

  Ondine had her eyes closed and her hands raised towards the house. The pearl glowed on her brow. Tia watched in wonder as the broken beams grew whole again, sprang from the ground and settled into place. The reed thatch rose in a cloud over the house and rewove itself, plaiting a braid neatly along the ridgepole. When it was done, Ondine lowered her arms, opened her eyes and the pearl dimmed.

  Thora approached her, bobbed a quick curtsy and gabbled, ‘Lady, please, please help my parents, their house is destroyed.’

  ‘I will come to your parents by and by,’ Ondine said.

  Thora pleaded, ‘But Lady…’

  ‘Enough.’ Ondine beckoned to Tia. ‘Patia, attend me.’

  Tia groaned inside. It was bad enough that s
he had become the High Witch’s favourite but now she had to follow her while Thora could do nothing but wait for help. The look on the maid’s face and her bunched fists told Tia that Thora resented that deeply.

  She wasn’t the only angry person. Though Ondine whisked from place to place restoring houses and farms, some of those who waited glowered behind her back, muttering as she helped their neighbours first. Tia glared at a family who sat by their wrecked farmhouse mumbling that the witch should hurry up and help them.

  They’re not hurt, she thought, why don’t they start helping themselves? At least Thora had begun rescuing her parents’ belongings, while her mother sat silently hugging the wooden horse and her father hauled debris into separate piles.

  Ondine reached Thora’s house last. It took her some time to put the house and its contents back together. When she had done, Thora’s mother silently held out the wooden horse. Ondine mended it. The woman snatched it back, clutched it to her chest and rocked back and forth.

  Ondine put a gentle hand on the woman’s head. As the pearl glowed the woman stopped rocking and her glazed eyes cleared. Her broken mind mended, she jumped up. ‘Oh my!’ she said, taking in the restored house. ‘Thank you, Lady.’ She curtseyed deeply.

  Thora bobbed her thank-you and her father bowed.

  ‘Are you returning to the palace now, Lady Ondine?’ Thora asked.

  ‘No, we still have work to do.’ She gestured to Tia and set off towards the edge of the lake.

  Orn and his staff had been hard at work helping to rebuild the swans’ nests. The birds were busy too, moving material with their bills, gathering it under their tails and building new nests on the site of their old ones.

  Ondine helped speed the nest-building but even she couldn’t heal the smashed eggs.

  Orn’s expression was glum. Tentatively Tia said, ‘The Lady Ondine has worked hard to mend what she can.’