The Starthorn Tree Read online

  ‘Yeah, I s’pose,’ Briony said awkwardly. ‘But ‘twas me that brought milady here, to the Perilous Forest. I couldn’t be just a-leaving her, when I’d promised and all.’

  Pedrin felt his stomach sink with shame and misery. He was so embarrassed he could not look at her, even though there was nothing of her to see but a crouched shadow among shadows. ‘But what can we do?’ he said, almost pleadingly. ‘She’s a-dangling over the edge in a cage, for Liah’s sake!’

  Briony gave a little shiver. ‘Mebbe we could throw her a rope, drag the cage in,’ she said hesitantly. ‘At first light, when all is quiet.’

  ‘Mebbe,’ Pedrin said doubtfully. ‘But then what?’

  ‘Mebbe we could be a-stealing some of those seed-wings, and fly along out of here,’ Briony said, even more diffidently.

  ‘Mebbe,’ Pedrin said, conviction growing in his voice. Then he remembered the drop and said in a hollow voice, ‘Mighty dangerous.’

  He saw her head jerk in agreement. He remembered that she had hung onto the bottom of the wood-sprites’ net during all that long, wildly swinging journey and said in a loud voice, ‘Well, I’m game if you lot are!’

  ‘Sh!’ she whispered.

  ‘Sorry,’ he whispered back. ‘So, are we going to give it a try?’

  There was a short silence, then Durrik said rather hoarsely, ‘Well, I can’t think of aught else to do.’

  ‘Me either,’ Pedrin said. Having a plan of action made him feel much better. He sat up, not so bothered by the free-fall below him when it was hidden by darkness, then said with a involuntary drop in his voice, ‘But we got no rope.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ Briony said. ‘I’ll spin us some.’

  ELEVEN

  She sat in the leaf-shifting darkness, her head bent. The boys could hear something whirring softly between her hands.

  ‘What’s that?’ Pedrin whispered. ‘What’re you doing?’

  ‘’Tis me drop-spindle,’ she whispered back. ‘It means I can be a-spinning anywhere, without the need for a wheel.’

  ‘But ’tis dark.’

  ‘Yeah, I know it. But I’ve been a-spinning all my life, I can do it with me eyes closed, or in the dark if need be. Surely there’s summat you can be a-doing in the dark too?’

  ‘I could milk Snowflake,’ Pedrin said, feeling his cheeks curve in a grin for the first time in what seemed like ages. The smile faded very quickly. ‘I do hope me goats are safe,’ he whispered. ‘I wish I knew what had happened to them.’

  ‘The soldiers had them tethered to a tree,’ Briony said. ‘They weren’t caught up in the net. I would’ve freed them if I could. I hate to think of them all tied up, unable to run if summat comes a-prowling round.’

  ‘No tether can keep Thundercloud tied up if he is not a-wanting to be,’ Pedrin said proudly. ‘Still,’ he said, his voice growing troubled again, ‘’Tis mighty dangerous in this here wood, and Snowflake is still all laden down with our stuff.’ His voice quavered despite himself.

  Briony laid down her drop-spindle. ‘You’re both a-weary indeed. Why don’t you try and sleep. We can’t be a-rescuing Lisandre until ’tis light enough to see.’

  ‘Rock-a-bye, baby, in the treetops . . .’ Durrik sung. ‘Oh, yeah, I’m a-planning to sleep.’

  She moved, creeping forward on the branch. ‘How about if we had a hammock we could be a-tying up safely?’

  ‘Why not a four-poster bed, on which to rest my weary head?’ Durrik returned swiftly.

  ‘I can’t be a-managing a bed but a hammock I can do,’ she answered seriously. They sensed a few quick movements in the darkness and then heard something being shaken out.

  ‘You’re not tomfooling?’ Pedrin said hopefully.

  ‘I’m not one for much tomfoolery,’ she answered, a hint of a smile in her voice. ‘Are you two any good at knots?’

  ‘I am,’ Pedrin replied, ‘but I wouldn’t be a-trusting any knot Durrik tied.’

  ‘Then you can tie up the hammock and Durrik can keep an ear out, while I keep on a-spinning,’ Briony answered, passing Pedrin a length of knotted rope. He felt along it in the darkness, still incredulous that she could be carrying a hammock about her when it was the very thing they needed. Then, relief springing up in him, he fumbled about in the darkness, tying the hammock securely to the same branches as the platform above. He and Durrik then crept thankfully into the swaying net of rope, which was surprisingly soft and comfortable. Since it had been raining that day, both boys were wearing their oiled capes and so they were able to draw them close about their weary bodies and fall instantly asleep.

  Pedrin half-roused some time later, the hammock swaying under Briony’s weight as the little girl crept in next to him, but he was asleep again the very next heartbeat, rocked gently by the breeze.

  When he next woke, it was to the first sharp, clear sound of birdcalls. Briony was shaking him gently. Pedrin opened his eyes blearily, and realised it was light enough for him to see her silhouette. He tried to sit up and remembered with a jerk that he was in a hammock which rolled wildly at every movement. The turbulent swinging woke Durrik, who sat up, saying loudly, ‘Next shall be the king-breaker, the king-maker . . .’

  ‘Shh!’ Briony hissed.

  ‘He always does that,’ Pedrin whispered resignedly. ‘I should’ve stuck me hand over his mouth.’

  ‘What?’ Durrik said sleepily. ‘What did I say?’

  ‘Gobbledygook, as always. Stop making so much noise.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  They managed to sit up, clinging to the net, and look around them. It was in the hours before dawn, the sky overhead still dark enough for stars but beginning to brighten so that the stars were very faint, almost imperceptible. Apart from the shuffle of leaves and the crystal ting of birdsong, it was very quiet.

  ‘I made us a lot of rope,’ Briony whispered and indicated a coil of thin rope hanging over a broken branch. ‘I thought we’d probably best tie ourselves all together, when we go a-flying away on the seed-wings, else we’ll all get separated again.’

  Pedrin was not feeling so enthusiastic about their plan now that it was time to implement it, but he could not say so. He nodded his head jerkily. ‘How did you manage to make so much rope? Surely you can’t have been a-carrying that much raw hemp around with you?’ he asked, trying to focus his mind on practicalities so he did not have to think about how much air there was between his body and the ground.

  ‘Nah, of course not,’ Briony said. ‘I borrowed bits from round us.’ She waved her hand vaguely. ‘Come on, if we’re to rescue milady, we’d best be a-moving.’

  They struggled out of the hammock, amazed that they could have slept so comfortably now that the receding darkness showed them again the great height of the tree. Briony untied the hammock and deftly rolled it and shoved it in her little sack, which she slung on her back as usual.

  ‘How do you fit aught else in there?’ Pedrin asked. ‘That big hammock must take up every bit of available space!’

  ‘’Tis only a bit of old rope, it rolls up small,’ Briony said rather evasively. Pedrin would have questioned her further, but she was passing him the coil of rope, suggesting they tie themselves together in case one of them slipped and fell. Pedrin thought this was such a good idea he was quick to agree. Once they were all securely lashed together, Briony began to slowly edge her way along the branch and Pedrin’s mind was soon fully engaged in not looking down. He followed close on her heels, keeping his eyes fixed on the very middle of the branch, glad it was so broad.

  By the time they reached the edge of the platform, the wooden boards were pressing down upon their heads, making it hard to move. They could see the dim shapes of the cages dangling from their long ropes and swinging slightly in the breeze.

  ‘Do you remember which one they stuck Lady Lisandre in?’ Durrik said, leaning forward.

  Pedrin pointed. ‘Can you see the bit of red a-hanging out one side? That’s her.’

  Gingerly they manoeu
vred themselves through the struts under the platform until they were as close to Lisandre’s cage as they could get. All they could see of her was a pile of crumpled red silk. Pedrin hung on to one of the struts and very carefully reached out one hand as far as he could, wondering if he could grab the rope and swing her closer, but the rope was too far away.

  ‘We’ll have to throw her the end of our rope,’ Durrik said.

  ‘She’s a girl, remember? There’s no way on earth she’ll be a-catching it,’ Pedrin said. ‘I’ll tie a pebble onto it and sling it to her.’ He put his hand into his bag of stones and realised with chagrin that he had not replenished his supply after peppering the wood-sprites the day before. He had only a few stones left.

  ‘Your sister Mina’s a pretty good catch,’ Durrik pointed out.

  ‘Yeah, but I trained her,’ Pedrin answered. ‘I’ll bet you me silver crown Lisandre can’t catch!’

  ‘No go,’ Durrik answered, grinning. ‘Those long nails of hers would get in the way.’

  While they’d been talking, Briony had quietly been rummaging in her sack. She drew out a handful of nuts that she had gathered the day before, chose one and dropped the rest back.

  ‘Can I have your knife?’ she asked.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Too hard to be a-tying the rope to it. I thought I’d drill a hole through the nut and then we can be sure the rope is secure.’

  Pedrin gave her a quick glance of admiration. ‘Good idea.’ He took the nut from her and carefully used the sharp point of his knife to drill a hole through its centre. Briony then teased apart the end of the rope and strung the nut upon it, knotting it into place securely.

  ‘We’d best be a-waking her,’ Pedrin said. He slung a nut at the cage and it flew swiftly through the air, rattling the bars before spinning away. Lisandre woke on the third nut. She sat up, gripping the bars anxiously and staring about. They waved at her, sure no-one else could see them beneath the platform, and they saw her expression suddenly change. She struggled to her feet, waving and calling. Briony put one finger to her lips and Lisandre nodded, but stood pressed against the cage, her fingers gripping the bars. They tried to explain their plan to her by mime, but since none of them dared to let go of the branch they were clinging to, it was hard to express their meaning very clearly. She nodded her head, though, and stretched her hand to them through the bars.

  Pedrin had been right. Lisandre was a very bad catch. On the thirteenth attempt Pedrin managed to get the nut to fly straight through the narrow crack between the bars, and Lisandre was able to wrap it round and round the bars until it was secure. The other three children then hauled on the rope until the cage was dragged right up to where they crouched, tipped at an oblique angle. It was then a matter of only a few seconds for Pedrin to cut the rope binding the door closed and for Lisandre to very shakily climb out.

  There were white tear tracks through the grime on her face, and her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed. Her hair stuck up like quills, her dress was crushed and stained, and blood was encrusted on her ear. She was so pleased to see them, though, that she smiled brilliantly at them, saying in a tremulous voice, ‘Oh, I am glad indeed to see you all. I had thought myself forsaken.’

  Both Pedrin and Durrik felt themselves overtaken by awkwardness, their hands suddenly feeling too large and their necks too hot. Pedrin dropped his eyes and muttered something, but Durrik bowed his upper body, saying, ‘Our pleasure, milady.’ For the first time Pedrin envied his friend’s quick facility with words. Durrik never seemed at a loss for the right thing to say, while Pedrin just blushed hotter and hotter, everything he felt dammed up in his throat so he could say nothing at all. He cast a quick look of resentment at Durrik and busied himself untying the rope so the cage swung back to its original position.

  ‘The sun’s a-rising,’ Briony whispered. ‘The wood-sprites will all be waking. Let’s get a-going.’

  ‘How are we to descend?’ Lisandre demanded. ‘Did you see how high we are?’

  ‘See those enormous seed-pods hanging all over the tree?’ Briony pointed to the very edge of the branch, where a cluster of the enormous wheel-shaped seeds hung, dark against the lucid sky. Lisandre nodded and Briony described to her how the seeds within had two wing-like projections that caused them to float upon the wind. ‘The wood-sprites hang below them and fly with them, milady. They must be able to travel a very long way.’

  ‘Are you mad?’ Lisandre said, whiter than ever below the grime. ‘We shall all be killed.’

  ‘The wood-sprites—’

  ‘I am not a wood-sprite!’

  ‘Nah, I know it, milady. Still, it can’t be too dangerous else they wouldn’t do it. You just need to hold on long enough, and if a-letting go meant you’d be a-falling to your death, well then, you’d be a-holding on, wouldn’t you? And we mean to tie ourselves to the seed-wings, and to each other. The wood-sprites steer themselves by shifting their weight one way or another. ‘’Tis a long way down. We’ll have plenty of time to catch the knack of it.’

  At times like this, when Briony forgot her shyness and diffidence, her whole face glowed with colour, transforming her. Her green eyes were bright with resolve, her small face set in lines of such determination that all the others were convinced and even inspired. The very next instant she dropped her eyes and the glow faded, but an impression of it lingered with the other children so that they all followed her readily when she said, in her usual hesitant way, ‘I can’t be sure, but I think the seed-pods a-hanging on the tree can’t be ripe. We’ll have to be a-stealing some of the ones on the platform. Mebbe we’d best be a-moving?’

  With Pedrin’s knife they cut the rope into lengths, constructing halters that passed over their shoulders and round their waists, with loose reins that were to be tied to the seed-wings, and another long line that tied all the children together. Lisandre stood like a doll, her arms held out stiffly, allowing the other children to prepare her but making no attempt to help in any way. Already she seemed to have forgotten her gratitude for being rescued, saying coldly, ‘I hope this madcap scheme of yours works, Briony, else we soon shall all be dead.’

  ‘I hope so too, milady,’ was all Briony said. ‘All we can do is try.’

  Pedrin busied himself checking the knots, trying to ignore the incessant fluttering of his stomach. Eventually, though, he had to declare all was firm. He gritted his teeth together, determined no little serving-girl was going to outface him, and said, ‘Well, let’s get a-going then.’

  Very quietly the four children climbed up onto the platform, keeping close under the overhang of leaves. A wood-sprite was sitting on the far edge of the platform, his arms wrapped around his knees, drinking in the sight of the dawn. To the east the sky was luminous, golden rays striking up into a welter of clouds, gilding them with light. He was so absorbed in the beauty of the sight that he did not notice the furtive movements of the children as they crept towards the seed-pods. His head swung round at the first blow of the hammer, however. When he saw the four children desperately banging open four seeds, he sprang towards the nearest wind-chime and shook it furiously. A cacophony rang out. He then seized his long spear and leapt towards them. It was too late, though. Lisandre, Briony, Durrik and Pedrin had all hurriedly tied themselves to the diaphanous white wings and launched themselves off into space.

  All four screamed. They were not prepared for the speed of their descent. It felt as if their hearts had been kicked up into their throats and lodged there. Branches sprang towards them. Instinctively they arched backwards and the seed-wings swayed away in response. Pedrin caught his breath, swallowed a surge of hot bile, and dared to open his eyes again. Far below, the forest canopy was like a deep green carpet, glanced with light. He saw the sinuous gleam of the Evenlode a long way away, and beyond the river, high green hills that rose into grey mountains, sullen with cloud. He glanced behind him, but the movement caused the seed-wing to veer, making the line between him and Durrik go suddenly lax. He had only
long enough to see wood-sprites hanging out of the branches, watching them. To his surprise, most of them were laughing and waving. Then he had to straighten his course again, before he crashed into Durrik.

  Briony had been right. It did not take them long to begin to control the speed and direction of the seed-wings. Although the wind was the engine that drove their momentum, the children could slow the descent by slanting the seed-wings against the breeze, and change direction by tilting their bodies from side to side. Soon their terror was replaced with jubilance. To soar above the trees, as swift and free as birds, to see the whole world unfolding below them in all its vastness and beauty, to have escaped the soldiers and outwitted the wood-sprites—it was no wonder all of them shouted aloud for joy, even quiet little Briony.

  The silvery-blue snake of the Evenlode rushed towards them. It was impossible to pick the spot where the soldiers had discovered them the previous evening. Pedrin cupped his hands about his mouth and gave a long, loud, melodious whistle. Again and again he whistled, hoping his goats were close enough to hear.

  Then he had to stop, for their feet were beginning to brush against the shaggy tops of the trees. Pedrin cleared his throat. ‘Any idea how to be a-landing these things?’

  The wind was capricious down here, in the treetops. They were tossed about wildly, branches smashing against their legs, their sides. Briony’s seed-wing tipped sideways and fell sharply, with a loud ripping sound as the gossamer tore. The rope that tied her to Lisandre dragged the starkin princess down too and she screamed in terror.

  ‘Slow down, slow down!’ Pedrin shouted. ‘Grab a branch or summat!’

  ‘How, you imbecile?’ Lisandre screamed back. ‘I’ll break my arm!’

  ‘Tilt your wing, make it slow down!’

  But Lisandre’s wing had flipped upside down and crashed down through the canopy, disappearing from sight. Desperately Pedrin tilted his seed-wing up against the wind. It flipped and crashed into the trees. Pedrin covered his face with his hands as twigs and branches tore into his skin. He was jerked around, and then down, and around again. When Pedrin at last dared open his eyes, blood roaring in his ears, he found himself dangling upside-down in a tree. He heard screams and the crashing of branches, then saw a flash of white as someone else was caught nearby.