The Blackbringer hunts where
the light fears to go.
“The Blackbringer?” said Poppy. “That old bogey? My mum used to scare me with tales about him so I wouldn’t stay out past dark.”
“Aye, that’s just an old nursery story. But look, see on the recipe here, the initial B? Now look at the big B on Blackbringer.”
Poppy looked back and forth between them. “It’s the same,” she said. “Sure! And look at the h on half and home. These were written by the same hand!” She glanced up at Magpie.
But Magpie was chewing her lip and shaking her head, bewildered. “Sure looks like, but skive, it’s impossible!” Her voice had an edge of suspicion to it as she said, “Poppy, this parchment? I found it in the ruins of Shaith Ev, the temple of the Ithuriel. It’s part of a letter from the age of the devil wars.”
Poppy’s mouth dropped open. “For true? That’s old. . . .”
“Twenty-five thousand years. And that’s not all.” Magpie traced the B on Blackbringer with her fingertip. “It was written by Bellatrix!”
The two lasses fell silent and stood looking at each other in disbelief.
“Ach, there y’are, ye treacherous twitch!”
Magpie and Poppy both swung toward the door to see Maniac in his lady wig, glowering in at them. “Feather . . . ,” Magpie said sheepishly, “I’m sorry—”
He jerked his head so the wig sailed off and landed in a hairy heap at her feet. “Where ye been? Sure ye come back once it’s all over, neh? Sneaky as an imp!”
“Glad to hear she’s not all crow,” said a growly little voice out of sight.
Maniac turned his head. “Good-imp,” he croaked, “ye mistake me. She’s crow straight through. ’Tis only when she’s wicked that she’s imp.”
“Then may she always be wicked!”
“Snoshti?” Magpie leapt the prop trunks to get to the door and peered around for the imp marm. She saw her there, so small and quizzical, surrounded by beetles, and her heart swelled. She dropped to her knees before her and flung her arms round the little creature. “Snoshti!” she cried. Her whiskers tickled just the same after all these years.
“How wild ye look!” Snoshti declared, holding Magpie at arm’s length to examine her. “Brown as a gypsy and skinny—”
“As a twig,” Magpie finished. “I know! And you look just the same as always. I missed you fierce, Snoshti! You should have come away with us when we went. We needed you!”
“Blessings!” Snoshti cried. “The world’s too big for the likes of me, and flying gives me a flutter. Where can ye hide in the sky? Neh, sky’s no place for an imp.” She eyed Magpie’s feather skirt. “Ach, but look at ye, lass! Ye’ll have a beak on next and be squawking like a crow!”
“She squawks as good as any of us!” said Maniac gruffly. “And curses too.”
“Mags!” cried Pigeon, landing with a flutter beside her. “Where’d ye go? I was fierce shivered that queen would get ye!”
“Piff!” Magpie said. “I’d like to see her try!”
“She will,” said Snoshti.
“What?” asked Magpie, surprised.
“She will try, make no mistake. Better ye lot come away now, caravans and all, than stay right under her nose.” Snoshti jerked her head toward the palace. They all looked up and saw a figure silhouetted in the tower window, standing perfectly still. They shifted uneasily to feel they were being watched.
“That lady’s one mean twist,” said Pigeon in a low voice. “Sure she’s no match for ye, Mags, but maybe the imp’s right. We en’t come to tangle with faeries. We got any reason to stay in Never Nigh?”
“Neh, none,” Magpie said. “I already found what we’re looking for.”
“What?” croaked Maniac. “When?”
“While not on the stage, as a matter of fact!” she said. “So thank you!” She planted a smooch on his beak.
“Ach,” he grunted. “Don’t be thinking that gets ye off the hook!”
The rest of the crows gathered round, tossing their crowns and capes into the caravan. Magpie introduced them all to Poppy and quickly whispered what they’d learned from the ancient tree. They were suitably impressed, with the news and with Poppy both.
“Gorm,” said Pup, still wearing a pair of devil horns. “Ye can talk to trees? How fine!”
“Thank you.” Poppy blushed.
“Poppy Manygreen!” called an imperious voice from overhead, and they all looked up to see a gent hovering above them on smoke-grey wings. It was one of the two who’d earlier been fawning over the queen. Magpie narrowed her eyes.
“My cousin,” Poppy muttered to her and called out, “What is it, Kex?”
“The queen calls for you. Come at once,” he said, looking down his nose at the crowd of crows.
Poppy frowned. “The queen? Tell her I’m busy—”
“At once!” he cut her off.
“Now, there’s no call to be barking at the lass,” Calypso interjected.
“Neh, it’s fine,” said Poppy, turning to them with a twinkle in her eye. She whispered, “This is sure to be about her hair, neh? She’s always demanding potions for this or that. Sure she wants me to undo your spell.”
“Can you?” Magpie asked.
“I’d have to want to, first. And though I haven’t seen it yet I’m fair certain I’ll find it suits her.”
“Cousin!” hollered Kex.
“Calm yer pepper!” squawked Pup.
“Magpie, the cake recipe,” Poppy whispered quickly, unfurling her wings to fly. “Do you think we could make it?”
“I don’t know where it came from! It could be a trick.”
“Meet me in the morning at old Father Linden.”
Magpie nodded. “Sure.”
“Good!” Poppy curtsied to Snoshti and the crows and said, “I’d best go, then. Lady Vesper awaits. I can’t wait to see this!” And with a wink she flew up to meet her cousin.
“She seems a fine lass,” Calypso said, watching her go. “Could be mad handy, talking to trees.”
“Aye,” Magpie agreed. “She hears things. And one thing she heard? That the creatures have this story, right, about a faerie who’s supposed to bring back the Dawn Days.” She chuffed a laugh. “You haven’t heard that, have you?”