Foxheart (11 page)

“Anastazia, he's being
incredibly
rude!” said Quicksilver, pointing at Fox. “Aren't you going to do something?”

But Anastazia only muttered, “I wasn't nearly this impossible when I was your age,” and stalked away, popping candies into her mouth.

Quicksilver stared, her temper fading. The annoyed look on Anastazia's face was so familiar and so perfectly echoed how Quicksilver felt whenever
she
grew annoyed with something . . . it made her feel as though she'd stepped outside her body to float in the sky.

How bizarre it was, she thought, to look at this old, hunched woman and realize that, though her body would change over the years, her messy, grumpy soul would stay safe and unchanged inside her.

T
hat night they slept on the ground near the cow pasture, on soft mounds of sun-warmed grass dotted with white flowers. Anastazia had fallen asleep with her bag of candies in hand. Her snores were wet and thunderous.

“Do I snore?” Quicksilver whispered to Fox, but he lay on his back beside her, his paws up in the air, twitchily asleep.

Quicksilver smiled at the sight, but a thorn of fear pricked her heart. She yearned for things between them to be as they once were—Fox and Quicksilver, Quicksilver and Fox. The best thief—and dog—in all the Star Lands.

“Things with Fox will get better,” Sly Boots remarked, his voice hushed.

Quicksilver whipped her head around, ready to snap at him to leave her alone—but couldn't do it. Sly Boots lay on his back with his hands clasped behind his head, chewing on a long stalk of grass and staring up through the wind-whispering trees to the stars overhead.

He looked almost . . . tolerable.

“There's the Three Sisters,” Sly Boots said, pointing to a cluster of stars. “See that bright one in the middle?”

Quicksilver blinked and looked away from him, settling her head back onto her pack. “Yes.”

“That's the heart they share. And there—that's the White Bear, and that bright blue star is his eye. You follow that, and you'll go north, because that's where all the snow bears live, in the Far North.” He sighed. “It's funny. I don't think I believed her, until now. Anastazia? I thought she'd spelled us into some odd witch land that only looked like home but wasn't
really
home. But seeing these stars, stars I've seen all my life . . . I don't think even witches could make stars look
that
real. And besides, if I squint really hard when I look at her, I can see you in her face.”

Quicksilver harrumphed. “Her nose isn't the same. It's all swollen and crooked.”

“I suppose she must have gotten hurt a lot, fighting the Wolf King.”

The Wolf King. Yes, Anastazia had spent a lot of time fighting the Wolf King, or so she said, and now she wanted Quicksilver to do the same—though Quicksilver couldn't fathom how, or even
why
, she would do such a thing. So far the only witch Quicksilver cared about was herself—her
selves
—and she didn't see why they had to bother helping anyone else.

As long as she and Anastazia stayed away from the Wolf King, what did it matter what happened to the other witches? If they were stupid enough to get themselves hunted, then why did it fall to Quicksilver to help them?

No one had ever helped
her
.

She glared up at the sky. She hadn't thought of her parents once since arriving here, in this new time, but now that things were calm enough to think, her thoughts wandered to them. As she so often had when she was younger, she tried to remember their faces—perhaps her mother had gray hair too. Perhaps her father had a squashed nose. A crooked smile. A dimple or two.

She turned over on the hard ground, trying to shrink the
ache in her heart through sheer force of will. Out of everything she could do, she was best at that, maybe even better than she was at stealing—bearing down on the little hurts inside her to keep them from getting bigger and swallowing her whole.

“Are you nervous?” Sly Boots asked. His voice was soft, but it still startled Quicksilver.

“No,” she said. She paused. “Nervous about what?”

“About fighting the Wolf King.”

“Oh, him?” Quicksilver let out a breezy laugh. “To be honest, I haven't thought much about him.”

“
I'd
be nervous.”

“Well, that's you, isn't it? I'm not afraid of anything. You can't be afraid of anything, if you want to be a good thief.”

“You're lucky,” Sly Boots said with a sigh. “I'm afraid of everything. Always have been.”

Quicksilver turned over to look at him. In the moonslight, Sly Boots seemed rather unlike himself—more freckled, but not so sad and hopeless, and with a serious, grown-up sort of look in his eyes that made Quicksilver feel as though she had never seen him before. She wished he would spit out that stupid piece of grass. Her head buzzed from working with Fox all afternoon, and the grass was distracting her. Every sound seemed magnified; her limbs ached.

“Sly Boots?”

“Hmm?”

“I'm sorry about your parents. You must feel awful.” As soon as she spoke, Quicksilver flushed. Who was she to be sorry?
She
hadn't hurt his parents.
She
didn't have parents at all. She pounded the ground with her fist. “You know. For not being able to help them, and not being able to steal anything for them, and for mucking up that job in the first place.”

“I do feel awful,” said Sly Boots. “But thank you for being sorry. I don't usually have anyone to say they're sorry for me.”

“Me, neither. I like being alone, though. When you're alone, people can't hurt you.” Quicksilver dug her fingers into the dirt. She really needed to go to sleep and stop saying such things. Her pounding head was turning her into a babbling fool.

“I suppose that's true.”

“I really will get you back to them, as soon as I know how.”

“I know you will.”

“It shouldn't take us long. Fox and I are already pretty good at this magic stuff.”

Sly Boots smiled. “I noticed. So did the back of my head.”

“Well, if you hadn't been picking your nose . . . and you know, Fox gave me the idea, at least part of it—”

“Really, it's fine.”

Quicksilver fell silent. It seemed wise to do so. She couldn't seem to stop tripping over her own tongue. She stared up at the stars, her mouth in a hard line, until sleep had nearly taken her. Then an idea came to her. She shook Sly Boots's arm.

“I'm awake, you know,” he said.

“I have an idea. Witches are alive in this time, right?”

“Yes . . .”

“So I reckon there are lots of witchy medicines and healing what-do-you-call-its all around the Star Lands. I'll find out which ones we need—I'll say, ‘Oh, Anastazia, please teach me about witchy what-do-you-call-its,' and she'll say, ‘Oh, of course, my brilliant and talented student,' and she'll tell me everything because she'll want to show off—and then Fox and I'll steal whatever we can find, and when we send you back to your parents, you'll absolutely be able to make them better!” Quicksilver grinned at him. “You get your medicine, and I get to steal things. It's the perfect plan.”

Sly Boots stared at her. “You'd do that for me?”

“No, I'd do it for
me
, because stealing is fun. But it'd work out nicely for you too. Conveniently.”

Sly Boots continued staring.

Quicksilver shoved him. “What? Stop it.”

Before Quicksilver could stop him, Sly Boots drew Quicksilver into a tight hug and then let her go at once. “Good night, Quicksilver,” he said, with a shy smile. “You're a good friend.”

“I'm not your friend.”

“Well, all right. I suppose we haven't known each other that long. But you will be.
We
will be, I think.”

Then Sly Boots rolled over, and Quicksilver was left fuming until she fell hard into a dreamless sleep.

F
or the next day, and the day after that, Quicksilver and Fox spent their time learning how to be witch and monster, while Anastazia lounged on a rock in the sun, sometimes giving instructions and sometimes falling asleep in the middle of lunch.

“Again,” barked Anastazia, after Quicksilver and Fox's fourth failed attempt at producing a successful glamour—a magical disguise that changed her face to look like someone else.

“But I'm tired,” whined Fox, collapsing dramatically in the middle of the clearing that had become their home. The thick stretch of oak trees that hid them from the road rustled lazily in
the warm breeze. “Can't we work on this later? Perhaps we could be on our way to find the bones and practice as we go?”

Quicksilver shot him a look.
I don't
want
to go yet!

Ah, but
I
do,
Fox replied.
Magic practiced in a safe, quiet clearing doesn't really count. We need to test ourselves!
He paused, cocking his head to look at her.
Are you frightened of leaving?

All right, now you're just being mean. Of course I'm not frightened. I just like it here, that's all.
But Quicksilver avoided Fox's keen gaze, hoping he couldn't sense the truth—that she was, in fact, the tiniest bit frightened of this unfamiliar, long-ago world.

And that she worried that hunting for bones would rather get in the way of thieving.

“Oh, yes, Fox, what a
grand
idea,” said Anastazia, with an enormous roll of her eyes. “And what if we were to encounter the Wolf King on the road, with Quicksilver still getting worn out after only five minutes of work, and you only able to dependably shift into birdies and kitties and itty-bitty mouses?”

“Isn't it
mice
?” Quicksilver pointed out.

“I'll say it how I like, and so will you, once you're an old woman.”

“So,” said Quicksilver, putting her hands on her hips, “just
because you're old, you can say whatever you like, even if it's wrong?”

“That's about the crux of it, yes.”

“Well, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard! I could never get away with saying wrong things, even when I was small!”

Anastazia sneered. “The sky is purple, unicorns are evil, and life isn't fair. These are the facts of it, my dear.”

“Don't call me ‘my dear,'” Quicksilver snapped. “I'm
you
. It's
strange
.”

I'd consider backing off, master,
Fox thought calmly to her.
She looks ready to burst.

“She looks
ready
to collapse into a blob of wrinkles!” Quicksilver cried, so flustered that she forgot to keep her thoughts between herself and Fox.

Anastazia shot to her feet. “Look good and hard, girl, for this is your future. Now,
try again
, or so help me, I'll—”

But then Anastazia stopped. For of course she couldn't do anything at all these days, except for perhaps irritate someone to death. She no longer had a Fox, and therefore whatever magic remained in her blood lay cold and dormant.

Anastazia returned to her rock, arranging her cloak about her and avoiding Quicksilver's gaze. She looked out at the meadow full
of grazing cows and said quietly, “If you'll try once more, please.”

Quicksilver wished she wasn't so angry and could comfort Anastazia without losing something of her pride. To be without a Fox was not a fate she would wish on any version of herself, no matter how old and wrinkled and mean.

“Quicksilver!” cried Sly Boots, hurrying into the clearing, his arms full of goods from town. “Anastazia! Wonderful news—I've found help! A whole group of witches, traveling together. They were in town at the market, and I noticed them because of their monsters and hair, of course, and I told them about you, and how you're going to fight the Wolf King. They said they'd help us, so now we can do everything faster and go home sooner—”

Anastazia jumped up from the rock and slapped Sly Boots.

He dropped his parcels and held his cheek. “Are you mad?”

“Are
you
mad, boy? I don't want other witches here! We work alone. We can't trust anyone else! Our mission is dangerous, and the Wolf King has many spies. Anyone we meet might be listening with his ears, seeing with his eyes—”

Voices came from the nearby trees. “Hello?” someone called out. “Don't be afraid. We're friends, and we only want to speak with you.”

Quicksilver saw the fear and anger on Anastazia's face and chose
to do something about it. Urgency gave her mind a new focus. She sent an image to Fox: the four of them disappearing into a shell that, to others, would look exactly like the surrounding world.

Good idea,
Fox thought, and in a flash of soft golden light, he dissolved and circled round them all like a curtain—except the curtain was invisible, and soon so were they.

“Move closer together,” Fox murmured, from somewhere behind Quicksilver's left ear.

“What just happened?” Sly Boots whispered.

Quicksilver felt the touch of a rough hand on her own. “Excellent cloaking spell,” came Anastazia's low voice. “Well done.”

Quicksilver said nothing, though warmth blossomed inside her.

A group of people entered the clearing, led by a young man perhaps three years older than Sly Boots. His hair was white as the glowing far moon, as was the owl monster on his shoulder.

“Hello?” the young man called. “Is anyone there?”

When silence greeted him, the young man raised his hands. “I promise, we're not your enemies.”

Anastazia snorted quietly. “But they would be, given the opportunity. I've seen it dozens of times. I've
done
it dozens of times. Witches can't be trusted.”

“Does that mean I shouldn't trust you?” whispered Quicksilver.

“Only fools lie to themselves.”

“Hush, both of you,” Fox whispered.

“We too flee the Wolf King,” said the young man. “We make for the western mountains.”

“Hah!” Anastazia let out a single harsh laugh.

The young man's head whipped toward the sound. “Do you know, I think that might be the best cloaking spell I've ever seen? It's too bad you forgot to cloak your
sounds
as well. I might've given up and left in a moment.”

Fox groaned.
Sorry, master. I tried my best.

It's all right, Fox. We'll get better.

“I'm sorry, I couldn't help laughing,” said Anastazia. “That anyone could
flee
the Wolf King, or be safe in the western mountains . . . it's too senseless an idea to be tolerated.”

Quicksilver sighed irritably. “Show us, Fox.”

Fox shimmered into existence at their feet. “All things considered, I was actually quite enjoying that,” he said. “It felt like swimming.”

“It felt like being
strangled
,” Sly Boots hissed, patting himself as if to make sure nothing was missing.

The young man approached them with a smile. “Hello, sisters. My name is Olli—”

“Oh, save your
sisters
bit for the idiot you find next,” Anastazia snarled. “We won't fall for it.”

“Fall for what, exactly?”

Quicksilver stepped forward. “Who are you?” she demanded. “Speak clearly, or leave us be.”

“Ah! A cooperative witchling! My name is Olli, and this is my coven.” He gestured to include the witches standing behind him. Their monsters gleamed like jewels on their hats, on their shoulders, peeking out of their pockets.

“Coven?”
Anastazia spat, but Quicksilver spoke over her.

“What's a coven?”

“Dear child, a coven is a group of witches who live and fight together,” said Olli. “Surely you've heard the term?”

“Oh, yes, I've heard the term,” Anastazia said. “I've heard of witches in covens turning on one another, falling prey to suspicion and jealousy, launching themselves and others into chaos, leaving many dead and wounded behind—including witches.” Anastazia drew herself up, her lip curling. “Don't you understand what's happening, boy? What's beginning? The Wolf King won't stop until he kills us all, and we're doomed if we try to fight together.
Witches who try to live together only ever end up destroying themselves. It's our way. So make your covens, yes, go on and try it—and soon you'll have done the Wolf King's job for him.”

Some of the witches in Olli's coven shifted restlessly, glancing at one another. Some moved away from the group to stand glowering in the shadows, their monsters pacing at their feet.

“But that's exactly why we have to try this grand experiment!” Olli put his hands on his hips. “If we stand and fight together, we will not be so easy to hunt.”

“When a wolf pack hunts,” Anastazia countered, “they corner a herd until it panics. Then they pick off the weakest. And these wolves will do this again, and again, and again, until we've been wiped clean from the world, because they never tire.” She added, low, “I've seen it hundreds of times.”

Olli's eyebrows shot up. “
Hundreds
of times?”

Quicksilver's heart jumped in fear. What would Olli do, if he figured out their secret?

Anastazia froze, and then recovered.

“Perhaps I was a little dramatic,” she said smoothly, “but you understand my meaning. The only way to survive is to hide, and hide alone. If you want to fight him, go ahead. Just don't drag anyone else down with you.”

“And is that the kind of life you would want for us?” Olli asked. “A lonely life in the shadows?” He turned to Quicksilver, his shock of white hair catching the sunlight. “What do you think, girl?”

Quicksilver bristled. “My name's Quicksilver. Don't call me ‘girl.'”

“My apologies, Quicksilver. I meant no offense. What do you think of our little coven? Will you travel with us, even if only for a time? To try it out? We're stronger together. I truly believe that. And . . .” He glanced at Fox. “You've just started practicing, haven't you? He seems only days old.”

The hair on Fox's neck stood up. “I'm six years old, thank you very much. That's
forty-two
in dog years.”

“I only meant your monstrous age.”

Fox sniffed and said nothing.

“Wouldn't it be nice to learn from not just one witch, but many?” Olli asked. “And from witches who still have their monsters with them?”

The clearing filled with silence, and Anastazia seemed to shrink where she stood. Fox trotted over to her, pressed himself against her leg, and licked her sleeve. Her gnarled hand shook as she petted his ears.

She misses him,
Quicksilver and Fox thought to each other at the same time.

“I apologize, sister,” Olli said quietly. “I don't mean to make light of your grief. The loss of a monster is a terrible thing.”

“You know nothing about my grief,” said Anastazia in a deadly voice. “So speak nothing of it.”

Olli nodded, stood with his head bowed for a moment, and then said, “So, Quicksilver? What do you think?”

I think,
Quicksilver thought to Fox,
that these witches' pockets look awfully full.

I was thinking very much the same thing,
answered Fox in a smug tone.
Must be quite taxing for them, to travel with those heavy packs.

Perhaps we should relieve them of their burdens?

Master, I would be only too delighted to grant them such a courtesy.

Quicksilver swallowed her smile. “If we do travel with you—when we decide to leave, you'll allow us to do so with no trouble?”

Olli put his hand over his heart. “That's a promise, Quicksilver.”

The sight of Olli smiling at her left Quicksilver feeling rather undone. She blushed and looked away.