Amethyst Page 6

  ‘Delighted,’ said Shane Annigan. He beamed at Greenwood but gave Amy a quick, suspicious look. She had a sudden premonition that he would interfere with her plans. Ajab of fear shot through her.

  ‘Have you come far?’ asked Amber.

  ‘Far, yes …’ Mr Annigan took a sip of his drink. He looked round at everyone. ‘What a family this is!’ He revealed long creamy teeth in a wide smile. ‘I am thinking there is both Wood and Rock in this place?’

  Cedar nodded.

  ‘A good combination.’ His pale eyes glanced from one to the other. ‘But, sure, you must be from the Bird family?’ he asked Oriole. ‘Since you have beady black eyes and are as round and short as a wren – no offence – it’s plain as plain.’

  ‘That’s right. Not quite family, being from another clan, but close as you get. Robin too.’

  Mr Annigan nodded. ‘Wood, Rock, Bird all gathered together. I myself, as you might have guessed, am of the Air.’

  ‘Air! I’ve never met an Air person before,’ said Questrid. ‘Do you all shine like that?’

  ‘Not met a man of Air before? Well, well, there’s a thing. I come from a long way off and was caught in the blizzard, tossed and tumbled and thrown around like a dandelion seed. How I got here I will never know but I saw your lights and … here I am.’

  ‘Lucky you got blown this way,’ said Cedar. ‘There aren’t many houses around.’

  ‘I shall ask him questions all night,’ Questrid whispered to Amy, ‘and won’t let him go to bed till he’s told me exactly what it’s like to be – a lantern.’

  Mr Annigan settled himself back in the chair. He sipped his hot chocolate. As he looked around; his eyes cast a small, narrow beam across the kitchen, like a lighthouse. Amy wondered what it was about him that she didn’t like. Perhaps he smiled too much.

  ‘Would that be a snow wolf?’ Shane Annigan asked Copper. He nodded at Ralick.

  ‘His mum, Silver, she’s a snow wolf. We don’t know who the father is.’

  What was he interested in the wolf cub for? thought Amy. Ralick was hers. And Granite’s!

  ‘Where were you going before you drifted to Spindle House?’ asked Cedar.

  ‘I was on my way to Dragon Mountain,’ said Mr Annigan. He swivelled his silvery gaze round to Cedar.

  ‘Dragon Mountain! Where’s that? Why?’ Questrid leant forward eagerly. ‘Sounds brilliant! I’d love to see Dragon Mountain.’

  ‘It’s a long way from here, way past Antimakassar,’ said Shane Annigan. He waved his long fingers through the air; they left a shimmering trail of light behind. ‘You see, I know everything there is to know about dragons, sure and that’s a fact.’

  Questrid exchanged an excited look with Copper.

  Mr Annigan went on, ‘The dragons called me. It’s as simple as that. When they have a problem, Shane Annigan’s the man!’

  Everyone stared at him.

  ‘Are the dragons like our dragons – friendly, I mean?’ asked Copper.

  ‘Ruby has a little dragon called Glinty,’ Questrid told him. ‘She’s friendly.’

  ‘Your mother has one? Does she now? Dragons are most mysterious,’ went on Mr Annigan. ‘They are an ancient race, the dragons …’ His voice dipped to a whisper. ‘Oh, there’s many a story about the dragon world.’

  And then, without anyone quite knowing how, he began to tell them stories of fantastic dragons, dangerous dragons, dragons that could cast spells and dragons with fish tails that could swim and breathe underwater. Everyone, even Amy much against her wishes, was spellbound. When he stopped they were still as statues, leaning forward and waiting for more.

  ‘We’ve been so impolite,’ said Amber, getting up quickly. ‘We’ve done nothing, only let you entertain us!’

  ‘Well, now,’ said Mr Annigan, ‘that’s fine. But I’d be most grateful if you’d let me stay the night here, then I’ll set off tomorrow and be at Dragon Mountain as quickly as I can.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Cedar. ‘Come with me. I’ll show you where you can sleep.’

  ‘That man’d be useful if you were lost in a dark night, wouldn’t he?’ said Uncle Greenwood. ‘Now he’s gone I can hardly see.’

  The room had dulled when Shane Annigan left. Questrid shivered. ‘Seems cold now,’ he said.

  Amy played with the ends of her long hair nervously. She didn’t like Shane Annigan. He’d said something strange, what was it? Something wrong … She tapped her finger against the table. She watched Copper stroking the cub’s head. The cub was butting her gently under the chin.

  Don’t love it so much, Copper. I wish you wouldn’t, thought Amy. Please don’t. Nobody should love a little old wolf cub the way you do, silly girl. Silly Wood girl.

  ‘I’m just taking Ralick out.’ Copper dragged on a heavy coat and headed for the door.

  ‘Me too,’ said Questrid.

  Amy waited for them to ask her as well, but they didn’t. It was as though they had completely forgotten her existence. She watched Questrid pulling a woolly hat down over Copper’s hair so it covered her eyes. She watched Copper flick him with the end of her scarf so he laughed. It all hurt. Jealousy. It was a new sensation, one she barely recognised, only feeling it like a punch in the stomach.

  They hadn’t invited her. They didn’t want her. Questrid didn’t like her.

  I don’t care, she told herself. Leave me out, ignore me. I don’t care because I’ve got Granite. Ow! Hollow words. I don’t want Granite! I want Copper and Questrid! I want to stay here! I want them to like me.

  She got up. She knew what she had to do: tell them everything. Amy slipped outside.

  The wind had died down. It was quiet and still. Snow lay heaped around Spindle House in high sculptured banks, whipped into magical shapes like giant meringues. The night was crisp and clear, millions of stars glinting in the sky.

  Amy stopped beneath the cover of the porch, alerted by a gruff, low voice. Nobody had seen her.

  ‘Wish I was lit up like a lantern,’ said the new voice from deep in the shadows by the stables. ‘Can’t see a thing.’

  Amy felt a shiver up her spine; it was the voice from Copper’s room last night. Who could it be?

  Questrid laughed. ‘It would be great, wouldn’t it? Isn’t Shane fantastic? Oh, I’d love to be a dragon expert like him. I want to travel and have adventures too.’

  ‘I loved his stories, but don’t you think he’s just a bit creepy?’ asked Copper. ‘His eyes are a bit flat and—’

  ‘No! I just thought he was great. What do you think, Ralick?’

  ‘My highly-tuned wolverine senses are suspicious of anyone arriving by such “chance”,’ said the gruff, small voice. ‘I may only have the brain of a cuddly wolf cub, but I thought he was too bright and too sharp.’

  ‘Oh, Ralick!’ Questrid laughed.

  Ralick! Ralick! It was the little wolf cub speaking! Amy bit back a cry of surprise. The wolf could talk!

  No wonder Granite wanted him, thought Amy. How much more valuable was a talking wolf cub than an ordinary one. Why hadn’t Granite told her? Why hadn’t they told her? Why hadn’t anyone shared this secret with her?

  Because nobody likes you, she told herself. Nobody really likes or trusts you. You’re a spoiler. A horrible, sad little spoiler.

  Amy slipped quickly back into the kitchen. Everyone was busy cooking or talking. They didn’t notice her. Her heart was heavy as lead. She could barely move. She slumped in her chair. I can’t steal the cub, he’ll yell when I grab him. It’s impossible. Granite will be so angry … I’ll have to go back to Aunt Agnes and Uncle John …

  Copper and Questrid came back. They began to lay the long kitchen table for supper. Amy willed herself to get up. She felt as though she had a boulder strapped to her back. She had to smile. Had to pretend she was all right.

  Copper was whispering to her soup spoon.

  ‘You’re the only person I’ve ever met who talks to cutlery,’ Amy said as cheerily as she could.

 
; ‘It won’t behave,’ Copper said. ‘It’s almost as bad as that one we gave you. It’s sycamore wood and it spins around like a whirligig and tips out my soup. It’s a joker.’

  ‘A balsa wood spoon for Mr Shane Annigan, I think,’ said Questrid. He put the lightest spoon they had beside his bowl. ‘He doesn’t look like he could hold anything heavier … Hey, wouldn’t you love to go to Dragon Mountain?’ he added. He slid an extra chair to the table. ‘Doesn’t it sound fantastic? I’d love my own dragon. Can you imagine how cool that would be? Not one like Glinty, she just sits on her bed of gold and snores.’

  ‘You’d better not let Aunt Ruby hear you talking like that about her dear Glinty,’ said Copper.

  ‘Just as well she’s not here tonight,’ said Questrid.

  ‘I wish she was, though,’ said Copper. ‘I miss her so much.’

  ‘You know my mum better than me,’ said Questrid. ‘But even I know she loves living in the Rock.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Amy. ‘How can Copper know her better than you?’

  ‘Well, I’ve only got to know her again recently,’ Questrid said. ‘Ruby lost me when I was six. She went South. She brought Copper up there. Ruby thought Copper was an orphan, you see.’

  Shane Annigan came in. Questrid pretended to be blinded. He staggered back with his hands over his eyes. ‘Don’t you keep yourself awake at night?’

  Shane laughed. ‘No, no. I’ve these smart photo-receptors in my skin which react, you see, to the amount of light around me. So, when it’s the darkness that’s coming on, I’m light. But I can think myself darker too. Watch me, then.’

  He closed his eyes, set his fingertips together and breathed deeply. His shimmering light faded to a gentle warm glow. He opened his eyes. ‘See?’

  ‘Brilliant!’ said Questrid.

  ‘Do sit down, Mr Annigan,’ said Amber. She carried some dishes to the table.

  ‘I am very hungry,’ Mr Annigan said. ‘I travelled all the long day and then getting lost in the snow …’

  ‘Like you, Questrid,’ said Copper.

  ‘I see that wolf cub never leaves you, does he, Copper?’ Shane said.

  ‘No, we’re always together. He’s called Ralick after a special toy I had,’ she told him. ‘I’ve still got the first Ralick, but, well, I’m too old for toys. He took over where Ralick left off and so he’s named Ralick too.’

  ‘He looks like very intelligent; I can see it in his eyes, whereas with dragons—’

  ‘What?’ Questrid asked.

  ‘There’s two things to consider with dragons. One, the smoke. If the smoke comes out of the left nostril, the dragon is very clever, from the right nostril, not so clever.’

  ‘And what else?’

  ‘A clever dragon is so clever it will direct its smoke out the wrong way, just to confuse you, you see, and make you think it’s stupid.’

  ‘But, but that means you never know whether a dragon’s clever or not!’ said Copper.

  ‘Exactly so! Tricky things, dragons. But your cub – he’s got an aura – makes him special.’

  ‘I think Mr Annigan’s teasing you, dear,’ said Amber, gently.

  ‘Oh, not really, Mrs Beech. My what delicious food this is. What a kind family. Why, d’you know, this is quite the cosiest house I’ve ever been in.’ He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest.

  ‘It is,’ agreed Copper. ‘It’s alive. You will hear the way it creaks and whispers. You can’t do anything you shouldn’t here – if you do, the place makes such a racket!’

  ‘Interesting.’ Mr Annigan laughed lightly. ‘If I’m to get up to a spot of mischief, it had better be out of doors I’m thinking!’

  13

  Can She, Can’t She?

  In the morning they saw how the snowstorm had changed the landscape. Snow had hidden rocks, bushes and trees beneath a thick white blanket. Half the house was enclosed behind a gigantic snowdrift. Everything looked fresh and clean.

  ‘It’s lucky that Mr Annigan is so light-footed,’ said Amber. She put porridge into the breakfast bowls. ‘If he was heavy he’d sink into these great snowdrifts and never be seen again!’

  ‘Ah, you are so right,’ said Shane Annigan, coming in at that moment. ‘I am as light as a mite of dust and will float over the crystals like a flake of snow myself. Is that porridge? Lovely. Do you know,’ he added, ‘that snow fairies freeze porridge and use it as missiles? I once had a fight with a giant yeti, sure, he was a brute of a creature, living up on a lonely mountain top. I flew round and round him, riding my dragon like a warplane, bombarding him with frozen fairy porridge balls.’

  ‘Cool!’ breathed Questrid. ‘Oh, I wish I could!’

  ‘Questrid, don’t worry. It’ll all be there for you when the time is right,’ said Greenwood.

  ‘Well, I’ve had a lovely time here, and that’s the truth,’ said Shane. ‘But now, before I go, might I have a look at the Root Room you’ve told me about?’

  The Root Room was where Greenwood, Cedar and Amber worked at wood carving. It was a big, natural room made beneath the fanned out roots of the spindle tree.

  Amy and Copper followed Cedar and Shane down the narrow stairs. The strong, sweet smell of the wood and fresh wood shavings made Amy cough and her eyes water.

  ‘We’re making a mirror at the moment,’ Cedar said. ‘We have a buyer in the South. Someone who appreciates our work.’

  The mirror stood two metres high. It was made from walnut and rosewood, and carved with animals and flowers. One side of the frame was patterned with filigree strands of gold and embedded with silver and precious stones, the other side was still to be decorated.

  ‘That’s mighty fine,’ said Shane. ‘Those strands of gold are so delicate.’

  ‘My wife does those intricate bits,’ said Cedar proudly.

  ‘And you’ve got plenty of gold, have you?’ asked Shane Annigan.

  Cedar went so still that Amy knew he was shocked. Or angry. Something about Shane’s question disturbed him. Did he wonder if Shane had heard the stories of Amber knitting gold too? Maybe he had? Maybe he was hoping to get some himself.

  ‘We’re trading with the Rockers again, now,’ Cedar said. ‘There’s plenty of gold coming out of the mountains.’

  ‘Do you enjoy making things, Amethyst?’ Shane asked. Amy shrugged. In her mind’s eye she saw the hunched forms of the grey clay gargoyles on the stone table at home. ‘I’m quite good at some things,’ she said. ‘But I—’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘But, well, I’ve never tried to make anything beautiful.’

  ‘So what have you made? Just ugly things?’ Copper laughed.

  It was on the tip of Amy’s tongue to say ‘yes’. How wonderful if she could fling herself into Amber’s arms and confess all. If only Shane Annigan wasn’t glaring at her with his cold, light eyes. Amy went red. She shook her head. ‘I’ve made nothing.’

  They watched Amber’s long, nimble fingers wind the gold thread through minuscule holes in the wooden mirror frame. She bent it and plaited it and knotted it into flowers, birds and stars. Watching her made Amy’s insides shrink and tangle. How could anyone do such delicate, clever things? How did the birds and the flowers look so real? She studied Amber; it wasn’t hard to imagine her making gold.

  ‘See this flower here, Amethyst?’ Amber pointed to a blue stone with a darker centre. ‘That’s a Star Amethyst. It’s a very special stone, an amethyst with a flaw in its centre. The flaw makes it more valuable. They’re rare.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Amy.

  A vast wave of sadness washed over her, so violent was it, that she nearly fell over. I’m a spoiled amethyst, she thought. There’s no hope for me. Flawed. Ruined. She bit her bottom lip to stop it from trembling. She didn’t even hear the last words Amber had said about the Star Amethyst being the most valuable and rare.

  Cedar was carving a rosebud from a knob of brown wood and they watched as it grew like a watered seed bursting into life bef
ore their eyes.

  ‘It’s truly wonderful, so it is,’ Shane said.

  ‘I wish I could do it,’ said Copper.

  ‘You’ll soon learn,’ said Amber.

  ‘You must spend more time learning the techniques, Copper,’ said Shane Annigan. ‘Making anything fine takes time. Will you work really hard this afternoon, just for me?’

  ‘Oh, all right. I’ll try.’

  ‘After all, she must be able to do it; it’s in her blood,’ said Cedar.

  ‘Maybe it isn’t,’ said Copper. ‘I can knit. Only I don’t any more,’ she added, glancing at her mother. She exchanged a look with Amy. There’d be no knitting without knitting needles, her look said.

  At last Shane Annigan was ready to continue his journey. They accompanied him to the front door.

  ‘That’s a fine species of dragon you have there,’ Shane said. He was looking up at the dragon carved out of the lintel above the door.

  ‘A Marble Mountain Dragon,’ said Cedar. ‘A good luck charm.’

  ‘Splendid! I hope you always have good fortune. Goodbye to you all and many thanks!’ Shane stepped out across the snow, waving merrily to them.

  He started off walking lightly on the white crust, his feet hardly marking its surface. Suddenly he broke into a run. His clothes flapped loosely round him. The faster he went, the higher off the ground he seemed to go, until he was almost flying and running at the same time. His white clothes seemed to mingle with the white of the snow until finally he became a blur and vanished into the distance.

  ‘Wow!’ said Copper. ‘Fantastic!’

  ‘I’m going to all those places he told us about one day,’ said Questrid. ‘You see if I don’t.’

  ‘Well, I’m not,’ said Copper. ‘I love it here. I’m never going. Amy, come down to the Root Room with me, will you? I promised Mr Annigan I’d work harder – though I’m really hopeless. Questrid’s got some lumps of stone down there that you could carve. We could be together.’