A Long Day in Lychford (Lychford #3)(25)

It relaxed. It had completed its mission.

It had been one of many sent out to map the disturbances of the boundaries, to swiftly bring back the information the king needed, now he was in the shadow, the information that would lead to war.

Because in the moment before it had left, it had seen the witch build a simple, single boundary. It was nothing like what had been there before. It would be easy to breach. The shardling felt a moment of satisfaction at having this information to return to its master.

The mind of the shardling only lasted for a moment longer before the king reached out and absorbed it back into himself. The knowledge was shared. The moment of satisfaction became a moment of anticipation.

The preparations for the attack began.

*

As the bells of the church chimed six, Autumn slowly and carefully unlocked the door of her magic shop, her two friends beside her. She felt like a different person from who she’d been the last time she was here, that morning.

Marcin had hugged her, and had thanked her profusely in English and Polish, had shown her a picture of his family, who she now felt she knew really well, having already experienced them inside his head. Now he could return to them. Even though . . . he’d made steering wheel gestures and Autumn had had to take a while to explain that his lorry was still lying there now, miles from the road in the real woods, the moment of time it had been trapped in having expired. It hadn’t been left in fairy like the barn had been. Autumn felt dimly that she’d managed to arrange that on her way out of the structure of threads. Judith had got Lizzie to call Shaun on her mobile, and had taken the phone from her and sternly told her son that the lorry driver had been found and fought off some hijackers, heroically getting injured in the process. Apparently they’d used a helicopter to lift the . . . no, she’d interrupted his incredulous outburst, this was one of her sort of things, and so was Rory Holt, who was alive and well and would by now be back at his house and ready to tell a story that nobody would or should believe, and all the ravers were fine too, and did he have any more damn fool questions?

So Marcin, to Autumn’s relief, had been able to go on his way with a reasonable future ahead of him. Result.

They sat down at the table in Autumn’s workroom. Which was now clean, she realised, with nothing boiling itself on the stove. “Thank you,” she said to Judith, now feeling unable to look at her. The old witch must have given some of her remaining energy to do that.

“Thank you,” Judith replied, as though the words were from a foreign language.

“Well,” said Lizzie, “this is better.”

“Isn’t anyone,” said Judith, “going to make some bloody tea?”

*

So Lizzie made the tea. And listened, as she did so, to Judith and Autumn continuing to thank and apologise to each other, like nations who’d been at war and didn’t quite know why. That was always, in her experience, the most wonderful sound. Judith was still an employee, Autumn still an apprentice, and who’d ever thought otherwise? Judith wanted to emphasise, Autumn having seen inside her head, that she’d been in her right mind when she’d voted, but no, she still wouldn’t say which way that’d been. If Autumn didn’t know already. Then Autumn, having moved swiftly past that, in whispers, was trying to persuade Judith to tell Lizzie something, but Judith was hesitant. That was okay. From the glimpse Lizzie had got inside her friend’s head, she could guess what sort of thing this might be.

She put the mugs and teapot and a packet of Hobnobs down between them and decided to ask about wider issues. “What about all the people who now know about magic?”

“Nobody’s going to believe those kids,” said Judith, “and the smart ones won’t try to tell anyone. Same for the lorry driver. He seems to know which side his bread’s buttered. Rory Holt’s going to tell everyone, for the rest of his days, and nobody will believe him, which sounds like the world’s worked out a curse for him. Surprising how often there are just desserts.”

“Or not,” said Lizzie. “Can we find out what’s happening in fairy?”

“I’ll send messages to Finn,” said Autumn. “I’m worried about him. What happened to you isn’t something he’d have been up for, if he knew about it.”

“If he could stop it,” said Judith. “It wouldn’t be the first time there have been ructions in fairy. If they war on each other, we’ll know about it. So will the world if we’re not careful.”

Lizzie went to point three on her short mental list. “And what are we going to do about the boundaries?”

“I tried to build a very rough one,” said Autumn. “Okay, let’s say it out loud, I ended up building a bloody wall.”

Judith actually chuckled. Autumn immediately looked angry again. Lizzie looked sharply at Judith. Her smile was as thin as the smile on a fish, but it looked genuine. “I hadn’t thought of that,” she said. “I didn’t mean it was your just desserts. Well, maybe a bit.”

“I don’t want it,” said Autumn, still clearly requiring some terms and conditions here. “I want a proper border that treats all these worlds with respect and works on a case-by-case basis. I mean it. Not joking.”

“Well, this’ll be up to you, won’t it?” said Judith. “What you put up, with what we put in place, will hold until someone has a real go at it. But we can’t leave it. And we can’t wait until I’ve got my strength back.” If, thought Lizzie, privately, she ever did. “So you two will have to sort out what you want and build it. Soon.”