When the party didn’t answer, Arnault cleared his throat.
“That’s very good. And it’s so touching that you’re asking that question. You really are heroes, you know? The exact right people for the job.”
“Then tell us what it’s for,” Thrormir said, and Morgana could hear a slight tremble in his voice. Whatever he could sense in Arnault, it wasn’t good. She moved her hand to the hilt of her sword, only for Arnault to snap his eyes to hers.
“Uh-uh,” he tutted her, and waved a finger. “There will be none of that. I’ve just had the place cleaned.”
Morgana narrowed her eyes at him and looked him over, her eyes landing on the lapel of his tunic. Stitched into it, the same colour as the fabric, was a twelve-pointed star.
Arnault snapped his fingers, and suddenly cloaked figures stepped into existence all around them. In an instant they found themselves outnumbered two to one. The figures were all completely faceless, as if magic were distorting their appearance. One held a knife to Morgana’s throat, and she could see that her companions were equally indisposed. She held her hands up in surrender, then reached out a foot to kick Gorlag when they were the only one who didn’t immediately follow suit.
“You’ll never find it,” Calamity said, struggling against her captor. The party had had the foresight not to bring the Sphere with them, instead lowering it into a disused well a mile out of town.
Arnault stepped closer and locked eyes with Calamity, and she stilled.
“It’s in the well on the old Biltreb farm east of the city,” he said to a cloaked figure next to him, who nodded and strode out of the room. The others produced shackles, moving to restrain the party.
“You won’t get away with this,” Morgana spat, daring Arnault to look at her. She was working out a move to make, but there didn’t seem to be a way to get at her captor or Arnault without putting her friends’ lives at risk.
“Take them to the dungeon,” Arnault commanded, then looked Morgana dead in the eye. “The full moon is tomorrow.”
Chapter35
Jack
Mum insisted that we all sit in the garden for a glass of wine, despite the fact that Fool’s Autumn was still in full swing. All of us but Dad were draped in blankets and bundled in multiple layers; I knew Morgan was wearing her own socks under the pair of mine I could see peeking out of her boots. I’d also had to be the one to get the garden ready, including pruning some of the plants encroaching on the patio, and, as Chloe predicted, clearing masses of spiderwebs off the bug hotel.
“So darling,” Mum said as she refilled Morgan’s wine without asking, “tell us, what are your parents like?”
I winced; I hadn’t remembered to prep Mum on the fact that Morgan didn’t have a dad. I looked apologetically at her, but she just smiled at me. She was fine, and she had Mum eating out of the palm of her hand. She pressed her knee to mine under the table, and even after weeks of having basically unlimited contact, this small form still sent a heat wave through me.
“Mum used a donor to have me, so I don’t know my dad,” Morgan said, as if her history was run-of-the-mill. Which, I supposed, it was for her. “Mum was a librarian, but she retired when I went to uni.”
“Oh lovely,” Mum said, thankfully skipping past the part about Morgan’s mum using a donor. “That sounds so nice, being retired. Does she do a lot of gardening? Maybe a touch of writing?”
“You should know, Mum,” Amy said from across the table. “You haven’t worked since I was born.”
Mum’s mouth fell open and she reeled back. “You know very well that’s not true, young lady. I stay very busy.”
“Yeah, chucking bee bombs onto the sides of the motorway.”
“It’s much more involved than that,” Mum insisted to Morgan. “I’m the chair of multiple committees, I’ll have you know.”
I’d told Morgan before that Mum volunteered for the local rewilding trust; she nodded back at Mum dutifully.
“And what was the latest committee decision you made?” Amy asked. “Something about what kind of lamps to get in the office?”
Mum sighed. “It was assessing grow lamps for environmental impact,” she said. “So we can make sure the native species we’re cultivating are grown as sustainably as possible.”
“Your mother’s work is very important,” Dad said, the first time he’d spoken since introducing himself to Morgan. “Now let’s move on, please.” Amy sat back and rolled her eyes, but she didn’t push; Dad had a way of squashing the squabbles that inevitably arose between them. And when he said something was done, it was done.
“Thank you dear,” Mum said, then turned back to Morgan, waiting for an answer as if the conversation hadn’t halted long enough for a whole argument to unfold.
“Oh, um, she’s actually travelling,” Morgan explained. “Sold the house as soon as I moved out, and she’s been abroad ever since. I’m pretty sure she’s in Southern California at the moment, road-tripping the West Coast in a camper van. But she’s been all over. Southeast Asia, North Africa, the Canadian Rockies…”
Mum’s face pinched together in confusion.
“But where does she go when she comes back for Christmas? Your birthday?”
