Meggie stared at the paper. There it was again, the story she had last heard when she had brought Orpheus here.
Yes. The words obeyed Fenoglio once again. And she would teach them how to live.
CHAPTER 45
WRITTEN AND UNWRITTEN
Roxane found the plants exactly where Fenoglio had described: in the entrance of a brownie burrow where Elfbane set his snares. And Meggie, holding Despina’s hand, watched again as the words that she had only just read became reality.
The leaves and flowers defied the cold wind, as if the fairies had planted them so that they could dream of summer when they saw them. But the smell rising from the flowers was the odor of decomposition and decay, and it had given the plant its name: deathbud The flowers were put on graves to placate the White Women.
Roxane brushed the moths off the leaves, dug up two plants, and left two others, for fear of angering the wood-elves. Then she hurried back to the cave, where the White Women were already standing at the Black Prince’s side, grated the roots, brewed them using the method Resa had described to her, and spooned the hot liquid into the Prince’s mouth. He was already very weak, yet what they had hardly dared to hope for happened: The brew lessened the effect of the poison, lulled it to sleep, and brought back the strength of life.
And the White Women disappeared, as if Death had called them to another place.
Those last sentences had been easy to read, but many anxious hours passed before they, too, became reality. The poison was not giving in without a struggle, and the White Women came and went. Roxane strewed herbs to keep them away, as she had learned to do from Nettle, but the pale faces kept appearing again, barely visible against the gray walls of the cave, and a time came when Meggie felt they were looking not just at the Prince but at her, too.
Don’t we know you? their eyes seemed to ask. Didn’t your voice protect the man who has twice been ours? Meggie returned their glance for little longer than it takes to draw a breath, yet she immediately felt the longing that Mo had spoken of: longing for a place that lay far beyond all words. She took a step toward the White Women to feel their cool hands on her beating heart, to let them wipe away all her fear and pain, but other hands held her back, warm, firm hands.
"Meggie, for heaven’s sake don’t look at them!" Elinor murmured. "Come on, let’s get you out into the fresh air. Why, you’re as pale as those creatures themselves!"
And she wouldn’t take no for an answer, but led Meggie outside to where the robbers were consulting together and the children played under the trees, as if they had forgotten what was going on in the cave. The grass was white with hoarfrost, white as the figures waiting for the Black Prince, but the spell of the White Women was broken as soon as Meggie heard the children’s laughter. They were throwing fir cones for the marten and shouting as he chased them. Life seemed so much stronger than death, death so much stronger than life. Like the ebb and flow of the tide.
Resa was standing outside the cave, too, wrapping her arms around herself for warmth, although the Strong Man had put a rabbit-skin cloak over her shoulders.
"Have you seen Snapper?" she asked Elinor. "Or Gecko and his magpie?"
Battista joined them. He looked exhausted. This was the first time he had left the Prince’s side. "They’ve gone," he said. "Snapper, Gecko, and ten others. They went after the Bluejay as soon as it was clear that the Prince wasn’t likely to be able to follow him."
"But Snapper hates Mo!" Resa’s voice was so loud that several robbers turned to look at her, and even the children paused their game. "Why would he want to help him?"
"I’m afraid he has no intention of helping him," Battista replied quietly. "He’s been telling the others he’s going because the Bluejay plans to betray us and make his own bargain with Violante. And he said your husband hasn’t told us the whole truth about the White Book."