Olive slipped in and shut the door quickly. She was dressed in heavy pants and a sweater, and carrying a faded backpack. “I took the kitten to Morian’s. I got it settled in the bedroom and left her a note by the front door. I told her I was going to my sister’s.”
Pippin said, “You don’t think—you don’t plan to go with me? You…”
“I am going with you. I told Morian I was taking Pippin with me to my sister’s in his carrier, that I thought it would do her good to have an animal around.”
Pippin said, “It is not possible for you to go. I move too fast; you will be lost.” He stood over Olive glowering down at her. “You are an upperworld person, you have no magic. What will you do when I turn to cat?”
Olive looked hard at Pippin. “I am an old woman. No one will miss me. I want more than anything to see that world. I will not hinder you. If I do, you can leave me behind. I want to see that world, and I want to help free Tom.”
“But you don’t—you aren’t—”
“You can tell me what I need to know as we travel. And perhaps I can tell you a few useful things. I have gleaned many old spells from my research. Now open the wall, Pippin. I am older than you, and more stubborn.”
He opened the wall.
Olive stared into the darkness and strode through beside Pippin. Just before the wall closed she glanced back at Melissa. Her look was filled with wonder, with the excitement of her final amazing discovery.
Melissa watched the wall seal itself and turned away drained—and she was facing Wylles. He stood in the open doorway, white with rage.
He came in slowly and shut the door behind him. “They are upperworlders. You had no right to let them go through.”
She said nothing.
“I saw you come down here, you and that Catswold—that nasty yellow cat. I saw the old woman come down. What are they up to? Why are they going down?” Wylles started for the wall, but she grabbed him and shoved him back.
“I am prince of Affandar. You dare not touch me, you are my subject.” He swung to slap her, but she caught his arm. He was only twelve years old, and he had been near to death, but he was strong enough now—it was all she could do to hold him.
“Get out of here, Wylles. Go on back to Tom’s house. What harm can two upperworlders do in the Netherworld?”
“What magic did you teach that Catswold?”
She only looked at him.
“You will pay for this. My mother knows what to do with meddlers—with a Catswold slut from my father’s bed.”
She clenched her fists to keep from hitting him. “I’m surprised at your loyalty to your mother, after she got rid of you.”
“I admire my mother’s power. She does what a queen must. My illness was a great hindrance to her.” He moved away and picked up the hoe, watching her. “Siddonie lives for the grand plan. I admire that. I admire her skill for intrigue—both at home and in the upperworld. Anne Hollingsworth is beside herself because Lillith Corporation is disrupting her neat little life. She is like a beast caught in a trap; she has no notion what is happening to her, or why.”
“And you would not help her.”
“Why should I help her? I like seeing her squirm.”
“And what would you do if you didn’t have her to feed and shelter you?”
“I would manage.” He smiled. “I won’t be here long. When my mother has defeated the rebels, when she rules every kingdom in the Netherworld, I will return to take my rightful place.”
“If you go back to the Netherworld you will sicken again.”
“If I sicken I will return here to become well.” The idea seemed to amuse him. “I will come here, just as upperworlders take winter vacations in Hawaii. I can return as I please. What is to stop me?” He balanced the hoe, testing its weight. She laid a silent spell to deflect it, and realized that his own spells touched her; she felt suddenly weak and fearful. This was the real battle, the silent battle of enchantments. She wanted to run, and she knew that desire was born of Wylles’ power warping her senses.
He said, “Siddonie will die in her time. And my father will die. Then I will rule the Netherworld that Siddonie is now winning for me.” His weight shifted slightly as he tensed to swing the hoe.
She made the hoe so heavy he couldn’t lift it. He dropped it and grabbed the shovel; their spells crashed between them, too evenly matched.
“Why do you hate the Catswold? Why does Siddonie?”
His eyes darkened. “The Catswold stole Xendenton from us. They killed my grandfather and my uncles.”
“It’s more than that,” she hissed, wanting to slap him.
“You fear the Catswold powers. You fear the Catswold’s stubborn independence because you can’t defeat that independence. You fear their freedom. You can’t admit the real reason you hate the Catswold—any more than you can admit why you fear images.”
“You should know about images, Catswold girl. You stir them brazenly. You encourage West to do irreparable damage.”
“Braden’s paintings harm no one.”
“West’s images draw evil forces.”
“Nonsense.”
