“It’sbeenan age,” Elspeth said. “We’d best keep moving. Gran’ll go off her nut if we keep you from her.”
Charlotte’s breath hitched at the sight of the city below. The harbor to the west, the great masted ships so different from the fishing boats in Seacliff. The smoke rising from the factories, reddish in the late-day sunlight.
Beside her, Arthur was pale and silent, his eyes damp.
“You’ll see him again,” she said. “When we pass back through.”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps you could bring him something from Port Lorne.”
“Perhaps.”
“C’mon,” Elspeth said impatiently, leading her horse downhill by the bridle. The children trotted after her on Maurice, the cat at their heels.
Arthur turned, gazed at Ira for a long moment. The Lord of the Wood was a distant, shadowy figure, half lost in greenery.
Then Arthur turned back, gripping Charlotte’s arm tight. “All right.”
She kissed his knuckles. Leaning on each other, they straggled downhill, toward the great port city about which their father had told them so many stories.
Six weeks later
On a chilly morning in late October, Arthur was lugging the Throckmorton-Prentices’ boxed-up things through the workshop when a wagon emerged from the forest. Hitched to the wagon was Maurice, gifted to them (officially) by Agnes Livingston, and in the driver’s seat was Elspeth.
Keeping a lookout from the garden wall, Sasha sang out, “She’s here!”
Charlotte hurried through the workshop, trailed by Jonas. She ran to the wagon and kissed Elspeth full on the mouth almost before it had stopped moving.
“Brought you a gift,” Elspeth said, when they’d pulled apart. From a heavy earthenware pot in back, Calyx emerged. It slung itself joyfully at Charlotte; she caught it in her arms with a laugh. They’d left it with Elspeth’s family in Port Lorne when they’d come home, since they would shortly return.
Sasha jumped off the wall and clambered into the wagon to hug Elspeth.
“What d’you think of driving?” Elspeth asked. “Sit right in my lap and I could teach you.”
Charlotte made an offended sound.
“I don’t think Mama will let me,” Sasha said.
Elspeth laughed. “When’s that ever stopped you, bug?”
“Could I learn, too?” Jonas asked shyly.
Charlotte looked at them in astonishment, and Elspeth laughed harder.
“C’mon, now, Lottie. Living in Port Lorne, best for ’em to learn sometime.”
Arthur smiled, glad to see them all happy, but something ached inside him. He’d been so busy preparing for the move that he had not yet traveled back to the vale. Ira had visited once, a couple weeks ago, appearing as a stag just within the trees. Arthur had run and clung to him this same way until Ira had peeled him off so they could walk together through the wood. At sunset, Ira had seen him to the tree line, shivered back into a stag, and vanished in the forest’s depths.
Hopping down, Elspeth started loading boxes into the wagon. Arthur joined her, wanting desperately to ask about Ira, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
Elspeth caught his eye. “Spending his time traveling the forest, your man. Making sure the sickness is truly gone. Clear-cutting ain’t stopped, but replanting the first tree’s slowed it some.”
“I’m glad,” Arthur said softly. “Has, er, has anyone else who turned into a tree been...?”
Elspeth shook her head.
“He hoped they might, but no one’s walked out alive but Maggie. Workers in Port Lorne are throwing a fit, let me tell you. With three camps gone already, the rest of ’em won’t go back without a promise of more money, and money to their families if they vanish. There’s talk of unionizing.” She opened and reclosed a box that hadn’t been shut properly. “Ira’s looking forward to seeing you. On our way back through.”
