The Wise Women

Chapter 7

When she came in sight of the city gates, Nesta jerked to a halt. They were closed.
Of course. They close them at midnight.

Her heart sank. What to do now?

The gates were the only way out of the city. They were solid oak and the surrounding wall was ten feet high.

Mrs Cooper's eldest had told her how one market day he'd stayed late in the Black Bull and found the gates closed on his way home. He'd climbed an oak tree and crawled along a high branch onto the top of the wall. But it had been a sheer drop on the other side and he'd broken his ankle.

Wait a minute. What's that?

A sliver of moonlight shone through the left gate.

There's a hole in it.

As she drew closer, Nesta saw that something had made a hole in the wood the size of a small human. She reached out her hand. Around the edges of the opening, the oak was crumbly and soft as if it had rotted away. But only enough to create this little doorway. The rest of the gate was firm and hard.

She bent her head and stepped through.

On the ground lay an inch or two of sawdust with a set of small boot prints through it. Someone had passed this way before her.

Whatever can have happened here?

She stared at the strange phenomenon a moment longer. Then turned and walked down the hill and out of the city.

*****

The lamps were lit in Leonia's little cottage. She's awake, thank God! And it looks like she's got company. Through the window, Nesta could see the silhouettes of several figures moving inside. Muffled conversation and soft banging, scraping sounds drifted through the glass. She hesitated for a second. All the figures appeared to be women – no members of the Imperial Guard, at least – but still, the more people that saw her like this, the bigger the risk. She took a deep breath. Do I really have any other options? She raised her hand, made a fist and knocked on the door.

The noises within went quiet. 'Who's there?' Leonia asked brusquely from the other side of the door.

'Eet's Nesta,' she answered, surprised once again at the unfamiliar voice coming from her own mouth. The door cracked open and Leonia's head appeared, long dark hair falling loose about her face, brows furrowed. She gasped when she saw the Erithean woman on her doorstep, seized Nesta by the arm and pulled her over the threshold.

It was warm inside. A fire blazed in the grate. The smoke made Nesta blink. In the orange light, three faces turned to stare at her, mouths open, incomprehension written all over them. She recognized each of them straight away – Theresa Brown, Ada Wright and Rosamund Heywood. It looked like she'd interrupted them in the act of packing – half-filled haversacks lay open on the table amongst piles of books and folded clothes.

'Quick!' Leonia unclasped Nesta's cloak and threw it aside. 'It's Nesta from the post office. She's morphed. We have to help her change back.'

The three women sprang into action. Theresa and Rosamund dragged the table to the side of the room. Ada rummaged in one of the open crates and pulled out candles and matches. Leonia extricated Nesta's long blue arms from the haversack's straps, grabbed her by the shoulders and manoeuvred her into the centre of the room.

'Lie down here.'

Despite the fire, Nesta's shoulders felt cold where the dress had torn. Her indigo nails scraped the wooden floor as she got down on her hands and knees, then turned and lay on her back.