Aisling Úllmhara's Arc

Chapter 4 of 6

The band would play. That much was settled. But the roof over Aisling's court came with a price she still hadn't paid. Grizzella Moonwick wanted her spell book, stolen twelve years ago, and Aisling had no idea where it went. Without the book, Aisling lost the crooked mansion. Without the mansion, her court had no seat, and no seat meant no crown. So she climbed the stairs of the manor across the field, where she had left the party, to think somewhere quiet. Grizzella was waiting for her on the porch. The old witch sat on the top step in her long black coat. Every inch of it was stitched. She ran a thumb over one seam as Aisling approached. "You said you would find my book," Grizzella said. "You have found nothing. The revel is close. My house is not yours until you pay." Aisling stopped. "I don't know who took it. I don't know where to start." "Twelve years I have known," Grizzella said. She did not look up. "A puca took it. Shape-changer. Slippery thing. Lives in a manor full of music." She lifted one hand and pointed at the door behind Aisling. "This manor." Aisling turned. The music thumped through the wall. Somewhere inside, a green hand drummed a beat that wasn't its own. She thought of Luca Paguro, the quiet one at the edge of the party who kept changing seats, changing faces, laughing at jokes no one told. "Then we go in," Aisling said. "Now. Before the thief runs." Grizzella rose. Her knees cracked. "I go with you. It is my book." They found the puca in the back room, curled small as a black dog on a velvet chair, then large as a man, then small again. Luca grinned when they entered. "Apple girl. Old woman. Groovy." "You took her book," Aisling said. The grin held, but the shape stopped shifting. "Twelve years ago," Luca said. "A joke. I hid it. Forgot it, mostly." A shrug. "It's under the floor. Third board from the window." Grizzella crossed the room faster than a witch her age should. She pried the board loose with her fingers. Under it lay a thick book, its cover stitched in the same thread as her coat. She lifted it to her chest and shut her eyes. "Yours," Grizzella said to Aisling. "The house is yours until the revel ends." Relief hit Aisling like warm rain. Then Grizzella opened the book, and her face changed. Pages had been torn out. A ragged gap sat in the middle. "He kept some," Grizzella said. Her voice went cold. "The best spells. Threshold spells." Luca was already gone from the chair. The velvet still held his shape. Aisling had her seat. But the puca had run with the very magic that opened doors between worlds, the magic she needed to rebuild her grove.