Aster Alloway's Arc

Chapter 18 of 26

The singers took the fridge cart from Aster's hands. A dozen voices wrapped around the pollen, and the chime folded into their song. The glow steadied. Aster's shoulders dropped for the first time in days. The pollen was safe. But she was not moving. The singers stayed here, in the meadow. Her shop waited days away, back through the woods. Her compass still read nothing. The newt was long gone. She had guarded this pollen across frost and mud, and now she had no way to carry it the last stretch home. A voice cut through the song. "You need a path." Aster turned. A person in a sleek city coat stood at the meadow's edge, out of place among the muddy boots. Six eyes, ink-stained fingers. Aster had seen her once at the tea house, bent over thread, saying nothing. Benny Stitch did not sing. She held a folded cloth in both hands. "I have no guide," Aster said. "The compass is dead." "I know." Benny held out the cloth. "I made this for you. Sable sent word." It was a dress, lavender satin, hot air balloons stitched across it. "The seams hold a route. Follow the balloons. They point the way you walked in." Aster took it, doubtful. "A dress can't know the trail." "I copied it from Sable's records," Benny said. "Every bend. It won't fail you." She paused. "I checked it twice." Before Aster could answer, a cart rolled up behind Benny. A round-faced librarian pushed it, three eyes bright, cardigans mismatched. Arlo Ashwick lifted a slim book from the stack and held it toward Aster. "For you," Arlo said. "I set it aside weeks ago." Aster opened it. Inside lay a hand-drawn map of the woods, marked with every crossing she had passed. A note stuck out from the pages. She read it. "You came this far. You can read your own trail now." "How did you know I'd need this?" Aster asked. "You return everything late," Arlo said. "You take the long way. This book matches the way you move." Aster looked from the dress to the book. The dress marked the turns. The book named the crossings. Together they made a guide the newt had left behind. She did not need the compass. She did not need the creature. She had the path in her hands. She changed into the lavender dress behind the cart. The balloons ran in a line, pointing back toward the last rise. She lifted the cart handles. The singers would carry the pollen no farther than this meadow. The rest was hers. "Thank you," Aster said. "Both of you." "Go before dark," Benny said. Aster pushed the cart up the rise, the map open on top, the dress pointing the way. She had a guide again. For the first time since the meadow, she knew exactly where to go.