Matthew Sharpclaw's Arc

Chapter 4 of 12

Morning came gray and slow. Matthew met his moms by the moonstone egg set in the garden stones, the place they had stood last night when they chose to do this together. Rarespot touched its smooth shell once, like a promise. Then she led them out, past the frozen edge of the fjord, toward a cave Matthew had never been shown. The echoing stone cave swallowed their footsteps. Inside, a still pool held the moon's last reflection, even in daylight. Rarespot stopped at its edge. "Before I tell you who he is," she said, "I have to tell you what I was." Redtail took her hand. Matthew did not move. Rarespot drew a small carved feather from her cloak. A roc's feather, dark blue at the root, orange at the tip. "I rode one," she said. "For him. Before your grandmother died. He trained the riders. I left. He never forgave my mother for letting me go." She set the feather on the stone rim. "He chose our family because of me. The snake was just the door." Matthew's throat went tight. He thought of Lyra, steady and plain-spoken, asking him to teach her wound wrapping because she expected danger. She had known, in her way, without knowing this. He picked up the feather. It was lighter than he expected. "Then he doesn't get to use me against you," Matthew said. His voice did not shake. "We go today. Not tomorrow." Rarespot looked at him for a long moment. Her ears lifted. Redtail nodded once. They left the pool behind, the feather tucked into Matthew's coat beside the folded ultimatum. The secret was out. The man had a face now, and a reason, and a name Rarespot finally said aloud. Matthew did not feel braver. He felt aimed.