Page 40 of Echo North
I shrugged, uncertain why that had offended her. In my mind I saw the bauble room, the spidery clock and the spinning crystals, the blood on the wolf’s white fur. I knew there were answers to be found there, but I was still too afraid to seek them out. “What about enchantments?”
“Echo, why are you asking me so many questions?”
Above us, the dwarves had finished painting the sky, and their white ships were drifting slowly away into the night. “I’m trying to help a friend.”
“And you think your friend might be enchanted?”
The wolf’s words spun round in my head:I do not belong to your world, or your time. I am just another piece of … her … collection.
“I do.”
Mokosh stretched out, leaning backward on the palms of her hands. Her forehead creased in concentration. “Every enchantment is as unique as a snowflake—but none are impenetrable. I’m sure there is a way to break it, if that is what you wish.”
Break the enchantment, free the wolf, and then—what? Would I just stay with him in the house under the mountain forever?
In the curved wall of the tower, a mirror shimmered into being—the library calling me back. I had no idea it had grown so late. I scrambled to my feet.
Mokosh grinned at me. “What’s your rush? Now that you can dance, we’ve a party to get to.” She stood, too, and brushed the dust from her skirt.
“I’m late for dinner,” I told her apologetically.
“Can’t dinner wait?”
I thought about the wolf, alone in the dining room, staring mournfully at a mountain of food he didn’t want to eat. “I’m afraid not. But I’ll be back again soon.”
Mokosh smiled. “More partners for me, then. Goodbye, Echo!”
She disappeared down the tower’s spiral stair, while I stretched my hand out to the glimmering mirror.
Magic curled through me, and the dark tower melted away into the bright light of the library.
I’m sure there is a way to break it,echoed Mokosh’s voice in my mind.
I’m sure there is a way.
But how was I supposed to find it?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
IDO NOT BELONG TO YOURworld, or your time. I am just another piece of … her … collection.
I’m sure there is a way to break it.
I’m sure there is a way.
I paced through the rain room, where rain grew like plants in various pots, some of the water-plants tiny and hanging from arches in the ceiling, some nearly as big as the living room in my father’s cottage. I stopped at each plant and poured out a little light from my bucket, which I’d collected earlier in the sunroom. The rain plants didn’t make any logical sense, but they were beautiful, and I always looked forward to my visits each morning.
I paused at my favorite plant, a huge vine-y thing that twisted and moved in some invisible wind. Blossoms grew all along the vine; they were made of dewdrops and chimed like tiny cymbals when I fed them their light.
I touched one of the flowers; it was damp and cool against my finger.
I am just another piece of … her … collection.
But whatwashe? What had the wolf been before the mysterious force in the wood had brought him here, bound him here? I tapped my finger absently against the compass-watch, hanging as always about my neck, ticking down the seconds.
The first time I’d met Mokosh, she’d told me that readers project their preferred versions of themselves in the world of the books, whether they were aware of it or not. I wondered what version of himself the wolf would project, and if it would give me any hint of his secrets.
I wondered if that was why he didn’t want to come reading with me.
