58. Guidance of the wind

                                    

                                          
Ada padded along after Hester, her footfalls slowly silencing as stone shifted into hard dirt paths. As Ada had done, Hester was following a line of sage-lights, which seemed odd considering the old fae's blindness. But as the pair turned into the passageway marked with marble, Ada stepped closer to one of the sage-fires and could feel its fiercer heat even beneath her cloak.
                          
Clutching the Gilded Book beneath an elbow, Ada hurried to Hester's side, wary of making too much sound. They were now walking past the fae families' rooms, though there was little light to see by and far less noise than earlier. Occasionally, Ada glimpsed young children curled close by their fire embers, spare blankets drawn up past their pointed ears and ragged toys clasped to their chests. But most of the entrances had been draped across with sheets of fabric, and behind their curtains, Ada could hear the steady sighs of sleep.
                          
Now that Ada could look around without fear of being noticed, she saw that above each of the room's entrances there were more tiles of marble, though these were significantly smaller than before and stuck into intricate patterns. Every one marked slightly different shapes around the doorways, as though unique to the family who lived within. Between some were lines and writing in the dirt, often in the wobbly forms that could only be drawn by a child's hand. Ada smiled, her first thought going to Min and how much she would like these finespun homes.
                          
Then she remembered Min laid out in the infirmary, her home lost and heart broken.
                          
"How is Min?" Ada whispered to Hester as they left the long passageway.
                          
"Her body is healing quickly," Hester replied. "Though I worry her mind may be less easy to mend."
                          
"She has suffered so much for someone so young."
                          
"That is the life of a Caster in Wysthaven," Hester simply said. They walked a little further in silence, before Hester asked, "I am aware of the death of the girl's father. But what of her mother?"
                          
"Min spoke a little about her when we first met, but I never saw her. It seemed like too sensitive a topic to bring up after that." Ada thought for a moment. She hadn't ever considered Min's family as larger than the girl and her father, but now that Hester had brought it up, Ada couldn't help but dwell on it. Florentin had clearly loved his daughter a great deal, but he had always seemed to fear her magic more than encourage it. Yet still, the girl had learned.
                          
Ada's heart gave a wild lurch, and she looked over at Hester, who seemed lost in thoughts of her own. If Min's mother had been the one to teach her daughter magic, and if she had vanished from her family's life in Wysthaven, then where else could she be but the Stone Circle? Perhaps Min's mother was asleep in one of the rooms Ada had just passed, and she had had to hide her magic from the Lady of Wysthaven, but was dreaming of the day she could be reunited with her daughter.
                          
Ada walked a little faster, everything slipping into place in her mind, but then stopped short when she rounded a final corner and saw light still leaking out from the infirmary. Hester bustled on, and as Ada followed behind she saw that the floor was rippling in a sea of colour. The fire from the sage bundles glinted between the bottles and vials, and their tinted glass poured light out like a kaleidoscope across the infirmary.
                          
Amongst the shifting colours sat Min, face buried in her small hands, with Armestrong hovering behind her. Lark sat on a lower bunk bed, picking out a soft lullaby on his lute. The mangy cat from earlier had wound itself onto Min's lap, but it perked up when Hester entered the room.
                          
Min straightened alongside the cat, and dried lines of tears were stained down to her chin. But when she saw Ada, the girl let out a small squeak and burst out crying anew.
                          
"Ada," Min sobbed, her body limp and trembling. "Ada, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it before. I thought"-she took a gasping breath-"I thought you'd actually gone."
                          
"Oh, Min." Ada looked down at the bandaged girl. "I didn't go. I won't ever leave you all by yourself, no matter what. I promise, Min. I won't let you be alone."
                          
Min choked on a sob, and Ada knelt before her and gathered the child into a hug. Small hands clung to Ada's neck, and she shoved the Gilded Book deep beneath her cloak and held Min tightly to her chest. They stayed together until Min's crying had sniffled out, although Ada saw Armestrong furiously dabbing at her eyes when she finally pulled away.
                          
The last note of Lark's lullaby quavered through the room, and Ada again realised she was exhausted, the velvet cloak seeming to drag her down towards the beds. She reached out and clasped Min's hand.
                          
"It's late. Let's try and get a couple of hours sleep," Ada said, and saw Min pale. She gave the girl's hand a squeeze. "We can all stay here, together, on the bunk beds."
                          
"An excellent idea," said Hester, now shooing at the cat who had clambered into a box of dandelions.
                          
"Wait," said Min, tugging her hand from Ada's. "I want to help."
                          
"Help?" said Ada with a frown. "You don't need to do anything Min. Just try and rest for a little while."
                          
Min shook her head. "I know the Hounds took your friend. I heard Lark trying to talk about it with Armestrong earlier."
                          
Lark's cheeks flushed redder than his hair, and he began hoisting his lute onto an upper bunk so that he wouldn't have to see Armestrong's glare.
                          
"Let me help!" continued Min, lines furrowing her young face. "I'll just ask the Wind."
                          
"The Wind?" The cat gave a startled yelp as Hester dropped it to the ground.
                          
Armestrong moved to pick Min up. "No, Min. It'll tire you too much. Sleep now and we can all talk about it tomorrow, eh?"
                          
Min scrambled to the far side of the room, murmuring to herself as she passed Hester and dodged around the medicine table. A low wind swirled through the infirmary, as though beyond the entrance was a cliffside looking out onto an ocean. Air seemed to be swelling around the stones set in the dirt walls, growing and gusting until loose dandelion puffs split into their seeds, and the bottles clinked together in their shelves.
                          
Min stood with her eyes closed, the wind tugging her curls around her cheeks and unwinding the bandages from her arms. Then she sucked in a breath, and immediately the wind faded and fell. Dandelions drifted to the ground, and the cat, with hackles raised, stalked from the infirmary with an indignant swipe of its tail.
                          
Min swayed, almost knocking over a pot from the tabletop as she grasped for a hold. Armestrong hurried over to catch her as a shudder swept through the girl's body and she opened her eyes.
                          
"The Hounds still have your friend," Min said, her voice scarcely a whisper. "They sleep above her now, but she doesn't want to close her eyes, even in the darkness. Oh, she's in such a horrible place. All I could hear was chains. Only chains."
                          
"Chains?"
                          
"The Barracks," said Hester. Her matted hair was floating down onto her shoulders, as though a breeze still ruffled around her. "Your friend is imprisoned beneath the Hounds' Barracks."