Lira looked up from her sheet music at the sharp tip-tap sound of a beak against her window. A tiny green bird was peering at her through the glass. She crossed the room and released the latch, pushing the window open just enough so that the bird could flit inside. She scanned the ground below, but there was no one, spirit or human, near the funhouse. Her gaze returned to little bird who cocked its head expectantly. Though it looked like any Earthly bird, there was a distinct intelligence about its gaze.
"I don't have anything new yet," she whispered. "But I think we are getting close. Come back in a few days."
"Who are you talking to?" said a voice. Lira jumped, nearly up-ending the flower pot on the windowsill. Lydia stood in the doorway, a plate of cake in her hands.
"No one," said Lira, resisting the urge to turn and see if the bird had gone. "Just myself. It's been a long day."
"I didn't mean to scare you." Lydia lifted the plate. "I brought you chocolate cheesecake. It's your favorite right?"
Lira's heart slowed as she walked over to her desk, pulling up a second chair. "It's sure is. Thank you for thinking of me." As Lydia set down the plate, Lira's gaze darted to the window. The bird was gone.
As the two girls shared the piece of cake, Lira noticed again that Lydia wasn't wearing the usual servants' garb. Instead of the black leggings and white tunic, she wore a big blue skirt that billowed around her tiny frame like a cloud and a buttery yellow tank top that was so bright it almost hurt to look at. Lydia chatted happily, but vaguely, about her day, mentioning how much she liked Lira's playing that afternoon when she had tried to gain control of a golden eagle with onyx beak and talons that had nearly scalped her as it flew around the room. Lira tried not to grimace as she accepted the praise, remembering how the bird had stopped midflight and crashed to the ground in a tumble of bent feathers after it had tried to go for her eyes.
"I got this for you," said Lydia. From within a fold in her skirt she pulled a long, golden feather. It was smooth as silk in Lira's fingers and up close she could see it was not one feather, but a hundred smaller feathers that blended together.
"Thanks," said Lira. And for some reason she had a lump in her throat. She set the feather down at the head of her desk and plastered a smile on her face. "What do you want to hear about tonight?"
For the last two weeks, Lydia came to Lira's room every couple of days and sat on her bed so Lira could tell her things about the human world. Lira could tell that the stories were nearly the equivalent of fairytales for Lydia; she yearned for the human world the way a regular child yearned for castles and dragons and magic wands, a fleeting desire that was soon overshadowed by the reality, which overall, she didn't really mind. She had not accepted this place in the same way Atlas had. The spirit world was Lydia's home.
It was both soothing and a little sad for Lira to explain things like school and the weather and the beach to Lydia. It had an almost tranquilizing effect to talk about summer rainstorms and the little animals that frequented her mother's garden, or the snow that fell in fat, feathered flakes that wrapped everything in a soft layer of cotton in the winter. Talking about school, despite her less than fond memories of her classmates, tempered the anger she used to feel when she recalled her days spent at a desk learning history and English and science. She tried and failed to explain the smell of roses and freshly cut grass or the velvet tongue of a dog as it licked your fingers.
She found herself smiling when she described the way her mom used to hide newspaper cartoons in her lunchbox or the way her dad would narrate the voices and conversations of animals as they wandered through their yard. How even though they didn't understand Lira fully, they knew her enough.
Lydia would pepper her stories with a dozen questions. "Why is snow cold? What was gym class? How did she know the difference between a spaniel and a golden retriever? And as the questions piled up, Lira's grin would fade and her heart would twinge and she would say, "I think that's enough for tonight."
"How you learned to play the violin," said Lydia.
"Well, I had a music teacher. Kind of like how I had a history teacher and a math teacher. And I had to practice a lot."
"I had to practice a lot too," chirped Lydia.
"Did you have a teacher for what you do?" asked Lira. Bit by bit, she was trying to figure out what Lydia actually did with the souls, but so far, the tiny pieces of information just floated around her head like dandelion fluff blown from its stem. When the girl had first admitted she worked with souls, Lira's stomach had lurched sickeningly. What did Bebinn need with children's souls when she had a whole carnival full of them. Lira had struggled not to let her confusion or panic show in front of Lydia.
Don't get ahead of yourself, her mind had counseled. She already knew that Bebinn was stealing children and that those she took didn't come back. The fact that Lydia was working with their souls didn't change much until she figured out what she did with them.
Lydia frowned at Lydia's question. "Not really," she said. "In the beginning Bebinn taught me what she knew. But mostly I learned as I went. I practiced on cloth before Bebinn allowed me to work with the souls.
"Cloth?" repeated Lira. What did clothing have to do with it?
Lydia wiggled her colorful fingers. "I had to learn to weave. Souls are much more delicate than cloth, but the techniques are similar"
"So...you wave souls?" Lira's pulse thumped in her ears. Would Lydia finally explain? But the girl was already shaking her head.
"I'm not supposed to tell," she said. Her shoulders touched her ears in an apologetic shrug.
The tingle of anticipation in Lira's fingers and toes faded away. Damn thought Lira. Lydia might think of her as a friend, but her allegiance to Bebinn would always be stronger. She might get lucky one day, the girl might forget herself and say something she wasn't supposed to, but how long would that take? The better Lira became at controlling spirits, the more worried she became about what exactly Bebinn's intentions were, and how soon she would start to implement them.
She studied Lydia out of the corner of her eye. The girl was looking over the sheet music with a bemused expression. For someone raised by Bebinn, she seemed sweet and innocent, two attributes obviously not learned from her mock guardian. Was it just a case of nature being stronger than nurture? Or was it by design?
Either way, it was something Lira could exploit, though she felt guilty for thinking that way. But it wasn't anything compared to the guilt she felt for the next thought that grew in her mind like a weed. If worse came to worse, she might be able to use her new-found ability to control things to get Lydia to talk. Lira suppressed a shudder. Only as the very lost resort, she promised herself. But the girl had a kind heart, she would appeal to that first.
"Do you like weaving?" Lira asked.
Lydia nodded. "Yes, very much. Bebinn says I'm a natural at it."
Lira picked up the violin, the wood cool beneath her fingers. She plucked a string. "I used to love playing music," she said, frowning down at the instrument. "But I don't love it so much anymore."
"Why's that?"
"I don't like what it's being used for," Lira said sadly. She plucked another string and she could swear she felt the violin hum in her hands, almost like a cat purring.
"What do you mean?" Lydia stood up and moved closer to Lira, her face pinched in concern.
"I have to use it to bring children here. And then they disappear." Lira sighed. "I feel awful that I'm taking them away from their families."
Lydia bit her lip. "But you shouldn't feel bad," she protested. "We're helping them."
"I don't feel like I'm helping them. I never see them again after they get off the carousel. I worry that they're hurt or scared..." she trailed off, letting her voice crack just slightly, and picked out a few more notes. She hoped she wasn't laying it on too thick. "If I could somehow know or see that they're being helped, that they're okay, I would feel a lot better." Lira turned to Lydia whose eyes were a bit unfocused, like she was turned into herself.
"Well...maybe..." she mumbled, mostly to herself. "Maybe I could show you-so you wouldn't feel so bad, but..." She flinched, as though snapping back to the present. "But if Bebinn caught us, she'd be really angry. I don't want to get in trouble." Lydia wilted like a flower curling its petals in to protect itself from heavy rains.
"I won't let that happen," Lira promised. She forced herself to remain calm, but her fingers tightened around the neck of her violin. The wires cut into her skin. "Bebinn will never even know I was there."
The saying "famous last words" ran like a ticker tape through Lira's mind. She swallowed against her suddenly dry mouth. "It would mean a lot to me, Lydia, to know that the kids are safe."
The little girl nodded, but her weight rocked from foot to foot. Her gaze darted to the door and the window. "I'll come back in a few days. At night when Bebinn's asleep."
Lira reached out and took the girl's hand. It was small and warm and surprisingly rough. "Thank you, Lydia," she whispered. Lydia gave another jerky nod and then slipped out of the room.
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Apologies for the somewhat filler-y update, but things are slowly beginning to happen. Lira is getting closer to finding out where all those kids go. Have any of your predictions changed since the beginning? Let me know! :)