you. She thinks you’re dead. You know their plan now – to turn Atherton against Zungu. We can go straight to Zungu, and you can tell him what they’re planning. He’ll kill them for you.”
“Micah too?”
“Only if you want that.” He smiles at me indulgently. “Young love. Ah, I remember how it burns you up. If you like, we can deal with Samantha-Lee alone. She’s pure poison. You and Micah can be together.”
“But Francis said the only way home is over the mountains. That’s the only portal left open,” I say, carefully watching his face.
“I bet he said you are a bad person. Did he make you sit in that ridiculous prodding chair?”
“How did you know?” I stare, open-mouthed.
“He plays the same trick on everyone. He’s a real killjoy, trying to make you feel bad about yourself. We don’t need that kind of negativity. You need to focus on your strengths, not your weaknesses. Now come on, let’s go.”
He sets off down the path towards the flat-crowned tree, but I hesitate.
“Quickly now,” he calls. “The portal won’t stay open forever. You want to get back to Greenhaven as soon as possible, don’t you? It’s not like there’s much here for you.”
“Can you come back with me? Can you help me?” I’m daunted suddenly by the thought of facing Major Zungu and Micah on my own.
“You’re a big girl, Ebba. You don’t need me. I’ll take you to the end of the portal, until you’re safely back on Greenhaven, but then I have to come back here.”
“How? How will you get back?” The birthmark on my hand starts to tingle and glancing up, I see that his is darkening on his temple.
“You give me the necklace, and …”
Isi starts to growl, pressing her ribs against my legs. She pushes herself between me and my father, and the fur along her back is rising in a ridge. She’s shoving me back, and I falter and then gather all my courage. “I can’t give you the necklace. It’s for the Goddess. I need to give it to her alone.”
“The Goddess is gone, Ebba. Prospiroh is holding her on Proskubia.”
“That means I need to get the necklace to her even more urgently.”
“But you can’t, because you’re not really dead. You have to go back to Greenhaven and live out your life, and then come back here when you’ve died of old age. And meanwhile Theia will be trapped in Proskubia, suffering. Unless you give me the necklace and I take it to her.”
The vibrations of Isi’s growls rumble through my leg as she shoves me again. “Stop it, Isi,” I hiss. “I can’t concentrate.”
“That’s okay,” my father says, his voice gentle. “I understand. You don’t trust me. You’ve only just met me. And I bet Aunty Figgy told you bad things about me.”
Heat rushes over my face. “It’s not that,” I lie. “It’s just that … the old man said I have to make a journey. He said I have to cross Celestia until I reach the mountains, and I …” He’s glowering at me with his Leonid look, and I don’t know what to do.
Then I glance up and see a flash of desire in his eyes as he looks at the necklace, and my birthmark is burning. “I … I’m sorry, but I have to do it the right way–”
He interrupts me with a sneer. “You aren’t the heroine I thought you were. You’re a coward. Too scared to go back and finish the job off properly. Just give me the goddamned necklace.” His voice rises and anger radiates off him like steam until I want to shrivel up and do exactly what he says.
He strides towards me, hand outstretched, and Isi goes frantic, snarling and pulling against me as I clutch her collar to stop her attacking him.
“I … I can’t.”
“Fine. Have it your way.” And he turns on his heel and marches off towards the tree, the angry energy swirling like dust clouds around him.
“I’m sorry … Dad,” I call after him. The word “Dad” feels strange in my mouth. “Please don’t go. Don’t leave me.”
“You’re not my daughter anymore,” he yells. “You’re a disgrace to the family.”
Isi has my robe in her mouth and she’s tugging me away towards the mountains.
I hesitate. What if he doesn’t come back? Should I run after him and apologise? He hasn’t looked back, not even once. It’s all Isi’s fault. She leans against me, looking up into my face, but I refuse to pat her, turning away instead. She sighs and lies down her head on my foot.
But as I stand there watching him go I remember what the old man said – that only people with the blood of the gods come to Celestia. Ordinary humans, when they die, go on to a different world. So why is my father here? I would understand if my mother was here. She has the blood of the Goddess in her too. But my father isn’t a descendant of the Goddess and he is not family of the High Priest. He shouldn’t be here.
Who is lying? Francis or my dad?
I can’t wait here, all alone. I need to start the journey the old man told me about, and I don’t know the way. I take the flask out of my pocket and hold it in the palm of my hand. “Just still yourself,” Francis said.
It’s such hard work trying to focus on the water. It’s harder than running for two hours on the colony treadmill after a full day transplanting seedlings. It’s harder than trying to control fifty rebellious colonists stirred up by Jaline. Everything distracts me. Inside my head it’s like a whirlwind of thoughts … Micah and Samantha-Lee, Letti and her baby, how my sabenzis are if Micah’s told them that I’m dead, or maybe they’ve not heard anything and are wondering why I haven’t come home. Was that my real father, or someone impersonating him, and how will I cross this huge desert with no food, water, or anywhere to sleep?
It takes forever to calm down. But gradually, once again, I become aware of Isi’s breathing, her ribs rising and falling against my ankles. I try to time my breathing so it matches hers and I slow myself down. Finally I begin to see shapes and images. Pictures form and then dissolve, and form again. I focus on her warm body pressing against mine, on our synchronised breathing, and a deep stillness permeates inside me. A stillness that links me to the centre of something deeper than myself.
Slowly a map forms in the water. It shows a path; long, winding, and crossing Celestia to the mountains. Behind them is a shining half-circle of light. The Fiery Spiral is written in ornate letters.
I can see myself on the map, drawn perfectly, my red hair, my robe, even the tiny dots of the necklace.
Behind me are the five egg-shaped rocks where Francis lives. I’m standing at a crossroad. A faint path leads to the left towards my father’s portal, and just past the flat-topped tree it peters out.
Ahead of me on the trail there’s a dragon next to a small cottage. Fez told me once that old maps often said “Here be dragons”, because people believed that imaginary monsters lived in the wild, unexplored places. There is a maze, a pond of water surrounded by forest,
