Wolf Star Rise: The Claidi Journals Book 2

right. You don’t want me to go in there. I won’t.’
She let me go at once.
What was in this new room? Just the fountain. It was shaped like a big fish, quite elegant.
Then something moved on the stone bowl. It sprang off and came bounding over and in at my doorway.
A stone-grey cat. The oddest-looking cat – flame-green eyes and this different forehead – but it shot past and rushed into my rooms and I don’t know where it’s hidden itself.
The girl just went over there, and sat on the floor, inside my doorway.
No tears. Had she been crying?
She doesn’t speak or can’t, or won’t. I don’t know which.
Apparently I’m not allowed to go away from in here. Deliberately I walked to the outer door, and when I got there she came tearing after me. So I came back, and at once she sat down again.
Wait. I’ll try asking—
I did. I said, ‘Can you speak?’ and she shook her head.
I said, ‘Is it dangerous for me to go outside?’
Vigorous nods. Her neck must be really supple from all that urgent nodding.
I said, ‘The stair – part of it moved – did it?’
To that, almost a lazy nod.
Then, this totally absurd thing.
She opened her eyes wide as wide, and streams, rivers of tears rushed from them. She had no expression. She didn’t look upset.
When about two pails-full of water had poured on the floor, the tears ended. She got up and stood in the wet. Then she hopped and jumped about the room, like a kid playing, making wet footprints (wet from her own tears), looking at them – and silently giggling.
She did this for a quarter of an hour.
Now she’s sat down again.
As for the cat, I just saw it. It’s in the fruit dish in room two. It’s eaten every grape, orange and peach, and even the rotted mango. Now it’s just sitting in the dish, washing itself nice and sticky. (Its head is shaped like – well, it’s—?)
Claidi, you need to make a plan.
Any plan.
No, I haven’t, didn’t.
Instead, this room—
Moved.
No, I didn’t imagine it. Very loud rumbling started, and the floor jumped and shook for about two minutes. Next, when I looked out of the door to the passages, everything was different. There’s a courtyard out there now, with roses and vines growing from pots. At the other door, which I’d left open, the room with the fountain is still there. It obviously came with us.
Probably the Tear Girl would have stopped me if I’d tried, but I didn’t try, to go out by either way.
Something else has happened. The rooms became dark after we’d moved. I think the windows, though I can’t see through, don’t look out any more. Certainly the clear glass window doesn’t. It now looks at a tall side of the cliff, where there are windows too, but also a looming cedar tree hangs over. (I noticed the Tear Girl did now appear rather worried.)
After it had been gloomy and dark for about five minutes, and I was wondering if there were any candles or lamps, lights came on.
That’s the only way I can put it. Think of about fifty candles lit and burning up at once. Only steady, not flickery. And no one lit them.
The source of the light seems to be some of the carving at the tops of the four rooms.
I mean, this light is perfect, soft but clear. But how – what is it?
I’ve heard them – the House, the Hulta – talk about magic. Is this magic?
Before, I was scared, but I got used to being scared. It wasn’t too bad. Now I’m frightened. It isn’t even that. I’m – really lost. Where on earth have I come to?
These rooms haven’t moved again. But I keep thinking they will. The lights burn steadily. Nothing’s happened for about three hours, except that cat’s gone to sleep in the fruit dish. Oh this is awful.
Obviously at last I decided I was going to leave the rooms. I couldn’t stand this any more. I said to the girl, ‘I’m just going to have a quick look outside …’ I meant to make a dash for it. Though a dash to where or what I hadn’t a clue.
I put my bag casually over my shoulder by its carrying strap, walked about, walked to the door, yawned and stretched.
She didn’t seem agitated … I’d fooled her?
Really, it was quite an attractive yard. The roses were scented and twined round pillars. There was a grapevine heavy with fruit.
Tall windowless walls enclosed the court above. At the top was sky. It seemed very dense and blue – afternoon? I’d probably been here longer than I thought.
Was there another way out?
I’d delayed too long being casual. Here was Tearful at my side. The cat had woken up and come too, smelling strongly of peaches. What it was with its head was that the area between the ears was too thick and high – its ears looked tiny, but weren’t. Its eyes though were enormous.
‘Isn’t that a strange cat?’ I said to Tearful.
Then I broke into a sprint.
Oh they both shot after me, Tearful with her thin arms out to clutch, and just missing me, and the cat with its little ears laid flat on its big domed forehead.
Luckily there was an archway behind the vines. I belted straight through (with the bag thumping me on the back as if to hurry me up) and as I did so I heard something start creakily to move behind me, and felt the ground sway. But I just pelted on. (Once I also felt Tearful’s clawy fingers catch my hair, but I managed to rip it free.)
I don’t think I ran that far.
There were more corridors and courts and hallways, and now and then more stairs. We were deep inside the cliff, I thought, for at no point did I recognize the outer wall of it, and although there were coloured windows in places, they seemed to