Free Silvertongue by Charlie Fletcher Page B

past them. George looked across at Edie as the gust whipped her long dark hair into a rippling flag behind her. Silhouetted against the snow and lit by the wind-kindled blaze, wearing the black fur coat with the Raven perched on her shoulder, she didn’t look modern at all. She looked just for an instant like something out of time.
    Edie, George thought, may not have believed in the old myths, but she suddenly looked like she’d just stepped straight out of one.
    The Queen was also looking at her appraisingly. The sternness and outrage in her face was so strong that George wasn’t sure whether she was going to shout or hit her.
    She took a deep breath and did neither.
    She went down on one knee so that she was eye to eye with Edie, and gripped her chin firmly. Edie tried to escape the implacable bronze grip, but couldn’t.
    The Queen spoke very calmly. It was clearly a great effort not to lose her temper.
    “The goddess that you don’t believe in, and the magic you are so sure doesn’t exist, had power on this island so long ago that the island itself went by another name. It was Albion, the white land, the white of the moon. The goddess had the power of the moon, and she took the shape of an owl, the moon bird; owls and certain other creatures, like the hare, were sacred to her and the—”
    As soon as the Queen mentioned the hare, Edie knew she had to stop the conversation.
    “Look,” she interrupted. “It’s all rubbish to me. Sorry. Means a lot to you, I can see that, but that’s not my world, is it?”
    In her mind’s eye she was unable to stop the replay of the dream, the bit where the hare watched her from the ridgeline on top of the pebble slope.
    “I just want to find my mum. It’s not about gods or old England or Albion, see? It’s about me thinking she was dead, and now having a chance to find her.”
    The Queen opened her mouth to speak. Edie went on quickly, because she was only telling half the truth.
    “You’d do the same if you were me. And if they were me, so would your daughters. They’d rip the world apart looking for you. Wouldn’t they?”
    The Queen was, as Edie had hoped, temporarily unable to speak or deny the truth of what she was saying.
    The Officer filled the silence. “We need to get south to the Sphinxes. Time may have stopped, but night will still fall soon enough.”
    “And I go north. To see Queen of Time. See what we can do,” interjected the Clocker. “Best of luck to all.”
    He turned and strode off into the snow, his long thin legs crowstepping through the drifts. There was something brave and sad about the sight of him setting off into the whiteness on his own, thought George. Dictionary must have thought so too, because he harrumphed and called out after him.
    “Clocker. Dear fellow. I would be inordinately gratified if you would do me the great unmerited honor of allowing me to accompany you. I should admire to make acquaintance of the lady sovereign of things temporal.”
    Dictionary turned to the others and lowered his voice.
    “Look at him. No meat to his bones; the icy blast must blow right through him. I must admit that I have taken a liking to the poor jingling spindle-shanks. I should feel a great indolent booby were I to let him venture off alone into this icy vastness. So I wish joy and success of the day to you, my friends. “He bowed jerkily then beckoned the cat. “Come, Hodge. . . .”
    And with that the broad figure bulled his way through the snow toward his lanky companion, the cat leaping through the drifts at his side.
    “Jack Spratt and his wife,” said the Gunner, looking at the mismatched pair walking away from them. “Come on. I’ve already seen other spits heading south through St. James’s Park over there. We ain’t the only ones’ll have thought about consulting the Sphinxes. Don’t want to miss the party.”
    They turned their backs on the homey fire, and walked across to the park, led by the Gunner. The Queen’s daughters