Hollowpox The Hunt for Morrigan Crow - Jessica Townsend Page 0,89
between her fingertips. They grew and reshaped and swam in perfect patterns through the air, like a school of fish underwater.
‘Wow,’ Morrigan whispered.
‘I told you you’d want to see it,’ murmured Sofia. The firelight reflected in her eyes. ‘I come here every year on this night. I’ve seen it seven times now. It never stops taking my breath away.’
This feat of Gracious Goldberry’s, while perhaps not quite so visually spectacular as a golden firebird flying high into the sky, was breathtakingly good. Only someone with an intimate knowledge of how Inferno works would know how incredibly difficult it was to do something this precarious, this precisely. Gracious never lost control for even a moment. Morrigan relished the display of skill, while simultaneously feeling slightly heart-sunk.
‘I could never do this,’ she whispered. ‘Not even if I lived for a hundred years.’
‘If you live for a hundred years, Morrigan, you will do a great many things you wouldn’t believe.’ Sofia paused. ‘And as a Wundersmith, you may live a great deal longer than that. Griselda Polaris lived to nearly three hundred. Wundrous energy is a great preserver.’
Morrigan’s eyes widened. She knew that Ezra Squall had lived an awfully long time, even though he still looked like the young man he had been when he was thrown out of Nevermoor a hundred years ago. But three hundred? Would that be her one day, she wondered? Three hundred years old, still hanging around Wunsoc, all her friends long gone? She didn’t like to think about it.
The display went on, and Gracious talked through her actions, encouraging her Wundersmith students to imitate her. They tried (rather clumsily and with mixed success) and so did Morrigan (rather clumsily and with mixed success).
Unlike most of the other instructors Morrigan had seen, though, Gracious had no patience. She never slowed down, never repeated herself, never paused to allow Avis and Henrik a moment to think or catch up. She was a relentless, unyielding teacher.
Morrigan moved closer, trying not to get distracted by the show itself, but peering through the flames to observe the woman conducting them. She noticed tiny things she’d never seen any other Wundersmith do before.
Gracious held her head at a peculiar angle as she breathed out; Morrigan tried it, and her airways felt instantly clearer, unimpeded.
Gracious, at times, seemed to be inhaling through her nose and exhaling through her mouth at the same time. Morrigan couldn’t believe such a thing was possible.
‘Sofia, can you see what she’s doing?’ She beckoned the foxwun closer. ‘She’s inhaling air and breathing fire simultaneously. How is she doing that?’
Sofia gasped. ‘How extraordinary. It’s called “circular breathing”; notoriously difficult, but very much a learnable skill – certain musicians can do it, and opera singers. I can’t believe I’d never noticed before. Excellent, excellent observation, Morrigan.’
Finally, the ghostly hour began to darken and fade, signalling its end. In seconds, Gracious Goldberry and her two students had disappeared from the rooftop, as had the warmth from their Inferno.
‘Doesn’t it bother you?’ Morrigan asked Sofia, shivering as the last spark died and a cool summer breeze blew past. ‘About Gracious Goldberry? What she tried to do to Wunimals, I mean.’
Sofia twitched her bushy tail closer around her and seemed to think about the question for a moment. ‘When I first spotted this hour in the book, seven years ago, I came up here because I wanted to see what she looked like. I was convinced she’d be some awful crone with black eyes and—’ Sofia cut herself off, looking up guiltily at Morrigan. ‘Oh – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—’
Morrigan snorted. ‘No offence taken. Go on.’
‘Sorry,’ she said again. ‘Well, anyway, I came up here filled with hatred and spite, ready to scorn this awful person, and what did I find? Quite possibly the greatest wielder of Inferno who ever lived.’
‘That must have been annoying.’
‘Very annoying,’ Sofia agreed. ‘I was incredibly angry at the time. I spent the next year being outraged that someone so awful should have been blessed with such a singular gift. But the following year I went back anyway, and I decided that this extraordinary talent could not be wasted on this wretch of a woman. I wouldn’t allow it to be. I would render it useful somehow. Someday.’ She fixed her gaze on Morrigan. ‘And then you came along. So, tell me, Morrigan Crow. Did you get something useful out of that lesson?’
‘Yes,’ Morrigan said truthfully, making a mental note to ask Dame Chanda about circular breathing. ‘I