a short, humourless laugh. ‘She’d put the gloves back on me, but she took her foot as proof that I was a danger and needed to be kept here for me own good. She told me that it was for the best while she works on that cure … which I’m beginning to think might never happen. It’s been about a year now.’
Willow gasped. A year? Here? ‘I’m so sorry, Holloway! It was an accident. She must know that – you never meant to do it and, if you’ve got the gloves, then surely you aren’t dangerous? Can’t you explain that to her?’
‘Yeh … well, I tried, didn’t I? She didn’t see it that way. She didn’t trust me any more. And, I suppose, because I’d tried to get the gloves back and flee, perhaps she had reason not to,’ he said in a hollow voice.
‘Still, that didn’t give her the right to keep you here,’ said Willow.
He nodded. ‘The trouble is this whole tower has been charmed to do her bidding, so it’s impossible to go against her and –’ he sighed, sounding hopeless – ‘truth be told, I do feel a bit like I deserve it. I feel really bad about her foot.’
There was a heavy silence after this. Willow could only imagine. ‘But it wasn’t really your fault,’ she said again.
Perhaps Holloway had needed to hear that because after a while there was a sniffing sound, and he mumbled, ‘Thanks.’ Then he cleared his throat. ‘Maybe you’ll have better luck – she’s true to her word, even if she’s a bit extreme. If she thinks you’re no longer dangerous, she will let you go.’
Willow shared a fearful look with Oswin. If the witch had locked up the wizard for a year for turning things to copper, how long would she be stuck here for making things disappear? And, while she was imprisoned here, what was happening to poor Sometimes? They were wasting time! He’d trusted Willow to rescue him, and who knew what danger he was in? Moreg’s dark words, when she’d told her why so few forgotten tellers were around, floated into Willow’s mind. ‘Most don’t live to tell their tales …’
She put her head in her hands. She had to get out. She had to find her friend before it was too late.
Nolin Sometimes woke once more to silence. His eyes turned from unseeing white to blue, and he saw shapes in the darkness.
It was his forest, his home … only it wasn’t. The trees and plants seemed made of shadow and smoke. He sat up in what might have been his garden except that it was devoid of all colour, and he frowned. There was the sleeping Sharon, only he couldn’t hear her gentle snores, and her palm-like fronds remained oddly still. There was the memory flower he’d used recently, restored yet lifeless. It looked … wrong somehow.
It was all so quiet – so horribly quiet. He swallowed. How long had he been here? Days? Weeks? Months?
He felt so alone. He thought of his friends and bit his lip. He hadn’t had many friends, not for years. He’d convinced himself it was safer that way, but the truth was not many people wanted a friend like him – someone who could tell all their secrets. Yet somehow, not long ago, a young witch had come into his life and all that had changed. He’d met people who liked him as he was, and didn’t seem to mind that he was a bit different.
He felt his throat close with tears … He didn’t want to be here any more. He just wanted to go home, tend to his garden and plants, and give his dog, Harold, a hug.
‘Please,’ he tried to whisper, to whoever was keeping him here. ‘I won’t bother you, or tell your secrets, I promise. I only hear people’s memories when I’m near them – I don’t go out of my way to share what I learn with anyone later. I’m not like that. Please, just let me go …’
‘Oh, that’s not something you need to worry about. I’m happy for you to share all that you know,’ said a strange, echoing voice. And this was when the world began to spin, and a figure stood before him – a beautiful, otherworldly creature, her hair blowing in an imperceptible wind, thistles sprouting near her feet. She crouched down and touched his wild white hair. If she had an expression, it might almost