As for Neel … Neel had his own problems.
She ducked her head under the water and rinsed the soap from her hair. When she surfaced, she turned to Astrophil. “Why do you think Neel was so nervous last night, even before he entered the palace and the queen spilled her secret? I know he thought he was in trouble, but he’s been in trouble lots of times. Usually, he pretends like nothing’s wrong.”
Astrophil considered this. “Some people in this world have unusual origins. Like somebody abandoned at birth and raised with no knowledge of his true parents. Or a creature with sparkling legs and an equally sparkling wit who was built out of tin to look like a spider. Now, in these cases, one might imagine many things about one’s own existence. A boy, tired of being mocked, might pretend that he is in fact a lost prince. I used to wish sometimes that I was a real spider, but”—he glanced at the brown spider in its corner and shuddered—“I have changed my mind. It is easy to dream dreams—even if, in our secret hearts, we do not really want them to come true, and we might be in danger if they did.”
Danger. The word echoed in Petra’s mind when she stepped outside the palace entrance to meet Tomik and Treb, as they had agreed last night. Like her, they were so clean they looked like strangers, and wore cotton clothes as bright as the orange dress someone had left folded at the foot of Petra’s bed. The skirts swished against her ankles, thin and airy. Astrophil perched on her shoulder.
“Where’s Neel?” she asked. “Is he coming with us to see the Metis?”
“He’s missing,” Treb said.
“Missing?” Petra turned to the captain. “‘Missing’ as in your older brother tossed him off a cliff because he’s competition for the Roma crown?”
Tomik rolled his eyes. “‘Missing’ as in he’s sulking somewhere.” He caught Petra’s reproachful glance. “What? Do you expect me to feel bad for him because he’s going to become king?”
“I expect you to try to understand what it’s like to have your life change so suddenly you can’t recognize it anymore!”
“Quit your yammering,” Treb told them, “or I’m not taking you anywhere. If Neel doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be.”
Petra fell silent, and the friends remained quiet as they followed Treb down through the city.
Every house and shop in the Vatra seemed as if it had sprouted from the mountain. As they walked past a cliff, shuttered windows in the rock wall sprang open like clam shells, the people inside cranking out long, wooden rods clipped with laundry. Petra had become familiar with the way the Roma here liked to mix nature with the man-made, but she was still surprised when Treb led them to the mouth of a cave. She had been expecting … well, she wasn’t sure what she had expected. Something like a schoolhouse, perhaps, or a temple.
“Go on in,” he said. “The Metis are expecting you.”
“Aren’t you coming with us?” Petra asked.
“I’ve got a political crisis to attend to,” said the captain. “Plus a grouchy brother and a missing cousin. My poor aunt Damara constantly looks like she might burst into tears. So I’ve got enough on my hands and, anyway, the Metis make my skin creep and crawl. See you back at the palace.” With a flip of his hand, Treb turned around and walked back up the steep street.
Tomik looked at the cave. “Treb did say that the Metis are human, right? Not bears or mountain lions or dragons?”
“Hmm,” said Astrophil, “I think he neglected to say exactly what they were. He only warned us not to anger them.”
The three of them looked at each other. “Well, let’s not waste any more time,” said Petra. “We’ll find out soon enough what they are.” She reached into a pocket and pulled out a small oval crystal. Tomik did the same, and they stepped into the cave.
They squeezed their Glowstones, which flared with pale blue light. For a moment, all Petra heard was the sound of her heartbeat and their footsteps on the rocky floor. Then she seemed to hear a soft whispering, and saw a tricky sort of light, white and flickering.
They stood at the mouth of a tunnel. As they ventured down it, the light became clearer, and they soon saw four sunken pools. Floating in each one was a body.
“Are they dead?” Petra asked uncertainly. The submerged bodies were ancient—so old and shriveled that they were as small as children. Although they were naked, the vast number of wrinkles made it impossible to tell which bodies were male and which were female.
Petra stepped closer to the edge of a pool, and noticed the ball of white light in the body’s open mouth. Suddenly, the eyes jolted open, the mouth coughed, and the light rocketed to the surface, bursting through the water to bob up and down in front of Petra’s face.
“Dead? Of course we are not dead!” exclaimed the light, which stretched into a shape like steam from a kettle.
Three lights exploded from the other pools.
“The dead learn nothing,” said one of the four. “And so they are not very wise.”
“And we,” said another, “are the Metis, and most knowledgeable indeed.”
“Indeed!” chorused a third.
“Although,” one said in a soft tone, “death must be a fascinating experience, else why would everyone do it?”
“Not everyone!”
“Not us!”
“Sister, why must you always doubt our choice?” a Meti said. “For a hundred years now, it’s been nothing but ‘death might be nice after all.’”
“One hundred and twelve years,” corrected another.
“I am simply curious,” said the soft voice. “It is our calling to be curious.”
“Not about that!”
“Never that!”
“We are neither here nor there, you understand,” a Meti said to Petra.
“Not quite dead, yet not quite alive,” another agreed.
“You’re ghosts,” Petra stated. The cavern echoed with her words.
“Oh, I suppose.”
One giggled. “If that’s how you want to put it.”
Tomik said, “We thought this cave was a school for magic. Are you the teachers?”
“Just as you are students,” a Meti replied.
“People come, they inquire, we answer.”