Don’t tell them anything, the voice said. They’re bureaucrats, all of them.
She knew the voice. She’d been hearing it all her life. She’d thought it was her voice. But just because the voice had been in her skull all her life didn’t make it hers. She said the other’s name without speaking it.
Princess Boa.
Yes, of course, the other woman said. Who else were you expecting?
“Jimothi Tarrie asked you a question,” Nyritta said.
“The death of the Princess . . .” Jimothi reminded her.
“Yes, I know,” Candy said.
Tell them nothing, Boa reiterated. Don’t let them intimidate you. They’ll use your words against you. Be very careful.
Candy was deeply unsettled by the presence of Boa’s voice—and especially unhappy that it should make itself audible to her now of all times—but she sensed that the advice she was being given was right. The Councilors were watching her with profound suspicion.
“. . . I heard bits of gossip,” she said to them. “But don’t really remember much . . .”
“But you’re here in the Abarat for a reason,” said Nyritta.
“Am I?” she countered.
“Well, don’t you know? You tell us. Are you?”
“I don’t . . . have any reason in my head, if that’s what you mean,” Candy said. “I think maybe I’m just here because I happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Nice work, Boa said. Now they don’t know what to think.
Boa’s assessment seemed right. There were a lot of frowns and puzzled looks around the Council table. But Candy wasn’t off the hook yet.
“Let’s change the subject,” Nyritta said.
“And go where?” Helio Fatha asked.
“What about Christopher Carrion?” Nyritta said to Candy. “You were somehow involved with him. Weren’t you?”
“Well, he tried to have me murdered, if you want to call that involvement.”
“No, no, no. Your enemy was Mater Motley. There was something else going on with Carrion. Admit it.”
“Like what?” Candy said.
She needed to lie now, Candy knew. The truth was that she was indeed aware of why Carrion had been drawn to her, but she wasn’t going to let the Councilors know about it. Not until she knew more herself. So she said it was a mystery to her. And a mystery, she didn’t neglect to remind them, that had almost cost her her life.
“Well, you survived to tell the tale,” Nyritta remarked, his voice dripping sarcasm.
“So why don’t you tell it, instead of meandering around explaining nothing at all?” Helio Fatha said.
“I’ve nothing to tell,” Candy replied.
“There are laws defending the Abarat from your kind, you know that, don’t you?”
“What will you do? Execute me?” Candy said. “Oh, don’t look so shocked. You’re not angels. Yes, you probably had good reason to protect yourselves from my kind. But no kind is perfect. Even Abaratians.”
Boa was right, Candy thought. They were a bunch of bullies. Just like her dad. Just like everyone else. And the more they bullied, the more she was determined not to give them any answers.
“I can’t help it whether you believe me or not. You can interrogate me all you like, but you’re just going to get the same answer. I don’t know anything!”
Helio Fatha snorted with contempt. “Ah, let her go!” he said. “This is a waste of time.”
“But she has powers, Fatha. She was seen wielding them.”
“So maybe she saw them in a book. Wasn’t she with that idiot Wolfswinkel for a time? Whatever she may have learned, she’ll forget it. Humankind can’t hold on to mystery.”
There was a long, irritated silence. Finally Candy said, “Can I go?”
“No,” said the stone-faced representative from Efreet. “We’re not finished with our questions.”
“Let the girl go, Zuprek,” Jimothi said.
“Neabas still has something to say,” the Efreetian replied.
“Get on with it.”
Neabas spoke like a snail edging along a knife. He looked like irridescent gossamer. “We all know she has some affection for the creature, though why that should be is incomprehensible. She’s plainly concealing a great deal from us. If I had my way I’d call in Yeddik Magash—”
“A torturer?” Jimothi said.
“No. He’s simply somebody who knew how to get the truth when, as now, it was being willfully withheld. But I don’t expect this Council to sanction such a choice. You’re all too soft. You’ll choose fur over stone, and in the end we’ll all suffer for it.”
“Do you actually have a question for the girl?” Yobias Thim asked wearily. “All my candles are down and I don’t have any others with me.”
“Yes, Thim. I have a question,” Zuprek said.
“Then, Lordy Lou, ask it.”
Zuprek’s shards fixed upon Candy. “I want to know when it was you were last in the company of Christopher Carrion,” he said.
Say nothing, Boa told her.
Why shouldn’t they know? Candy thought, and without waiting for any further argument from Boa she told Zuprek, “I found him in my parents’ bedroom.”
“This was back in the Hereafter?”
“Yes, of course. My mother and father haven’t been to the Abarat. None of my family has.”
“Well, that’s some sort of comfort, I suppose,” Zuprek said. “At least we won’t have an invasion of Quackenbushes to deal with.”
His sour humor got a few titters from sympathetic souls around the table: Nyritta Maku, Skippelwit, one or two others. But Neabas still had further questions. And he was deadly serious:
“What was Carrion’s condition?” he wanted to know.
“He was very badly wounded. I thought he was going to die.”
“But he didn’t die?”
“Not on the bed, no.”
“Somewhere close by, you’re implying?”
“I only know what I saw.”
“And what was that?”
“Well . . . the window burst open, and all this water rushed in. It carried him away. That was the last time I saw him. Disappearing into the dark water, and then gone.”
“Are you satisfied, Neabas?” Jimothi said.
“Almost,” came the reply. “Just tell us all, without any lies or half-truths, what you believe the real reason for Carrion’s interest in you was?”
“I already said: I don’t know.”
“She’s right,” Jimothi reminded his fellow Councilors. “Now we’re going around in circles. I say enough.”
“I have to agree,” Skippelwit remarked. “Though I, like Neabas, yearn for the good old days, when we could have left her with Yeddik Magash for a while. I don’t have any problem with using someone like Magash