But Bo was too preoccupied to worry. He weaved through the villagers, leaving the cries and whispers behind him, as he headed straight for the wish-seller at the back of the exodus.
Galvin pushed a wheelbarrow in front of him, a large knotted bundle inside it.
“Oh, it’s you, is it?” he said. He didn’t stop when Bo reached him, forcing Bo to jog alongside.
“I need to buy your wish,” Bo said, already puffing. Nix was sniffing around the seller’s wheelbarrow, no doubt searching for rabbit.
“Can’t,” Galvin said. Sweat was beading on his forehead. It wasn’t a hot day, but the effort of pushing the wheelbarrow at such speed was clearly affecting him.
“Slow down,” said Bo. “I need to explain.”
Galvin laughed meanly. He had no gold-toothed smiles for Bo today. “Slow down? Slow down? I was told not to come to this village, did you know? Full of Shadow Creatures, they told me. The people are primitive and mean-spirited, they said.” He laughed again, cold and rueful. “But did I listen?”
Bo stumbled as his foot caught the edge of the barrow’s wheel. “Please slow down,” he said, panting. “I don’t have five hundred Raha but I’ve got twelve and I’ve got lots of things I can trade with you. Like rabbit-skin boots and three jars of pickled eel and . . .”
“Save your breath,” said the man. With a sigh he stopped wheeling and turned to face Bo, his eyes slits of black as he squinted against the Light. He took forever to speak, content to stare at Bo, at every inch of him. Bo squirmed under the penetrating gaze before the man finally spoke.
“You should leave,” he said. “It’s dangerous here. Shadow Creatures are increasing in number and straying into the half-Light.”
“That’s impossible,” said Bo.
The man snorted. “Says you, who knows nothing. A child was taken. Saw it with my own two eyes. Yesterday evening. Strayed too close to the shadows at half-Light and was snatched. All they’ve found were his shoes.”
Though Bo had a hard time believing such claims, even the idea of Shadow Creatures in the half-Light was enough to fill him with fear, anxious thoughts burrowing like tree roots in his mind.
Galvin leaned in close, his golden teeth glinting in the Light. “There are whispers an evil force is rallying the Shadow Creatures for an attack, to kill us all and take over the land. Some say it’s the Korahku but that’s just bad blood talking. I’d wager all my Raha it’s the Shadow Witch come back for her revenge. Never did believe she was dead. She’s too crafty for that.” He roughly poked a stubby finger against Bo’s shoulder, enough for Bo to wobble. Bo scowled as he swatted the Irin’s hand away. Galvin chuckled, low and Dark. “This isn’t a coincidence, child.” He bent closer, his wrinkled, weather-beaten face right in front of Bo’s. When he spoke, a wave of sour breath tickled Bo’s skin. “You mark my words, young Irin. Someone is controlling those beasts. And just think, if they can stray into the half-Light now, who’s telling what they’ll be able to do next?”
Bo shuddered at such a thought but some part of him—a small, guilty part—was relieved. Ever since he discovered the decaying trees, his mind had been abuzz with horrible thoughts: What if he had set off a curse when he didn’t tend to the tree in time? What if all of it—the wolf and the trees and the rise in Shadow Creatures—was his fault?
What have you done? What have you done? What have you done?
But what Galvin said eased the knot of guilt in Bo’s chest. If it was the Shadow Witch, then it had nothing to do with him—it was just a coincidence it all started when he let the old tree die. And Mads had talked about the Shadow Witch too, so it must be true.
But did that mean his last words about finding the Stars were true too?
“Is that why everyone is leaving?” Bo asked. He glanced back toward the village. There was no one on the road behind them yet but he guessed there would be soon enough.
“Not all of them. But many. And when the rest of them see sense they’ll leave as well. This place is too dangerous now.” Galvin shook his head as he grabbed the handles of the wheelbarrow again. “You best be going yourself,” he said, and took off, hunched over his bundle of goods.
Bo gave chase. “But I need the wish first.”
Galvin shook his head again. “Sold it. This morning. On my way out of town. Some traveler who paid me double the price. Ha!”
Bo stopped dead in his tracks, his heart in his throat. “Sold it?”
Galvin paused. His shoulders rose and fell heavily with a sigh. “Listen. Best I can do is sell you a spirit charm.”
Bo was hardly listening. The wish had been sold! All Bo’s hopes—however small and fluttering they had been—floated away on the wind like ash. If there was no wish, there was no saving Mads, no going back to the way things were before.
“Only cost you eight . . . eh, nine Raha,” said Galvin. “It’ll keep you safe from all manner of lesser spirits: fairies, pixies, water sprites, and the like.”
Bo shook his head. “Fairies? Pixies? Water sprites? Am I likely to run into any of them?”
“Oh yes,” said Galvin. He dug through his sack until he pulled out a small vial of blue liquid. “All the time if you’re not careful. Nasty things. Not likely to kill you but will happily bite off a finger or two when you’re not looking.”
“But I really needed that wish,” said Bo, voice cracking.
Galvin held out the vial. “This is much better for a young fellow such as yourself. Far more useful. Take it, take it. Only cost you nine, eh, ten Raha.”
Bo dug into his pockets and pulled out a handful of coins. He started to count before Galvin swiped his palm clean. “That’ll do,” he said, shoving the vial into Bo’s empty hand.
Before Bo could protest, Galvin had grabbed hold of the wheelbarrow and was pushing away from him. “If you come across a particularly nasty creature,” he called over his shoulder, “throw the vial at its feet and chant, ‘Be gone! Be gone! Be gone!’ and you’ll be safe.”
Bo stood rooted to the spot, eyes on the little vial in his palm. Safe? he thought. Without the wish, without Mads, Bo didn’t know if safe was possible.
Chapter Five
Bo stood on the outskirts of the village watching smoke pour from the nearest chimney; it looked like a dragon clawing at the sky.
“Come on, Nix,” said Bo. The fox growled, sniffing the air. Bo sighed. “I know but we don’t have a choice. Can’t stay in the forest because the wolf knows to find us there.”
Having briefly returned to the hut to dump his items for bartering and fill his rucksack with candles, matches, food, and water, Bo hitched the bag over his shoulder and started walking, Nix chasing his feet. As they trudged the path into the village, Light warmed Bo’s skin but a sharpness in the air whispered of the approaching Sorrow Season, when the sky would do nothing but weep for weeks and weeks. Bo’s stomach churned as he thought of the home he was leaving behind.
“Don’t worry,” Bo said to Nix, trying to keep his voice cheerful for his friend. “We’ll find somewhere in the village to stay and everything will be all right. Nothing to worry about.”