Amy with her bright, beady eyes.
Amy noticed immediately the way Oriole put her head to one side to look at her and how she hop-walked like a sparrow. ‘You aren’t a Wood!’
Oriole laughed. ‘No, my dear, I’m from the Bird Clan of course and this is Robin, my husband.’
Robin was also short, with long hair tied in a ponytail. He stood with his arms tucked behind his back like folded wings. Alarge, startlingly white seagull sat on his shoulder. It snapped its curved beak. Its shiny yellow eyes were like tiny wet berries. They glared at Amy.
‘This is Casimir. He’s a snow seagull. Don’t mind him,’ said Robin, cocking his head on one side, just like the bird. ‘All show he is.’
Amy tried not to mind him. She tried not to mind any of it: the wood, the warmth, the animals – enormous Silver and little Ralick, tucked up in Copper’s arms. Bravely she admired the green and white pots arranged neatly on the dressers. She cooed over a nest of thrushes she spotted tucked in behind a teapot. She tried to ignore the constant traffic of birds swooping around the room and singing all the time.
‘I look after the birds,’ Robin told her. ‘If you’re good to them, they’ll look out for you. Ask Copper.’
‘It’s true,’ Copper said.
Amy smiled. Inside her head alarm bells rang. Granite hadn’t told her everything. Yes, he’d said there were birds, but these seemed different from ordinary birds. Specially the snow seagull. It looked really smart. Any one of them might see me if I – when I try to steal Ralick – and they’ll easily follow me. I’ll have to be very careful.
Questrid came in. Their eyes met and Amy smiled as best she could, but he knew! She could tell! He gave her such a calculating stare. He knew she was a spy. His honey-coloured eyes were fierce and hard as amber. She expected him to leap on her and demand to know what she was up to.
But he didn’t. He patted Ralick and then politely asked Amy what she’d been doing and if she liked Spindle House.
‘It’s wonderful here,’ she said.
‘But I expect you’d rather live up at the Rock,’ said Questrid. He eyed her suspiciously. ‘More your type of thing.’
‘I’ve never been to the Rock, never been up to the mountains at all,’ she said. ‘Though I know it was Ruby’s idea. Helping break down the barriers between our clans. Forging new links, that sort of thing.’
‘Hmm,’ said Questrid. ‘Trust Ruby to think this one up.’
The rest of the family came in and took their places at the long table.
Amy noticed that everyone had wooden spoons and wooden-handled knives and forks, except her. Even Amber did, and she was a pure Rocker. Amy had been given a silver soup spoon. It was engraved with flowers and birds.
‘It’s very beautiful,’ she said. ‘Far too lovely for me!’ She distinctly heard her Aunt Agnes’s voice saying: She’ll spoil it! She spoils everything!
‘Oh, that’s nonsense, Amethyst. It’s perfect for you,’said Amber, gently. ‘Why shouldn’t you have the nicest thing? You’re lovely too!’
Amy felt her cheeks go so red and hot she thought her head might burst. A compliment. They were so rare. First Granite and now Amber. Amy stared down at the table, waiting for someone to contradict Amber, or laugh. No one did. Conversation continued around her. Amy stared unseeing at the loaf of bread, listening to Aunt Agnes whining in her head: Don’t believe a word of it. You’re not pretty. You’re as ugly as a gargoyle. Horrible little girl! Glad you’re not mine!
Had Amber only said that to make her feel good? Had she guessed Amy was a spy, a traitor and liar come to steal? Was it a trick to disarm her?
‘You could try a wooden spoon if you wanted,’ Questrid said.
‘Could I? I just feel I ought to do the same as all of you,’ said Amy. ‘I mean, I’m trying to fit in, aren’t I?’
‘Sure, go ahead!’ Questrid handed her a wooden spoon. He glanced at the silver spoon as