Amethyst by Rebecca Lisle Read Free Book Online Page B

he took it away. Amy saw him out of the corner of her eye. He slipped the spoon into his pocket. She felt anxious. The silver spoon had changed, she’d felt it. She’d spoilt it.
    Amy picked up the wooden spoon. Everyone else stopped eating to watch her.
    Uh oh, she thought. A trick of some sort? They were holding their breath, they were staring! Using a wooden spoon can’t be that difficult!
    ‘Go on,’ said Copper.
    Amy dipped the spoon into the soup, then, as she raised it to her lips, the handle went completely slack. It hung limply from her hand like a rag. Soup dribbled out.
    ‘Ow!’ cried Amy, dropping the spoon. ‘What the …?’
    Everyone, except Amber, burst out laughing. ‘Don’t mind them, or the spoon,’ she told her. ‘It’s a Greenwood spoon and temperamental. So much for our two clans working together, hmm? Stick to the metal one for now, until you’ve got a bit more influenced.’
    Amy hoped nobody could see the tears smarting her eyes. ‘But you’re a Rocker, Amber,’ she said. ‘How can you use the wooden ones?’
    ‘Practice,’ said Amber, gently.
    ‘And Copper and Questrid,’ Amy went on. ‘They’ve got Rock in them … They can do it.’
    ‘Never mind,’ said Questrid passing her a less elaborate metal spoon and hurriedly offering her some bread. ‘If you really want to use a wooden spoon it will let you soon enough. Listen! Did you hear that wind? I think a storm’s brewing up.’
    The conversation about the spoon was dropped. But not forgotten.
    Not by Amy.
    And not by Questrid.
    That night Amy lay in her iron and stone bed unable to sleep. Outside the wind was howling. It whistled and whined as it roared through the branches of Spindle House. The old tree creaked and groaned, bending against the blast. Amy imagined Copper lying snug and warm in her bed, with her arms around the wolf cub,luxuriating in the movement of the tree around her. But poor Amy lay stiffly on top of her covers, too hot to sleep, thinking about steady marble floors and unflinching malachite walls.
    When there was a sudden lull in the roar of the wind, she heard the murmur of voices from the next room. She heard Copper’s voice, and another voice she didn’t recognise. Surprised and intrigued, Amy slipped out of bed and put her ear to the wall. Someone was talking to Copper, but who? It was a gruff, low voice, neither like a child nor an adult.
    With a whoosh, the wind suddenly tore at the tree again. It whined through the branches and drowned out the voices. Amy waited a few more minutes, but the wind didn’t let up and she went back to her bed, puzzled and thoughtful.
    She slipped between the sheets, pushing her toes down to the end where it was coldest. But there was something down there. Something alive.
    ‘Eeek!’ She yanked back the covers.
    It was the white rat. Amy didn’t want to see the rat. He made her think about Granite. She didn’t want to think about him or why she was here.
    The white rat sat on her pillow. He twitched his nose and whiskers at her. His pink eyes were alight with mischief.
    ‘Pss, pss! Eeek!’
    ‘Hello,’ said Amy. ‘What do you want? How did you get here? It’s miles and miles from Malachite Mountain! Do you have a message there?’
    He did. Amy took the small slip of tissue paper from the tube. Her heart beat faster.
    Woods tell lies. They have a thick layer, BARK, but it flakes and cracks easily. Beneath it is SOFT SAP and pale wood. Inside that, nothing. Nothing but LIES.
    Steal the beast quickly!
    Well. Thanks Granite. Short and not very sweet, Amy thought. I wish, I wish – I wish Granite were different. I wish I were different. I wish I were a nice Rock girl and didn’t have to do this!
    The rat curled up on her pillow and went to sleep.
    Amy gingerly laid her head down beside him. Almost like having a pet, she thought. She touched him with her fingertips and stroked his fur. It was so soft. The rat began to purr. Rats don’t purr, thought Amy. But