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Back Featherlight Save as PDF
Chapters (20)
  1. Dedication
  2. Chapter 1
  3. Chapter 2
  4. Chapter 3
  5. Chapter 4
  6. Chapter 5
  7. Chapter 6
  8. Chapter 7
  9. Chapter 8
  10. Chapter 9
  11. Chapter 10
  12. Chapter 11
  13. Chapter 12
  14. Chapter 13
  15. Chapter 14
  16. Chapter 15
  17. Chapter 16
  18. Firebird Lighthouse
  19. Author's Note
  20. Lighting the Way

“You had the same goat?” I ask, shocked. “Gertrude doesn’t look that old.”

“It was a different goat,” Grandma explains. “It just … well … our goats have always been called Gertrude. Your father continued that tradition.”

“Oh,” I say. “I see.”

Names again. I think of Tan, and then of the baby.

“Have they named my brother yet?” I ask.

“I’m not sure,” Grandma says. “There’s so much else going on that I don’t think your mum and dad have decided …” She trails off, looking worried once more, then changes the subject. “I’ll tell you something, my bunions are itching like billy-o today. That means there’s bad weather on the way. Now autumn’s here, the storms will be coming more often.”

After we’ve cleaned the cottage, the last thing we do is polish the panes of glass in the lantern room. I forgot to do it this morning. As we clean them, I explain to Tan how the light works. Grandma listens. She finishes buffing the panes on her side of the lantern first, and comes over to inspect how I am doing.

“You’ve missed a spot,” Grandma says, pointing out a cloudy section. “You’re talking too much to that bird.”

I crouch down and clean away the last of the soot. As I do, I realise I have barely said anything to Grandma. Not for the whole afternoon. Not since she first arrived and told me how ill my brother was.

Chapter 11

11

BEDTIME STORIES

That night, Grandma and I set the lighthouse light going together. Afterwards, Grandma brings me down to bed and, when I’m in my pyjamas, she tucks me in.

“I’ll take the night watch tonight, Deryn,” Grandma says as Tan settles beside me on the pillow. “But you can take the tea.” She puts Dad’s flask on my bedside table.

“Thank you, Grandma,” I say.

“Do you want me to read to you?” Grandma asks. “I know your mum normally does.” She takes the book of myths and fairy tales from my bedside and flicks through it. She finds a story near the back that I have never seen before. “Ooh, this is good one,” Grandma says. “It was your father’s favourite. I used to read it to him when he was a boy.”

“What’s it called?” I ask.

“The Firebird.” Grandma reads the opening paragraph. “Tales are told of lost sailors who befriend firebirds. The firebirds would drink the oil from the sailors’ lamps and then fly above their ships, lighting the way for them. Nowadays, no one has ever seen a real firebird. They disappeared thousands of years ago and only exist in ancient legends—”

“Stop,” I say, and shake my head. “I don’t think I can listen to a fairy tale tonight. There’s too much to worry about.”