Chapter 1

Silver in the Rain

The rain pounded against the glass, drowning out the soft lilt of the 'cello. Kitty flicked over the page and laid down her bow. As she rose she glanced around the room. No one. What a surprise. Kitty allowed a wry smile to cross her lips as she tenderly packed away the instrument, before a glance at the dismal weather outside put the frown back on her face. Her invisible audience was applauding wildly, but no eyes met hers as she scoped the school hall. Swinging the 'cello onto her back, she let her feet tread the familiar path to the store room, her feet echoing on the hard floor.

Terra nudged her head against Enrico's shoulder. Smiling, the young man stroked the young mare's nose, muttering soothing words in her ear. 'There my beautiful. Calm down; the cats have gone.' The chestnut mare tossed her head, and out of the corner of his eye, Enrico could see the stable boy ushering the young kittens – already larger than normal cats – into a shadowy corner of the stable. They had grown so quickly, and Enrico had grown strangely fond of them from his daily visits to the stable. At first they had hissed and scratched at him, but now they allowed him to stroke them behind their ears, and they trusted him almost as much as the young boy who looked after them. Enrico stopped stroking Terra's earthy coat for a split second. Trusted. Now that was something he wasn't used to. Still, he liked it. Maybe in future more people would trust him. That was a comforting thought, and Enrico smiled as he patted the warm neck of his favourite, wondering if maybe being the despised villain wasn't the path that he shouldt have chosen…

Kitty strode purposefully through the gates, hardly noticing the rain as it trickled down her neck and soaked her dark hair. She kept her head down as she made her way through the 6 o'clock London crush. She ignored the calls that inevitably followed her through the street.

'Keep walking,' she thought, 'just keep going.' She heard hurried footsteps behind her and forced herself not to turn as they drew closer. Just to the Tube. If she could just reach the end of this road –

A hand grabbed her arm and her head whipped around to meet a familiar face.

'Hey! Kitty, nice to see you at last! I thought you'd never come out!'

Kitty said nothing. She turned her face away from him and tried to keep walking, but his grip on her arm stopped her. She could see his gang standing a few yards off, jeering and pointing.

'Hey, Kitty-Kat, you're getting soaked! Come back to my place and dry off. It's just round the corner.' Josh grinned at her and held his umbrella over her.

'Don't call me Kitty-Kat,' Kitty thought, 'My mum calls me Kitty-Kat.' Still she didn't respond.

'I think it would be a good idea for you to come back to mine.' Josh's grin vanished and was replaced by a scowl. The grip on her arm tightened. 'You wouldn't want to make me unhappy, would you?' The gang was closing in. Soon she would be surrounded, and she didn't want to guess what would happen then.

Kitty tried to pull away, and was surprised when he relinquished his grasp. She staggered slightly and then started to run, not caring if he was following. His shout rang in her ears long after she had turned the corner and darted down the stairs into the warmth of the Tube station.

'You've made me unhappy, Kitty. You'll soon find out what happens to people who make me unhappy.'

In Padavia, Doctor Dethridge was reading the cards. His eyes were half closed, and his hand was guided smoothly, as if some thread were tied to it. He drew the cards from their black pouch, and tenderly laid them on the table. The Sword, the Princess of Birds, the Lovers... he did not allow himself to react until he laid the last card down in the centre of the circle– the Spring Maiden. He sat back, his brow furrowed. The Sword did not bode well as the first card. So many significant cards – the Sun next to the Magician, and Death next the Prince of Salamanders. Dethridge's eyes ached in the meagre light. To have the Sword and Death in the same reading, flanking the Lovers, the Princess of Birds and the Prince of Salamanders... Dethridge didn't like to think about what that could mean. The doctor looked at the other side of the pattern. The Prince and Princess of Fishes stood together, as they always did nowadays. He didn't know who the Princess of Birds and the Prince of Salamanders represented, but their nearness to Death and the Sword must mean they had an important part to play. Sighing, Dethridge focused his mirror on the cards, and Rodolfo's tired face swam into view on the other side.

'Is there anything new?' Rodolfo asked, and went pale when he saw the pattern.

'Whatte is wronge?' Dethridge asked. On the other side of the mirror, he saw his old friend hastily dealing out his own pattern, fumbling on the cards, his hands shaking. Whenhe had finished, Rodolfo showed the cards to Dethridge. It was exactly the same.

'The Sword and Death,' whispered Rodolfo, 'so close together. I cannot see how else this could be interpreted.'

'And yette the yonge mayde sittes inne the centre,' said Dethridge, 'verily she must bode some goode.'

'I do not know what to make of it.' Rodolfo sighed, 'Danger and innocence in the same reading? That cannot happen often.'

'No indeede,' agreed Dethridge. He looked once more on his own cards. The Salamanders and the Sun... did that point towards fire perhaps? He rubbed his tired eyes and put the cards away. The future was sure to bring danger, but every poison had an antidote. Hopefully this time, death would not play sich a large role in shaping the events that would soon unfold in Talia.

Kitty pounded down her road, not knowing why she was still running. He wasn't following her. There was no need; he would see her the next day at school and could exact whatever revenge he wished. She had damaged his pride, and she knew that he would try and make her pay. As she slowed, she saw a flash of sunlight at her feet. She stopped and bent down. She could just see a sliver of the brightest silver through the mud of the puddle. She reached down and picked it up, rubbing away the dirt and grime. A small key lay in her hand, glinting in the meagre sunlight. It was beautifully crafted, with an elaborate handle and an intricate head. It clearly didn't belong in a puddle in rain-soaked London. Kitty looked around, wondering if someone had dropped it, but the road was deserted. Strange, in this busy end of town. She knew that she should hand it in somewhere, or just leave it where it was. It looked valuable, and she didn't doubt that whoever had lost it would come looking for it. She was about to place it on the wall, when something in the back of her mind stopped her. She closed her hand around the small object, and, almost as an afterthought, placed it in her pocket.

The evening passed like any other. Fliss scolded her as she walked through the door for being out in the rain without a coat, but Kitty hardly heard. She was thinking about Josh and his threat. She knew he was all talk, but there were rumours about him that didn't bear thinking about. He wouldn't try anything in school, but his gang had seen her reject him, and she would have to be taught who was boss. She didn't want to get into an argument, but how could she avoid it? He had some of the roughest teenagers in London behind him, and who did she have? An invisible crowd who listened to her music. Not for the first time that day, Kitty felt a smile begin. Two smiles in one day. Things were looking up. Kitty moved through the evening in a daze, not noticing Fliss' comments and questions, keen to get into the sanctuary of her room and sleep.

Kitty sat down at her desk. Her head in her hands. Another day spent in silence. It was too easy to hide herself away, talking to no one, letting no emotion show on her face. Only now, safely locked her room did the tears leak out of the corners of her eyes. She wiped them away angrily. Fliss didn't approve of crying. She said it was a sign of weakness. Sighing, Kitty picked up the photo that stood in a gilded frame in the centre of her desk. It got harder every day, and this time, she couldn't stop the salty tears from streaming down her cheeks.

Later that night, Kitty lay in bed as starlight streamed through her window, alighting on the basic desk and chest of drawers. She held the treasured photo in shaking hands, the tears still flowing. On an impulse she laid it aside and picked up the key. She turned it over and over in her hands, staring at the beautiful workmanship. The cold metal was bright, almost too bright; it showed no signs of the black tarnish that afflicted the small silver necklace that she owned. In the stars' light it looked almost ethereal, was Kitty's last thought as she drifted off to sleep, the key loosely grasped in her hand.

Kitty woke to the sound of a violin playing in the distance. It was a beautiful melody, tragically beautiful, so much so that she almost felt tears prick the corners of her eyes again. Sunlight poured down on her, warming her skin. She blinked and looked around. She was in a garden, a blaze of intense colour and divine scent. It was a beautiful dream.

As Kitty stared at the plants surrounding her, a young man turned the corner in front of her. He was dressed strangely, in a style that reminded Kitty vaguely of Renaissance paintings that she had seen, and he was whistling nonchalantly. When he saw her he started, and Kitty felt very self-conscious as he stared at her, and she felt a flush of red rush to her pale cheeks. The man gasped suddenly, transfixed by something behind her. Kitty turned, and saw immediately what he was looking at. Though the sun shone brightly high above them, on the lush grass at Kitty's feet was stretched only one shadow.