Circle of Stones by Catherine Fisher Page B

horizon. They came on foot, carried on wagons, high on horses. They came with every sickness and disease, the blind, the foolish, the broken-limbed, the elf-stricken.
    All of them sought the healing of Sulis.
    For a time, I feared the spring would fail us. In hot weather I was sure it would dry up. But she never betrayed us. And so the people scrubbed themselves in the hot spring; they drank the sulfurous water.
    They made statues of her, of branches and flowers, then of wood, then of stone.
    But I was not content. I had been touched by magic, and I had to pay her back. I wanted to inscribe my joy on the world. So I made circles. On the downs we made one that was vast and powerful, ring within ring within ring. I set an acorn in that ground too, that would one day be a great tree. And all around the spring, I built her a city, of fine houses, and a temple for her image, so that the bramble valley was a shining place. I lit a fire for her that would never go out.

Sulis
    S he was worried about Josh coming to the house and Hannah must have noticed, because after breakfast she said, “Everything okay?”
    â€œFine, thanks.”
    â€œI’ve got a day off too. We could go shopping if you like.”
    Sulis frowned. She was curled up on the window seat in the sunny sitting room flicking through one of Simon’s books on the city. An illustration caught her eye; she turned the pages back to find it. “I can’t. I mean, I’d like to, another day, but a friend’s coming over. Any minute.”
    â€œAnyone I know?”
    â€œJosh. He works at the museum.” The questions were intrusive, but she tried not to get annoyed. Instead she found the page and smoothed it open. It showed a painting of three men in eighteenth-century coats and breeches gathered around a table; a stiff, formal group looking directly out at the viewer. Before them lay an artful scatter of pens, scrolls, surveying instruments, a model of the sun and moon. And a large unrolled plan of the Circus, overlaid with a triangle and some other strange symbols. One of the men had his forefinger touching the paper, pointing at the empty center of the Circus. Was he Jonathan Forrest?
    A shadow on the page made her glance up. Hannah was turning a mug of tea in anxious hands; her hair was untidier than ever. She blew a wisp of it out of her eyes. “I don’t want to pry, Su, you know that, but . . . well, when you say friend, do you mean like, a boyfriend?”
    Sulis tried not to cringe. She kept her eyes on the page. “No, I don’t. Just because he’s a boy . . .”
    â€œI know! Believe me, I hate asking. It’s just . . . well, you know. The situation.”
    Simon came in then. “What about the situation?”
    â€œSulis has made a new friend. Josh. He’s coming over.”
    The room was silent. Sulis realized her teeth were gritted with tension; she relaxed and glanced up at Simon. The whole thing was ridiculous. “If you want, I’ll call it off. It’s not that important . . .”
    Simon had an armful of files and drawings. He put them down carefully on the table. “Maybe we need to discuss this a bit.”
    â€œWhy? You said live a normal life . . .”
    â€œBut you should have mentioned him, Sulis. I don’t want to be heavy, but we have to be very careful.”
    â€œHe doesn’t know anything about the past. He’s my age. Do I have to tell you about everyone I ever talk to?”
    She knew she sounded defensive; her voice had risen to a whiny, stupidly high note.
    Simon sat down on the seat next to her. “Of course not.”
    â€œGood.” To break the awkwardness she hefted the heavy book to face him. “Look. Is that Forrest?”
    Simon glanced at Hannah. Then he took the book and looked at it and she sensed that he was being especially patient, his whole pose a considering caution. “Yes.