The Puppeteer: Book II of The Guild of Gatekeepers

by Frances Jones

  ‘Where are Emerson and Jack?’ I asked.

  ‘Jack has disappeared. Emerson has gone to search for him,’ Tabatha replied.

  ‘What do you mean he has disappeared? Where has he gone?’

  ‘We don’t know. I woke and found you had fallen asleep. Jack must’ve gone while we all slept. Emerson said to wait here while he searches. We can’t go any further yet. It is not yet light in the world outside.’

  ‘I don’t understand how I could have fallen asleep,’ I said, eyeing the oak tree in bewilderment, as though the answer lay beneath it. ‘I was sitting just there. I was wide awake! I don’t remember even feeling sleepy.’

  ‘It can’t be helped,’ Tabatha replied with a shrug. ‘Let’s see to breakfast while we wait for Emerson.’

  Tabatha woke Eliza while I set about rekindling the fire with twigs and leaf litter. A little over half an hour passed before Emerson returned alone. There was no sign of Jack.

  ‘I cannot find him,’ Emerson said, ‘and we cannot waste any more time searching for him. He is gone. We must leave at once.’

  ‘Do you think he has switched allegiance again?’ asked Eliza.

  ‘I think his oath finally got the better of him,’ replied Emerson. ‘How that will play out, I cannot say. We can only hope he does not cause us any great mischief.’

  ‘What if he means to find Mabson and help him?’ asked Tabatha.

  ‘Then we cannot stop him,’ Emerson replied. ‘All we can do is ensure we reach the tournament before Mabson does- whether he is alone or not.’

  We stamped out the remains of the fire and made ready to leave. The light in the forest broadened, but the oppressive silence and watchfulness of the previous day returned, and we spoke only in whispers as we walked.

  We stopped briefly to eat at the closest we could guess to lunchtime then hurried on our way again. I welcomed the quiet and the opportunity it gave me to think without disturbance, but the more I thought and turned things over in my mind, the more uneasy I began to feel. Gradually, I lagged further and further behind the others until Tabatha and Emerson, who walked in front, were out of earshot.

  ‘Eliza,’ I whispered.

  She turned and made her way back to me. ‘What is it? Why have you fallen so far behind?’

  ‘I need to speak to you without Tabatha or Emerson hearing,’ I whispered. ‘We have to get away from Emerson tonight. I think he is the Puppeteer.’

  ‘Emerson?!’ Eliza cried.

  ‘Shhh!’ I hissed. ‘I know it sounds absurd, but while I was on watch last night I took a look in that bag he has kept so close. There was a book inside, an old one.’

  ‘Well that proves nothing,’ Eliza replied. ‘Besides, we already know the Puppeteer is Professor Goldwick; Jack told us.’

  ‘No, Jack said the Puppeteer’s servant is Mabson. He has never met the Puppeteer himself or been told his true identity. Mabson could be working in secret for Emerson.’

  ‘But Emerson has been in prison for months! How could he have become acquainted with Mabson while he was imprisoned?’ Eliza broke in.

  ‘Don’t you remember Professor Goldwick telling us that Mabson worked as a jailer at the gaol in Oxford before he lost his eye? I didn’t pay any attention to it at the time, but Tabatha also said Emerson was held there for a while before being brought back to London. ‘Tis quite possible they could have met one another there, but that’s not what makes me suspect Emerson. Do you remember the page you found in the Watchmaker’s workshop? Emerson said it was written in the ancient language of the Saxons and was probably from the book that was missing from the Bookish Magician’s library. Well, the book inside Emerson’s bag is written in the same language! I’m sure of it. I’d warrant the page you found in the Watchmaker’s workshop came from that very book. And what about Anna Perenna, whom The Watchmaker spoke of in his letter to his wife? There’s not a trace of her anywhere, yet she must have been dear to him to have concerned himself with what would happen to her after his death. It seems too coincidental that she should disappear and the one person whose name crops up in the only mention of her is Emerson’s. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit to learn that she’s dead too.’

  ‘The Watchmaker’s letter could be entirely innocent,’ said Eliza. ‘Both George and Emerson knew him. It’s not so unusual that he should speak of either of them. And he only asked that Anna Perenna be committed to Emerson’s care. There’s no proof Emerson was aware of that request, let alone that it was ever fulfilled.’

  ‘Maybe so,’ I replied, ‘but remember the burglary at the Watchmaker’s workshop? His neighbour said there was no sign of how the thief broke in. Who has a herb that can open locks? Emerson. And guess what else I found in Emerson’s bag? A music box!’

  Eliza looked visibly shocked. ‘Are you sure it was a music box?!’

  ‘Yes, of course. I saw the key poking out of the back. It was one of the Watchmakers’s designs. I recognised it at once. The more I think of it the more certain I feel that Emerson is the Puppeteer, and I believe he knows something about Anna Perenna and where she is.’

  Eliza frowned. ‘I can’t deny it’s suspicious, but it just seems so unbelievable. Why would Emerson be helping us now if he was the Puppeteer?’

  ‘Because he is leading us into a trap so that he has us all together to do something awful, or even make puppets of us- you, me, George and the rest of the Guild. And there’s something very peculiar about Jack’s disappearance. I know I didn’t just fall asleep. ‘Tis no coincidence that Jack disappeared when I supposedly slept through my watch. I don’t believe it. I think Emerson had something to do with it.’

  ‘You think he bewitched you?’ said Eliza.

  ‘He or Jack. I don’t trust Jack one inch. It wouldn’t surprise me if they are in league with one another,’ I replied.

  ‘But why would Emerson be working with Jack, and why would he want to kill all those magicians and poor Mrs Thorne?’

  ‘I don’t know. Tabatha said he was a broken man. Perhaps he wants revenge on the Guild as much as Jack, or maybe grief, guilt or anger have driven him to madness. We can’t be sure, but I know what I saw and what my instincts are telling me. I’ve a bad feeling about Emerson.’

  Eliza shook her head. ‘It just doesn’t make sense. I’m sorry, Tom, I just don’t think you’re right about this. For a start, he took some convincing to allow us to help him escape the noose!’

  ‘That was just a ruse,’ I replied. ‘He’s a powerful magician. He would have escaped even without our help. He probably only pretended to let Tabatha persuade him because he knew she’d try something anyway.’

  ‘Well, I don’t believe for a moment that Tabatha would go along with the murder of innocent people. She’s may be a thief, but she’s not a murderer. ’

  ‘I don’t believe Tabatha knows,’ I replied, ‘and she wouldn’t believe it of Emerson anyway. She cares too deeply for him. Love can blind people to others’ faults. But look, I know I won’t convince you, but I have to do something to stop Emerson. I’m going to leave tonight when he and Tabatha are both asleep. I have to find George and the Guild and warn them before it’s too late.’

  ‘You can’t just leave!’ Eliza protested. ‘You don’t know the way, and Emerson said the forest is perilous to journey through by night!’

  ‘I’ll have to risk it, there’s no other way. Emerson said George and the others must’ve come this way. Peggy can follow Bridget’s scent from this handkerchief.’ I pulled the handkerchief from my pocket which Bridget had given to me in her studio. ‘She gave it to me the day before the Guild left. If they passed this way, Peggy will pick up their scent.’

  Eliza looked troubled. ‘Tom, this is madness! I agree there are some things that need explaining, but wouldn’t it be better to ask Emerson about it before we jump to conclusions?’

  ‘And let him know that we know he’s the Puppeteer? Of course not.’

  ‘And what if he isn’t?’ Eliza insisted. ‘You don’t know fo
r sure. Please, Tom, you’re my best friend, and I would support you in anything you do, but going off on your own to find George without knowing for certain that Emerson is the Puppeteer is madness. Promise me you won’t. Let us at least speak to Tabatha about it first when we can catch her alone.’

  Eliza looked so unhappy that I couldn’t bring myself to argue with her about it. ‘Very well,’ I replied reluctantly, and we said no more about it.

  Already I wished I hadn’t confided in her, for now I either had to go along with Emerson’s plan, and allow him to make puppets of the whole tournament, or else I had to break my promise to Eliza. I had to at least try to stop Emerson, I knew that much, but leaving Eliza with him was an uncomfortable thought. What if he guessed the reason for me leaving and punished Eliza and Tabatha in revenge?

  Emerson and Tabatha were now some distance ahead, almost at the top of a steep ascent over which the path climbed. Tabatha glanced back at us then stopped when she saw how far behind we had fallen.

  ‘What’s the delay?’ she called.

  I mumbled something about having a cramp in my leg as Eliza and I hurried to catch up. Emerson had stopped a little further ahead where the path suddenly forked, one way veering slightly left, the other curving off sharply to the right. He seemed to be contemplating which path to take.

  ‘Are you unsure of the way?’ Tabatha asked.

  ‘No,’ he replied. ‘There’s a change in the air. A storm is brewing.’

  Chapter 28

  I hadn’t noticed whatever subtle sign Emerson had sensed, but the long, low croak of frogs hidden among the rotting bark of fallen trees, and the silvery slime trail of a slug moving across the path, confirmed that we were in for a downpour.

  The wind picked up, sending a ripple through the treetops high above us. Already the forest half-light was fading, and the path before us was dim and shadowy, though I guessed it could be no later than early evening.

  ‘Come, we should keep moving while the light lasts,’ said Emerson, taking the left-hand path.

  We walked on for another mile or so as the path began to descend between two sheer rock walls. Emerson halted and pointed to a shallow incline where the rock wall leaned over the path.

  ‘We will stop here for the night. It is the best shelter we are likely to find before dark.’

  We had hardly had chance to unpack our cloaks and hoods before the first growl of thunder rumbled overhead, then darkness descended suddenly as the rain began to pour. Almost at once my hand became invisible in front of my face. There was no green twilight by which to see tonight, only the boom of thunder and the columns of rain falling from the sky to fill the blackness between the momentary stabs of lightning. I had thought the forest canopy as impermeable as the skin of a drum, but the rain seemed to find its way through the mesh of branches and soak us as well as if they weren’t there at all.

  There was little hope of sparking a flame to make a fire, far less of keeping it alight, so we ate a cold, cheerless supper in darkness with the prospect of a wet and uncomfortable sleep ahead.

  ‘I’ll take the first watch,’ I volunteered.

  ‘Very well,’ replied Emerson, stretching his cloak out on the ground. ‘Wake me in a few hours.’

  I sat listening to the rain and thunder and watching the lightning strike the trees and sky into brilliant contrast. In my mind, I turned over everything that had brought me to the conclusion that Emerson was the Puppeteer, trying to look objectively at the evidence, but the more I thought on it the more certain I felt, and the more urgent the need to warn George and the rest of the tournament became. I would have to break my promise to Eliza, it was inevitable, but I hoped she would understand- and be safe.

  I stood up and climbed over the sleeping figures around me. ‘Come on, Peg,’ I whispered. Peggy got up reluctantly, not at all enthusiastic about leaving the relative shelter of the rock wall to go walking in a storm.

  ‘Where are you going?’ said a voice from behind me.

  I almost jumped out of my skin. ‘Eliza!’ I whispered. ‘I thought you were asleep.’

  ‘I was only pretending. I wanted to to see what you would do,’ she replied, her voice stung with hurt. ‘You promised me you wouldn’t go through with your mad plan.’

  ‘I know, and I’m sorry to have to break my promise to you. I hadn’t intended to, but the more I think on it the more certain I am that Emerson is the Puppeteer. I have to try and stop him, even if I don’t succeed.’

  Eliza sighed. ‘Well, you’ll not go alone,’ she said, standing up and straightening her coif. ‘Quick, let’s go before Tabatha and Emerson wake.’

  In spite of the burden of anxiety I felt, I smiled. In truth, I didn’t at all like the idea of leaving Eliza behind to go trekking through the forest alone.

  We gathered our packs and set off with Peggy walking in front, guiding us with her nose. We followed with tentative steps, though more than once I stumbled over tree roots encroaching onto the path. Even Mr Ellery’s cloaks couldn’t keep the rain from splashing into our faces or soaking through our boots, saturating our feet, and all around us the wind howled and the blind darkness seemed to press closer.

  ‘How far do you think we have walked?’ Eliza gasped after some time.

  ‘Who knows!’ I spluttered, wiping the rainwater from my face with my cloak. ‘Look there! I think I see a light ahead.’

  We squinted through the rain at a faint light some distance away which seemed to be drawing closer at an alarming rate. Soon it was near enough to discern that its source was several lanterns, and a few seconds later the riders accompanying them were visible. I watched in horror as a ghostly horde of figures, male and female, of human and bestial form, and some a mix of the two, came roaring through the forest towards us.

  ‘Out of the way!’ I cried, pushing Peggy and Eliza out of the path of the oncoming host not a moment too soon. We leapt behind the bole of a towering pine tree and cowered there as the riders, some mounted upon giant black horses, others flying above them, swept past like a gale. The trees bowed and shivered in their wake, and even the storm seemed cowed by their fury. For several minutes, the booming sound of their passing filled the forest as we clamped our hands to our ears to block out the noise. Peggy leapt into my lap and nuzzled her way under my cloak, terrified.

  ‘Has it gone?’ whispered Eliza as the host disappeared into the darkness and the sound of the rain falling through the trees was all there was to hear once more.

  I peeped round the tree just in time to see the light of the lanterns fading into the distance. ‘Yes, it’s gone,’ I confirmed.

  ‘What was that?’ asked Eliza as she stood up and brushed the forest debris from her skirt.

  ‘I think that was the Wild Hunt,’ I replied. ‘I’ve read about it in the library. ‘Tis not something I hope to encounter again. Come on, we’d better keep moving. Peggy, heel.’

  No sooner had I spoken the words than a sudden rumbling sound shook the trees around us, blotting out the noise of the storm. I spun round, expecting to see the dreadful host return to drag us off with them, but instead a surge of leaves came hurtling through the trees towards us, swept up by some unseen force. Peggy yelped in fright and darted away as the force encircled me and Eliza and lifted us off the ground, sweeping us up in a column of whirling leaves.

  ‘Tom!’ Eliza screamed. Her voice sounded distant, drowned out by the swirling vortex which was carrying us further and further from the path. The breath was knocked from my lungs as I was hurled from one tree bough to the next. Low-hanging branches scratched my face and hands and snagged my clothes. For several minutes I was too breathless to make a sound.

  ‘Tom!’ Eliza’s voice sounded further away than before. I took a gasp of air and forced myself to gather my scattered wits.

  ‘We’re going to be swept away! Give me your hand!’ I yelled.

  ‘I can’t see you!’ Eliza cried faintly.

  I stretched out my arm in the general direction of her
voice. My hand brushed against hers and I grabbed it.

  ‘Hold tight and don’t let go!’ I yelled as I seized hold of a branch overhead with my free hand. My fingers clamped around it like a vice. Eliza’s fingers began to loosen around mine. I pulled her towards me with all my strength. ‘Grab hold of the branch!’ I yelled as the cyclone swirled around us.

  ‘I can’t reach!’ Eliza screamed.

  I could feel my grip loosening around her hand as the torrent raged. At any moment my arms would give up, unable to support my own weight and Eliza’s.

  ‘Don’t let go,’ I yelled.

  ‘I can’t hold on!’ Eliza shouted, her voice drowned out by the clamour of the cyclone. It seemed to intensify at the prospect of our escape and swirled round us even more furiously than before. With a final surge of energy, I clamped my hand tighter around Eliza’s and dragged her up beside me, throwing her over the branch. She clung limply to it as the cyclone tore past us with a final roar. For several moments I dared not loosen my grip or even open my eyes.

  ‘It’s gone,’ Eliza said at last.

  I opened one eye and saw that everywhere was still dark. The storm had all but subsided, and the only sound to be heard was the drip of rainwater through the branches above us. We dropped from the branch, which was a considerable height above the ground, and landed with scraped hands and knees on the forest floor. There was no sign of Peggy or the path.

  ‘What do we do now?’ cried Eliza. ‘Peggy’s gone, and we haven’t a hope of guessing which direction we have come from after being spun like a top by whatever that was!’

  I looked about, but the trees marched on without variation in every direction. ‘We can’t have been carried very far from the path,’ I replied. ‘We need to find Peggy first. She’ll be frightened.’