Their boat began to slow, and Michael could discern a pair of dark figures on the deck of the Countess’s ship. Dr. Pym said something under his breath, and to Michael’s surprise, the two black-clad forms suddenly grasped the railing and leapt into the water. He waited for them to emerge, but after a few moments the water settled and he knew they were gone.
Dr. Pym was tying their boat to a ladder bolted down the side of the ship.
“Quickly, my boy. The noise may bring others.”
Their feet were scarcely on the deck when Michael heard pounding boot heels and four morum cadi charged out of the darkness, two from either side. Dr. Pym took Michael’s arm and whispered, “Don’t move,” and the creatures were pulling their swords, close enough now that Michael could see the unearthly pallor of their skin, and he braced himself as blades flashed all around him, the clanging crashing against his ears, and just as Michael realized the Screechers were fighting each other and paying not the slightest attention to either him or Dr. Pym, all four fell, smoking and lifeless, to the deck.
He gaped at the wizard. “How did you do that?”
“Confusion and misdirection. The mainstay of any parlor magician. Come along now.” And he strode off down the deck.
They met two more of the Countess’s guards; the first they nearly collided with while rounding a corner. Before it could attack, Dr. Pym waved his hand, and the creature dropped its sword, sat down, and proceeded to stare off into space.
“Much better,” Dr. Pym said. “This way, I believe.”
He led Michael through a doorway and down two flights of narrow metal stairs to a hallway deep inside the ship where a single morum cadi stood guard over half a dozen doors. Dr. Pym muttered something inaudible, and the Screecher lowered his sword and his face broke into what Michael considered a fairly gruesome grin. Dr. Pym reached out and touched the creature’s lips.
The thing that used to be a man swallowed twice, flexed its jaw, and spoke.
“How can I help you, sir?”
The voice was stiff and croaking, as if it had not been used in a hundred years.
“How many of you are there on the boat?”
“Ten.”
“So there’s one more. No doubt on the bridge. And the Countess is in her cabin with the young lady?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very good. I take it you have the key to the children’s cells?”
It was then Michael finally heard the scared, muffled voices of the children. They echoed forth from either side of the hall. The children were calling out, crying, banging on the walls with their fists. The banging was so constant and steady he’d been mistaking it for the thrum and whine of the engine.
The creature drew a key out of its ragged tunic.
“I want you to open the doors, lead the children out in an orderly fashion, and help them into this young man’s boat. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
Dr. Pym turned to Michael. “I’m going to deal with the last of the morum cadi. Then I will find your sister. Ferry as many children as you can to the shore. You will have to make a few trips.”
“Okay.”
“I’m very proud of you, my boy.” He gave Michael’s shoulder a squeeze. Then, to the guard, “This young man is in charge. Do whatever he says,” and he was gone, disappearing up the metal stairs.
Michael looked up at the mottled green face of the Screecher. He took a deep breath, adjusted the badge Robbie had given him, and tried to sound confident.
“All right, let’s get them out. But stop smiling. It’s creepy.”
“Clare, allow me to introduce Katherine.…”
Even as he said their names, the wizard’s eyes were traveling between Kate’s face and her mother’s. She could see him making the connection, realizing who she was.
“… Katherine, this is Clare.…”
It seemed to Kate that time had slowed. It wasn’t magic. It was the fact of standing here as the wizard introduced her to her own mother.
Her mother was smiling now and saying something, but Kate could make no sense of the words.
Her mother put out her hand.
Kate looked down. Her own hand was stained with dirt and grime, and there was dried blood from where she’d cut herself on a rock. She suddenly realized how she must look; after all, she had not changed clothes in days, she’d run through a rainstorm, slept in a dungeon, swum across an underground channel, had a floor-rolling, ear-biting wrestling match with the Secretary; she felt the dirt and grease in her hair, the rips in her clothes, the fatigue that was no doubt showing in her eyes; she understood that her mother’s smile was one of pity for the poor creature before her.
“My hand’s dirty.”
“Oh please.” She clasped Kate’s filthy hand in both of hers. “It’s so nice to meet you, Katherine. You look as if you’ve had a very long journey. Can I get you anything? Water? Tea? I could heat up some hot chocolate. And ‘Katherine’ is so formal. Do you think I could call you Kate?”
Kate felt an enormous sob welling inside her. She’d waited for this moment for years; so why was it that all she wanted was to get the book and leave? She pulled her hand out of her mother’s and shook her head stiffly.
“No, I’m fine.”
Dr. Pym coughed. “I think the young lady came for this.” He reached onto the desk and lifted the Atlas.
“What is …” Her mother stopped herself, staring at the emerald-green tome. “… Is that … It can’t be.”
“Yet it is.”
“But, Stanislaus, you told us it was locked away! You said it was safe!”
“For the moment, that remains true. But apparently things are going to change. You see, this copy is from the future. And Katherine here, at great personal cost, brought it to me for safekeeping. Now, I can only assume, she has come to take her copy back.” He added, “Before it vanishes into thin air.”
“Yes, but—she’s just a child—”
“Clare—”
“Tell me you haven’t actually involved this poor girl!”
“These are desperate times. And it wasn’t me per se. Though future-me—”
“She’s a child, Stanislaus! Look at her! She can barely stand! Lord knows what she’s been through!”
“It’s okay,” Kate broke in. “I can do it. It’s okay. Really.”
“My dear”—Dr. Pym leaned forward in his chair—“I have to ask, is it safe?”
It was a logical question; of course Dr. Pym would want to know that the danger had passed before he gave her the book. But it caught Kate unawares, and in that moment, she felt his gaze sharpen. Luckily, she recovered quickly, sighing and letting the tension melt from her shoulders. “Everything’s fine. At last.” She even offered him a little smile.
“Very good,” said the wizard, and he handed over the Atlas.
She expected to feel the yank in her gut, to blink and find herself in the Countess’s cabin, but she held the book, heavy and familiar in her hands, and nothing happened.
“Now”—Dr. Pym stood—“I will leave you two alone.” And without giving Kate any indication of what she was supposed to do—tell her mother who she was, not tell—he was gone.
“I’m sorry,” her mother said the moment the door was closed, “but I am very, very upset. Not at you, of course. I’m angry at whoever pulled you into this. You’re much too young.”
Kate said nothing. She just stood there, the book clasped to her chest.
“I know I shouldn’t question Stanislaus. If he thinks you’re up to it, I have to believe him. He’s a great man, you know. Besides being a wizard and all that. Richard and I—Richard’s my husband—we’d both trust him with our lives.”
It was so peaceful in the room, with the fire beside them, the snow falling gently outside, Kate felt she could just lie down on the rug and go to sleep for years.
“Are you sure I can’t get you something?”
Kate shook her head.
“Where di
d Stanislaus go? Is he supposed to be sending you back to where … or whenever you’re from?”
“Last time it just sort of happened. I don’t know why it’s not now.”
“You know, Richard and I have been involved in the search for the Books of Beginning for quite a while now. With Stanislaus, of course. Is that really the Atlas?”
She leaned in, and Kate smelled her perfume. She knew it immediately. The years seemed to slip away, and Kate could hear her mother’s voice, asking her to protect her brother and sister, promising that one day they would meet again. Kate felt something inside her break open.
“My … brother and sister and I found it.”
“You have a brother and sister? What are their names?”
Kate looked down, unable to meet her mother’s gaze.
“You’re in trouble, aren’t you? Is Dr. Pym helping you? In the future, I mean. Oh dear, does that even make sense? What about your parents? You really are so young.”
Kate felt her eyes welling with tears, and she bit her lower lip to keep from crying.
“Oh, you poor thing …”
And before Kate realized what was happening, her mother had stepped forward and was holding her. There was no stopping the sobs. They quaked through her body as if all the tears dammed up over a decade had suddenly broken free. Kate found herself crying for the times she’d held a sobbing Emma or Michael and promised them that yes, their parents were coming back; she cried for the missed Christmases and birthdays, for the childhood she’d never had; she collapsed into her mother’s body, letting herself be held, crying, finally, because this was her own mother, stroking her hair and murmuring, “It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay.…”
Then, abruptly, her mother’s hand stopped. Kate didn’t move; she could tell something had happened. Her mother took a step back, holding Kate by the arms while staring deep into her eyes.
“Oh my … Are you … You’re—”
Kate felt the tug in her stomach, and the scene vanished. She was never to hear those next words. But even so, Kate knew that in that last moment, her mother had recognized her own daughter.
“You see, my dear,” said the Countess, lifting the book from Kate’s hands, “I knew you could do it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The Dire Magnus
“Have you been crying? I must say you look dreadful. There’s a mirror if you’d like to freshen up. Oh, and this is yours.”
Kate felt the locket dropped into her hand. Numbly, she fastened it around her neck. Her vision was blurred, and she could taste the salt from her tears. With an effort, she pushed the thought of her mother, the memory of being held in her arms, from her mind. She was back on the boat, and the children needed her.
“Let them … let them go.”
“Hmm?”
“Let them go.”
“Let who go?” The Countess had carried the book to a table across the cabin and was turning the pages, a greedy, almost ugly look on her face.
“The children! You promised! You—”
The Countess flicked her hand, and Kate’s entire body went rigid. She tried to open her mouth, but it was clamped shut.
“To think, I now possess the Atlas of Time! And that it came to me when I had finally given up hope, when I was prepared to ride to oblivion with these miserable brats! My master is not one to tolerate failure lightly. There would have been no returning to tell him that the men of the town had revolted! But now I have the book, and all is changed.” She caressed the blank page, and her voice fell to a whisper. “Nor will I relinquish this power. Even to him. I see that now. The Atlas is intended for me alone. It found me.” She smiled at Kate. “Of course, the dam will still be destroyed and the children will die. But it really is no more than they deserve. Tiresome place, Cambridge Falls.”
She lied, Kate thought. She was always going to kill the children, and now she has the book too. Sick at heart, Kate cursed herself. Why hadn’t she told Dr. Pym about her vision? Why did she always think she was the one responsible?
Please, she thought, please …
And then, as if her wishing had summoned him:
“Loyalty is certainly not what it used to be.”
The old wizard stood in the doorway, tweed suit, glasses askew, his face a mask of quiet fury. He glanced her way, and, for a moment, their eyes met. Kate saw that he understood why she’d done what she had and he forgave her everything. The relief she felt was so profound that, had it been possible, she would have burst into tears.
The Countess laughed. It was a hard, bright, joyless sound.
“I didn’t know we were expecting visitors. Am I correct in guessing that you are the great Dr. Pym?”
“I am Stanislaus Pym.”
“May I say, sir, it is an honor to meet you.” She curtsied, a mocking smile playing on her face. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
“I am here to free the children and reclaim the book you stole.”
“Oh. Oh, oh, oh. I’m afraid that’s going to be difficult. You see, the children will all be dead in a few minutes; afterward you’re certainly welcome to their corpses, I won’t stop you there. As for the Atlas … No, this is simply not going to work. May I offer you a glass of wine instead?”
“I did not come to play games. I will give you one last chance.”
The Countess giggled and gave a little hop. “Or what? Or what? Tell me! What will you do?”
“I will be forced to destroy you.”
The Countess made a shocked ooooooohhhh face and clapped her hands over her mouth.
“Katrina, did you hear? Did you hear what the awful man said? Well, you drive a hard bargain, Doctor. I guess I have no choice.” The Countess picked up the book, proffering it in her small white hands. “Here. Take it, you beast.”
Dr. Pym raised his hand, and the book inched toward him. Just then shadowy claws leapt out of the dark corners of the room, clamping on to his arms and legs and pinning him to the wall. Instinctively, Kate tried to run to him, but the invisible force held her where she was. She watched as Dr. Pym struggled but was also held fast.
“Oh, poo! Is it over? After all the stories one hears about the great wizard, mysterious powers, tra-la-la, I confess I feel cheated. But I guess everything in life is a bit disappointing, isn’t it?”
Kate stared in disbelief. Was that it? Had Dr. Pym really lost?
The Countess turned to the table, setting down the book and pouring herself a glass of wine. She was humming. She clearly meant to savor her triumph.
“I know what you’re thinking, Doctor dear. How will my master react when he learns I plan to steal his prize? Well, he won’t be happy, I’ll tell you that. But never you worry; once I’ve wriggled free the secrets in these pages, I will be as powerful as he.”
“Hag, you are a fool.”
She pouted. “Not nice.”
“You have no idea of the depths of his power. Or, may I say, mine.”
“Grandfather, if you’re trying to anger me so I kill you more quickly, I promise it will work.”
To Kate’s amazement, Dr. Pym smiled. “You truly believe it possible he doesn’t know what you’re planning? That you could have one single thought he hasn’t anticipated? You were doomed from the first moment.”
Something like fear flashed across the Countess’s face. But she shook it off.
“You are funny! Isn’t he funny? But I think you forget, Mr. Funny-Man-with-Your-Funny-Eyebrows—which you should really consider trimming, quelle horreur—I have more than the Atlas: I have the girl. Soon, I will have her brother and sister. With them will come the other Books, and then even my master will bow before me. The prophecy is coming true, mon oncle, and there is nothing you or he can do to stop it.”
She raised her glass in a toast and drained off her wine.
Kate’s mind was racing. A prophecy? What prophecy? And what had the Countess meant, “Soon, I will have her brother and sister. With them will come the other Books�
�? She felt dizzy, as if, despite the Countess’s spell, she might suddenly tumble over onto the floor.
“Oh, lambkins, I see confusion in your young eyes. Has the mean old wizard not explained what fate has in store for you?” She wagged her finger at Dr. Pym. “Shame on you, keeping the poor girl in the dark.”
“Witch, I forbid you—”
“You forbid me? What a laugh! No, no, it is high time Katrina found out why she and her siblings are children of destiny. I wager you haven’t even told her what the Books are capable of! Well, my dove”—she skipped across the room and leaned her head close to Kate’s, as if they were two schoolgirls exchanging secrets—“do you remember the night you arrived, how I explained the history of the Books of Beginning? How there were three Books into which an ancient council of wizards wrote down the secret magics that brought this whole world of ours into being? No need to nod—you couldn’t anyway—I see you do remember.
“Well, mon ange, let us think for a moment: if this magic was used to create the world once, a person might reasonably ask, why couldn’t that same magic be used again? The answer is, it could! That is what is so tantalizing! With the power in the Books of Beginning—one of which, the Atlas of Time, you so graciously brought to me, I thank you for that, the other two are still out there somewhere, waiting—with the Books’ power a person could simply wad up all of existence like a poorly done sketch and begin afresh with a new sheet of paper!”
“And only a mad person would even imagine doing such a thing,” Dr. Pym said.
The Countess groaned. “Has he always been so tedious? Of course you wouldn’t destroy the world on a whim! Though you certainly could. For instance, say you wanted a world where everyone wore red hats? Using the power of the Books, you would simply get rid of this world and create a new one where red-hat-wearing was de rigueur. Or green hats or blue hats or really whatever-colored hats you wished!”
“Totally and completely mad,” Dr. Pym said.
“Or you could create a world where every creature lives and breathes solely to serve you. I think you begin to see, my sweet Kat, why the search for the Books of Beginning has consumed so many lives. It is the promise of ultimate power. Which leads us”—she brought her face even closer—“to the reason you and your brother and sister are so dreadfully important.”
The Emerald Atlas Page 28